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todomitoukei · 3 years

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Hey wanna ask u something I saw a post in twitter saying that Bakugou is very rude in japanese and they can't really write how rude he is in english cuz english translation isn't rich as the Japanese ANYWAY, since Bakugou is rude is Dabi a rude character too? And who's the most rudest character in BnHA? Man i hope it's Dabi kskdkkkds 😔😂 I just feel it suits him to be rude :')

That’s a great question! Also sort of difficult to explain? There are a lot of nuances to the Japanese languages that don’t exist in English, so be aware: there is some information ahead.

Let me preface this, though, by saying that I normally read My Hero in English. I sometimes read certain parts in Japanese, specifically when I try to figure out what the character said exactly rather than just trusting in the English translation. So I can’t give you a perfect answer as to who the rudest character is since I’m not familiar enough with everyone’s speech patterns. (I think I’ve mostly looked at what Dabi and Shouto have said in Japanese), but I did browse a little more through some Japanese chapters to compare a couple of characters.

For this post, I am going to mainly compare Bakugou and Dabi.

And before we talk about swearing in Japanese, I don’t remember if this is just a one time occasion or if this happens more often throughout the story, but for example, in chapter 292 when Shouto basically asks Dabi whether he has lost his mind, the official English translation made him say: “Are you freakin’ insane?!” - sorry, but if you’re gonna add a swear word, why this watered-down version? This is a story filled with dark topics, brutal fights, and on-screen killing, and yet you won’t let a teenager say fuck? W h y ?

Anyway, the reason people say it doesn’t translate well is that swear words aren’t a big thing in Japanese. There are a couple of swear words, and we’ll look at those, yet overall those words aren’t swear words by definition, but rather become swear words based on context and tone.

Because the Japanese language is all about different levels of politeness, whether certain words are rude or not depends on the context and whom you are speaking to.

That being said, let’s take a look at the different ways characters can sound rude:

Words

This is a really good post that talks about swearing in Japanese and lists some of the words that can be used similar to swear words.

One of the words featured on that list is 「てめェ」 (temee). This word gets used by several characters throughout the story, usually to address an opponent. Here’s an example of Dabi using it in chapter 292 whilst referring to Best Jeanist:

If you look this word up in the dictionary you’ll get the following definitions: you (used by young males; vulgar; derogatory)/ you son of a bitch/ you bastard. Technically, this word means you, but the nuance boils down to the speaker looking down on the person they’re talking to.

There is also the word 「死ね」 (shine). This is the imperative form (command form) of 「死ぬ、しぬ」(shinu) - to die. I don’t think I have to explain why it’s considered rude to tell someone to die. Anyway, this one is commonly used by Bakugou (like when he has to throw the ball during class).

Another big swear word is「くそ」(kuso), meaning damn, shit. In My Hero, this is often said as「クソナード」(kuso naado) - “damn nerd” by Bakugou. Another nickname Bakugou uses is the one he has for Shouto,「半分野郎」(hanbun yarou) - “Half bastard”

Speaking of 「野郎」you know who else uses that word? Dabi.

Dabi says:「なんだ空っぽのコスプレ野郎じゃねえか。」(nanda karappo no kosupure yarou janee ka.)

I think the English translation says something along the lines of “Oh, so you’re not just a hollow cosplayer” But that loses a lot of the nuance.

「なんだ ; nanda 」-> depends on context, but can be translated as “What the hell?”

「空っぽ ; karappo」-> hollow

「の ; no 」-> particle to indicate possession, works like an apostrophe

「スプレ ; kosupure 」-> cosplay

「野郎 ; yarou 」-> bastard

「じゃねえ ; janee 」-> rude form of 「じゃない」 (janai) which is already the casual way to negate the word it proceeds

「か ; ka 」-> question marker

As you can see, this sentence includes several colloquial/rude ways of speaking. The full sentence would be “What the hell? You’re not a hollow bastard cosplayer?” - yarou can also just be translated as “guy” but even then it’s a rougher word, so that’s why bastard emphasizes that better, I think.

So it’s definitely fair to say both Dabi and Bakugou are ruder than other people, mainly shown by the way they address people.

Bakugou even uses 「野郎」on the hero Slidin’ Go:「語彙力この野郎」(goiryoku kono yarou) “Extend your vocabulary, you bastard”

Also, here’s a panel that features Bakugou saying several rude words at once! Sometimes, he uses a lot. Featured here are the aforementioned 「くそ」(kuso) and 「てめー」 (temee), as well as 「ばか」* (baka) - “idiot” - *note that in the manga kuso and baka are written in katakana,「クソ、バカ」 respectively, instead of hiragana to emphasize them similar to the function of italics.

Polite Speech

Again, there are different levels of politeness in the Japanese language, and one of the quickest ways to determine the level is by looking at the verb ending. There is a plain form (also known as dictionary form), as well as a polite form. The latter is also known as “masu”-form since you change the ending of the verb into masu.

There are a few instances where Shouto uses the polite form while talking to someone, like here with Rock Lock:「頼みます」(tanomimasu) “to entrust to”

and here, when he is thanking All Might「ありがとうございました」 (arigatou gozaimashita). This is a common phrase, but it’s usually shortened to just arigatou.

Now take Bakugou again, who doesn’t use the polite form when talking to Pro Heroes he has never talked to before and instead calls them bastard. Definitely ruder!

Another instance of a character using polite speech is Dabi throughout his broadcast, like here where he says「生まれました」 (umaremashita) “have been born”

Pronouns

There are also several personal pronouns in Japanese. The standard being「私」(watashi), which is mainly used by women, but can also be used by men, specifically in formal or public spaces to remain more neutral. This pronoun is for example used by All Might.

The story itself is called 「僕のヒーローアカデミア」(Boku no Hīrō Akademia), boku meaning I and is usually used by boys/young men. Grown men might also use it as a sign of modesty since the word originates from the terms 「下僕」(geboku) meaning manservant, and「公僕」(kouboku) meaning public servant. As the story title hints, this is the pronoun Deku uses to refer to himself.

Another personal pronoun is 「俺」(ore). This one is more commonly used around peers. Because it sounds a little self-asserting, it can be rude when used in formal settings or when speaking to strangers or old people. This is a pronoun used by the majority of the male characters, including Dabi, Shigaraki, Shouto, and Bakugou.

Which language a character uses is part of their characterization, hence a more humble character like Deku uses boku, whereas more dominating/self-confident characters like Dabi, Shouto, or Bakugou use ore.

What’s more, a good way to learn about the different politeness levels is to look at chapter 290, where we switch between Dabi’s broadcast, and Dabi on the battlefield talking to Endeavor and Shouto.

Aside from using the polite form of speaking in his broadcast rather than the casual form, he also uses boku in his broadcast, and ore on the battlefield:

Again, when boku is used by grown men (aka Dabi) it’s a humble way of speaking. Pairing that with him using the polite form of speaking makes him sound especially well-mannered, a huge contrast to his usual rough character.

Sentence Ending Particles

Another way to influence the way what you’re saying sounds is the way you end your sentences. There are several particles you can use (sort of like “right?”, “isn’t it?” etc.). Again, there are certain choices here to make you sound “cooler” or “manlier” - so not explicitly rude, but it just adds to the already existing roughness certain characters use when speaking.

One of these particles is「さ」(sa) which is a casual/rougher form of 「よ」(yo), mainly used by men, and can be added to the end of a sentence for emphasis. Here’s an example of Dabi using sa while speaking to Skeptic in chapter 291.

Also, note that temee gets used again here. As mentioned before, temee can just mean you, but in a derogatory way. The official translation says “Thanks to you and your camera for that prime footage. No reason not to use what we got, right?” - so aside from English not having a derogatory you, the “right?” is at least a good translation for sa.

「ぜ」is another particle like that, but it’s only used in casual conversations or when speaking to someone of lower social status. So when Dabi uses this here -

as he invites Endeavor to dance with him in hell, it’s obviously a rude, mocking way to end the sentence since technically Endeavor is above him in social status (since he is his father and also a Pro Hero).

To sum it up, there are a lot of characters who generally speak rougher and less respectfully than the average character does, but what makes Dabi and Bakugou particularly stand out is the way they address people, often using derogatory words, added with some other ways to sound rougher/ruder no matter whom they are speaking to.

In comparison to Shouto, who has shown to at least sometimes speak in a polite form, Bakugou doesn’t seem to use that form at all. The problem with comparing this to Dabi in order to figure out which of them is the rudest is that we don’t really see Dabi in formal situations. Him being a villain automatically means he doesn’t exactly get into situations, where he would speak to a higher up. Sure, Shigaraki is more-or-less his boss, but they’re more on even grounds than in a formal employee-employer scenario.

The one time he does speak formally is during his broadcast. This shows that he can speak formally when he wants to - but he usually doesn’t. Again, though, as a villain, it’s difficult to compare him to those on the hero side. That is also the reason why some might consider Bakugou to be especially rude since he is on the hero side and with that, expected to speak nicer to people.

While Dabi’s speaking mannerisms match that of a bad guy, Bakugou speaking similar to him despite being a hero-to-be makes him sound more aggressive. Bakugou is basically the expression “don’t judge a book by its cover”.

With that, it would make more sense to compare a character like Dabi to another villain, of course. While characters like Shigaraki overall also speak similar to Dabi, again, it’s more about the words he uses for people, especially when he is close with them.

So I think it’s fair to say that Bakugou and Dabi are, at the very least, some of the rudest-speaking characters in the story. The reason the translations can’t quite capture this is due to certain aspects of Japanese (like the different levels of formality shown through conjugation, certain particles, and certain words) not existing in English. While English also has rougher ways of speaking, there aren’t as many nuances, especially if you want to make characters stand out more in comparison to other characters with similar rough mannerisms.

Anyway, I hope this somewhat answered your question! Like I said, it’s difficult to explain that in one post, especially considering the amount of characters in the story, as well as certain aspects - like Bakugou being on the hero side and Dabi being on the villain side - making it more difficult to sum it up, so hopefully this at least explained a little bit.

#ask #translation #dabi #bakuou #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #todoroki #Anonymous

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Stronger Than Blood (6)

Chapter 6: Lines Are Drawn | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

A/N: Wow, progress is a little slow now. I’m slightly bummed for some odd reason. With the chaos ensuing anywhere in the world, I’m also affected, one way or another. Given that I’ve come back to my work, the good thing is my company has shortened the work hours, though traffic is still a bitch. I’m beginning to see the new pattern to my work-life balance here. I’ve learned that coffee at night while writing gives me a boost of energy to keep writing. But I’m glad you guys are still looking at my stuff, even if only a few of you stop by every now and then. 💞💞💕💕 You guys have no idea how much it means a whole lot to me, the same way you guys matter. The world’s gone fucked, I hope you guys are safe, wherever you are. 🥺😪💝💖

Also tagging: @ayamenimthiriel

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but never your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, you will never hear the end of me, my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

——————————————————–

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging me, dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, Count.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is not over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

He’s going to take me?

Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?

Who is the other man they were talking about?

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

Your mother was in there.

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. It never did.

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.

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ninaahelvar · 6 years

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In Love With Dreaming (7/10)

Summary: Dreaming with your soulmate was what every twenty-one year old wanted - but for Claire, dreaming became a burden on her and her soulmate; she hasn’t been able to see his face for ten years. When things started to seem better, she starts to dream of someone else; Owen Grady.

AO3

A/N: I ended up getting the time and moving my ass along to write this week. It’s been hard but thanks for understanding. Anyway, as always, thank you for my beta Clare (@doesitsaysassonmyuniform) for fixing up my awful writing, you’re a great beta. (Tags for @cometothedarkside-x and @dealingdreams so you don’t miss out)

It was the night of her twenty-first birthday, and to say she was nervous was an understatement. Ever since the mess with Karen, Claire had anticipated this day, yet tried not to dread it. What if she wasn’t what he wanted, or that he could live without her? What was the point of knowing someone so thoroughly for them to just abandon her whenever they chose? She didn’t want to be part a statistic, not like...

Claire was walking, but not a moment before she thought she was going to sleep. She walked a street, as though in a city, but there was no one else around. It didn’t feel frightening, it felt like she needed to find something, lost in the midst of the winding streets. She felt like calling out, but it didn’t seem like it would do much use; there were so many streets, anyone around would barely be able to hear her, let alone find her.

Taking herself around another corner after what felt like her twelfth-thousandth, she saw a man sitting on a gutter, picking at flowers that petals took to the wind. They wiped past her, hitting her that she had to brush them off. He didn’t even noticed. Yet, as she looked at him, there was something strange that she’d never heard of; his face was scratched out, like a photograph that had been keyed. She tried to focus her eyes, but nothing shifted. Claire cleared her throat, taking a look at herself and found that she was wearing a jeans and plain t-shirt combination. The man jumped, standing up, and his face didn’t change. She was hoping that it would when he saw her.

Instead of reacting, she put on a nervous smile, and waved to him.

“Hi,” she said, her voice small.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low, like it was made of gravel, but it was beautiful to listen to. He walked to her slowly.

“How does this work?” she asked, giggling out of...well, she didn’t know, she just let it go without realising it was there.

“I have no idea,” he replied back with a similar chuckle. He was wearing something like she was, just jeans and shirt; but it was a seahawks jersey, so Claire knew that would make her dad happy. “I’ve been waiting for two years to see your face,” he said, her hand nervously running up her arm.

“Two years?” she asked, stepping forward as though she was pulled into his gravity, “wasn’t that hard?” She looked up to the mess that was the scratches, wondering if she’d ever see him smile and wondering if his eyes sparkled the way she thought they did.

“I can be patient,” he muttered, his hand on her cheek, barely present, but so warm to fall into.

Claire took back to her things, ignoring the worried voices of Zara and Vivian, both of them just sounded like white noise. God, why were her ears ringing? Why did she feel like she needed to be sick? And that she needed to shout and scream and hurl things at him? She picked up her bag only to be met with Owen tugging on her arm.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Claire spat out harshly, turning to Owen. She knew she looked like a raging bull, and he sure feared her like one. She pushed him off, pulling out her phone and calling for anyone or anything to come and get her.

“Hey! You don’t get to do that,” Owen called, just as the staff were beginning to crowd, gossip about what the hell was going on. But they couldn’t have known.

“Yes, I sure as hell do,” Claire scoffed. Owen finally got to her side, holding her in place.

“Claire would you just listen to me!” he shouted, making her shiver. They both stared each other down, angrier than the other.

“You lied to me for two years -” Claire returned her shout, and Owen let go.

“- And I had to wait ten!” he shouted back, the resolve of ten years shattered as defenses came loose. Claire felt her knees go weak, almost buckle at the words. Her eyes started to well and she felt like she was swallowing her own tongue the way her throat felt tight. There was no longer anger brewing, she was on the verge of breaking. Owen flinched, a knee jerk reaction as her anger and his composure collided to create his breaking point; like glass shattering in the wake of a hurricane. He saw his mistake, and the hurt that they had both inflicted in the words he spoke; because he wasn’t wrong. “Claire, I…” he said softly, but Claire backed away, moving off from the beach.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Claire cleared her throat, pushing herself up the walkway and to the main street, fixing up her dress as her hands shook and her breathing felt shallow and useless. When her cab finally arrived, Claire couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she gripped into her bag. She felt like her body couldn’t reset, on the verge of shutting down and completely breaking.

When her mind was racing over a thousand thoughts, she couldn’t help but isolate the one; he knew. He had tried to explain, had even told her in the past that he saw her face clearly. And those dreams...they were all him. He had been inside her, kissed her until she saw stars and come inside her. Claire had wanted it but….this wasn’t what was supposed to happen; she was supposed to get things right. So, why was her life suddenly a disaster zone?

Back at the hotel, she went to her room, suitcase already inside and on her bed, Claire reclined against the door. Her legs held no purchase and knees were too weak to handle to crushing weight in her chest. She felt the tremor in her hands again, the shake that rattled her and her bones, tearing her up from the inside out.

She felt like she couldn’t trust her hands; they touched him and didn’t know. Her mind focused on him, the way he smiled or how his jaw went slack when he couldn’t himself together, and she pulled herself away, shutting her eyes tightly to think of anything else. Her chest, the offensive part of her, still pounded at the thought of him; it still craved him after everything.

In every moment, she felt trapped, confined to a space that wouldn’t let her breathe no matter how large of a space it was. Claire needed to do something - anything - just to not feel so helpless inside her own skin. Before she could stop herself, to think about what she was doing, she was tossing her things across the room, tearing at the clothes she had on just to get rid of the feeling on her body. When she was left with a room of scattered items, tossed bed and lamps on their side, she felt hollow. The rage and the pain that burned inside was but an ember, and she felt numb.

She needed to get clean. She went into her bathroom, took herself into the bathtub and cradled herself there. The last time she had pressed herself so close, shielded herself from the pain of everything...she had seen her sister. The thought of what Karen said lingered in her mind, and Claire pressed her mouth to her knees.

“There were times where I wished I never knew him at all.”

Claire felt her lip quiver, but she didn’t break. Even if everything in her wanted to. She wasn’t going to break. And no matter how long she remained in the bath, she would always remember what every touch he gave her felt like - every glance, every smile, every kiss - she’d always remember it. And they wouldn’t leave her be. Sinking into the depths of the water, the only place she felt safe, she screamed; for as long as her lungs could take it, she screamed. The pain, the loneliness of ten years, the betrayal; everything was yelled into the water that wouldn’t tell the world a thing of what she was going through.

When she was gasping for air, she leaned over the edge of the tub, the inside of her chest finally feeling what her whole body was; like it had been so physically hurt, it was a miracle she was still standing. Combing back her wet hair, her hands still unable to find any form of normalcy, she knew she had to get up and get dressed. Dressing in the pajamas she brought along, hearing the buses roll up outside. Moving out of her bathroom and into her room, she peered out the window, seeing that the rest of the staff was coming in to the hotel, the afternoon looming outside and Claire’s day had shortened to her surprise. Hoisting herself up, she stayed on her bed, thinking for hours about everything, about nothing and anything, that had to do with him.

“Eh, toss it up to my soulmate.”

Owen had once said, boasting about his soulmate. It felt like a dam, washing over in realisation after realisation; waves crashing into her and making her over analyse everything lately. Even their past.

“It’s complicated.”

He said it constantly, never said her name, never even described her. He was talking about Claire. He was always referring to her. She was the complication. She was the reason that he never had concrete information about his soulmate; because she was as distant as the description. Claire tossed in her bed as she thought on.

“Can you see my face?” He had asked her the night after that first dream of them in bed. “I just wanted to know if things….had changed.”

He…

He expected that things had changed - that they were finally different. If they were close in those dreams, why couldn’t they be in these ones. Why were they still so far apart.

“What’s wrong?” He was there that day after Karen left. He was there ready to talk to her; but why?

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Please leave.”

“Claire, I -”

“Please.”

He listened but even in that moment she didn’t want him gone. She pulled herself away, tucked herself into safety like she always did. Hours were spent as Claire thought on everything, the way he talked, the way he stood, the way he smiled or touched her. He acted the same, perfectly the same in every version of himself. Even as she thought on it, she couldn’t realise how stupid she was - he was in the army, same as her soulmate; he always knew when things were wrong; he read her like he knew her, because he did.

“I’m going to meet my soulmate soon.”

He anticipated it. The change in them. In what was happening to themselves.

“You know me.”

He said that in that dream. It...it wasn’t her nightmare. It was Owen’s. He wanted her - the other Claire - because she saw him.

Claire saw him. She saw him everyday.

But did she? Before everything started to change, did she even pay attention to him?

Claire had been waiting on the pier all morning, the sign with his name on displayed and waiting for whoever he was to arrive. Owen Grady. That’s what the tablet said. New animal trainer.

When the 10am ferry arrived with new guests, there was one that stood out to her. He was wearing a button up shirt but the sleeves were rolled and his jeans hugged him but still seemed roomy. A bag was held over his shoulder, making his arm flex and shirt seem far tighter than necessary. He scanned the crowd as he walked down the ramp.

He saw her and he stopped. She remembered that. He stopped just at the bottom of the ramp. Somehow, just by seeing him...he seemed soft, gentle. He was patient. She remembered thinking he was patient. She shifted her shoulders, waiting with a tap in her foot as he finally went over to her.

“Hi,” he beamed, a smile wide and beautiful. He was gorgeous just to look at. There was something primal hidden underneath her skin, pulling her towards the gravity that he held. She had to fight the urge to want to be near him. Taking in a deep breath, she held herself tall.

“Are you Owen?” she asked, holding her tablet to her chest.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. There was something to him, the way he leaned or even spoke. He was familiar. She pushed it aside, extending her hand and taking hold of his, shaking it firmly.

“Claire Dearing, operations director. I oversee your role here on the island,” “Okay, so let’s go to my office so you know your job. You report to me every other week, but I do expect written reports sent to my office every week,”

“Yes, Claire,” he said, voice so light that even the sound of it made her chest flutter, shivers running over her skin. Claire rolled her shoulders, turning back to him. He was closer than she expected - but would come to find as their norm - and she held herself up, squaring her shoulders to match his.

“Ms Dearing will do,” she said, tilting her chin. He smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets. Why was he so goddamn attractive? This wasn’t a fair exchange, especially in the world they live in. “No need to get familiar,” she said, setting her jaw. Owen became straighter, the smirk lost and his eyes fading. There was something deep inside her, that twisted at the sight of his dwindling smile. She ignored it, pushing herself forward and guiding them into the main building.

Even before everything, before she did get to know him, she threw him aside as though he were nothing. He had seen her in person for the first time and she acted like she couldn’t stand being around him. As she cradled herself on her bed, knees brought up to her chest, it was the only time she allowed herself to cry, to bawl until her eyes stung and her chest couldn’t take the pain. She could sense a hovering of feeling, distant from herself, but so close, almost ready to touch - until it pulled away, chased from her cries and whimpers that only the brokenhearted could recognise.

“There were times where I wished I never knew him at all.”

Claire could see the sun coming up, and she felt the breaking point inside her chest. The sun made the room so light, it felt so foreign to be in her room. How could everything be so bright? Why was it that she felt so hollowed out that not even the breaking of another day before sleep could even come. It wasn’t like she planned on sleeping anyway, the thought of seeing him there when...everything was a mess. She couldn’t handle that much hurt.

When her floor came to life and she was still curled up in her room, there was a knock that came to her door. A shake raced through her body; she didn’t want to see him, not now. The door rattled with another, lighter knock this time. A voice called from the other side, cautious and soft. “Claire? It’s Zara. You in there?” Claire sighed, getting up and going to the door. Opening it, she saw a weary smile on Zara’s face. “You weren’t at dinner and I haven’t seen you this morning. I got worried.”

Inviting Zara inside, Claire tossed herself back onto her bed. “I didn’t feel like eating. Not with everyone watching,” she sighed, curling up on top of the covers. She found that Zara crawled beside her, curling up and looking at the lowly woman that Claire would seem to be. As Zara’s gaze held her, Claire knew in this moment of utter confusion and devastation, she still has someone to hold her hand if she needed. She always had Zara.

“Then, we’ll get room service. Just us,” Zara replied and Claire scoffed, nodding in reply. They ordered up some food, knowing that everyone else was in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, and getting Claire to look presentable. They knew it wasn’t meant for spite him - to say she was doing fine no matter how he betrayed her - but just to feel okay; to feel like the world hadn’t just caved in on her. Claire sipped at the remainder of her coffee as they had Claire sitting in front of the mirror, Zara braiding Claire’s hair.

“Did yesterday go alright?” Claire asked carefully. Claire looked in the mirror, watching as Zara smiled, and continued on with Claire’s hair.

“Everyone loved the beach and the restaurants you suggested, everything was amazing,” she explained, but there was something that hung onto the end of her sentence; biting at her lip, there was something that Zara was keeping to herself.

“But…”

“Everyone was talking,” she whispered and Claire groaned, covering her face. She should have expected this; they were yelling at each other on the edge of a beach, it wasn’t exactly subtle. “Owen left straight after so we don’t actually know anything, but I can assume,” Zara continued, and Claire straightened.

“W-what?” Claire stuttered.

“He’s your guy?” she questioned back and Claire ran a hand over her face.

“It didn’t make sense,” she said, her chest feeling tight, “then I saw the scar. I knew it. I’d seen it so many times,” Claire swallowed the lump in her throat, but everything felt so confronting. Zara rubbed Claire’s shoulder.

“And that’s when you found out?”

“I couldn’t…” Claire stopped. Zara knew Claire’s issue - why they never talked about Claire’s personal life - yet, it was still hard to say these things to someone that wasn’t….wasn’t her soulmate. She’d only just realised that she only ever felt comfortable talking to Owen about it all.

“I know. But nothing else?” Zara interrupted the thought.

“It’s c-” she almost said what he did. But there were no other words. “It’s complicated.”

“Come on. We don’t want to miss the bus,” Zara let it drop, and Claire was thankful for it.

After finishing up with their breakfast and collecting their bags, they rode down in the elevator. Being around Zara felt easier than it had before - there was no pressure or expectations; just a woman who needed someone. And Zara took the role on like she was made for it. She was the perfect support if her job had anything to say about her skills. Claire should have known, but Zara knew what to do, and that meant everything to Claire.

In the lobby, Zara took their bags, readying towards the buses that were waiting for the last minute members of staff. “Can you make sure we have everything ready on the buses?” Claire asked, and Zara nodded kindly.

“Sure,” she smiled before heading off. Claire walked slowly in the foyer. She went through her bag, searching for her phone - she needed to get things in order, to press forward in her life instead of dreading on things she couldn’t change - mostly, she wanted to talk to Karen. It was hard to talk about this with her, but Claire felt like she needed Karen more than ever now.

“Dammit, where the hell is it?” she cursed, stalling in the foyer as she kept going through her bag. Finally finding the phone, she was pulling up Karen’s contact when there was a shiver up her back that she couldn’t ignore. She arched her shoulders, trying to find comfort before she realised she wouldn’t - she couldn’t - because of the person standing behind her. Turning, she saw him, comfortable clothes, shorts and a t-shirt that fit him perfectly; it was her Owen. She took in a deep breath as she turned back around.

“Claire I need to talk to you,” Owen said, his voice making her fragile. It always did - no matter what she told herself.

“Not right now, Owen,” she said, trying to walk away, but he caught her arm, abandoning his bag. He took hold of her wrists, touch barely there, but it kept her still. They faced each other, daylight gracing them like a spotlight; they were the only people there, and she was defenseless against him when he held her so tenderly. She wanted that feeling under different circumstances; she wanted all of this under different circumstances.

His voice was low, leaning in delicately. Claire felt herself catch a breath. “Claire -”

“Ten years. And you blame me for it,” she retorted, trying to remain strong, but he pulled her in, leaning down further and making her feel so small. It wasn’t the kind of small where one could be defenseless, that they were so tiny in comparison to the other. It was the kind of small that made her feel tender and precious, that he would take care of her regardless of what was happening to him.

“No, Claire, I don’t,” he said, voice low and steady, looking for something in her, eyes invading her own to see what he could do. There wasn’t anything he could say.

“Then -”

He fired back quickly, kicking her off balance in a few words. “Then nothing! Do you know how hard it was to not tell you -”

“Why didn’t you?” she said, finally pulling herself away. Claire couldn’t allow herself to be sucked into the warmth of him, who he was to her. She had a right to be mad; she was wronged, and everything hurt.

“Because I didn’t know what that was going to happen. I didn’t know if you’d hate me or if you’d just realise,” he said, trying to step closer but it hurt her. Everything he was doing, every time he was near her, it hurt. She didn’t fully understand why. but having him near her after the pain, and the hurt, and everything she’d done - it all hurt.

“I’ve gotta go. This can wait,” Claire said quickly, pulling away and moving towards the door.

“Can it?” Owen called out. Claire stopped, clenching her fist, her skirt hitting the top of her knees from the halt and making her feel like she was about to fall. The right amount of wind could knock her over. Taking a breath, she turned. Even from a distance, she could see he was barely holding himself together.

“This once, just let it.”

“I’m...I’m tired of waiting, Claire,” he said with a pause. And something crumbled inside her, the tears welling in her eyes.

“Then you shouldn’t have lied,” she said, feeling the tremble in her lip and biting into it to stop the shake.

“I didn’t lie,” he tried to say, moving forward but was stilled when Claire stumbled back with her hand raised.

“You didn’t even bother to tell me. So, is there really any difference?” she shrugged, moving through the doors as her eyes let slip tears. She wiped them away as though they were never there; no one would ever be the wiser. Reaching the buses, she tucked herself into her seat, shielded by Zara and noticing that Owen and Barry were boarding the next bus, regardless of how many free seats this one had.

They all sat in awkward silence on the bus, avoiding the question everyone had; ‘what happened?’ There wasn’t a way she could explain it without it seeming ridiculous, and she didn’t owe an explanation. She still hadn’t called Karen. Maybe she could when she got back to the island. It was a distant thought; it had to be.

Everything felt like it was moving past her like a daze, unable to grasp onto any one moment unless it felt like it was ready to blow the wind straight out of her. She was taken from her seat and onto the ferry, sitting patiently against the window and away from anyone with prying questions - she had Zara looking over her shoulder. When Claire’s eyes could barely remain open, her yawns becoming harder to ignore, Zara eyed Claire.

“Hey, why don’t you go get some sleep? It’s going to be a while before we get to the island,” she questioned and Claire felt fear strike into her, the worry and doubt of it all.

“What if -”

Zara smiled, winking at her with confidence to boot. “I’ll make sure you won’t be bothered. Here, rest on this,” she said, handing over her travel pillow and sweater, pilling them together as she stood and went over to the main distraction that was keeping her awake. She watched as Zara and Owen talked, Zara guiding him away, but there was still that heart wrenching part of her that watched him as he left.

Putting the pillow up against the window, and resting her head upon it, she found that she drifted to sleep in moments. In her dream, there is nothing. it’s just her, sitting alone in a dark room. It was peaceful - silent and unimportant. How tranquil nothing had become to her. Claire deserved it - she craved it. There was a moment where she thought she could cry, but in the end, there wasn’t much point in it. To dwell on the sadness when it mounted to more pain was useless and would end up disappointing her, for it would never have a resolution that way.

She woke up when Zara nudged her, helping her get her bags and took her by without anyone asking or even staring at her; she didn’t like the eyes. Claire had a suspicion that Zara had threatened everyone with just a glare, but she couldn’t be sure. They walked for a while, just to make sure that they weren’t bombarded by people around the staff quarters. Everything they did seemed to have a direct and perfect plan to it; if Claire wasn’t careful, Zara could have her job in the blink of an eye if she really wanted it.

Back at Claire’s place, they got everything in order, unpacked and talked about Zara’s wedding and the problems that were coming up. It kept Claire’s mind occupied and she promised Zara that everything would be fine, even when she left. Yet, in the aftermath of her assistant leaving, Claire was left with the only question that had haunted her for two days; he knew. So, she did everything she thought of; she cleaned, she dusted, she organised, she rearranged furniture before turning it back around because it fit everything she liked the first time.

In her little kitchen, she looked to her groceries and knew that the only thing she could do now was go down to the staff market and buy herself supplies for the coming week. If she got out of her apartment, maybe she wouldn’t have to face the questions she had for herself. Getting herself in jeans and a singlet shirt, out of clothes that felt too light compared to how she was feeling, she headed down. Walking in aisles and scanning products, everything became tedious and tiring. Her life seemed more together when things were a shitshow. Now, everything she knew was a heaping lump of crap, doing anything seemed pointless.

Rounding another corner, she saw Owen, collecting his own groceries. They both stared at each other, waiting for something. Claire didn’t want to start this again. So, she turned around, heading into the next aisle and getting everything she needed.

“You can’t keep avoiding me,” she heard Owen whisper as he came up beside her. She recoiled sharply, pulling away and trying to stop herself from looking at him. She had to stop tempting herself the way she had been for months.

“I can sure as hell try,” she muttered underneath her breath.

“Please, Claire,” he pleaded and Claire scoffed.

“Oh, don’t ‘please Claire’ me,” she whispered back angrily, finally facing him and not shying this time. She couldn’t feel so bombarded, so threatened with weakness that she wanted to get out of there. She was going to be spiteful; because she deserved to be. “Was I really so dumb to think that my own soulmate would tell me who he was,” she asked, raising her brow to lure him to answer back.

“Claire. We never once asked each other our names. It was never important. I’ve known who you were for two years, sure,” he stopped, realising that this conversation wasn’t going to go his way, and it sure as hell wasn’t happening in a grocery store, “but things got complicated,” he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m sure your next sex position was a real hard one to figure out,” Claire spat back. “I’ve gotta go,” she muttered, turning towards the self-checkouts and buying everything she could as quickly as possible. She didn’t see Owen leave and didn’t check to see if he had or if he wanted to talk. She was done talking for now. She knew when the real conversation was going to start; when they couldn’t run away from each other, the only place that either of them felt safe was going to become a warzone.

There was no avoiding anything this time; Claire had to face him. Even if she wished it otherwise, she had to go to sleep and make sure everything she knew was wrong - that she was a fool for never seeing. And when sleep came, she was the only one there, streets that replicated that of her first dream with him. The location, with fond memories, felt like it could crumble if they were to see each other now.

There was a street corner with brickwork buildings raising up high. It was where she’d first seen him; sitting on the gutter and it had been their spot when they first started to get the hang of things. It was easiest to find the corner because they were always drawn there. She remembered it so well, but had never wondered what it felt like. Her hand grazed over the bricks, catching on the rough edges. How perfect this place was. Solitude was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She turned, seeing his face in their dreams, and knowing...Owen was her soulmate.

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile. It was as if he had expected this to go well. Rolling her eyes, Claire moved on, only for her wrist to be caught before she could leave. “Are you seriously not talking? Claire, that’s a little beneath you,” he remarked. Claire turned back, yanking her wrist from his grasp, eyeing him down to make him feel so small, she could shatter him in a second.

“I just found out my soulmate has been lying to me for two years just so he could sleep with me,” she replied, spite in every word. She began walking down the street, containing the rage that built in her chest like a coil ready to snap.

“That wasn’t what happened,” he tried, following after her.

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause you certainly didn’t say anything after it started. Seemed like you wanted it to happen,” she scoffed, trying to pick up her pace. She was walking away from someone she couldn’t escape. It was better than just standing still.

“Didn’t you ever consider that maybe it made things harder?” he said, keeping in step with her.

“Oh yeah, real hard. Was it some sick way of getting me at last?” she rolled her eyes again before Owen stood in front of her. He was in her space, a space that was protective, now feeling suffocating yet she didn’t mind it if he took the last breath she had in her.

“Dammit, Claire, there wasn’t any instructions on how to handle this!” he yelled and Claire’s jaw shut tight.

“And you handled it badly,” she replied, swallowing hard as she tried to get herself to have the upper hand.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said, edging towards her.

“Back away from me.” Her voice was unsteady, much like how she felt, but at least her body hasn’t sunk to the floor like it wanted to. She was achieving one good thing in this dream.

“Oh like it’d really be a bad thing. Not like we haven’t done worse,” he scoffed and Claire had suffered enough. Her palm came round, slapping him across the face as hard as possible. The sound alone echoed around them, taking through the countless streets and replying back over and over with the same sound. Claire gasped, cupping her mouth. She hadn’t realised she was going to to it. It had happened so fast; a moment filled with anger and hurt, she wanted it to be a double sided event.

“I’m sorry,” she replied weakly as Owen rubbed at his cheek. “I just -”

“I shouldn’t have said it. You were right,” he apologised quickly, not looking at her. It wasn’t as though he didn’t mean it; he was hurt that he had even thought of saying it, bringing her to that level of frustration. He didn’t want it to happen like this, and neither did she. “I’m sorry I didn’t back off,” he said, looking up at her, eyes pleading for a second chance.

“Can we just...start over?” she asked carefully. With just a question, they both stepped back from each other, an unwelcome distance that felt more harmful than good. No matter how she was feeling, they were soulmates, and they were bound.

“Okay,” he replied, both walking cautiously in time with each other before meeting at the edge of a cafe, two steaming coffee mugs waiting. They both regarded each other; it was fitting. It’s what they had done in person, so what was stopping them here.

“You knew, this whole time?” she asked, sitting down before Owen. He was shocked by the question, but took a seat, sighing as he sat across from her.

“Yes,” he said simply. He grabbed for the mug in front of him, holding it for the warmth alone. He didn’t sip at it, or even look up from it. There was a tension in his shoulders that had him avoiding her. She didn’t blame him. “When we met two years ago, it was this incredible moment where I thought you were finally in reach,” he looked up, smiling as he spoke fond words to her, “but you didn’t even recognise me. Anything about me,” he said, his lips going tight and his jaw setting tight.

“In dreams…” Claire replied softly, and Owen leaned in, “before,” she explained further, “you sounded different. I didn’t recognise the way you talked. But you always felt...familiar.” Shrugging, she didn’t know how else to explain it, how he was always kept at bay by his voice or face.

Owen chewed on his lip, his elbows on the table as he gripped onto his coffee cup. “When you looked at me like a stranger, I knew I couldn’t say anything then. How was I meant to explain to you that I knew you hated the way your hair looked when it was short and I thought it was cute? I wasn’t going to outright admit it. You didn’t seem to want to get to know me or even interact with me. I tried but you just saw it as...well I don’t know,” he explained, finally going for a sip. Claire ran her finger over the rim of the mug; she was the on now avoiding looking directly at him.

“I just thought…” she sighed, trying to phrase this without seeming horrible. “I thought you were trying to sleep with me. Something happened with your soulmate and you wanted something to spite them,” she replied, trying to laugh away the idea.

Owen tilted his head as his brow rose in surprise. “That is...a lovely image I have of how you saw me,” he chuckled.

“That was when I met you,” she said quickly, saving herself from her hurtful words, “that isn’t how I see you now. I promise,” she said, reaching across the table for his hand. He took it, his thumb running over the soft skin and across her index knuckle.

“I know.”

Looking at him, it was easy to see why the universe put them together; a mess but one that wanted each other nonetheless. She wanted him when he looked sad and blue because she wanted to comfort him. She wanted him when he smiled because she wanted to be responsible. Claire just wanted Owen. And yet...she couldn’t in this moment. She pulled her hand away. “What happened when the dreams started?”

“The -”

“The sex dreams, Owen,” she clarified before he could ask.

“It just happened,” he started with a sigh, “you were right there, barely wearing a thing, and you were right there,” he said, reminiscing on the moment. Claire did too. She couldn’t say he was guilty in part for wanting one another; she saw him there and wanted him. And when he kissed first, she was thankful he did. “But I didn’t realise you thought it was…” he stopped himself before shrugging. “I don’t even know what you were thinking. It wasn’t until the end where you were just calling out my name, I knew something was different. I over thought it and got mad at myself,” he said, looking at her with saddened eyes and Claire knew what went wrong; they both knew why it all went that way.

“That’s why you were rude the next few days,” she clarified.

“I thought I fucked up,” he said, sipping at his coffee again. Claire took another sip of her own, wondering how either of them created such a coffee that it tasted the exact same in dreams that it did at the coffee house they frequented. “I knew something you didn’t,” he explained, “and yeah it felt like I was doing everything against your consent. It felt wrong every time. I just...I wanted you and you seemed to want me,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. It sounded like the worst thing it could be; but that wasn’t it at all, it was just complicated.

“I thought it was an ordinary dream. That you weren’t real. I had built up this idea of you and I thought that’s what it was,” Claire said softly.

“It was me.”

“I know that now.”

They both looked at each other and chuckled softly for a moment. They needed to ease the pressure that they weighed on each other. And hearing him laugh in that moment, she felt such ease. She could continue without feeling like she needed to cry every minute of this conversation. He made it easier when they both made it all the more difficult.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. If you thought I would be expecting us to start where those dreams ended,” he explained. “I didn’t. And I don’t,” he justified. Claire nodded because she knew him, she knew what he was like even with that arrogant smile and an attitude to match, he would never expect that. “I put myself in this mess because I didn’t tell you after we met. After I knew you didn’t know me,” he said.

“It was complicated for me to tell you after it all happened. Even that night I told you. Soulmate dream version. It tore me up. I felt...like I was hurting you,” she said with a sigh, running her fingers through her hair before settling into her chair further and taking another sip of coffee.

“You felt guilty because you wanted me more than your soulmate,” Owen muttered, looking down at his coffee. Claire rolled her eyes, kicking at his shin underneath the table. He hissed before looking up at her with a smile.

“I felt conflicted because I didn’t know how to tell him I wanted both of you,” she explained, and the smile he had faded. He hadn’t expected her to say it; that she could want who they both were. Who he appeared to her, in every version. “I still want you, Owen. And that guy that was in my dreams for all those years. It’s just hard to remember that you’re the same person. That you want me in every version,”

“I’m sorry I fucked this up,” he said, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. Claire smiled, a bittersweet smile but it was wonderful to feel like she could.

“All I ever wanted to do was see your face. To know who you were,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat and sniffing away the choked up feeling she had running over her. “You should have told me. You shouldn’t have lied,” she explained, knowing that Owen already knew it. But they needed to air everything out. Owen nodded before shrugging.

“It’s done Claire. I regret not telling you,” he said, soft and tender words that held no malice. “But how was I was supposed to bring up the fact that I was your soulmate, since the moment we met, you have shown an outward disgust of me. It didn’t exactly give me a vote of confidence,” he scoffed at the idea. Claire couldn’t fault him on that idea, but he sighed regardless, letting a hand run over his face as he took in his own words. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did. But you have to understand how I got to this point,” he asked her.

“I do, Owen. And I don’t blame you for this. It was hard for both of us,” Claire said, getting up from the table and walking across the empty street. She walked slowly, her hands on the back of her neck and trying to stretch out the uncomfortable itching in her feet. Run. Move. Get away. All her body wanted was to avoid these feelings. But she couldn’t avoid feeling anymore.

“How are we supposed to fix this?” Owen said, moving quickly up from the table and standing in front of her. He caught hold of her shoulder, running his hands across her skin where her shirt ended. His eyes were desperate for resolution. And she realised what brought him to this point more than anything; the fear of losing her. The fear of losing something you wanted more than anything but could never grasp properly. She was slipping from him. He felt like she slipping away. Claire’s heart broke for it. Her feet didn’t want to move anymore. “I don’t want the answer to be ‘there’s nothing left to fix’. I can’t handle that,” he said with a crack in his voice that he tried to disguise.

“We have to...take it slow,” she said, phrasing it to sound like a question; could they, just now, after everything, take it slow so I can catch up? It’s all she asked.

“Are we okay?” he asked, clearing his throat. Claire had no idea how to answer that, how to answer the desperate eyes he begged her with.

“Can we just walk for a while?”

“Yeah. I’d like that,” he said, a beaming smile on his face as he took the lead. His smile was so kind, so bright and warm that it filled her with such a grace, such a europhic melody that she felt herself ready to hum or sing.

And all Claire could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him and say things would be okay. Eventually. She didn’t want him to wait; and she wasn’t going to. Just a little more time. She’d be his. But nothing was fixed, nothing was set in stone, and no one could tell when their patch of happiness would arrive. For now, they walked, trying to remain civil, because what else did they have?

#clawen #claire x owen #owen x claire #clawen fics #jurassic world #claire dearing #owen grady #my fics #in love with dreaming

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