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who-is-reign · 4 years

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Hello, hi, hey

Hi I did a short writing thing- here it is!!

Everything starts with a hello, a hi, a hey. A greeting of some kind. Ours started with something else. It started with a trip, a lot of apologies, and crying. Though I feel like I should probably start at the beginning. That makes more sense anyway.

It all started on what I knew was not going to be a normal day. The day started with two pieces of toast, 3 slices of peaches, and a mug of earl grey tea. Or what I was hoping to be a mug of earl grey tea. I poured the rest of what was left of my mug into a thermos and walked out the door.

3 stairs, take a left, 5 steps forward to the next stairwell. 10 steps down, 5 breathes, 2 stops I could have taken, 7 doors I could see. I ran to my car, even if it was only 5 feet away.

30 minutes and a coffee stop later, I was at work. I work at a publishing firm as the executive editor. I have been there since the start of this company, Indigo Query. I helped with the name of course. Most of the books that I edited are Best Sellers right now. I can’t say I’m not proud of that.

Today is the release date of the first book I wrote. I have babied this book for 4 years. All of the characters are complex and have their own stories. I tried to make it to where there weren’t any background characters. To where there were stories going on behind the scenes, or the main focus of the chapter. It is 1563 pages, 12 pt. Times New Roman font, 468900 words. This book is my literal child. I have had these characters since I was in 6th grade. I only started seriously writing out their story in the last 4 years.

I just realized that you know nothing about me. Maybe that’s for the best. You’ll find out later anyway.

I walked in, went through the cafe, up the elevator, through the small library. I was there, and my book was there. On my desk, I saw a hardcover copy of my book. I almost started crying. Okay, I did start crying. That art was my choice, it was made by one of my oldest friends. I carefully picked up the book, letting my hands run over the almost woven texture of the cover, the embellished sides, and the title. Lastly, my name, small in white coloring. I turned to the copyright page and breathed in. My name is listed as the author and editor. My best friend’s listed as the cover artist. This is what I was meant to do. Write books, edit books, publish books.

I put the book down, I couldn’t read it. Not yet. I needed to meet with Leo Adams, president of the company. He is not the original president, he took over after the old president passed. I personally am not a fan of his. I think he is corrupt and doesn’t deserve the company. The only thing I can hope is that one day this company, my home, will get a better president. The only reason I stayed with this company, is because of my book. I could leave if I wanted to, other publishing companies have asked if I wanted to sign for them.

But I have something in my eyes, something I can’t give up. I want to own Indigo Query. I want to own the thing I love more than anything. This company is my life, my livelihood. I hate seeing a man who doesn’t care about books be in charge of it. I need to save the company I have over a decade of time into. But right now, it is my time. My book is getting released.

I need to focus on that and nothing else. I need to work, that’s what I need to do. What I want doesn’t matter right now, and it won’t matter for a while.

I walked as fast as a caffeinated lesbian could without it being considered running to Leo’s office.

“Ms. Kore, it’s fantastic to see you. And of course congrats on the book release, it looks fantastic already.” Leo’s words drawled on, a slight curve to his phrases. I hated it.

“Of course sir, I couldn’t have had this book released without you,” I replied, trying desperately to keep the ill intent out of my voice.

What I didn’t say, was that of course, I couldn’t have had this book released without you. Even with you, there were so many issues with getting it released. Including the date getting pushed back 6 months. I could have had this book out, and sold by now. But no, he said it was too problematic. It took all of the editors, our cover designers, the VP of the company, and basically everyone to get him to allow it to be sold.

“Though Ms. Kore, I must tell you, I really do not think this book will thrive that much. I just do not want to see you getting hurt. Take the day off, you need to.” I almost scoffed once he said that, but I really only muttered thank you and walked out of the office.

I practically ran to one of my coworker’s desks and sighed completely and utterly overdramatically. This coworker has been my friend since high school and they helped found the company. They also know about my aspiration to own Indigo Query.

“Oliver, I can’t believe him. He literally said that he didn’t think my book would work out and that he just didn’t want me to get hurt.” I groaned and tried to not sound whiny, though I know I did.

“Babe, that is so horrid but also you are so close to literally owning this company. You are so close, and you can’t lose sight of what you have done because our boss is horrible.” I know they’re right, and I am really close, but I need a break.

“I’m leaving for the day, Adams said I had to.” I sighed.

“Girl you have been here for less than an hour, sit down.” Oliver raised their eyebrows and practically forced me to sit at my desk.

I just rolled my eyes and got to work on a new manuscript that came in today. It wasn’t long before my eyes felt like they were going to burst from my head.

“I’m taking a coffee and tea run. Want anything?” I closed the manuscript, my question aimed for Oliver who was holding a red pen and had a red pen tied up in their hair.

“Yes, yes, and yes please darling. You know my order anywhere.” And they were right, their order hasn’t changed since freshman year. Unlike everything else. Oliver used to be really shy, with red curly hair, they didn’t have confidence. And now they talk or flirt with everyone, have longer sunset ombre hair, and have more confidence. I’m proud of them.

I walked out of the building and to the nearest cafe. I ordered Oliver’s, which was a matcha latte with added raspberry syrup, apparently, it was amazing. Then I got a London fog earl grey tea with extra vanilla syrup.

I noticed the cafe had a small bookstore and I walked over there after ordering. I saw something that warmed my heart, my book. I inhaled deeply in shock, already a small bookstore had my book in it. I grabbed a copy and read through some of it. My words, my characters, my world. I get now why it is such a big deal for Oliver every time they see a book they wrote. I only walked away when I heard my name getting called. I grabbed both of the cups and walked away, saying thank you many times.

Close to the door, the not so impossible happened. Someone ran into me, my tea spilled everywhere. Oliver’s drink ended up being safe somehow.

“I am so sorry, I can’t believe myself, I’m so sorry. Deeply sorry. Let me help.” The person who ran into me sputtered out.

“Don’t be sorry it was an accident, it is okay,” I say looking at them softly.

They had hair a little bit longer than their shoulders, it was a coppery red. Their eyes were a shade of amber. That was when I realized.

“Laurette?” I asked, stunned that this may be her.

“Yeah? Do I know-- Persephone!” Laurette hugged me and sighed. “It’s fantastic to see you!”

“Good to see you too. What are you doing these days?”

“Oh! I’m living with Ophelia with our kid. I’m a fashion designer and she is a daycare owner. So she gets her share of kids every day. What about you?” as Ophelia spoke I could practically feel her love for her wife.

“That is fantastic! I’m the chief editor and now an author for a publishing company called Indigo Query. My first book got released today actually. I work with Oliver Evanora.” I was filled to the brim with pride.

“Really? Congrats! I bet the book is amazing! I’ll have to check it out sometime. Tell Oliver I said hi. ” Laurette sighed happily, “Well, it’s been great seeing you, I’m so sorry about the tea. I hope to bump into each other again.”

I smiled and went back up to the counter to grab the tea they remade, gave them a 10 dollar tip, and left. A newfound pleasure seeped through me. I walked back to the office, careful not to spill anything. I gave Oliver their drink and went straight back to work.

4 hours later and the clock showed 5 pm, the day that I had been waiting for years to happen was over. Since I needed desperately to get home, I made Oliver give me a ride home.

“Why didn’t you drive to work? You have a car.” Oliver asked when they were in their car.

“Because I wanted to walk.”

“It’s winter, it is dark at like 4. You can’t walk home when it’s dark. We live in a city, girl.”

I just sighed, they were right anyway. I didn’t think it through.

“Want to get food?” They asked, “Cause I am starving!”

“Nah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Ok girl, whatever you deem useful,” Oliver said, already pulling down my street.

“Thank you so much! Oh and by the way Laurette said hi.” I said as I shut the door.

I went inside and set water on to boil. I started stirring the water clockwise and humming a distant melody. It was almost time. The water started to bubble like an ancient potion that had just been given the final ingredient. I poured the water over a mug, grabbed a tea bag, and let it seep. At this point, the stars were already out and thriving.

After a quick 5 minutes, I grabbed my mug and walked outside into my backyard. I went directly to my shed. My shed was more of my office than a shed. It had a typewriter, my laptop, a shelf filled with different types of teas or coffee. Plants were scattered about, my desk had a big fluffy white chair pushed up to it. Everything was a pastel blue, pink, or white. It didn’t really seem like it was mine, but it was. And it’s more of a home to me than my room is.

I sighed as I sat down on my mug, put on gardening gloves, and grabbed my spade. I went outside and started to get to work. I planted a new rose bush, I replanted my lemon tree that's growing out of their pot. I moved my ever-growing cherry tree to where they’ll get better sun.

All of this I did while humming, or singing in some parts. I am the type of person to sing and talk to my plants. I am also the type of person to own 3 trees and more plants than I can count.

I heard a bang and I flinched, my entire body froze in place, as if any movement would cost me my life.

“Is anyone there?” I whispered, barely to where anyone could hear it.

“Hello, darling” When I heard Oliver’s voice I calmed down, “sorry to scare you babe, but you seem stressed. Thought I’d help.”

“It’s okay, Oli.” I sighed, already putting my spade and gloves away. “So, how did you plan to calm me down?”

“Stargazing with some people from high school,” Oliver replied, smiling.

“Like who?”

“Kira, Raven, Laurette, Ophelia, Lilith--” Oliver was about to continue but I cut them off.

“Okay, I get it, almost everyone. Let’s go.” I said, laughing, “Let me change first.”

Five minutes later I was in Oliver’s car wearing a star printed black layered lace dress and 4-inch heeled black boots.

“Let’s go! I wonder if they all brought their kids! Oh, I can’t wait to see Sabrina or even Litha! I miss my coven friends.” Oliver used to be in a coven at school, it broke up after our senior year.

“Where is the place we’re going anyway?” I asked, playing with my acrylics.

“It’s only 30 minutes away, a small little cabin. Though, we are staying for a week. I took all the clothes that are yours at my house, it’s enough for 7 days. Plus they all look great.”

“What about work?!”My yells could probably be heard by our high school friends.

“I got it covered babe, don’t worry,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone.

“Got it covered? Um, no. My book just got released, I need to be in town.”

“Honey, your book is already almost sold out at 3 stores. I only bought one copy. Your child will be fine.” Oliver sighed as he looked at me, “You need this. More than any of us do. So, I dragged you into the countryside to look at stars and hang out with people from our high school. Don’t you want to see everyone’s kids? I’m pretty sure Ophelia and Laurette are bringing theirs.”

“Okay, fine. I do need this, don’t I?” I pulled out my phone and breathed in.

‘I need this, I need a break. 7 days hanging out with old friends will give that to me.’ I thought as I mindlessly scrolled through twitter.

Then I came across this,

‘Jdjisddsj this book came out today! I already love it! #ScarletDreams #Persephonekore’

“Holy bees, Scarlet Dreams is trending in the literature section on twitter.”

“That’s fantastic, but we’re here.” I looked up and saw a cottage with wildflowers surrounding it, two beehives sitting among the flowers, a few kids running through fields.

We parked next to where a collection of other cars were. Immediately I was pulled into a hug by Ophelia and Laurette.

“I missed you!” Ophelia exclaimed as she pulled away, her child pulling at her sleeve.

“I missed you guys too, it’s fantastic to see you.”

Oliver looked at me, then to everyone and said: “Was I right? Did you need this?”.

I could practically see his fear of him making a mistake, a dark sludge crawling through him, pulling him down and towards his own Tartarus.

“Yeah Oli, I really did. Work was starting to hurt a little.”

A group of three people left the cabin, they were all holding hands and walking right next to each other.

“Oh, hello. I’m Cassandra. I don’t remember you from high school” She said her last sentence more like an inviting question than a statement.

“Hi, I’m Persephone, I didn’t really talk to many people other than who I knew so I can’t expect you to remember me.” I ended my statement with a small laugh, trying to match her tranquillity.

“Babe, you said there wouldn’t be that many people” The person who spoke was as far behind Cassandra and they could be while still holding her hand.

“I wanted you to come, plus I didn’t that many people would show up, darling.” Cassandra's voice was somehow softer than it was before, it seemed as soft as flower petals blooming out to show a beautiful rose.

Or rather the sun urging a rose to show it’s own beauty. Cassandra’s red hair had so much volume it seemed to live on its own, like a red fox laid over her shoulder. She was wearing a vintage lace dress that was white with roses on it, you could tell a petticoat was hiding beneath the layers of the dress from how it poofed out. Her cheeks were a rosy red, and her eyes had pink eyeshadow flowing out from them. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab, and honestly, I wanted her to stab me with them.

As soon as I realized what I was thinking I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure why.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Hi, I’m Jade!” said the other person next to Cassandra.

Her hair was a really big fluffy black braid, purple threaded itself through the braid, and blue and green followed. The braid went to her lower back and was tied with what I thought was a gold string. A black mini dress hugged her sides. A light pink fluffy jacket was partially zipped and fell off her shoulders. The dress went to her lower thighs, then a few inches down my eyes trailed down to her light pink knee-high boots.

“Take a picture and it will last longer darling,” Jade said, the tone of her voice playful yet held enough flirtiness to send shivers up my spine and turn my face red.

“Darling, let's not immediately start to flirt with the new girl. Let’s not kill her on the first day here.” Cassandra spoke, her tone matching Jade’s.

The one who has stayed behind Cassandra the entire time stepped forward, appearing to gain confidence from my embarrassment.

“Why not? She may hold up longer than I did.” They said, their voice was soft yet firm. It held together like a cactus in heavy wind, trying to keep its grip. I felt like that’s the type of person they were, a cactus. Harsh on the outside with spikes and a few flowers to lure you in, but held water and healing on the inside.

I knew my face was painted a shade that countered everything around me and the dress that now seemed to hug me instead of flow around me. Like the petals of a tulip instead of an orchid. My heart sped up and I felt frail, yet held stable by these people who I had only met what seemed hours ago but what I knew was minutes, or even seconds that had just been drawn out to a century.

Then coughing erupted into my thoughts as Oliver shimmed their way in between me and the group, “Let’s go inside, I need warmth.”

“It’s not even cold” I sighed.

“Whatever,” They said as they already started towards the cottage.

As soon as people realized that Oliver had started to walk away, people hurried to follow them. That was Oliver for ya, they could sure direct a crowd.

#writing #writing save #I did a thing #please read this #it took so long #pleaseee #my writing #original characters #original writing #i did this with my brainnn

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton Characters: Dash Baxter, Wesley Weston, OC - Character, Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, Ghost Writer (Danny Phantom), Andrew Riter Additional Tags: Soulmates, Reluctant Soulmates, countless headcanons, Not Phantom Planet Compliant, my canon now, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, will tag with progress, No Betas we die like fools Summary:

Casper High is a school that has several clubs, including the Occult Club, which Dash should've stayed very far away from no matter what Wes said. Now thanks to the conspiracy theorist, Phantom was pissed at him and the jock and hero were soulbound by a spell that Wes had fudged and Dash had mispronounced. How's he gonna make it up to his hero?

The soulmates fic that only my best bro really wanted out of me, which my brain was forced to provide.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

In hindsight, Dash should've stayed away from the occult club altogether. Sure, Wes had said they were gonna use some magick ritual they'd figured out to summon phantom, but people generally wanted to think they could do that and a club at school was the least likely to succeed. But Weston had been confident and Dash wasn't gonna pass on an opportunity to meet his hero without an attack happening.

So he'd gone along with it, even demanded to be the one to do it when they started. There was a chalk circle on the floor, candles, and one of em had a fuckin needle to prick themself with for it. Whatever, Dash wasn't unused to a little pain - he busted his knuckles on nerd's faces sometimes. So he got a drop on the circle, and he said the chant, and the candles turned green instead of reddish-yellow. But while the room went dark and cold and started looking like the night sky had come down to grab them, Dash may have fucked up a word in the book.

There he appeared, in a flash of light so bright Dash had to squint. Sky blue skin, a halo of white hair, freckles that glowed green and that ghost hunting hazmat suit of his. While Phantom was looking around like he was dizzy, Dash felt something. He Saw it, even, a line of bright silver that came out of his chest and turned toxic green before ending at the DP on Phantom's chest. Frowning, Dash looked over at the head of the club. "The fuck is this? A cord?"

"Oh no… oh no no no." The head nerd, a brunette with glasses and a mint green shirt, grabbed the book in Dash's hand and read what he'd said. Then his head whipped over to Wes and the basketballer backed up, his camera flashing the recording light. "You fucked up the summoning ritual!"

"Austin, I swear I was just-"

"This is a binding ritual, Wes, it binds the spirit to the target object - the circle, it looks like?"

"Pretty shitty binding," Phantom said, turning everyone's attention back to him. The blue-faced ghost was floating all around the room, soft green inner light casting weird shadows everywhere. "I'm nowhere near it. What is this thing between me and Dash though?"

"… Fuck." Wes quickly played back his recording on his camera to listen to what Dash had chanted. Dash could hear the moment he fumbled the words and Wes paled when he heard it. "That was the wrong subject word-"

"So you've bound Phantom's soul to Dash's soul now, is what I'm translating here. Cause that, wait lemme.” Austin grabbed the camera and replayed the video a few times while Dash dealt with a sea of complicated emotions. Confusion, shock, anger, resentment, anxiety. Those last three weren’t new per se but they felt… off. Not his. “Wes this is a permanent binding what the fuck?!”

“It wouldn’t’ve been permanent! We coulda scuffed the circle and the thing he’s bound to would be gone!”

Phantom reached down and grabbed the ginger by his shirt, lifting him two feet off the ground. His eyes were blue and gold and red, that dim green aura was now white and yellow and flaring up in arcs. “So lemme get this straight, Wesley. In your insane attempts to prove me as the still-living son of ghost hunters, you decided you'd bind me to a chalk circle. Which might bind me to the chalk itself, tearing me apart to keep myself connected to since you're a fucking hack."

"I-I-I hadn't uh thought of that, b-"

"And instead of that you let Dash, a jo- no THE Jock, read off the spell and so now you've bound me, irreversibly, to another person's soul. Did I get that right?"

Wes nodded the slightest bit, his entire frame shaking and Dash couldn't blame him. Dash was entirely up for pummeling Wes for fucking up his hairbrained scheme, but Phantom looked like he was about to rip Wes apart. He had fangs and his hair was turning into a cloud of fire that sucked all the heat out of the room instead of pushing it out into everything. Wes' shirt was frosting over and Austin and his band of merry freaks were shivering.

"When you get to the afterlife, Wes, I promise you a world of pain. And if you do something so fucking stupid and dangerous that it risks my safety and the safety of everyone else around you again, I'm tossing you to the police by your Fucking underwear!" Wes was dropped on his ass and Phantom growled, fading from sight. There was a Pop, all the pressure in the room shifting, and Dash rubbed his head with a groan.

"Wes you fucking idiot! Now Phantom is pissed at me and it's your fault!" Phantom may have decided not to give Wes what he had coming to him, Dash didn't have superpowers to worry about getting out of hand.

And so Dash had detention that day for wailing on a fellow school athlete.

“I swear I’m going to shatter his camera into a million tiny pieces and make him eat them,” Danny growled and struggled with not breaking his locker when he slammed it shut. The lights overhead buzzed louder and shone brighter from the energy pouring out of him, and Danny took several deep breaths. “Not only was what he wanted to do stupid and dangerous, now I’m fucking - what, Soulmates? With him?”

“Chill, Danny, I’m sure we can fix this.” Tucker pulled his sash from around his shirt and with a flick, it became a scepter once more. Holding out the golden rod over Danny, a look of concentration passed over the geek’s face while azure light bathed Danny’s body. The green thread leading off toward Dash was highlighted, though the silver threads leading to Tucker, Sam and Jazz were also visible and even the blue ones trailing off to his Mom and Dad. Tucker’s magick wrapped around his green thread and for a moment, Danny was sure that it’d be cut and all of this would be over and dealt with.

Tucker’s scepter was knocked out of his hand and clattered loudly on the tile floor of the school and the green thread shone brighter than before, seeming to have simply soaked up the magick. Danny’s growl was deep in his chest this time, and one of the lights blew a fuse. “That’s fucking ridiculous! He just read off the spell without even knowing what it did, why would that be stronger than the Pharoah’s command?”

“The language might not be from this world, Danny. We’ll have to ask Andrew if he knows how to undo it.” Sam patted Danny on his shoulder and he leaned onto her, embracing the calm of her aura. The bell rang and Danny pulled his hood over his head, pulling it shut over his face with the drawstrings. “C’ mon, let’s get you home and we can head over to see him right now.”

Danny grumbled as he was pulled along by Sam and Tucker outside to the parking lot, where all three of them pulled out their hoverboards. Danny mounted his star and nebulae covered creation and slipped on his helmet. The one he’d made for Tucker was gold and chrome-colored, a techno styled F on the bottom of it, while Sam’s was black with creeping vines appearing to weave all around it. It had been fun building these boards with Tucker and personalizing them since they made flying to school easier on them all. Magnetic boots locked in place, Danny slipped on the remote control glove and took off, followed closely by his friends into the even sky to the envious stares of their schoolmates.

The only ghosts that got in their way home were Skulker and the Box Ghost, and while Boxy was easy to take down with a few well-placed shots, Danny had to split off a Phantom copy while still in human form to take down Skulker, which sucked because he didn’t have the energy to make one as strong as he normally was in ghost form. With a kick to Skulker’s head that removed his helmet, and a swift click of the button on the Thermos, Skulker was dealt with and they headed to Fenton works.

Descending the stairs of the Fenton home to the basement lab and finding it empty was a blessing, mostly available due to Sam and her meddling in the business affairs of Fenton Works. Getting to the Ghost Writer’s library from there was a cakewalk, and soon they were knocking on his doors.

“Andy, I have a problem and I need your help fixing it!” Getting no reply for a moment, Danny took a deep superfluous breath and whined loudly against the door. “Aaandyyyyy!” The door opened inward fast enough that Danny hit the floor, and grumbled something rude about Vidya playing cruel pranks on him.

“Don’t pretend that Vidya doesn’t love you about as much as she does me, Danny, you’ll never get away with a lie that flimsy.” The baritone laughter of the Ghost Writer, otherwise known to a few as Andrew Riter, met Danny’s ears and a shark-toothed smile greeted Sam and Tucker. The librarian in grey and purple invited them deeper in to sit on couches and cushions scattered about the shelves of the library and cups of coffee and tea set themselves down on the table before them. “Alright, what trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?”

“This time it wasn’t one of us, actually.” Sam nudged Danny with her boot and he slumped against Tucker, taking a long sip of his tea. “An idiot, Wes, tried to bind him to a circle during an event that the Occult Club was performing to summon Danny, but they let Dash Baxter read it and when Danny appeared, apparently Dash stuttered the wrong words and now he and Danny are bound by the soul. As far as we know.”

Andrew adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowed at Danny as a trio of books flew to him and Danny repeated the spell for Andrew to decipher. “Give me a couple of days to look this one up. Artificially created Soul Bonds like that typically break with the right spell and if both parties agree to sever the link.” Tucker groaned while Danny buried his face in his hands.

“I have to convince Dash to unlink himself with me? Wonderful. Fuck me, I guess.”

Tucker patted the ghost boy on his shoulder and Danny whined.

Ao3 / Fanfiction.net

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

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Never say never - Chapter 10

Still the story of my heart :D

RPF - Richard Armitage - Romcom

Mature (but not yet)

°10° ~Victoria~

Victoria balanced the pile of books in one hand, trying to turn the key with the other one and pushing her whole weight against the door. The bag almost slipped, but she managed to gain entry to her house without spilling books all over the pavement.

Leaving the books by the front door, she made her way to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea and ponder her outing. She had not expected seeing Armitage. God, even in her own mind, she would not call him by his first name readily.

That man had a pair of eyes on him though, she thought, a dreamy note sneaking into her reverie, and she had to shake her head to dispel any stupid notions pertaining to that man’s looks.

She had botched plenty of interactions with people before, but she had never consistently kicked someone quite like that.

She had no idea when the furniture would arrive, but the electronics would be delivered, she checked her watch, within the next two hours. Her fingers slid along the small, rectangular box she had purchased on impulse at the library.

North & South, it read, and Victoria sighed while caressing the box absent-mindedly. She didn’t remember if she had ordered the movie as well, but she would find someone to gift it to if that was the case.

Her tea had steeped too long and had grown bitter, almost as bitter as her heart, she thought with a disgusted snort.

She might as well get it over with, walk to Angie’s and get a box full of small cakes. And then…

It wasn’t until she opened the door that she realised that she was still holding and fondling that stupid DVD-case. “Ah, we were not sure if you’d come in today. What have you got there?” Jenna came out from behind the counter, ready to walk Vic to her usual spot, but she stopped when Vic made no move to follow her.

“I get a delivery of a new TV in a few, I’m just here to pick up some cakes and maybe a cup of tea, I’ve ruined mine.” Vic mumbled, pressing her precious DVD against her chest as if it was a new-born babe.

“Okay, sure. What is it then?” Jenna returned to her spot and leaned into the display cabinet, to take out a selection of Vic’s favourite afternoon-cakes. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” She chirped when the bell above the door rang merrily.

“I have time. Hello Victoria.” Jenna’s head snapped up and banged against the upper edge of the cabinet with an audible “clonk” while Victoria whirled around with a gasp.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man apologised quickly, rushing towards the counter in case Jenna was about to faint. “Are you alright, Miss?” He asked, visibly worried about her.

“Hiddleston.” Victoria mumbled, dazed, feeling like a child in a zoo who was naming animals she saw, but the feeling of pride upon correctly identifying the beasts wouldn’t settle in.

“Yes, hello Miss Victoria. Fancy meeting you here. I just came for some of those delicious cakes of yesterday evening.” He grinned ruefully while Jenna shook her head slowly, her fingers brushing along a noticeable bump under her dark hair.

“Me too. I get a new TV today.” Victoria blathered stupidly, desperately trying to conceal her DVD by crossing her arms over it, which, of course, attracted even more attention.

“North…Ah, North & South. That’s what you want to start with?” Hiddleston smiled, nodding, “it’s a good one.”

“Really? Oh, no, this will not do. Do you have a thermos?” Jenna dropped the box she was unfolding and got another one from under the counter. “A thermos?” Victoria felt like she was the one who had hit her head.

“Never mind, I’ll lend you one of ours. Hmmm, let me see…” Jenna tapped her lip with her finger pensively before opening the door to the stairs leading to Angie’s office and calling up: “Boss? Vic is here and we need your help.”

Within a few seconds, Angie appeared, a pencil shoved in her hair and a pair of reading glasses on her nose.

“What is it? Hey Vic, hey Tom. What are you doing here?” She blinked a few times, trying to take in the situation before her eyes. Victoria cradled a DVD-case and Tom looked longingly at the display cabinet; he had not been served then.

“Victoria has chosen to start her emotional education. She’s about to watch North & South. What do I give her?” Jenna made a vague gesture to the cabinet. “Ah, yes, momentous.” Angie nodded with a little smile, conferred with Jenna in hushed tones and then, both of them fell into swift and efficient movements to put together the perfect care-package.

“I’ve heard that we are to come to your place tonight?” Angie then asked as she rang up Victoria’s order.

“Ah really? Good, you can help me unpack and set up a few things then.” Victoria grinned. She remembered that Liza had said “See you tonight” earlier, but she hadn’t given it much thought until now.

She would have cooked if she had known, but her larder was almost empty, and she had to stay home to accept all the ludicrous orders she had placed. “It will be take-out then.” She shrugged. She had never resented the company of her friends. “We do not want to intrude.” Angie said gently, seeing that Victoria had not been made aware of the plans.

“Oh, never mind. You are always welcome. As long as Liza doesn’t show up with Armitage in tow.”

Victoria had no idea why she had said that, but she had definitely betrayed more than she had wanted to let anyone know. “Why? I mean, why would she?” Hiddleston asked. Damn, she had almost forgotten he was there after the whole tea commotion. “I went to her office, and guess who I ran into…literally ran into…?”

She might as well tell them and she had shared a brief moment of complicity with Hiddleston the previous night; he was kind and funny, and she didn’t feel that threatened by him here, on her home-turf.

“Well…who is Richard Crispin Armitage?” Hiddleston provided his guess with a twinkle in his eyes, Jeopardy-style.

“I guess so…Is that his full name? Ouch…” Victoria laughed. “Victoria Daphne Roth, I’d be quiet.” Angie grinned.

“Touché.” Victoria conceded, continuing her story: “So, I went and ordered all kinds of stuff, thinking of nothing, and then Liza calls me, with that man in her office sitting across from her, and grills me about me not liking him.”

She was looking expectantly at the others, hoping that they’d laugh and agree that this was a ludicrous concept.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem much of a fan yesterday, but that might change now…” Jenna said after a moment, nodding at the object still clasped in Victoria’s sweaty hands. “I’ll make you a nice black tea with a dash of almond milk.”

Victoria felt annoyed, apparently, she had been even ruder to the poor man than she had thought. Damn!

“I think I’m having what she’s having.” Hiddleston proclaimed after seeing what delicacies Angie had selected for Victoria, who was presently trying to juggle the thermos, the cakebox, and her DVD.

When her phone went off on top of that, she handed the cakebox back to Jenna who looked at him apologetically.

“Yeah? What do you mean? I’m on my way, NO, I cannot take the furniture up myself. 5 minutes, I’m almost there.” Victoria exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. “I have to leave; the furniture is there and I cannot carry it up myself.” She announced to the others, caught again in a desperate struggle to transport everything.

“Let me help you.” Hiddleston took a hold of the cakebox. “For one of the pistachio-cakes and two of the almond cookies.” He added when her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Alright. Come on then.” Victoria agreed, thankful for his long legs and the two healthy hands at her disposal now.

She opened the door to the movers and the guest, telling all of them to just walk upstairs. She then, most inelegantly, fell over the stack of books she had left lying around by the front door, only regaining her balance after grabbing the hallstand which, naturally, toppled over.

“May the devil take you!” She glowered at it, grabbing it violently and putting it upright again while a group of men were trying to wrestle the bookshelf up the narrow stairs. Just as she wanted to join them, the doorbell rang again, and the electronics-shop delivery arrived.

“Miss Victoria, do you have a mop and a vacuum?” Hiddleston appeared and she gesticulated in the general direction of the little cupboard under the stairs. What was he on about now?

After signing the papers and directing this batch of heavily laden men upstairs as well, Victoria finally followed, having stowed away her snacks and her tea in the kitchen for the meanwhile.

Her breath hitched. Thomas Hiddleston was wiping the floor, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his brow glistening with sweat while a group of bulky movers were wrestling the bookshelf against one wall. “Erm, thank you.” She murmured, feeling the vibrant life filling this little unused room.

Roughly half an hour later, Victoria made her way up the same stairs again, holding a tray with dainty teacups and a platter filled with the selection of delicacies. She owed the man a cup of tea and the promised cakes for his collaboration.

As she entered, she saw him kneel behind a small cabinet. “I took the liberty of accepting this suggestion of the owner of the furniture shop on your behalf.” His words came out muffled by the TV he was apparently setting up for her.

“Thank you, yes, it’s lovely.” She murmured, setting the tray down on the treadmill. She would need a coffee table as well and the fainting couch was definitely not big enough to accommodate more than 2 people.

Victoria almost had an immediate need of her fainting couch when she realised that she was imagining, envisioning, accepting that there would be more than 2 people at a time in this room at some point.

“Thank you very much for your help. It was very kind and considerate of you.” She then addressed herself to the man crawling out from behind her TV and fumbling batteries into her remotes with long, gracile fingers.

“You’re very welcome. Ah, I see you’ve brought a cup for me too. Am I allowed to stay for a bit then and eat my cakes while you watch your movie? I’ll get a chair from the living room, don’t worry.” He waited for her to acquiesce, making it very clear that he’d accept it if she just wanted him gone.

“Yes, sure.” Victoria smiled. He was indeed very pleasant and the more time she spent with him, the less scared she was in his presence. He was nothing like that other fellow who made her seize up inside.

“Oh, everyone’s favourite sourpuss.” Victoria mumbled around her cake as Thornton appeared on screen. She had followed the movie quietly this far but hadn’t been able to suppress that little comment.

“Ah, come on.” Hiddleston exclaimed, defending his fellow actor without berating her directly, which made her feel more repentant than if he had scolded her. “It was a joke. He looks particularly unsmiling here though.” She grinned.

“He does, he’s not like that in real life though.” – “In my experience, he is?” Victoria cocked her head.

~Richard~

As he was there, he and Elizabeth went through a bit of work-related stuff as well and the time crawled along.

Her phone chimed a few times, but she didn’t let it distract her until a cascade of notifications made her look up in annoyance. “Excuse me.” She murmured and lifted her phone from the desk to see what the commotion was about.

“Ah…she meant it.” She just commented and put her phone back, ready to return to business.

“Who meant what?” Richard asked, tired and remembering the glasses he was once again not wearing. He was desperate for any kind of distraction from the closed-in feeling in his chest that wouldn’t shift.

“What? Oh, Vic. She told me she had bought a fainting couch and planned on watching a few movies. Apparently, she has just shown up at the tearoom with a copy of North & South. Her and Hiddleston have gone to her place to set up her new furniture. Must be what she has planned with the drawing room upstairs. Hmm.” Liza sounded absent-minded.

“She…what? Can you please explain the correlation between a fainting couch and the movie? And what is Hiddleston doing there? What is going on?” So much for the distraction, Richard thought when the vice around his ribs was tightened.

“I do not know, Richard. I’ll see her tonight and I’ll ask her.” Liza’s lips were quirking, and he was not sure what grimace she was trying to hide from him, but he suspected that he didn’t even really want to know.

“Maybe she’s a glutton for punishment? I have done a few horror movies; she can add those to the list.” He said sombrely. Liza’s hearty laughter in reply to his self-deprecation took him by surprise and, after a moment, he joined in.

She suggested he gift her those, signed, as a token of humour and friendship, but he was afraid that she’d take it the wrong way or be offended. There was nothing he could do right when it came to Victoria, and he was growing tired of being the laughingstock in this whole affair.

Victoria was just a bitter, cold-hearted, callous Xanthippe who was probably now sitting in her drawing room cachinnating about him with that fresh-faced fool of Hiddleston…no, that wasn’t right…how could she be both a bitter virago and a mocking seductress, at the same time?

It all came down to her poor opinion of him, she was cold and abrasive to him, but she would certainly be much more welcoming to someone she didn’t loathe with such fervour, wouldn’t she?

He decided then and there not to ask questions about her anymore and to keep as far away from that woman as he possibly could. In less than 24 hours, she had brought doubt and misery galore into his life and he was too old to just bear this silently. Unlike what he had said about her, he was NOT a glutton for punishment, especially if he hadn’t deserved it.

There were a thousand things on the tip of his tongue though. He wanted to know if Hiddleston was still there and what she had thought of the movie, what that story of the fainting couch meant and what other movies she intended to watch…but he would ask none of these things, he would no longer be strung along in the maelstrom of her insanity.

“I wonder how she’ll like the movie.” Elizabeth mused aloud, her eyes gleaming behind lowered lids. He knew that she was fishing, and he would resist stoically; he would not fall into the trap of confessing that he had thought about the same thing only seconds ago.

He looked dour in that movie, he knew that he did, and she would probably scoff at the screen and feel vindicated in her vision of him as a sour, hostile, disagreeable man. Well, there was nothing to be done about that.

“I think she’s seen the Crucible.” Elizabeth went on goading him and, this time, he couldn’t prevent the exasperation flashing fast and hot across his face. No wonder she thought so little of him as a person if all she ever watched were representations of him stalking around moodily before screaming his head off.

“Well, I’ll see about it tonight. Let’s get back to business.” Elizabeth finally said with a shrug, shuffling her papers self-importantly, whereas her eyes tracked every minute shift in his face all the while.

He merely grunted his acquiescence, listening to her talk about work with a dispassionate voice while trying not to dwell on his irrational irritation whenever the picture of Victoria laughing heartily bubbled up in his mind.

#rpf #fanfiction #richard armitage #longfic #romcom #writing #fanfic #fluff and angst

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years

Text

My Save Year (ch. 2)

A/N: Hello everyone :) Yes, it’s been ten years since I last updated :/ But this chapter is over 12,000 words, so yeah, hopefully this makes up for my absence. Before you read:

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of suicide and homophobia. Take care of yourself first if you’re sensitive to this type of material.

You can also read this here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12554533/1/My-Save-Year

Some of you have already sent me your theories about the plot. I’m intrigued! If you have one, share it! Have a great day/ night!

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Classes had begun, which meant that the earlier excitement of starting fresh was completely forgotten about. Early morning lectures drained all energy from the student populace. All that was left was a solemn, grumpy mood as hungover students and nerds alike tried to keep their eyes open and listen to the lecturer standing at the front of the auditorium.

Syllabus week wasn’t a thing at this university. After the first class, we were automatically expected to purchase our textbooks and complete our readings for the next lecture. It all went by in a panicked blur, as I thought that I would have more time to settle into post-secondary life, as opposed to being thrust right into it.

Not being one to allow myself to fall behind, I had stayed up late the past two nights to get one week ahead of my readings, leaving room for upcoming writing assignments that were scheduled near the end of the month. I was a very organized person, and easily got overwhelmed if I wasn’t on top of things.

You can only guess how irritated I became with Francis for constantly messing up my schedule. He was a night-owl, whereas I liked to get up early in the morning and finish my work as early in the day as possible. The frog also had an insufferable habit of partying, and we’ve only known each other for a week and a half. More often than not, he would come home piss drunk, whining about how he wanted us to be friends.

Hence, the reason I locked myself in my room most of the time. I only came out to go to the washroom, eat, or leave for class. Francis had taken primarily later classes, but unfortunately, we were taking the same English literature 101 course, which was slotted at 2:30-4:00 PM.

The Frenchman was still adamant on getting to know me, and although he was rumoured to be a clever and beautiful writer, he was as dense as a block when it came to taking a hint. Well, it was either that or he was a stubborn mule.

He kept trying to help me with things, insisting that I wasn’t taking care of myself properly. Apparently, microwaved potatoes wasn’t a sufficient enough dinner. Francis’s family was pretty well off, and since I was practically disowned by my own, I was living on a strict college budget. I still nonetheless refused any of Francis’s offers to share his food with me.

I didn’t like owing people anything. I looked after myself, and preferred to keep a good distance from others. It was easier that way, but Francis liked making things difficult by acting as the mother hen of our shared dorm room, incessantly patronizing me. Everything I did was wrong; how I styled my hair; how I dressed; how I ate; how I cooked; how I studied and left little room to have a social life.

Though he may have meant well, annoying and grating as he may be, Francis would soon come to realize that I wasn’t worth his time. I’ve always been better off on my own. Of course, this didn’t mean that I couldn’t be pleasant or polite when spoken to. Thing is, I liked my space, and wanted to keep my interactions with people to a minimal.

I decided that I wouldn’t have friends. I would make acquaintances, people who I spoke to only when we were in class. It required much less emotional commitment, and that way I wouldn’t always be lonely. I’m not delusional. I’m aware that humans are social beings and do in fact need some interaction.

However, friends entailed the possibility of getting attached, being hurt, and suffering from painful separations. I was a very sensitive person. I had experienced enough rejection to last a lifetime. I simply didn’t have the energy to unequivocally trust people again, to give them the benefit of the doubt and to let them into my life with out-stretched arms.

For me, going to class, ignoring Francis, and speaking occasionally with Matthew when I worked at the library on the weekends was more than enough for an introvert like me. Being out and about took a lot of energy, and I would often come home exhausted and drained, only to force myself to tough it through a textbook reading.

My first ten days here weren’t enough to pick up a full routine, but I was managing well enough. The job at the library was relaxing, although I often got headaches from all the spirits clouding the area.

Regardless, the library still acted as my safe place, as hardly any students used the books there, preferring the available online PDF versions instead.

What was most troubling was that I have yet to figure out what was causing me to feel so uneasy on the library’s rooftop. It didn’t help that Alfred was always there, screeching like a banshee the moment I came too close and messed up his “writing mojo”.

The American sure was an oddball, confusing me to no end. One minute, he would act panicked, his cerulean eyes darting back and forth anxiously, and then he would become vibrant and cheerful, laughing and making jokes as he tried to cheer me up and get rid of the frown on my face. He was like Francis; constantly asking how I was doing, if I was okay, and if I needed to talk about anything. Honestly, it was like my depression wasn’t even trying to hide itself.

Still, whenever I attempted to move closer to Alfred, he would vehemently refuse and ask that I not proceed forward. Extraverted as he may play himself off to be, he was still very much a writer in the sense that he liked his personal space. I respected his wishes, but couldn’t help but notice that perhaps his anxiety was more of a phobia.

He became skittish around people, and the rooftop wasn’t a place where many people came. Not to mention that he was enrolled in private classes with very few students in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alfred had mild anthropophobia. Obviously, I wasn’t a professional, but it really did seem like he was afraid to get physically close to other people. If I sat on the bench near him, he would fidget and avoid looking me in the eye. It was only when I was by the edge of the roof, a safe distance from him, that he dared to make eye contact.

Sure enough, I would figure out what was happening on the roof and give him as much space as he needed. Alfred was as much quiet as he was loud, shy as he was outgoing. He was a contradictory mess of emotions, but was still very much a kind soul. I could tell he was trying to engage in conversation with me, so, in turn, I tried to be extra patient with him. It was just hard to when he constantly blurted out things at the top of his mind without filtering his thoughts. I can’t even count the amount of times he’s commented on my eyebrows…

For now, I would just have to put up with Alfred’s nervous babbling. He wasn’t horrible company mind you, but he did have his cocky moments where I had to repress the urge to throttle him.

If things went according to plan, I would find the spirit in need of aid and wouldn’t have to bother Alfred ever again. I could only stand on the rooftop for so long without getting a massive headache anyway, so it was best to get this mystery solved and over with.

(There was always the possibility of this case lingering for a much longer time, but I tried not to think about that.)

Speaking of headaches, I was presently sitting in my literature 101 class, forcing myself to listen to the droning voice of the professor standing below. The auditorium we were in was colossal, hosting close to 200 students. Every first year was in this class, as it was the only slot available.

The sunlight pouring in from the window at the back of the slanted room only made me feel more tired. Hardly anyone was listening, but the professor didn’t seem to care. He was paid to teach and do research on the side. It wasn’t his job to ensure that us students were actually learning the material.

I took a sip out of my afternoon tea, hoping that the caffeine would help me overcome my mid-afternoon slump. It was three thirty (thankfully, my last class of the day), meaning that there was still a good twenty minutes before the professor would let us out of the room.

I was diligently taking notes, although I wasn’t truly listening, but rather, just typing everything that the professor said like a thoughtless robot. My dream of taking hand-written notes were shattered the moment I realized how fast and merciless the professors were when they went through a lesson. They went at their own pace, which was unreasonably fast, and didn’t give a damn if someone didn’t copy down the material in time.

Typing was my only way of salvaging everything discussed in the class.

I moved to grab my tea again, but accidently brushed elbows with the student next to me, who had also been reaching for his caffeinated saviour, a cup of coffee from Starbucks. I couldn’t afford to purchase something like that everyday, and was instead forced to make use of a stainless-steel thermos that kept the tea I had brewed earlier in the morning decently warm.

“Sorry mate,” I whispered an apology to Lovino.

Lovino shrugged in response, tipping back his cup of coffee. His hazel eyes looked beyond tired. He was the kind of person who preferred sleeping in until mid-afternoon. Despite his fancy dress wear, which consisted of a strictly pressed olive blouse, a snazzy pair of black denim jeans, and matching dress loafers, Lovino’s hair had probably seen better days. He must have just woken up before this class, judging by how his reddish-brown hair stuck up in all directions possible, especially this one unruly curl that defied all possible laws of gravity.

I felt quite inferior in comparison with my plain green hoodie, ripped jeans, and black trainers that were embarrassingly worn out.

Letting out a satisfied grunt, Lovino then leaned over to see what I had written down on my laptop screen. “This geezer needs to learn how to slow the fuck down,” he muttered bitterly, moving his own laptop closer so that he could type out what he had missed while he had been finishing the last of his coffee.

I smirked. “Easier said than done. The chap clearly loves the sound of his own voice.”

“Che, true that,” Lovino grumbled, furrowing his brows in concentration. As an Italian international student, English wasn’t his first language. It wasn’t that he had trouble speaking or writing it, but it was hard for him to understand and make sense of our Lit professor’s thick accent. I was more than willing to help him out, as I wasn’t a total anti-social asshat.

Lovino and I had met on the first day of class. We had been asked to introduce ourselves to the person sitting next to us, and he had just so happened to be sitting next to me. I had every one of my classes with him, so it was only natural for us to become classroom buddies. We weren’t friends, as we didn’t speak much, but we helped each other out with notes, and sat next to each other all the time.

We both weren’t very social people, swore a lot, and were easily annoyed by how loud and over the top the rest of our classmates were. Another trait we had in common was that we attracted annoying bastards.

Lovino raised his right wrist, pretending to check his fancy Rolex wrist watch. It was code for us that we were being stared at by a certain pair of imbeciles. We couldn’t talk in class, otherwise we would get thrown out.

“Perverted bastard at two o’clock,” Lovino whispered.

I locked my laptop screen, catching Francis’s smug smile from two rows behind me.

He was sitting with our floormate, Antonio, both of whom were blowing air kisses at Lovino and myself. The pair, along with Gilbert, who was for some reason absent from this lesson, had become close friends. Three idiots together practically spelled nightmare. I had just about had it up to here with them barging in on my apartment, looking for Francis without so much as having the decency to knock.

I felt my lips and eyes twitch in irritation. Lovino’s did as well. Antonio had taken a fancy to the fiery Italian, and no amount of swearing, kicking, or screaming would scare the dopey Spaniard away. The only reason they were sitting so far from us was because we had all almost gotten kicked out yesterday for causing a disturbance in class. Said disturbance had entailed Lovino violently kicking Antonio in the shin.

Not long after, I received a text from Francis. I should mention that he had stolen my phone number before I had even had the chance to give it to him. We were roommates, so it was necessary to be able to have constant contact with him. Francis, however, liked physical contact a lot more, pushing his stupid well-groomed stubble-covered mug in front of me at every possible opportunity.

Bonjour, mon petit hedgehog ;))))))

Would you care to share your notes with moi?

I do not understand ze black sheep accents.

The professor is tres confusing.

Putting on my deadliest glare, I briefly turned around and stuck up my three-most inner fingers at Francis.

Antonio cocked his head to the side, reminding me of a ditsy puppy. Two seconds later, his attention shifted to the back of Lovino’s head and quickly reddening neck again.

Satisfied with Francis’s own confused reaction, I looked away and resumed paying attention to the lecture. Expectedly, I was interrupted a mere thirty seconds later with another text from Francis.

Quoi? What does that hand gesture mean?

I evilly pursed my lips. Discretely, I shot Francis a quick reply: Read between the lines, you insufferable baguette tit.

In other words, I was politely telling him to eff off.

I didn’t receive another text from Francis after that. This wasn’t surprising, seeing as how there was only ten minutes of the lecture left. Most professors liked to take this time to passive aggressively cram all the important information in, screwing over those lazy students who had chosen to leave early.

When the class was dismissed, Lovino and I exchanged knowing glances before bolting down the aisles, heading for the auditorium’s exit with two literal devils on our trails. We had packed our stuff fifteen minutes in advance in preparation for this mad-dash.

Tragically, Lovino and I weren’t successful in our grand escape. A yelp behind me indicated that Antonio had caught up with Lovino.

“Let go, you fucking bastard! Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?!” Lovino snarled, sticking up his sharp nose to the air. He aimed an elbow at Antonio’s ribcage, procuring a pained oomph from the Spaniard.

This still didn’t stop Antonio from wrapping a friendly arm over Lovino’s shoulders. “Come on, Lovi. Let’s go out for lunch, my treat. I know you take good notes, so consider this as your payment. Also, that blush on your face isn’t fooling me. You didn’t seem to mind me when we made out at that party two nights ago, hmmmm? Don’t think you can walk out on me like that so easily,” he purred, his voice as smooth as velvet.

“Fine, but only because I’m starving, you hear me?! Oh, for the love of fuck, wipe that smug-ass smirk off your face. I’m doing this to humor you. What happened at that party means nothing, absolutely nothing!” Lovino fumed, sourly letting Antonio lead him towards the opposite exit of the building, the one that led towards the restaurant strip area of the campus.

I didn’t have time to send up a prayer for Lovino, even if it did appear that something intimate between him and Antonio had happened, as I was attacked by a certain rabid Frenchman.

I could hear the clack of his dress shoes get closer, and then… I blacked out.

“Arthur~!” Francis squealed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. My knees buckled under his weight, causing me to fall forward slightly. My feet moved of their own accord; I was numb, no frozen. Not even the putrid scent of Francis’s cologne could provoke a reaction out of me.

“What do you say to going out to dinner this Friday? We’ve lived with each other for nearly two weeks, and I have yet to see you go out and enjoy yourself! University is supposed to be the time of our lives, mon ami! You won’t have any interesting experiences to look back on if you never leave our apartment,” Francis chided, leaning his face closer so that his hair tickled my right cheek.

“Francis,” I whispered. “Please, let go of me.”

Francis didn’t hear me. “I’m thinking about dinner and a movie, actually. Then we can go back to our apartment and enjoy some wine as we chat away into the night, revealing our most intimate secrets to each other. I want to get to know the lovely mystery that is Arthur Kirkland,” he mused.

“Francis,” I grit my teeth. “I don’t like being touched.”

Francis heard me loud and clear this time. That didn’t mean he was truly listening, though. He wasn’t looking at the fear in my eyes, nor was he paying attention to how rigid my stature had become. “No worries, Angleterre,” he tried to reassure me. “I won’t ever take advantage of you if that’s what you’re concerned with. You’ll warm up to me eventually. You see, I enjoy being close to other people. It’s how you form bonds and friendships that will last a lifetime.”

“Well, I don’t,” I warned. My hands began to twitch; I had no control over it. It was a defensive mechanism that I had acquired a long time ago.

“Oh, come now, surely I’m not bothering you that much,” Francis sighed. “This shyness of yours is unreasonable. I’ll never understand how one can live holed up in their room all the time. It’s healthy to have the occasional company and-”

“BUT IT IS!” I screeched, stopping in my tracks as I practically flung Francis’s arm off my shoulders. I spun on my heels to angrily confront his stunned expression.

“Are you dense?!” I shouted. “I told you three times to let go of me and you didn’t! Did it not come across to you that I was uncomfortable? Stop acting like you have the right to be my friend. You’ve done nothing but piss me off and belittle me constantly. I don’t need you or your miserable shitty company, so you can fuck right off!”

Students passing by in the hallway outside the lecture rooms stopped to stare at Francis and I, wide-eyed at my outburst. Embarrassed, I turned my back to Francis, biting my lip.

Francis chuckled nervously before walking up to me again. I was shaking, the hand that wasn’t carrying my laptop case clenched into a tight ball, puncturing the surface of the skin with my nails. Francis reached out to touch my shoulder, but thought better of it when I flinched away from his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I snapped, holding back tears. “I just don’t like it when people get touchy with me. It makes me uncomfortable. I just wish that I didn’t have to yell at you and make a total ass out of myself to get that through to your thick skull.”

“Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable. It’s the last thing I intended to do,” Francis apologized. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t realize I had gone too far. I won’t do something like that again. Are you all right, you’re shaking? Is there anything I can do to help? There’s no need to feel ashamed, I pushed you when I shouldn’t have. You weren’t being an ass at all. Ah, mon dieu. Arthur, speak to me, please. I must know if you’re okay,” he rambled.

I refused to look at the concerned sapphire blue eyes that were burning holes into the side of my face.

“I’m fine, just leave me alone,” I said, stomping forward. “Just don’t expect me to talk to you when I get home. I’m still furious with you.”

“Wait, Arthur!” Francis called after me, but I was already pushing through the crowd of students, intending to get as far away from the English building as possible.

I felt utterly humiliated. Several tears streaked down my face, which only drew more attention to myself. I hated how weak I was. It’s just, when Francis leapt at me from behind, I was reminded of several horrible memories that I’ve worked so hard to repress.

At home, I was hardly spoken to. I was constantly hip or shoulder checked if I got in the way. To them, I was just a waste of space, unworthy of being respected. I was thrown around like a rag doll, unacknowledged. I was broken and beaten on the inside, with several old bruises on the outside from the times where I had ‘accidentally’ fallen down the stairs or bumped into something. My family lied when they said that they had accepted me for who I was.

It was a betrayal and hurt I would never forget, something that I would always carry with me. What they did tainted every future relationship or interaction that I had with other people and I despised them for it. The wounds may have faded, but the harm to my character and pride would haunt me for the rest of my life.

SLAM!

I pushed open the entrance doors of the Literature building.

I blinked harshly at the sunlight outside, scowling. Rather than typical rainy English weather, the campus was known for having most storms pass right over it – I had learned that fast in my short time spent here thus far. What I needed now was darkness, something to make me feel better… to hide away from my foul mood and not see how miserable I looked.

As if the God’s were testing me, Alistair decided to call me. I ignored him and put his call to voicemail. It wasn’t the end of the week yet, and I wasn’t nearly in the right state of mind to be speaking to him. I knew my brother. If he heard how high strung I was now, he would be here in no time, ready to check me into some bullshit psychiatric institution. Living in another country wouldn’t stop him; he was just as stubborn as I was.

He was worried about me, but he didn’t need to be that worried. I would never even think about committing suicide or harming myself. Instead, I closed myself off and avoided others, choosing to drown in self-hatred as a safer but no less healthier alternative to projecting this loathing onto myself and on others.

I needed a distraction right now, anything really. I suppose that’s why I found myself standing in front of the library. For the past two days, I’ve been going there to study and do my readings.

Although I wasn’t scheduled for work today, I wanted to do something, to be productive in the hopes that it would take away the guilt. What I had just done was shitty. I shouldn’t have yelled at Francis like that. Yes, he was a complete dunce for not listening to me, but… he had looked so hurt when I raised my voice at him.

Shit.

Everything was just going so terribly wrong.

I raised my sleeve to wipe at my eyes before entering the library. A cool blast of the building’s air conditioning hit my face, causing me to shiver. My anxiousness lessened considerably, as I knew that there weren’t as many people to stare at me in here.

I had hoped to find the front desk empty. That way, I could grab a few cleaning supplies and get to work on cleaning the bookshelves without being hindered or having to speak to anyone and explain why I was crying.

Preposterous as it was, cleaning was what I did most as a library assistant. Books were hardly taken out, and the building was old enough that it had accumulated a ton of dust and cobwebs that were in desperate need of being cleared up. I had five floors to go through, and would likely be spending my whole undergraduate degree cleaning the space. It was an oddly therapeutic activity; it kept my mind busy.

It was just my luck that Matthew was sitting behind the front desk, clad in his typical baggy wool sweater that was a different shade of red every day. He stood up immediately when he caught my gaze, parting open his lips in concern.

“Arthur?” he asked.

I ignored him, opening the side door to let myself behind the front desk. I bent over, placing my laptop case in the shelf where we kept our personal belongs. I then grabbed several cleaning supplies, consisting of a rag, a windex bottle, and a feather duster.

I stood up, looking at the ground as I addressed Matthew. “I know I’m not on shift. I had some extra time, so I thought I would help out and clean. I won’t record my hours, I’m doing this for free.”

I moved to leave the area behind the front desk, but Matthew stepped in front of me. “Now, wait a minute, Arthur. I don’t want you going anywhere just yet. Why don’t you sit down for a bit? You look really high strung. Take a chance to relax a little, eh? You’re always pushing yourself so hard, it can’t be good for you, let alone anyone.”

Numbly, I allowed Matthew to sit me in the leather swivel chair placed before the main computer log.

Meanwhile, Matthew leaned against the side-wall of the front desk, his hips resting near a wooden shelf. “Would you like a cookie, or should I say, ‘biscuit’?” he asked, cocking his head towards the counter, where a plate of ‘cookies’ lay, a wry, shy smile on his face.

“Don’t question it, just eat. I’ll explain later,” he encouraged, smiling as he grabbed the plate and offered me a biscuit.

I accepted one, taking a half-hearted nibble from it. It was delicious; chocolate chip. Once I was finished eating, the silence between us became unnerving.

I didn’t appreciate how Matthew was staring at me either. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” I snapped, thoroughly irritated by how quiet he was being. “The whole rest of the school seems to have no problem being nosy.”

Obviously, that was an exaggeration. I was angry and wasn’t making any real sense.

“I wasn’t going to unless you wanted to talk about it,” Matthew answered. “I think it’s safe to say that you came here to keep yourself busy. I don’t mind you cleaning, I just hope that whatever’s bothering you works itself out. I’m here if you need to talk, though, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t believe in forcefully confronting someone. Whenever I’m feeling down, sweets always cheer me up.”

“Oh,” I huffed, my face flushing. I felt awful for lashing out at him like that, especially when he was nothing but kind and patient to me. “That’s so… sweet of you. Thank you, I respect that a lot. I just might take you up on that offer one day… The world seriously needs more people like you.”

I didn’t know what else to say. Even admitting that made me feel anxious. I nervously fidgeted with my hands.

Matthew timidly shook his head, his cheeks painted a light pink. “Who, me? I’m not really doing anything all that important. It’s not that hard to be a decent person to someone. I’m just glad you’re feeling better now. Ah, you are feeling better, right?”

“Yes,” I smiled faintly. “I am, thank you again. I wouldn’t sell yourself short. There are plenty of people who don’t have an ounce of kindness or understanding in them.”

Matthew’s violet eyes gleamed with warmth. I gave him a sheepish glance, too shy to apologize. He reciprocated with a soft expression, non-verbally communicating that he hadn’t taken my harshness to heart. He really was such a sweet, amicable boy.

“No problem. All right, I’ll leave you to cleaning then,” Matthew said, grabbing the plate of biscuits. “I don’t see anything wrong with doing a bit of volunteer work,” he winked in teasing.

I let out a light chuckle. “Here, let me get that for you.”

I stood up to open the side-door for him. “What do you plan to do with all those biscuits anyway?” I asked, furrowing my brows.

Matthew left the front desk area, turning around. “Thank you. Oh, it’s for a ghost here. It gets hungry often, so I leave out food once or twice a day by the fiction section on the fifth floor,” Matthew answered, acting as if what he had just said was totally normal as opposed to bizarre. “It’s really not that much trouble. The archive department always has left over food lying in the lunch room. It would have gone to waste otherwise.”

“Okay…” I started. “That’s not my real concern… A ghost eating food? Surely, you must be kidding?” I spluttered.

Matthew’s expression became serious. “I’m not lying, Arthur. Food always goes missing from the dining hall too. My maman used to leave food for the ghosts back when she went to school here. It’s sort of a tradition in our family and for those who work in the library. Consider this your rite of passage.”

“Are you sure that it’s not just a student?” I inquired. I mean, it would make sense. Being a college student was rough. The prospect of free food, especially for someone with such a small budget like me, was enticing.

“Believe me, we all thought that at first too,” Matthew chuckled. “Remind me one time to show you the security cameras. You won’t get any sleep for a week. The food just straight up disappears. What’s funny is that I always have to change the ‘menu’, otherwise it gets tired of eating the same thing.”

“Oh…” I said, faltering. “That’s certainly something worth looking into.”

Matthew began to walk away, slyly looking over his shoulders, an impish expression on his face. “View it at your own discretion. Only people with thick skins can work here,” he whispered to add to the spooky effect of his anecdote.

I rolled my eyes at his goofy expression.

“I guess that’s my first lead,” I muttered to myself when Matthew was out of hearing range.

What confused me most was how a ghost was able to pick up an inanimate object. I had never heard of that happening before. Although, it made sense that the security cameras wouldn’t be able to catch the ghost’s physical form, as only those with the sight (like myself) could see these entities…

Hmmm.

Perhaps if I cleaned and performed well in my duties Matthew would let me take out the food for the ghost instead. Then I could stake out whatever was eating it.

Actually, that wasn’t a bad plan at all.

…

After I finished cleaning an entire bookshelf, I grew weary and retired to an empty study table, where I worked on a few readings to pass the time. I wasn’t in the mood to go home quite yet, as I was still very much riled up and flustered.

It was only when my stomach growled that I realized I hadn’t had much to eat today. Other than a biscuit and the sorry oatmeal I had made myself for breakfast, I had forgotten to nourish myself entirely. It wasn’t that I was trying to starve, oh no, it was far from that.

Thing is, when I’m feeling anxious, I don’t experience hunger. My stomach flops and curdles, and the basic human function of eating isn’t deemed to be very important. It’s easy to forget things when you’re overwhelmed.

Unfortunately, such an excuse wasn’t enough for Alistair, who always used to worry himself about my poor eating habits. It appears that I’ll have to write myself daily reminders if I wanted to maintain a healthy, not to mention proper eating schedule.

The time was nearing eight pm, and having done enough for the day, I stood up from my seat, intending to go home, eat a quick supper, and go to bed without another word. I had already texted Alistair, promising that I would call him at the end of the week as I was too ‘busy’ with school work to do so today. Obviously, this was a lie, but I couldn’t be bothered to sit through an entire conversation of him pressing me about everything I did like he was a bloody therapist or something.

I had also texted Francis, informing him that I wasn’t mad at him for his earlier stunt, and that I would greatly appreciate some space when I got home. He responded almost right away, and just like Alistair, he had asked me a string of unnecessary questions like a concerned mother hen. I refused to tell Francis where I was though, as the library was a very sacred place to me. Perhaps I was being selfish, but I didn’t want to share it with others, especially with someone as obnoxious and loud as Francis.

Either way, I was glad that Francis had a tougher backbone than what I had initially thought. Delicate in appearance as he may be, the frog had a strong intuition and was able to recognize when people were being genuine or not. What happened in the Literature building was a misunderstanding; we wouldn’t be holding each other accountable for it. In fact, it was best to just forget about it entirely.

I didn’t care if the other students were perturbed by me now. All it meant was that I wouldn’t have to worry about them wanting to talk to me, exactly how I preferred things to be. Sure, there was Matthew, and on some occasions I could tolerate Francis, but for the most part, I truly did favour keeping to myself.

There was also Alfred, which brings me to my next state of action.

Before leaving the library, I wished to investigate the fifth floor and roof again. It didn’t take me long to find the fiction section where Matthew left food for the ghost he had mentioned earlier. The plate of biscuits was still lying on the table, untouched. I made the obvious deduction that the food-snatching happened when no one was in sight.

While I was still in the vicinity, I attempted to call forth the spirits, receiving little response in return. For the most part, the ghosts here were lingering memories, rather than the actual soul. I had asked for answers, keeping my voice down, regardless of how massive the library was and that I was likely one of a handful of people still residing in the building.

Unlike earlier attempts over the past week and a half, this time I was lucky enough to receive a clue about one spirit in particular. I didn’t catch a name, face, or gender, but the energy clouding around this specific area told me that it was relatively young.

Still, I had a lead, and sooner or later, I would find out what it was. Spirits were often shy, so if it was watching me, I wanted it to know that I meant no harm. I only wished to help it pass on. If it took time for it to reveal itself to me, then so be it. I had an entire four years at my discretion, not that I expected this silent chase to last that long…

It required a lot of patience to deal with these beings.

Death was perhaps the most sensitive topic of all.

Similarly, it was also the most drawing of subjects.

It was for this reason that I always found myself being towed towards the library’s rooftop. I had long learned to ignore the memories of those who had jumped to their deaths. It caused me much strain, but it was manageable after some deal of practice.

It was the regret of jumping that often prevented me from falling into a trance. If I wasn’t focused hard enough, I would see through the eyes of the spirit, feeling the temptation to jump off the roof and end the crippling, gut-wrenching string of emotions that weighed them down with every breath.

Feeling what they had felt in their last moments made me realize how bad loathing oneself could get. I wasn’t nearly that depressed; selfishly, it lessened the guilt I felt about my own pitiful predicament…

I took a deep breath as I exited the glass tunnel leading onto the roof. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky a mesmerizing hue of pinks, purples and oranges. It was a rare sight for me, as I wasn’t used to the night being so clear without any clouds in sight. Several fairy lights strung across the gardening tunnel lit up the space, assisted by the street lamps on the cobble stone pathways below.

The air was crisp and pleasantly cool. Too bad I lost my cool when Alfred just about barked at me.

“Dude, what the heck?! You’re coming here again?!”

I jumped from shock, spinning around to find Alfred sitting at where the circle of benches were. He was still wearing the same bomber jacket and faded pair of denim jeans, which according to him, were the clothes he worked best in to channel his story. His blond hair was messy, as if he had been constantly scuffing it up as he rummaged his brain for the right words.

Several pieces of paper from his notebook were discarded and balled up on the cement floor by his feet. Although I had a preference for books, typing my stories was far more efficient. Don’t try telling him that, though. He stubbornly insisted that writing on paper brought out the most from the experience.

“Yes, you twat,” I answered snidely. It was perfectly normal for us to banter back and forth like cats and dogs. I came here every day, and yet he still had the nerve to act surprised. “I came up here to get some fresh air, but no worries, I’ll be all the way over there, so you don’t have to concern yourself with me messing up your ‘mojo’,” I sarcastically muttered, making air quotes with my hands.

Alfred sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. My sarcasm went right over his head as per usual. “Whatever man. It’s getting dark out soon anyway. I won’t be able to write for much longer.”

I didn’t respond, knowing that Alfred liked his space. I walked over to the edge of the roof, closing my eyes. I mentally called forth any spirits in the area, but I received no responses. I had to hold onto the ledge to prevent myself from becoming dizzy.

As I turned to leave, Alfred just had to have the last word. “Yo, what’s up with you always interrupting me. Can’t a guy write in peace?”

I snapped at him without any hesitation. “Listen hear, you ninny. You don’t own this roof! I’ll come here if I damn well please! I mean really, there hasn’t been a time where I haven’t seen you sitting on your arse up here. Why is that?”

Alfred shrugged, his previous agitation being replaced with a morose expression. It made me feel like I had just kicked a puppy. “I know I don’t own this place… It’s just, I come up here because I don’t have anything better to do. I feel calm here; it’s where I can take a break from real life. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting to know people.”

“Uh,” he paused, wracking his brain as he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “I like being around people too, but not when they’re too close. I get nervous and blurt out embarrassing things. I want to socialize and make friends, but I’m terrible at it…”

I furrowed my brows. “So you’re an introverted extrovert then?”

“I guess you could say that. I don’t like being in crowds either. Having company is nice though. Usually people don’t stick around long enough until I overcome the initial awkwardness of getting comfortable with them,” Alfred answered. “I really wasn’t lying when I said that I was open to talking to people…”

I looked at Alfred, and I mean really looked at him. I immediately felt sorry. From what I could tell, he was a nervous boy who wanted to make friends, but was paralyzed by his own social anxiety. We were different in the sense that he liked being around people, albeit not necessarily talking to them, whereas I didn’t like being around any people at all.

For reasons inexplicable, I continued the conversation as opposed to leaving. Our conversations had never lasted longer than the one when we had first met. They mostly involved us snapping at each other, with him childishly puffing out his cheeks until I gave back his precious rooftop.

“I can’t relate. I like being alone, and prefer not to talk to people unless I have to,” I replied.

With the flip of the switch, Alfred suddenly became exuberant. I had always found it hard to keep up with his mood swings. “What?! Doesn’t that get boring for you? Man, I wish I wasn’t such a dork when it comes to talking to people! That brings me to my next question; you always come here with such a troubled look on your face. Get annoyed with me all ya want, but there’s obviously something that’s bothering you. Is there any way I can help?”

“Not really no,” I shrugged, preparing a lie on the tip of my tongue. “Being with people is tiring for me. And I hardly see how that’s any of your business. Why would you be asking when you’re always so adamant on me leaving in the first place?”

Alfred’s shoulders deflated, cerulean eyes wide in apology. “Why don’t you just kick a guy when he’s down? I’m not scared of people, you know. And I told you this already, if I’m not writing, I don’t mind chatting. Why don’t you come here and sit down for a bit? It might help to get some things off your chest. I won’t tell a soul, pinky swear. You already seem tired from putting up with me, so dealing with me for a little longer surely can’t hurt,” he winked, grinning so widely that I saw a row of perfect straight white teeth.

Perplexed, I took Alfred up on that offer. When I approached him, he began to fidget nervously. The fidgeting only stopped when I moved to sit on the bench across from him, rather than on the same one he was resting at.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Jones, but didn’t you say that you’re nervous to speak to others? Why are you so willing to open yourself up to me of all people?” I asked.

“I dunno, I’ve seen you enough times I guess. You’re not exactly the most intimidating person out there,” Alfred added in sheepishly. “And please, call me Al or Alfred. Mr. Jones seems too formal.”

I scowled, refusing to acknowledge his much larger person, as it made me feel inferior. “Fine, Alfred,” I corrected.

“That’s the spirit, Artie,” Alfred beamed, clapping his massive bear hands together.

“No, no, none of that,” I growled. “It’s Arthur, or Mr. Kirkland. I don’t respond well to nicknames.”

Alfred whistled. “Geez, I can see why you don’t like speaking to others. You probably scare most of them off. So…what brings you up here then? I know you said you work at the library, but…”

I didn’t like what Alfred was insinuating at. A topic change was very much needed.

“Hmmm,” I hummed. “Like I’ve told you many times before, I saw the suicide posters, and wanted to see this place for myself. I didn’t know that it would be so calming. The view is nice, even if there is a territorial American who growls at me the minute I take a step too close,” I teased.

Alfred blushed a bright pink. “Dude, I told you not to talk about that. The ghosts don’t like it. If you stay quiet, they won’t bother you. And hey! I told you that I need an empty space to write properly!”

“Just like you need to wear old clothing and write in an old-fashioned notebook?” I countered.

“Duh!” Alfred retorted, again not reading the atmosphere to pick up on my blatant sarcasm.

A comfortable silence fell between us.

Alfred was the first to break it. “How has your week gone? You look pretty stressed.”

I still had no idea why I was pouring this all out onto Alfred. The only explanation was that I felt compelled to; I trusted him and I didn’t bother to question it. He just had such a vibrant and pure glow – his genuine kindness radiated. His smile sent flutters in my chest, and the way that he was looking at me with such real interest and concern forced me to glance away in embarrassment.

“That’s an understatement,” I scoffed. “My roommate’s hardly tolerable, I’m already drowning in classwork, not to mention that I have to balance a job on top of that. I’m also constantly having to prove to my brother that I’m able to live on my own. He has his doubts, and I’ve just about had it up to here with being constantly scrutinized by others. I’m shit at maintaining relationships, no thanks to my rubbish family who couldn’t wait to get rid of me the moment I was old enough to leave. Nothing ever goes my way, and I just want it all to stop. I want to be able to relax, to be satisfied with my life, but according to other people, satisfied isn’t enough. I’m not unrealistic. I know I’ll never be happy all the time. This is the year where I want to set my own standards, and yet, there’s still people out there who have the audacity to tell me that the way I’m living is wrong!” I huffed, widening my eyes in disbelief.

I couldn’t believe I had just admitted all that, out loud no less.

Alfred let out a noncommittal grunt. “Wow, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “And here I thought I had it rough. That’s not fair, people should give you the benefit of the doubt. If you don’t want to do something, then they shouldn’t force you to. But, even if they may annoy you, they probably do care. It’s easy to interpret things negatively when you’re feeling so…how do I put this, overwhelmed, nervous and scared all at once.

“Starting fresh isn’t easy…uh, the specialized classes I’m in are requiring a lot of me too. I deal with it by keeping my head held high. I just think about all that I’ve been through, and that what I’m experiencing is only part of the journey. Things have to get bad for them to get better. Also, not to be blunt or anything, but I think it’s pretty much a given that all writers have experienced depression at one point; it’s how we’re so vivid with our descriptions. You’re right, we all have our bad and good days, but it’s totally unrealistic for others to expect us to be happy all the time. What I’m trying to say is that your feelings are valid. It’s perfectly okay to feel confused, we all are in some way, but you have a right to let others know that you’re affected by it more.”

I sat there, listening to Alfred with parted lips. Never before had I met someone who understood what I was going through so well. He knew about everything. He spoke so confidently, so smoothly, completely different from the basic slang terminology that I was used to him speaking with. I wasn’t just speaking to Alfred; I was delving into his mind, getting to know the nuanced, writer side of him that thought about and cherished every detail, the side that was in tune with the feelings of others.

Stunned, I let him continue.

“I’m also sorry to hear about your family,” Alfred said, his eyes warm with affection. This was the one time where he was daring to look me in the eye, regardless of how close I was. “I at least have my twin sister, Amelia. She’s probably the only person who truly understands me; she’s my biggest supporter in everything. We, uh, talk to each other about everything. Leaving her to study overseas was hard, but she plans to come here next year.

“Let me overstep my boundaries just a bit and give you a suggestion. It seems like your brother is worried about you. I don’t think his concern has anything to do with you proving your well-being to him, he likely just wants to make sure you’re okay. Don’t do something you’ll regret; call him every now and then, even if he annoys you with a ton of questions. It’ll make both of you feel better, believe it or not. It’s important to let those who love you know that you love ‘em right back.”

I nodded my head, still mesmerized by the amount of care and thought that were put into his words.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “Alistair has always looked out for me. He’s become extremely overbearing lately, so much so that I’ve completely shut him out. It’s not right. Actually, I’ll call him when I get home later. Thank you, Alfred. You opened my eyes. Thing is, I’ve just been so wired and agitated lately that I’ve only been thinking about myself and not how I affect the others around me. It was never about being selfish nor is it about ignorance. It’s about getting your head out of your arse and pushing away those negative thoughts, extremely difficult as it may be.”

Alfred’s eyes shined. “That’s good to hear. I’m sure he’d really like that. And totally, sometimes you don’t realize how crippling these thoughts are until you take a step back and see yourself from the perspective of others. Not everyone’s out there to get you. The world can seem likes it’s falling, but there will always be people out there willing to help.”

“You’re a smart lad, Alfred,” I remarked. “I’m glad that we could have this talk. Pardon me for asking, but are you sure you’re faring all right? It can’t be easy leaving your country to study overseas. Even if most students here are international, it still doesn’t negate how nerve-wracking this whole endeavor can be.”

Alfred waved his hand at me dismissively. “Nah. I may not be dealing with it effectively by hiding up here, but I’m doing all right. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m sure I’ll make some friends eventually. Amelia always says that I’m a charmer. The problem is that I need people to speak to me first, then I can’t shut up,” he chuckled.

“I can tell,” I mused, allowing a small smirk on my face.

“Dude, way to ruin the moment. I’ll end on this. No matter how bad things get, promise me that you won’t let life get you down. It’s easy to feel trapped, and it’s even easier to let go of it all. Fight back, be stubborn, and you will persevere. That’s what Pops used to tell me anyway.”

“Those are wise words from someone wearing an old military jacket. It fits you,” I snorted.

“Haha,” Alfred said dryly. “Very funny.”

I stood up from the bench, grabbing my laptop case. “It’s getting late, I should probably go. You know, if you’re up for it, you can always find me in the library, either working or studying. I don’t talk much, so you’ll be able to write just fine. It’ll give you the company you need, but won’t do much for me.”

I had to add in that last part for the sake of my pride. Alfred looked lonely. I most certainly wasn’t the best person for him to spend time with. Surely, he would move on eventually, but I couldn’t just stand here and willingly let him mope on his own. Honestly, I didn’t mind him. He was actually quite endearing with his bashfulness, cheerful attitude, and surprising wisdom.

“Mean,” Alfred pouted. “But, okay. I just might take you up on that offer. But, fair warning, I get chatty when I’m nervous.”

I sighed. “I’m used to tuning people out, you can’t be that bad.”

Alfred snickered. “Why don’t you just come up here then? I don’t mind it, um, as long as you’re not like right in my face.”

“I’m confused? Weren’t you just harping at me earlier for invading your ‘no-people’ zone?” I asked.

Alfred blushed again. “Man, don’t remind me. I’m trying, geez!” he said, pursing his lips in a pout. “Besides, I like talking to you. You can come here whenever you feel like it. I can’t boss you around either since I don’t exactly own the joint.”

I pretended to cough, covering my smile. “Dually noted. Take care, I’ll see you again sometime, likely soon.”

I didn’t want to say that I would see him tomorrow, even though we both knew it would happen, as we both came here nearly every day.

I reached out to shake hands with him, only to falter when I saw Alfred lean away from it. “Right, sorry,” I apologized. “I’m a very forgetful person.”

“It’s fine, dude,” Alfred smiled, sending a pleasant jolt up my spine. “We all make mistakes. I can’t promise you that I’ll get over this aversion, but I want you to know that I would like to be friends with you. That is, if you want to…”

The doubt in his eyes caused me to swallow heavily. I didn’t want to disappoint him, not when had such a hopeful expression. Someone had hurt him in the past, but his cheerful optimism was slowly poking through the uncertainty that he held about himself and others.

“Friends it is, then,” I lied, turning on my heels. “Good night.”

“Good night, sleep tight eyebrows!”

“Oh, sod off!”

“HAHAHAHA!”

I cupped my cheek, feeling warmth as I stormed into the library.

Sooner or later, he would get tired of me.

The problem, is that I had yet to get tired of him. No matter how grating or loud he was, he would always make up for it with his sweet words, revealing a heart so big that I couldn’t possibly stay mad at him. He reminded me of a child, no, a puppy, no both.

Whatever.

It didn’t matter anyway.

I ignored the warmth that spread from my face, to the lump at the back of my throat, and then into my chest.

None of these feelings would be reciprocated, so why bother?

…

It was Friday evening, one of the only times of the week where I let myself relax and take some time off from school work. The first week of classes had ended, but I still had many things to do.

Thursday afternoon had been spent preparing for Davie’s funeral. I had already gathered an old photo of his, although it had taken some time to find a shop on campus that sold blue daisies. Said flowers used to be planted in the school’s gardens, but after the drowning they had all been pulled out.

They were Alice’s favourite flowers, and the Dean at the time had wanted them gone after the incident. He was a despicable man, and his photo in an old year book that I had found in the library did my initial foul impression of him justice.

I also chose blue daisies for the funeral because in the photo I had of Davie he was captured smiling, holding up a single stem for the picture-taker to see.

It seemed appropriate enough.

James Creek was a five-minute walk away from campus. It wasn’t much of a sight these days, as it was where drunken frat boys came to do their hazing rituals. This would explain the beer cans littering the grassy marsh and soft soil along the streambed.

Unfortunately, I had spent a greater part of an hour cleaning up the area where I intended to perform the funeral. I was trying to be as respectful as possible.

The marsh was wetter than expected, causing my feet to sink into the muddy ground, soaking me up to my ankles. It was nothing a good wash couldn’t fix, but it was still nonetheless grating to have these clothes ruined for the rest of the week – I had a specific day where I did laundry. My trainers were already worn down, so I didn’t care so much about that.

The sun was beginning to set when I finally got to doing the ritual. I sent up a quick prayer for Davie, setting down the picture frame I had placed his photo in. I wasn’t religious, but I had taken it upon myself to learn what words were supposed to be said. I couldn’t be a real-life ghost-buster without knowing that, now could I?

Regardless, I was relatively quick with the process, eager to give Alice’s passed-on spirit the peace she so desperately deserved. Once I was done saying my condolences, I placed the bouquet of flowers I had bought into the creek, letting it swim along to wherever the current was taking it, thus representing the progression of one’s life. Lastly, I found a soft-patch of soil to bury Davie’s photo in, which had also taken a good deal of time to dig with my bare hands.

I could have always just purchased a shovel, but with rites like this, it was important to be as close to the Earth as possible. I was severing what little ties remained of a soul; it was important to use the elements of the Earth to nurture them into leaving what was before their home.

The wind became cooler as the evening progressed, prompting a shiver from me as I washed my hands free of dirt and grime in the creek.

Satisfied that I was at least somewhat clean, despite the mud caking the bottom of my jeans and feet, I stood up with the intent of going home and sleeping for a solid eight hours. Thankfully, my shift at the library didn’t start until two in the afternoon the next day.

Just as I was about to leave the creek, however, a voice echoed, whispering so gently that it could have just been a fragment of my imagination. The rustling of leaves masked most of it, but I was able to pick up on it well-enough.

“Rest in peace, little guy.”

A small smile etched itself onto my face. This was why I did what I did. Even though my life may be full of constant disruptions and heartbreak, it was always a pleasure to relieve others of these problems.

As I left the creek and headed back to campus, the sun had officially set. The sky was pitch-black, boasting a multitudinous constellation of clear-cut stars.

Once my feet hit the cobble-stone pathways of the university’s campus, the sky was no longer clear. Fairy lights and lamp posts lit up the area, laughter bubbling and echoing in the air. It was a Friday night, after all. Everyone was out and about, looking for a place to party and get plastered drunk. The heavy scent of perfume and cologne lingered – I was presently passing by a restaurant and pub strip.

I felt awkward, being covered in mud and dirt, as if I had just come back from murdering someone, but thankfully this was masked by the dim lighting outside. I wasn’t dressed horribly, oh no. I was wearing a simple pair of ripped denim skinny jeans, a black hoodie, and had a Union-Jack themed bandanna wrapped around my neck. Granted, the bandanna was something I typically wore if I was going to a poetry event, wanting to appear more edgy. Tonight, however, it was useful for first masking the stale stench of the creek, and second, as mentioned before, the heavy scent of body odour mingled with various perfumes.

Only when the pounding of music drifted into the background did I let myself relax. This was exactly why I had refused Francis’s offer to go out with him tonight. I didn’t like being anywhere loud, and going to dinner with him, putting aside his wrongful insinuation of it being a date, sounded like a nightmare personified.

Either way, the frog didn’t seem to mind after my initial fifty rejections. He was out with our fellow blockhead floormates Gilbert and Antonio, likely drinking their stress away at some club. Whatever, it’s not like I cared. As long as he wasn’t loud when he got back to our apartment, we could go back to ignoring and respecting each other’s spaces. I forgave him for his stunt on Wednesday, but we still weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Correction, I refused to speak to him, inevitably making things more awkward between us, but my stubbornness wasn’t having any of it.

More than usual, I had been uptight these past few days. I think it had a lot to do with me not being able to go to the library as much as I would have liked to.

I hadn’t spoken with Alfred either, and for some inexplicable reason, a tugging in my gut made me feel concerned for him. I’m certain that it was just out of pity more than anything else. Alfred seemed like the kind of lad who could really just use someone to talk to, even if it was a person as stiff and snappish as myself.

I would likely see him tomorrow when I worked anyway, so there was no point in bothering myself about how he was faring.

PLOP!

I looked up at the sky and let out a loud groan. All week it hadn’t rained, but of course the one time I decide to leave my dorm room for more than ten minutes, all of a sudden, the weather miraculously leaps at the chance to punish me. Priceless, just beautiful.

I quickened my pace, drawing up my hood. I was unaware that I was being followed. A drunken group of oafs had been trailing me ever since I had cut through the restaurant and pub strip.

With the constant patter of the rain, I only perked up when I heard someone let out a bark-like laugh. Confused, I spun around, my eyes widening as they took in four tall and dark figures. It was their body language that made me nervous; I felt like a bunny who had just encountered a pack of wolves.

“C-can I help you there, mate?” I asked, trying to be polite. I didn’t want to assume anything and play to stereotypes. My stutter, however, revealed a weakness that only would end up biting me in the arse.

I could hardly see the figure who spoke, furiously blinking rain drops out of my eyes.

“Yes, I’m looking for directions,” A strong male voice grunted, his tone sounding like that of a leer.

“Oh,” I hummed, swallowing heavily. “Well, perhaps I could help you then? I’m fairly acquainted with the campus. Where do you intend to go?”

The next thing he said sent shivers up my spine. “I’m looking for faggot central, and I think I just found it.”

I paled. “If that’s the case, I best be on my way then.”

I moved to sprint forward, but was immediately grabbed by two other boys from the group. They held my arms and just about dragged me into an alleyway at the side of an administration building.

I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

“Let go of me, I say!” I fumed. “What the hell is this all about? What did I ever do to you?!”

My vision blacked out as I was slammed against a brick wall, my head cracking painfully. Tears fearfully streaked down my face along with the water droplets from the rain; I didn’t know which was which.

The leader of the group, the one who had spoke first, told the others to back off as he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. I fruitlessly struggled, nearly choking from the smell of alcohol on his breath.

The shouts of encouragement in the background felt like stabs to the chest.

“You’re scum!” he yelled in my face, slurring. “People like you don’t deserve to live, let alone shove your sinning cock-sucking faces in public! I don’t need to see shit like that! It’s disgusting!”

I spat in the boy’s face, enraging him as he pulled away. “Fuck you!” I screamed. “You have no right to judge! I’ll live and do whatever the hell I want. If you don’t like it, then don’t look at me! I won’t look at your ugly, ignorant mug of a face either. It’s not being gay that makes me a disgusting person! If you’re going to attack me, at least bring up something relevant, you Neanderthal!” I shrieked.

It was at this point that I began to scream for help. I was quickly silenced when a large, sweaty hand was placed over my mouth.

“FUCK!” my attacker swore when I bit into his hand, drawing blood. And yet, he still didn’t let go. The alcohol must have been dulling his pain.

I spit on his shoes, getting rid of the foul taste in my mouth.

“You little bitch!” he shouted at me.

Another angry voice was added in along the mix, but at this point, I was too tired to care. My struggling was becoming weaker. The boy holding me was stronger, taller, and weighed more.

I closed my eyes, waiting for a punch to the face. It never came.

CRASH!

By a stroke of luck, a metal gutter resting against the side of the building fell. The other group members leapt out of the way, yelping in fright, while another voice erupted with angry shouts.

My hearing was dulled. I had completely dissociated. The adrenaline was gone; I was left with nothing but exhaustion.

“STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!”

“WHY DID YOU JUST HIT ME?!”

“I DIDN’T HIT YOU, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. THAT FREAK PROBABLY CURSED US OR SOMETHING!”

“YOU BETTER RUN!”

I didn’t even notice that my attacker had let go of me. Wordlessly, I slid down against the brick wall, sitting on the cold, wet ground. I was and felt filthy. Cold water poured down my neck and seeped into my back and clothing, making me shiver uncontrollably.

I was used to this, being singled out for no good reason. All it meant was that I would have to wait a few days for the bruises to heal and then I could proceed as normal. It’s too bad I’ve normalized what had just happened to me…

This time I was lucky that there were no other injuries. Perhaps just a sore head, but nothing requiring immediate medical attention.

It could have been worse.

Shaking and numb from the cold, I buried my hands in my face, letting out a dry sob. I had cried enough. Now all that was left was fear and disbelief.

Why me?

“Arthur, oh crap! Dude, look at me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

I released my hands from my face, looking up to meet a blurry figure. I instantly recognized the familiar bomber jacket and wheat blond hair. My vision cleared and I saw Alfred crouching before me, his spectacles dotted with tears drops.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah buddy, it’s me. Now how about those fingers…?”

I was too stunned and disoriented to question how close he had dared to approach me.

Similarly, I hadn’t noticed how it had stopped raining.

“Two,” I groaned. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken up…I think…”

I glanced at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. I was humiliated.

“Dude, you are so not okay!” Alfred protested. “If I didn’t show up those guys would have…!” he trailed off, a solemn expression crossing over his face. “Arthur, what are you doing out here so late?”

“Oh cut it with that bullshit, will you?” I growled, inhaling sharply. My body was frozen, refusing to work, but my mouth wouldn’t stop spewing out garbage as if its life depended on it. “I will not be victim-blamed here! I was just enjoying a walk outside, minding my own business when those idiots decided it would be a good idea to attack me! It wasn’t my fault! And what in the bloody hell are you doing out here anyway?”

Alfred leaned back, raising both hands in surrender. “Whoa man, I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying that there are some pretty sketchy people out here at this time. The alcohol doesn’t help either. Even I feel nervous walking out here alone. I was just coming back from the library… I was worried too. I haven’t seen you these past couple of days. And then when I do, you’re almost getting your face punched in, in a grimy alleyway.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” I sniffed, rubbing at my eyes with my sleeve. “Anyway, thank you, although I’m sure I could have handled them myself just fine.”

Alfred scoffed. “I heard you screaming for help. No one could have taken on that many guys. I wish I could do more, but those pissheads probably won’t even remember any of this in the morning. I also didn’t catch their faces…”

I didn’t say anything. I was beginning to drift off into space again, wanting nothing more than for this horrible, horrible night to end.

“It’s okay, Arthur. I know you’re scared. You’re safe, and no one’s going to hurt you. I’m here. Is there any place that hurts?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I croaked. “Didn’t you hear what they said? Don’t waste your time on me.”

“Okay…you definitely hit your head too hard. I don’t give a flying bunny about those things. You’re still same old grumpy Arthur to me, just as stubborn too.”

I jolted when Alfred hesitantly reached out to cup my cheek, bringing his face closer to mine. I didn’t realize that he was shaking just as much as I was. “I’m going to get help. Can you stand?” he asked me.

His hands were cold, wet from the rain. I nodded my head, still allowing him to help me stand up. I wobbled a bit, but was pretty decent on my feet. The shock of the events prior was beginning to fade away.

These things didn’t bother me as much as they used to. It was back to the repressing drawing board.

I felt like I was floating, like what I was experiencing wasn’t even real.

“I thought you were too shy to be close to other people?” I murmured.

“That doesn’t matter now, helping you is more important,” Alfred grunted, his arm slung over my torso.

He leaned me against the wall. “Stay there, I’m, uh, going to go get someone.”

“Wait, Alfred?” I croaked, but he was already gone, leaving me behind in the mucky alleyway. I took this chance to breathe, calming myself, preparing myself for the questions that would likely follow as soon as campus security arrived.

My luck struck out again.

…

Desperation pumped through his veins as he thundered out of the alleyway, his feet slapping against the ground, causing water to fly everywhere.

The first thing Alfred saw was a man with shoulder-length blond hair walking towards him. He was likely coming home from a night out with his friends.

“Excuse moi, but are you all right?” the man asked, his voice bearing a French accent.

Alfred paused, looking over his shoulder. The man was looking straight at him.

“Monsieur, can you hear me? Are you all right?” the man asked again, furrowing his perfectly arched brows in question.

When the man approached closer, Alfred could smell alcohol on him, but he appeared to be relatively sober.

Once again, Alfred looked over his shoulder.

The man looked at Alfred with narrowed eyes, suspicious at the latter’s tense demeanor.

The man knew for a fact that Alfred could understand him.

“Hallo? I am speaking to you!”

Alfred cleared his throat nervously, his eyes darting left and right. It was as if he had forgotten how to speak; he was rusty at socializing with people he was unfamiliar with. There were other reasons for his social awkwardness, but let’s not get into that.

“Look dude, I think a guy just got jumped in that alleyway!” Alfred shouted, pointing to his right. “He seems to be okay, but I really need to be somewhere! Check on him, will ya? Kay, thanks!”

Alfred began to bolt away from the Frenchman, ignoring the confused shouts that followed his departure.

Alfred was just as confused if not overwhelmed by what had just happened.

His only solution was to run away, just like he had done in the past before.

…

The next half hour passed by in a daze. Alfred left and the next thing I knew Francis was shouting in my face, panicking about how muddy, worn down, and dirty I was. He inspected me for injuries but found none.

I was still too tired to put up a fight. I gave him a half-ass explanation of what had happened, keeping it short as I couldn’t stand the smell of wine on his breath.

In my rush to get home and ignore Francis’s pleas to take me to the campus’s clinic, I had somehow forgotten to mention Alfred entirely.

It didn’t matter in the end though. If I owed someone my thanks, I would rather deliver it to them in person. For now, I wanted time to wallow in my own misery.

Tonight was a perfect example of how the world hates me. I was pathetic, and attracted harm and negativity like a moth to a flame. I didn’t want to speak of it anymore than I absolutely had to.

What infuriated me was how Francis refused to let me walk home without being helped. My disorientation had long passed, the evening air doing well to clear my head.

If only I didn’t have a migraine from the two idiots who had their arms wrapped around my torso and the third idiot who lagged behind.

“I told you that I could walk home myself!” I fumed.

“Ignore him,” Francis huffed to my right. “He could have his leg blown off and he’d still rather drag himself to safety instead of relying on another person. He has trust issues,” he explained.

“Ah, not to be like a total downer or anything, but you’re not looking so awesome, Arthur,” Gilbert commented, his red eyes raking up and down my muddy and dishevelled figure. “You smell like you’ve been in a sewer.”

I ignored the tipsy German.

“Did your eyebrows offend someone?” Antonio asked me, holding up the left side of my person. “That’s too bad, amigo. You were probably in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Would you all just fuck off already?” I exploded. “Why are you even bothering to help me?”

On miraculous cue, Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis spoke at the same time. “It’s what friends do.”

I fell silent after that, thankful the night was dark enough to hide my blush.

Friends…

Huh.

That word would never fail to faze me.

To be continued…

Word Count: 12,933 words

21 Pages

#hetalia #USUK #aph America #aph England #Aph France #fanfiction #ellaawkward #chapter 2 #angst #romance

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