#maybe ill draw him in a pink jacket one day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xkaileo · 3 years

Note

Hi! For the one shot request, would love to see something with animals - saw a very cute prompt when I googled ideas (I have so little creativity which is why I read so much!) where one of them works at an animal shelter and the other comes in to pet the cats when they are sad. Maybe something along those lines? Thanks so much for considering! ❤️❤️❤️

Ahh I'm so, so glad you sent in this request! I had a lot of fun writing it, honestly.

Growing Felines

"I'm not going to make it in today, it seems," Shisui said over the line. "The snow's just too thick, and my car won't start." Oh, Sakura could not believe this. She'd struggled to make it here through all of the snow, and now she was stuck here alone?

"Damn," she said over the phone. "Kakashi can't make it in today, either." Sakura wasn't a fan of working alone at the shelter, but it seemed she had no choice today. Her coworkers, Shisui and Kakashi, were stuck at home in the snow, and Sakura was the only one who'd managed to make it to the shelter for the day. Curse her managerial position! With the weather outside getting worse, she felt she would be staying overnight with the animals to make sure it didn't get any worse. They tended to get upset when the weather turned sour like this.

"You gonna be okay there by yourself?" Shisui asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Maybe one of the volunteers will make it in, so I won't be on my own all day." Part of her was hoping that she might see that one volunteer today… There was one boy that always came in. Sasuke Uchiha. He was quiet, withdrawn, and rarely talked, but Sakura noticed when he was with the cats, he seemed to smile a lot. She'd never asked why he came so often, but he was one of their most active volunteers. He never seemed to have much to say, though.

"Hmm… maybe." Sakura frowned at the tone in his voice. "Well, good luck, Haruno!" With that, Shisui hung up the phone, leaving Sakura wondering just what crazy idea Shisui had. She knew Sasuke and Shisui were related, but… no, it couldn't be that. Could it?

Shaking the thought off, she went to do a headcount of all of the cats, making notes as to which kennels needed a bit of cleaning and the conditions of the cats that they'd noticed were ill. Most of them were doing much better, and there weren't any that had severe conditions that would need immediate veterinary attention. Hana lived not too far from the shelter, but if Sakura could avoid having to drag Dr. Inuzuka out into the snow for anything, she would. They'd just have to make do with phone consultations if they had any questions.

---------------------------------------------

Sasuke hated the snow.

He hated it because it reminded him of that day. After all, he'd been stuck there for days and days. The memories plagued him for years. A snowstorm where no police could get out, and a poor, tormented little boy stuck there with his murdered parents because no one could get out there to help him. Sure, years of therapy had made him better than previously, but days like today were days that he wanted to be out of the house and distracted.

Even despite the terrible weather.

Thus, he made a point to bundle up well and make his way to his truck, thankful it had four-wheel drive that could carve through the snow with ease. He'd just go for a drive around the city, pick up a few things, and come back. No other plans. Why bother with them? He would've preferred not to talk to anyone today anyway.

As if on cue, while he was sitting in the driver's seat waiting for his truck to warm up a little more, his phone rang. He pulled it out, frowning at the caller ID. What the hell would Shisui want today? Shisui was one of the few people who knew what today was, and yet he was calling? He should have known the kind of mood Sasuke would be in. Sighing, he opened the phone and held it to his ear.

"What?" He asked, clearly grumpy.

"Ouch, don't bite my head off, cous'," Shisui defended over the other line. "I just wanted to ask you something. Just a little personal favour, if you could." A personal favour? Today? Well, in all fairness, Sasuke was one of the only people who had a vehicle that could traverse through weather like this.

"What do you want?" He wasn't going to give Shisui an answer just yet. He'd hear him out, at the very least.

"Look, you know how garbage my car is in this weather. I'm stuck at home, and so is Kakashi, according to her. Sakura's at the shelter all by herself. Could ya check on her, maybe?" Wait… Sakura. That was the girl that worked at the shelter with him. Sasuke bit his lip, contemplating. Sakura was tough… she could handle things there on her own, probably.

"Sasuke~" Shisui's teasing voice rang in his ear. "I know you like her~."

"Shut up," Sasuke bit back. "I told you that in confidence." He hadn't even meant to, but Shisui, annoying as he was, had managed to get it out of him. Now he hadn't stopped teasing him about it. Then again, what wasn't to like? Sakura was cute, she was nice, she was friendly, sweet, warm, welcoming… All traits anyone would like in a girl like that.

"C'mon, Sasuke. At least check on her. You don't have to stay if you don't want to. But I am genuinely worried about her being there all alone." Sasuke drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and releasing a sigh. Alone. Sakura was alone right now. He couldn't ignore that. What if something happened? What kind of a person would he be if something happened, and he could have done something about it?

"Fine. I'll check in on her. I'll text you. Bye." He wasn't going to listen to anything more Shisui had to say; he'd probably just tease the hell out of him. He turned on the four-wheel drive and kicked it into gear, making his way down the rural roads until he reached the shelter, swearing as he tried to find a place to park. He could see Sakura's car, but by now, the blizzard had covered it in snow; she had no hope of ever making it out of the parking lot. Shisui was right; it was worth coming here to check on Sakura if she was all alone.

Stepping out of his truck, he squinted through the snow to try and make out the door, barely able to see it through the blistering snow. He managed to move forward, checking back occasionally; the moment he couldn't see his truck, he was finally able to see the door, breathing a sigh of relief. He found it was open, struggling to pull it open against the wind and drifts that had practically barricaded it; there was at least a foot-high drift in front of it. He made it in, hearing the door slam behind him as he stared at the pink-haired girl sitting behind one of the computers.

After checking the kennels, Sakura made her way back to the main desk and worked on some paperwork when she saw a shadow outside the door. She shielded her eyes as a mess of black hair, blown around by the snow, covered the boy's face as he struggled to make it through the door. She could feel her heart pounding; who would have dared to come out in this weather? Was it someone… untrustworthy? And here she was, all alone…

He pulled his scarf down, brushing snow off his shoulders and stamping his boots to loosen the snow out of the treads. She was uncertain about his intentions but came around the desk with a concerned expression.

"Are you crazy?" She asked, mouth agape in shock. "The storm's--"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sasuke replied dryly. He unzipped his jacket, glad it was warmer inside. "You're out here all by yourself?" Okay, so maybe he had a point. She was a little crazy to have come out here on a day like today. What made her even consider it? There was no way she was going to make it out of there on her own. Hell, he wasn't even sure his vehicle would make it out of there, but he could deal with that later. He'd figure something out.

"I had to come in! Someone had to look after the cats…" She couldn't have just left them on their own. They could have gone without food or water for days, and she couldn't have that happen. Sasuke could understand that; he was only a volunteer who came to visit the cats when he was lonesome, partly at the behest of his cousin Shisui. As they stood there, the power flickered for a moment, drawing both of their attention.

"Oh, no," Sakura griped, scrambling back to the computer. It had been just a brief flicker, so the backup battery had kicked in, but she needed to get the paperwork done fast. She hit the save button, realizing she probably wouldn't have time to finish it all. At least she was caught up to a certain point; she could do it when there was more power. If the power was flickering, that meant they would lose heat… and she would have to make sure there was extra insulation.

"Look, um… I appreciate that you're here, so… do you think you could help?" Sakura's eyes were pleading. He'd planned to turn around and leave, but he couldn't ignore that look. He'd never been quite this close to her; she was prettier than he remembered. Her skin was fair, and her hair looked soft; her bangs framed her face while she'd pulled the rest up into a high ponytail. She wore red glasses as well; he could swear he'd seen her without them before.

"Sure." He knew they weren't leaving from here, but he wasn't about to say that just yet. She didn't need to know that he'd come out here almost entirely with that intention, nor did she need to know that he'd come in through that door, intending practically the same thing. He made sure to lock the door for them to leave. That way, nobody else could come in through the door unnoticed.

"Okay. We'll carry the blankets up from the basement and start packing them around the windows to keep some of the cold air out. I think there are towels there, too, so we can use those. Then we'll put some of the smaller ones inside the kennels for them to curl up under. After that, we'll make sure their food is good and boil water to keep in thermoses to top it up as the water starts to freeze. Let's see, there are six thermoses, but they're all about two litres each, so…" Sakura started doing some math in her head as they moved down the stairs, whispering to herself under her breath.

Sasuke was listening, but… he was also busy paying attention to her. Standing behind her, he could just faintly smell her shampoo as the hair in her ponytail swayed back and forth with each step. She was… kind of short, too. She had to be almost a foot shorter than he was, maybe a touch less. She also seemed to like the colour red… He could tell by the fact that she always seemed to have something red to complement her outfit. Today, it was her hair tie and her shirt; other days, it was a red headband she wore, and in the summer, he often saw her wearing red sandals or sneakers.

He followed her to the basement, following her directions to grab blankets. They made their way to the singular room that housed all the cat kennels, stuffing blankets and towels against the windows. They then moved to open each kennel individually, carefully stuffing more blankets in and refilling each of the cats' water dishes before closing them in. After that, they were left with a few more blankets as the lights went out on them, the sudden darkness surprising Sakura.

"Sasuke? Hold on-- I have a flashlight," she called, scrambling in the bag that was at her feet. She fumbled with the flashlight; Sasuke could hear where she was and crept toward her in the dark, hoping he might find her before she had to use the flashlight. As she finally found the button and turned it on, Sasuke was nearly right in front of her, causing her to squeal in surprise and jump back, startling a few of the cats.

"Sorry," he reassured, raising his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you." Sakura could feel her heart pounding in her chest, though she breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, she only had one flashlight, though she had quite a few sets of batteries they could use. With the power out, their heat would be out; the building was well insulated, and they'd done extra work, not to mention there was enough food if they were stuck for a day or two--something Sakura made extra sure of during the winter months, given the shelter's location--but hopefully, they'd at least be able to shovel their way out.

"Come on. There's probably enough hot water that we can make some hot cocoa if you like." She led the way out, Sasuke following not far behind her as they found the small kitchenette. Sakura found the hot water, prepping herself a tall mug of cocoa.

"Is there any tea?" Sasuke asked, doing his best to peer into the cupboards in the dim light. "I'm not really a fan of cocoa." More accurately, he didn't like anything sweet.

"Yeah, um, there's some black tea up in the cupboard here, I think." Sakura pulled the tea down and got a mug ready for him, pouring the water over it and putting the lid on for him. She grabbed a couple of packets of honey and a couple of sugar packets for once it had steeped, grabbing a couple of snacks for the both of them as well. She opted for a few things in the fridge likely to perish first; without power, the food in there would go bad first.

They made their way back to the cats' room, stopping by one of the visitation rooms to grab a couple of bean bag chairs to sit on. If they were in the room for the cats, they could at least monitor them in case anything went wrong. Sakura handed him a small bag of chips, giving him a warm smile.

"So… you decided even in the snow to come out and visit the cats?" She was pretty curious about the reasons he'd come out. He heard the question but wasn't sure if he wanted to answer. He chewed his lip, contemplating whether he should tell her the truth or not.

"Yeah… something like that." Sakura found his mysteriousness a bit intriguing. He'd barely said a word to her any time he'd been here, except one or two in greeting or passing. She was often busy with paperwork while he was just there to visit. He spent more time talking to Kakashi and Shisui than anything. This had to be the most he'd ever spoken to her at all.

Sakura set the flashlight between them, facing upward so they could see each other. She was doing her best to read him, but she couldn't get much. Even his facial expressions gave nothing away, but he seemed… awkward. The way he spoke, it was like he was trying not to admit something. It intrigued her. She wanted to know more about him. That, and… she might have thought he was a little attractive.

Okay… a lot attractive.

"...Shisui called me," Sasuke admitted. "He said you were here alone, and… that he'd like it if I could check on you." He sipped at his tea, pleased with how it had steeped; he preferred it black and unsweetened. "I have a pretty big truck, so I was the only one able to make it out here before the snow got bad." So much for that now. His truck was probably half-buried, too. He was glad for the darkness in the room; Sakura couldn't tell that his cheeks had tinted a faint pink colour.

"You came all the way out here just to check on me, then?" Sakura felt her face heat up, at a loss for words. He nodded, which left her speechless; he looked away out of embarrassment, making her heart beat a little faster.

"Oh, wow," she commented, internally scolding herself. Talk about a lame response! "So, um… I'm guessing your truck is probably stuck now, isn't it?" Sakura reached for one of the blankets, wrapping it around herself as she shivered. She could notice the difference when the heat wasn't blowing from the vents. It was still more than warm enough, but she missed the warmth.

"Yeah. It's stuck." He didn't have to see it to know it. "So I'm… just as stuck here as you are." He didn't mind it. She seemed like good company, if nothing else. Shisui had probably planned for this. Shisui seemed to like to play matchmaker once in a while.

Sakura laughed awkwardly. "Well, um… I guess it's a good thing this wasn't like, a date or something." Oh, she was just digging herself deeper and deeper, it seemed. If Sasuke hadn't been so good at maintaining his composure, he might have choked on his tea at that statement. A date? Yeah, it… would be a pretty lame date. Wasn't it kind of like one, in a sense?

"Mm… I wouldn't really know." He sipped his tea. "So… Sakura, what do you do other than… work here?"

"Oh, not much, honestly. I live with my friend Ino, who's going to school to be a fashion designer, so I tend to, um… end up having to model whatever designs she has a lot of the time. She pays me a little for that, and I get a lot of free clothing out of it." Sasuke saw her shiver and reached for two more blankets, wrapping one of the smaller ones around himself then throwing the larger one over her before wrapping one half over himself.

"It's warmer if we're both under it." He was a little chilled, but he wasn't about to admit it. Looking at her… He could imagine her being a model. She was pretty. Very pretty.

"What about you?" Sakura asked, moving a little closer as he'd instructed. It was warmer with both of them under the blanket.

"I… write music." He'd thought about going to school for it, but it was easier to do it from home and do his research. Cheaper, too; he lived on a large acreage he'd purchased with an inheritance from his parents. With the house and the rented farmland, plus the hefty life insurance money he'd spent years living off of, he could spend years living out there. "Not much else. I live alone just down the road from the shelter, actually."

"Oh, really?" That wasn't what she expected. Musicians were always exciting types. "So you just come to visit the cats when you need inspiration?" It made sense to her. Creative types always looked for inspiration in the strangest of ways.

"No." Why did he find it so easy to talk to her? Something about the way she spoke made him want to open up to her. He chewed his lip like he was trying to hold back his words, but it was no use. "I come when… I start to feel like I'm too alone at home."

Sakura suddenly felt sad. "You don't live with anyone there? Not even your parents?" An acreage like that, she would have assumed he still lived with his parents. Maybe not a wife--they were far too young for that--but not even his parents? That seemed odd to her.

Sasuke shook his head. "I… they're not… around." He couldn't open up that much, but by his expression, Sakura figured it out. He didn't have to say anything more. There were one of two options there: either they were dead, or he never spoke to them any longer. She reached up from underneath her blanket, reaching underneath his and gently rubbing his shoulder. He looked at her, staring down not at her hand but her face. She was… quite close. She'd been the one who brought up a date. Was she… possibly interested in him? Had she said something to Shisui at some point?

Sakura saw the change in his demeanour, heart thumping in her chest. They were close, faces almost inches apart; it was like he was leaning down toward her. She'd heard Ino talk about this kind of feeling, but… she'd never experienced it. Well, they were alone, basically in the dark… What else were they going to do? They couldn’t let the cats out of the kennels, at least not unless they were strictly holding them. At least some of the cats were able to visit one another across their enclosures.

He was so close to her, his face only inches from hers. He could see her eyes in the dim light; green eyes were the rarest colour, and hers sparkled a bright jade colour. He wanted to kiss her, but… was it appropriate? Should he? No, maybe not yet. This was the first time they were really having a conversation. He wanted to know her better first.

“So…” he cleared his throat and moved back a bit. “You live with your best friend, you said? Anyone… else you spend time with?” He felt it was too tacky to ask her if she had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Sakura was a little miffed he moved away, but she’d just have to deal with it.

“Oh, no, not really. Well, there are a couple of girls we hang out with as a group, but… not anyone otherwise. No boyfriend, either. What about you?” She was a little oblivious to his prying.

“Mm… I have a friend, Naruto, but we haven’t talked in a while.” Wait, Naruto… why did Sakura recognize that name?

“Hold on. You mean Naruto Uzumaki?” It couldn’t be the same one, could it? Sakura remembered him. Ino had dated him at one point, in the last few years of high school.

“Yeah, Naruto Uzumaki.” Sasuke rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We, um… we were foster brothers for a while until I moved away in high school. I haven’t seen him since.” Naruto had been annoying, but they’d looked out for each other at least. He’d yet to try and reach out,m. “Then there’s also Karin, Suigetsu, and Jugo.” Wait… Karin. Karin was a girl’s name. His girlfriend, maybe?

“Oh, so… is Karin your..?” Why did her heart drop at that idea? Him being taken was… a sad thought.

“No. Ex, actually. High school.” He hadn’t been as invested in that relationship as Karin had. He’d felt it was unfair to her and broken things off, though he knew she still pined for him. She seemed never to let him forget it. One day she’d have to, but for now, he could ignore her.

“Oh, I see.” That was a relief. An ex she could handle. Just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, a loud crash came from outside in the hall. It sounded like it came from the supply room, but Sakura wasn’t sure. Had someone broken in? Worry crept up in her spine as the flashlight started to flicker.

“What was that?” She whispered, instinctively huddling a little closer to him. He looked out toward the door, frowning and unconsciously moving closer to her as well.

“I don’t know. Do you have extra batteries for the flashlight?” He reached for her bag, digging through it in an attempt to find them before the flashlight died.

“Yeah, um, inside the pocket there.” She helped to hold the light for him, unscrewing the back and pulling out the old batteries. He took the flashlight and inserted the fresh ones, breathing a sigh of relief as the light flicked back on without issues. He stood up, turning to Sakura for a moment.

“I’ll go check it out. Wait here.” He was about to take a step before Sakura stood, shaking her head.

“Can I come with you?” It wasn’t an offer but rather a question. “I— I don’t want to sit here alone.” She was sure the cats would be fine, but it would be a problem and a half if someone had broken in. Sasuke hesitated before reaching for her hand, grasping it and nodding.

They made their way out into the dark hall, Sakura sticking close to him as they worked their way to the storage room. Once they opened the door, they were hit with a blast of cool air, and from what Sasuke could see, it looked like one of the windows had cracked. Something had hit the side of the building—a tree, it seemed—and a part of one of the branches had cracked the glass.

“Just a broken window, but not too badly. Is there some tape here?” He rooted around for something, anything; duct tape would work best. Sakura found a toll and handed it to him, giving her the flashlight so he could reach up and tape the glass. It would be enough to hold until a technician could adequately repair the window. Sakura shivered in the cold as he worked, wishing it wasn’t so chilly. He was done quickly, grabbing a few boxes to put them in front to help insulate.

“Come on. Let’s head back.” He could tell she was cold; he made a point to snag a couple more of the blankets to wrap them both in. Once they were back in the kennel room, he wrapped her in one blanket, then wrapped two of them around them both, keeping her closer for warmth. It wasn’t cold in the shelter yet, nor was it likely to get too cold, but it was better that they stay warm than try to warm up.

“Here. Stay close.” He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “We’ll, um… we’ll stay warmer if we share body heat.” That sounded creepy, but how the hell else was he supposed to put it? He kept an arm around Sakura, making sure she was close to him. Sakura could feel herself nodding and agreeing, leaning against him and glad for the warmth he provided.

“Thank you,” she said, her lips forming a small smile. “I-I mean, not just for this right now, but I mean… for coming out when Shisui asked. I probably wouldn’t have gone to investigate that window if that happened while I was on my own.” She was thankful he’d come. It meant she had someone to talk to, someone who could hold a conversation. Talking to cats was fine for a little while, but they didn’t make for too many intellectually stimulating conversations.

“Yeah,” he responded softly, shifting so he was more comfortable. He was pretty comfortably warm; a nap would have been pretty nice right about now. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. What else were they going to do as the storm raged on outside? Well… there was at least one thing he wanted to confess, but… maybe not yet. Maybe after the storm was over, he could ask to spend more time with her. That wouldn't hurt, would it?

Hours passed as they chatted idly, listening to the cats and hoping the storm would slow down soon. There… wasn't much to talk about. Sakura did most of the talking, chattering away for a lot of it, and while he contributed, he preferred to listen. He liked the sound of her voice. It was something he could get used to hearing.

"Sasuke?" She asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. She'd asked a question, but he'd been too busy thinking about her to listen to what she'd asked.

"Hm?" He tilted his head to the side curiously.

"I… I know we should stay close for warmth, but… Are you tired at all? I thought maybe the bean bag chairs, we could, you know, lay them out kind of like a bed? A nap wouldn't hurt." Oh. A nap. Now that she mentioned it, he realized he felt a little tired. It probably had something to do with sitting in the dark for so long; the room had stayed warm, and while they could hear a few of the cats padding around and mewling, most of them seemed to have gone to sleep. They understood they were in a safe, warm environment, especially with Sasuke and Sakura sitting there with them.

"Oh. Yeah. We can." He stood up and lifted the more oversized blanket off himself, wrapping Sakura in it. He dropped the one he was wrapped in to the floor, grasping the bean bags and thinking about it logically. If they laid them primarily flat, and one of them--probably Sakura, since she was lighter--laid down on them first, they could be adjusted to form a comfortable bed. He pulled them together and instructed Sakura to lay down, and she did so; once she was comfortable, he settled in beside her, reaching for the flashlight to keep it close. They'd turned it off a few hours ago to save the battery, preferring to listen to each other talk.

"Hey… Sakura?" Sasuke at least wanted to ask her one thing before they fell asleep.

"Mmm?" He could tell she was sleepy, and he wondered if she'd even remember what he was about to ask.

"I was wondering." Wondering was putting it mildly. "You… mentioned you didn't have a boyfriend, and I know this isn't an ideal situation, but…" He bit his lip, trying to squelch the nervous feelings that were creeping up. "Do you think maybe… you'd want to do something a little more appropriate after?" He grumbled. That sounded… not right. "Another time, I mean." That sounded better.

Sakura was too sleepy to hear his entire statement, but she caught parts of it. He wanted to hang out again after the storm let up? It sounded like a great idea to her. She couldn't put her finger on why he was asking if she had a boyfriend, though. Why did that matter? She was too tired to comprehend what he was asking entirely.

"Mm… sure. That sounds like fun." Her voice was quiet, notably half asleep. Sasuke was relieved to hear that. He suspected she might not have got the entire question, but it was enough. Even if it was platonic… He would like to spend more time with her. Why not? She was fun, energetic, animated, and could carry a conversation all by herself, and didn't seem bothered that he contributed little.

Hours passed, the storm raging on outside as they both slept, only being unceremoniously awakened as the lights in the shelter came to life all at once, nearly blinding them out of sleep. Oh, that was unpleasant as hell! The sound of the furnace going again caused them both to sit up, rubbing their eyes and trying to open them. Sasuke felt that usual grumpiness coming on; he hated being woken up when he wasn't ready to get up. His gaze turned to Sakura, who was sitting up on one of the bean bag chairs, rubbing her eyes and trying to straighten her hair. Cute, he thought to himself, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Looks like the power's back." That meant they should be able to leave.

"What time is it?" Sakura's phone had died overnight, so she had no way to contact anyone. Sasuke checked his, seeing the time. It was about six in the morning, but the shelter had notably cooled.

"It's about six," he confirmed, putting his phone into low battery mode. "Come on. We can probably get out of here now. With the power back, the cats will be fine." That was one bonus about their furry friends: they were more equipped to deal with the elements than their human caretakers, even in a cooler environment. It was still dark outside, but at least they'd be able to head home and get some proper sleep.

"Oh, well, that works. Let's top up what the cats have for food and water for the day, and we can head out… assuming we're able to even get out of here." She was pretty sure her car was snowed in; she'd parked right up against the building in the hopes that she might be able to avoid her vehicle being buried. That didn't seem likely. How silly of her to have done such a thing.

They changed the water and litter boxes in each kennel, then refilled the cats' food bowls before doing another double-check around the place. With everything seemingly in place, Sakura grabbed her keys and jacket, putting away the blankets and bean bag chairs before meeting Sasuke in the entryway.

"Okay. Let's see…" She opened the door, unsurprised by the pile of snow that was in front of it; it had to be almost up to her knees. Peering out, they could see that the storm had lightened considerably; it was still snowing, but it was more of steady snow than a blizzard. Her car was up against the building with snow piled up almost to the windows; the drifts had blown up against it, making it look worse than it was. Sasuke's truck was parked further up, and with its raised wheels, it had been spared the brunt of most of the drifts, though it was still going to be a challenge to get out.

"I… don't think we're getting my car out," she admitted. "Well… If you want to head home, that's fine. I can wait here and shovel my car out once the snow stops, or I can call Ino to come to get me." It was better than nothing.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sasuke scolded. "I'll drive you home. It's fine. The roads probably aren't cleared yet, but that shouldn't be a problem." He pulled out his keys, indicating for Sakura to lock up the shelter before trudging through the snow. He made sure to walk ahead of her, doing his best to flatten the snow so the drifts would be easier for her to traverse. He looked at his truck, then at her… Ah, with the way his truck was lifted and the fact that he hadn't put steps on his truck yet...

He followed her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. "Just stand there," he instructed, and she did as he said. Damn, she was practically going to have to crawl into his truck; it was so high up, and she couldn't even reach the handle at the top to pull herself up into it. Without warning, she felt hands on her waist, causing her cheeks to flush as Sasuke lifted her high enough to reach the handle.

"I, um-- I-I got it," she stammered, holding on for dear life as she swung into the seat. He closed the door behind her before coming around to the driver's side to start the truck. Well… Days like today were why he had a vehicle like this; on an acreage, a tiny little car wouldn't do. He needed to be able to get down his driveway through crappy snowstorms. The truck flared to life, and he immediately put it in four-wheel drive, carefully wedging himself out of the snowdrifts. They took it slow down the road, Sasuke following Sakura's directions back into the city and to her house.

The streets were deserted. Vehicles could be seen abandoned along the freeway, along which they crawled at about a quarter of the speed. They made it to one of the smaller residential areas to a little townhouse; one vehicle could be seen parked out front, and there appeared to be a space where a second was usually parked. He pulled in front of the small driveway, putting the truck in park before hopping out and around to the passenger side to help Sakura out. Once she was safely on the ground, he looked down at her, taking a deep breath. This was his last chance to be direct.

"Sakura?" He asked, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Sakura could see just how nervous he was; he seemed… awkward, in a sense.

"Hm? What is it?" She was genuinely curious. He'd been too kind to her yesterday, coming to check on her; she could at least hear out whatever it was he had to ask.

"I was wondering… Would you maybe like to go on… a proper date, another time?" He knew that what they'd done wasn't exactly a date, but it was close enough, right? His offer shell-shocked Sakura; that was not what she'd been expecting. A date… a proper date. He wanted to go on one? And with… her, nonetheless? Had she been totally out of it all night? Well… now that she thought about it, there was that one time where she was pretty sure he was about to kiss her, but he'd backed off.

"Oh, um… I think I'd like that," she admitted, her posture turning shy as she looked away. She knew she was blushing, but she couldn't help it; he had an air of aloof mystery surrounding him, and she wanted to learn more. She wanted to know more about him specifically.

"Great. I'll… I'll call you." He had her contact number from a pamphlet he'd been given when he'd signed up as a volunteer; he could get it from there. There was one last thing he wanted to do, too. Stepping forward, he raised a gloved hand, stopping before taking off his glove to touch her face. Her cheek was warm and soft, fitting gently into his palm. Sakura felt herself freeze at the gesture, glancing at his hand before looking up into his face.

Sasuke leaned down, gently pressing his lips against hers. He kept the kiss brief and chaste, but… Damn, he'd wanted to do that since yesterday. Running a thumb over her cheek, he smiled and stepped back, bidding her farewell. Sakura waved and hurried inside, doing her best not to slip on the ice patches she was sure were hidden under the fresh snow. Once he saw she was inside, Sasuke put his truck into gear and drove off, and for once… he was driving with a smile on his face.

Sakura stepped in the door to the townhouse and was met by her blonde friend standing in front of her like a mother about to scold a child.

"Oh, you have some explaining to do, Forehead. A lot of explaining. And I want it to start with hot stuff out there who just kissed you in the driveway."

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poptod · 4 years

Text

October 1st (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Description: He waits until the last moment and it’s too late.

Notes: i wrote a love letter to my friend but im never gonna send it so im profiting off my misery. gender neutral as usual

Word Count: 1.9k

Sad, sick people have a tendency of gravitating towards each other, whether or not they're aware of the illness of the other person. You know this quite well – in your rather sick childhood, where your mind was plagued with thoughts of self hatred, most of the friends you made were just about as sad as you. Looking back, it is a rather horrifying thought considering you were only twelve and so ready to die. Your mother said you were exaggerating, and that makes sense. Things were dramatized back then. But there's a flicker of truth in there, a small part within the soul that truly believed they should be dead. There's no sicker thought than that.

This trait, that part of yourself, carried through into adulthood. Unfortunate, really – that means it isn't just teenage drama, it isn't just your peers or your family. It's you. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize with tired, drooping eyes that it was always you. There's a quote – something along the lines of, "some people grow sad very young, and I know this, for I am one."

Elliot is sort of like that, too. Well, the two of you get on fine – in both life and within your friendship – and you don't really need to talk about it. You're both well aware of the others' problems, but it doesn't need to be mentioned. All you do is sit in cafe's together so neither of you are approached by creepy people and smoke together at his apartment. It doesn't need to be more than that.

Despite that barrier in your head, he's still your best friend. Maybe because he's one of your only friends, the other being an internet friend who you visit every now and then. Oh well. You lead a pretty sedentary lifestyle – you don't need a lot of friends. Just one to hang around.

Still, he does get around sometimes. He gets up out of nowhere, you ask where he's off to, and he says out. Most of the time he doesn't let you come, but this time he has and he's just wandering around. Looking at people and rationalizing their presence, watching the birds on benches, staring at shopfronts. For a moment you think to ask why he'd take such excursions in such cold weather, but with a glance to his peaced out face you know he doesn't have an answer.

You suppose that's just fine – there's something about fall that has you enjoying time outdoors. The piles of golden and red leaves pushed up against the sides of the streets, the coffee signs in front of every cafe, each with their own drawings of steaming coffee, and of course the scents in the air. It's not a particularly nice part of the city, but it has a fair share of restaurants and most smell of apple cider and cinnamon. The taste of pumpkin is also there; probably because you're sitting next to a Starbucks.

People pass by you donned in fuzzy jackets and long scarves. You look a bit like them; you're not a fan of the cold, so you have mittens, a hat, boots, and a scarf. Elliot on the other hand is much the same, as usual, and you don't expect him to ever stray from that routine. You like his routine. It's familiar.

"I'm leaving soon," you finally blurt out, a topic barely in your conscious mind but ravaging your subconscious. It's both good and bad news, considering the trip is for getting a doctorate, but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way. His eyes widen and he looks to you almost incredulously.

"Where?" He asks.

"Berlin. They've got this program for foreign students. I'll finally be able to get my doctorate in linguistics," you say, nodding to yourself. "I, um... I don't know if I'll be back."

"Why not?" He asks in a softer, rougher voice.

"It's an expensive move, you know? And there aren't that many jobs for linguists here.. at least, there's more in Europe," you half mumble, staring at your fidgeting fingers.

He gets up and leaves. Without another word except an astounded stare out into space, he stands and leaves you on the bench. You almost go after him, but he's got that look about him, and you know he's a little lost in thought. It'll be fine – you won't leave for a little while (not until October, actually), which gives you some real time with Elliot, if that's what he wants. As hard as it is for people to read him, you have a knack for it. That's probably why he spends any time at all with you.

You're going to miss him quite a lot. Lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling in your sleep clothes, the clock well past midnight, you wonder if he'll miss you too. He hasn't talked to you since you told him, which you did a good week or so ago now. Guilt settles deep in your chest – he's a man of routine and you're seriously breaking it. Fortunately, it's not really your problem. You have your own life and it doesn't revolve around what makes him comfortable.

You still feel bad about it, though.

About two weeks before you're set to leave he finally texts you, telling you to come visit him, and though he doesn't say it you know he means one last time. You get it right before you're about to get in the bath, and instantly you reach for the drain, unplugging it to let it drain while you redress yourself. Something nice – not your sweatpants, no matter how warm they are in the late September chill.

Outside rain falls in great sheets, battering down on the already dead leaves and the many, many busy people. Most everyone you pass by is dressed in black – black coats, black pants, black umbrellas. It's like they're mourning a death, though the only death you can think of is that of summer. You don't have an umbrella in your bag, but there's enough people on the streets with umbrellas and enough overhangs that you manage to stay mostly-dry, till the crowd thins out around Elliot's apartment and you get drenched. Droplets of water run down your fully-soaked hair, falling cold on your eyelashes and turning your nose a blushing pink.

Excitement pounds through your heart at the prospect of seeing your friend again. People at your workplace are nice, but no one is quite as intricate or interesting like he is. Every person is special, as are you, but you find yourself looking for the same traits in all your friends. A sort of quiet person with far too much beneath the surface. That's the only way you know how to describe what exactly Elliot is – well, he's kind. Soft-spoken, usually. Lost in his thoughts. Distant. Compassionate, and surprisingly, warm. You don't hug him much but he's warm, and for some reason you never expect it.

He lights the joint, taking a few puffs to ensure it's working before handing it to you, leaning over the small couch so you can reach. Smoke clouds itself in your lungs, forming pockets of dry, happy thoughts in your head. It all comes out with your exhale, like the freeze of hot breath in winter and the fog of dry ice.

"I love you," you say. Blurting is becoming a bad habit for you, but that's okay. You won't see him for a long time, and you need to get it out, no matter how surprised Elliot looks. He always looks a little surprised. "You know that, right?"

He laughs – he actually laughs. A smile spreads across his usually dull cheeks, and a blush crosses him, pink around his grin and pronounced in his ears and the tip of his rounded nose. You can't help it so you smile with him, absorbing the entirety of his fluster. He's always so closed off. Maybe you help him out of that hole, but it's mostly wishful thinking that drives your thought process towards that.

A cloud of smoke releases itself from Elliot's mouth. He doesn't say anything in relation to your announcement, but you don't particularly expect him to. He's a little odd when it comes to affection. You don't mind it in the least, too caught up in memorizing his little movements and his breathy sighs to bother with the tough things.

So that's it. You spend one more afternoon-into-evening with him, and you don't see him again, not at the airport, not over text or Skype. There was a chance of that – you knew that, but it still disappoints and saddens you to watch the ground disappear, the last memory of your Elliot from several days ago. It feels as though it's already fading despite the fact that you remember every detail of your time with him. How could you forget?

Fidgeting with your bag on the plane, you close your eyes and wonder what things will be like when you get back, if you ever do. Your bag is a little like his jacket – a comfort, with fringes that are easy to fidget with, as much as it might annoy the person sitting next to you. Anxiously you dig your hand into your bag, looking for your anxiety meds, only for your fingers to brush against paper.

You don't have paper in your bag.

Pinching it between your fingers, you pull the paper out, revealing an envelope with your name on it. With shaking hands you tear open the glue, unfolding a note scrawled onto leaf paper. There aren't any lines for guiding, but the words are perfectly spaced.

(Y/N),

I'm not sure if I'll ever send this to you. Maybe not – everything is so unsure right now. My constants in this hectic state of the world are few and most are not good. My job, my scars, my anxiety, they never go away but neither do you. It may seem inconsequential to you – you're likable and you have other friends, but I don't. Not really. I have you, though, and it often feels like that's enough.

I always wanted a forever person; someone there throughout all life for better or worse. A bit like tonight – it ended with a bar fight, but somehow I enjoyed it. I looked to you and you were grinning and bashing a guy's head in, and somehow that made me smile. It's always better with you. I don't talk about that enough.

You're the good in the world. I find it hard to believe, much less articulate, how good you are. How kind. Understanding. Creative, open, pure in the best way. You make me want to become a better person, and isn't that what humans strive for? A connection with someone who makes you believe the world is capable of good, someone that makes you believe you'll be alright – so long as you stick by their side.

I don't write these kinds of things. You know that – I don't like bringing my deeper emotions to light. But you're safe and I trust you; I just hope you understand how special you are to me. You deserve so much good and I wish I could give that to you. I can't give you what I want to give you, but I will always be your friend, no matter what.

Elliot

He wrote this a while ago. That bar fight was a year or so ago – is that how long he's been keeping this letter back? Is this why he asked you to come over? ... Is this his attempt to get you to stay?

The plane's already over the ocean. You can't even see the shore anymore.

You realize just a little too late that he's the good in the world.

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr. robot #rami malek #rami malek character #mr robot #elliot alderson x male reader #elliot alderson x female reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #fluff #meet cute

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cilldaracailin · 3 years

Text

Heaven for Everyone

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

It has been an age since I have posted some Robyn and Taron and as I explained earlier, I am breaking my rule of not posting unless I have another fic on the go but it’s been too long and I just don’t know when I am going to start the next story so I would rather share what I have so far with all of you.

I am actually getting used to the pink of my laptop so writing has become easier however, I realised that it messes with the colours of my pictures for my chapters so I hope the ones I picked are ok!

Anywhoo, enjoy this next series and thanks for sticking around. So much harder to write these days as I have been so stupidly busy.

Lots of love Suze xxx

*I don’t know Taron or his family and this is all just fiction*

PS I don’t normally tag people but because it has been a while... @fuseburner @hitmeonmytspot @primaba11erina @turkish276 @tronder1 @killingkitties Sorry if I forgot anyone! xxx

“Mules had nothing on me when it came to being stubborn.”

Robyn groaned, cursed and then hissed in pain as she let go of the handle of her small case, switching to hold it with her left hand instead. She was tired, cranky and in no form for trying to battle her way once more through another airport crowd. Dublin was bad enough but Heathrow was always heaving and she walked with speed towards the exit of the baggage claim to get out into the fresh air outside the arrival’s hall.

Any excited thoughts of seeing Taron again were at the back of her mind and she yawned as she walked bringing her right hand to her face to rub her eyes, cringing again as a twinge seared through her right hand. Her last twenty-four hours had not been what she had expected and as she made her way through the airport, she felt very overdressed in her smart black pants and fitted white check suit jacket but she didn’t have time to change her clothes before she left for the airport. She was quickly getting very used to rushing when it was anything to do with traveling Taron but her rush this time was caused by her own misfortune.

She had spent the last eighteen odd hours sitting in the reception of a private medical clinic in Dublin waiting for an X-ray. It was her own fault really and when the outdoor gate to the garden of the creche slammed shut, she hadn’t been keeping an eye on it and she should have known better when the door was notorious for slamming closed with the wind. Just so happened her right hand rested on the metal door frame as the door slammed, catching her hand between the metal frame on both sides of the gate and her high pitch scream was loud enough for Emma to come running, thinking something had happened to one of the children who were outside playing. Emma quickly opened the gate and Robyn cradled her right hand, tears on cheeks as a sharp deep pain ran through her, a long black bruise already formed on the back of her hand and palm of her skin, her hand trembling in agony.

Robyn walked into the creche, Emma on her heels and ran the cold water in the sink in the kitchen, gingerly putting her hand under the cold spray, moaning as the light trickle of water hurt her.

“You need ice, not water.” Emma grabbed a cold compress from the fridge which they used for the children and wrapped it in a tea towel bringing it over to Robyn at the sink. “Here.”

Robyn let Emma wrap the compress around her hand but she cringed and whimpered as Emma placed too much pressure on her hand. “Ow stop.” She pulled her shaking hand away.

“Can you move your fingers.” Asked Emma as she guided Robyn to one of the chairs at the table, making her sit down, seeing her cheeks pale. With a hurtful sob Robyn carefully moved her fingers one by one but if she tried to close her hand it stretched agonisingly against the quickly deepening bruising.

“Robyn you need to go and get this hand checked out.” Emma placed the useless cold compress on the table and she then very carefully lifted her supervisors hand, turning it over. “It looks really bad Robyn.” Along with the black, blue and purple bruises that covered her hand, there was an obvious line of blood where the gate had actually broken the delicate skin of her hand on both sides.

Robyn looked to Emma with sad watery eyes. “Taron.” She said quietly, watching as her manager walked to the press to pull out a first aid box and put it on the table. Emma opened the black tabs and flicked the lid over, routing through all the plasters and bandages to pull out some antiseptic wipes. “The premier.” Robyn added in a whisper as Emma ripped open the first packet, taking the wipe out and gently took her hand, very carefully wiped the long graze with the antiseptic liquid feeling Robyn immediately try to pull her hand back but Emma kept a somewhat tight hold of her hand to prevent her from drawing it back to her chest.

“Taron is not going anywhere Robyn and will still be there whether you arrive tomorrow or Friday.”

“My flight is tomorrow!” Robyn cried.

“And weren’t you the one telling him only two days ago that his health comes first? So does yours. You need to get this seen too. Your fingers are shaking.”

“It hurts.” Robyn replied looking to her swollen and damaged hand, hissing as Emma hit a very tender spot on the palm of her hand with the antiseptic wipe.

“The most perfect sign that you need to go to the hospital.” Emma discarded the bloodied antiseptic wipes into the bin and picked up the instant ice pack which she crushed to activate the cold inside. She pulled some paper hand towels from the dispenser behind Robyn’s head and wrapped the ice pack in two towels on either side before she placed it on the back of Robyn’s hand, feeling her pull back again but she held her hand in place. “You need this. Your hand is swollen and the ice will help but more important you need a doctor.”

“Emma I will be sitting waiting for ages. This weekend is so important to Taron”

“And the weekend will still be there but your damaged hand may not. The bruising is turning black Robyn. I’d imagine you’ve done some sort of damage to your hand. You need to get it checked out and make sure you haven’t injured any of the tendons. That blasted gate.” Emma fumed.

“It was my own fault.” Robyn admitted. “I know well that the gate slams. I just wasn’t watching what I was doing.” She grumbled. “I should have been paying more attention.” Robyn took a long breathe. “Emma, I have to go to Taron. I promised him I would go. He has organised the whole weekend for me, helped Stella get me a dress, made plans with his publicist and organised the hotel too.”

“Robyn…”

“I need to see him Emma. He was still so ill on Monday morning when I left him. Talking on the phone is not the same as physically seeing him, even though I can hear the change in his voice, I need to actually see him.” Robyn looked to her manager. “I promised him Emma. The few days together are so important to him and he has been such a wonderful friend to me, coming to spend St Patrick’s Day in Kilcreen and then coming for RENT and coming early too and setting up the tent and...”

“Robyn…”

“It’s just something I have to do. Go and see him. Support him for his movie.”

Emma watched as the words ran from Robyn’s mouth, her whole body becoming overly fidgety as she spoke, her tone clear with yearning for the need to see Taron. “Robyn, I know how much your time with Taron means to you and how excited you have been for this weekend even more so after what happened last weekend. I know how much you love him, how this man means the world to you but this hand needs to be tended to by a doctor.”

“Emma…”

“Go to one of the swift care clinics Robyn. You have private health care insurance. You know they take half the time compared to a hospital.”

“Yeah I suppose.”

“There is no suppose Robyn. I am not letting you fly anywhere until you get this checked and I can easily get Taron’s phone number from your phone and tell him what happened.”

“Ok Ok no. No!” She repeated with a firmer tone. “Don’t call Taron. He doesn’t need to know. He has already been through enough.”

“So, who am I calling to take you to the hospital?”

It was her dad who drove her in, maybe speeding a little too fast to get her into a private clinic and once inside Robyn thought it would have been a quick visit but after she spoke to reception, she realised she was in for a long wait as the medical service was backed up. Robyn told her father to go home and she sat for five hours before she was even seen too, the doctor booking her in for an X-ray but that took another couple of hours and then she had to get an MRI of her hand too and as Robyn was picked up by her father once more just after ten am the next morning, she was completely pushed for time to get ready to fly to London to meet Taron. She was so thankful for having her case packed the night before and only had to throw in a few extra things, her dad driving her to airport to catch her flight. A flight she was fully intending on making despite her wrapped and swollen hand.

The doctor had summarised that her hand was not broken but very badly bruised and luckily the MRI scan had shown that she had not damaged any tendons but was going to be severely bruised for a few weeks, finding the use of her hand hard and painful until the bruising and swelling eased up. He had cleaned the straight line wound again and wrapped her hand loosely, not putting too much pressure on it and prescribed her some painkillers, advising her to keep it elevated in a sling when at home in the evening and to avoid using her right hand for a few days.

So far she had not kept her hand elevated and probably used it more than she should have and was struggling with only having the use of her left hand even though she naturally did things with her left hand but she was getting frustrated with everything around her and the fact that she hadn’t told Taron what had happened yet was weighing heavily on her mind especially after she had lectured him on keeping his health as his main priority. Even unlocking her phone was a problem as she used the finger print of the right index finger of her right hand normally but had to hold the phone her in throbbing hand and unlock it with the pin code now.

Thankfully having Taron on speed dial made things a little easier for her and she made her way into a little corner of the terminal to make her call so she didn’t have to try and pull her case with her sore hand.

“Hey chicken!”

His voice was light and excited and she held in the sigh she was desperate to make. His whole mood had lifted each day she had spoken to him and he was finally feeling like his old self, though he still coughed every now and again.

“Hey Taron.”

“So, you’ve landed then?”

“Yep. Heading for the exit. How has your morning been?”

“Tiring but good. Early morning TV is always a treat.” He replied with a chuckle. His recovery was quick as he didn’t leave the hotel bed in Paris until he had to get his flight to London and the complete rest and antibiotics quickly cleared his chest infection though he still found himself coughing at times, even doing so on live TV, apologising to the presenter afterwards.

“I am glad it went well Taron.” Robyn had hoped he wasn’t pushing himself again but she had been able to watch the interview on her phone while sitting in A&E and he was animate, smiling and laughing and it was a wonderful sight to see and hear. His whole face beamed and in a way, she was so glad he was caught coughing on camera as it further explained the truth in the story of why his press junket ended so suddenly. Once again, the media had been extremely accepting of Taron’s circumstances and Robyn’s visit to him, which came across as a very quick one, as no one did actually see her leave his hotel and her visit was only seen as a supportive gesture to Taron as he sat sick in his hotel room.

“Me too Robyn. I was dreading it to be honest especially after what happened in Paris but it was fine.”

She found a small smile on her lips, her right hand held against her chest as it throbbed. “I watched it.”

“You did?”

“Sure I did.”

“So you got up early to watch me on TV at seven.”

Robyn inwardly groaned as she nearly got caught up in her lie. “Of course I did Taron.” She quickly replied. “Biggest supporter, remember? And I watched it on my phone in bed cuddled with cwtch under the covers.”

He chuckled. “Yeah I know and I am glad cwtch saw it too. I miss that dinosaur.” Robyn found herself rolling her eyes at his comment. “Have you walked out of the exit yet?” He asked her.

“Not yet.”

“Ok well it won’t be Anthony this time picking you up. I have organised a different driver for you that will bring you to the hotel. He will be holding a sign with your name. He is called Clive.”

“That’s fine Taron. What time do you think you will arrive at?”

“Hopefully just before five. I have a few more phone interviews to do, to make up for missing the ones during the week.”

“Taron…”

He immediately heard the warning in her voice. “All organised last-minute Robyn once I was feeling so much better and I am happy to make up for the ones I missed. It’s an hour tops and then I will be on my way to you.” He heard the long sigh that came from her. “And I am free for the rest of the day and I have a dinner to make up to you.”

Robyn looked to her aching hand. She was really in no mood for dinner, trying to find something to wear and going out. She was exhausted with no sleep the night before and still trying to catch up on lost sleep over the weekend previous, she was desperate for a shower and a nap. “Let’s see how you go with your timing Taron.”

“I will be with you around five Robyn. It’s just after two thirty. Go and head to the hotel room and I will see you very soon.”

“Ok Taron.”

“Robyn are you ok? You seem, well I don’t know. Quiet. Not as argumentative with me as your normally are.”

“I am fine Taron.”

“You still nervous about tomorrow?”

“A little. Yeah.” She hoped her voice was steady. She was very nervous about the premier but right now it wasn’t her main concern. It was his reaction when he saw what had happened to her and how she hadn’t been upfront with him straight away.

“Anything else I can say to ease your mind?” He asked with genuine concern and a softness to his voice.

Robyn felt even worse about her lie to him now. “You have been wonderful Taron. Just some jitters. They will pass.” She closed her eyes as a burning sensation travelled through her hand as she bent her fingers without thinking.

“I will be right beside you.”

“I know.”

Taron looked over his shoulder felt a hand rest there, Lyndsey behind him giving him a nod. “Robyn I gotta go but I will see you very soon ok? Go back to the hotel room and have a nap.”

“Naps are no fun my myself.” She replied, a little smirk on her lips, smiling as Taron laughed. “But I will raid the mini bar instead and watch the TV.”

“Sure Robyn. Go wild.”

“I will. See you soon rocketman.”

Robyn ended the call and awkwardly put her phone in her shoulder bag but dropped her case on the ground, followed by her bag which slipped off her shoulder. She cursed as all of her belongings ended up on the ground. Picking up her shoulder bag, she used her left hand to put it over her head and then swivel it around so the bag rested at her left hip. Reaching down she picked up her case and finally made her way out of baggage claim and into the arrivals hall where she immediately saw a very well-dressed man holding a sign with her name. She walked over to him.

“Hi I’m Robyn.”

“Miss Quinn. Nice to meet you. I am Clive.” He held out his right hand to shake hers and without thinking, Robyn did the same and she recoiled immediately as he shook her hand hard and she opened her fingers to let his hand go.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She quickly apologised. “I’ve hurt my hand.”

“Oh no sorry.” Clive instantly let go of her hand. “I have a strong handshake. Let me take your bag and we can get going to the hotel.”

“Great.” She gladly let him take her case, happy to not have to drag it any more. “Thank you.”

“This way.”

Robyn followed the driver out of the airport and to the set down only area where the blacked-out car was waiting for her. Clive opened the door for her, allowing her to get into the car while he took care of her case. She sat on the left side of the car so it would be easier for her to get her seatbelt on and once buckled in, realised she hadn’t taken her bag from off her shoulder, so unbuckled the seatbelt to take her bag off before strapping herself back in. Once she was finally ready for the car journey, Clive was back in the driver’s seat.

“It’ll be about an hour with traffic Robyn.”

“That’s ok Clive.”

“We will be there around half three.”

Robyn nodded and closed her eyes, laying her head back against the seat. One of the perks she was becoming very thankful for in knowing Taron was that she never had to drag a suitcase through the London underground any more and having him organise a driver to ferry her around was quickly something she was getting very accustomed to.

A fifty-minute driver later, Clive dropped her off at her hotel for her stay for the next two nights, passing her bag onto one of the staff at the hotel door. After she had thanked Clive, Robyn stood staring at the stone brick walls of the Montcalm hotel Taron had given her the details of at Marble Arch. It was another stunning hotel, with beautiful red brick walls and two pillars at the front glass entrance to the lobby. Robyn was suddenly glad she hadn’t had the chance to change out her work clothes because as she walked through the white marble lobby, decorated in fine and ornate gold details, she felt more suited to the hotel in her work clothes compared to her normal gear of jeans and a jumper. Her smart work clothes made her feel like she belonged in this extremely expensive hotel. The staff employee with her suitcase had already left it at reception for her and gave her a smile as she walked past him which she returned. Robyn approached the marble lit reception desk with a tired smile.

“Good afternoon ma’am.” The woman behind the desk smiled.

“I would like to check in please.” Robyn replied.

“Can I get the name of the booking please?”

“Sure. It’s Taron Egerton.”

The woman at the computer did a slight double take with the name she mentioned but typed Taron’s name into the computer, her eyes glancing to the lady in front of her before going back to the screen and typing some more. “Is there another name on the booking?” The receptionist asked.

Robyn looked to her. “Taron told me the booking was under his name. A room for two nights for two guests.”

“No other name?” She asked again.

“Maybe Robyn Quinn? That’s me.”

“Do you happen to have any ID on you?”

Robyn was way too tired to dealing with the uncalled attitude from the woman but opened her bag to pull out her purse, handing over her Irish driving licence. She waited as the receptionist looked to and from the photo on the pink piece of paper before she handed it back over.

“Ok so two nights in one of our Park Lane Suites.” The receptionist handed over a piece of paper. “Can you sign here please?”

Robyn looked to her right hand. Holding a pen was possible. Holding a pen tight enough to sign her name was going to be a problem but she refused to show the woman who stood in front of her, judging her, that she was incapable of signing her name. So with a shaky hand, ignoring the tremors of pain, she signed her name on the page, glancing at the price of the room for two nights, keeping her face as still as possible so her shock couldn’t be seen. The extravagance of the hotels she was getting to stay in had quickly upped its game and price and as she slid the paper back across the counter, she was wondering if Taron had paid for the stay from his own pocket. She watched as the receptionist typed some more into the computer. “And you are a guest of Mr. Egerton?”

“I am his friend who is staying with him at the hotel for the next two nights.” Robyn replied.

“So his guest?”

“His friend.” Robyn said with a firm tone. “Shall I just ring Taron for you to let him confirmed his reservation?”

“No need. I have you both here.”

“Fantastic. So I can check in then.”

The receptionist looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “Just getting your keys sorted now.”

“Wonderful.”

With a few more clicks her keyboard, an impatient sound coming from the typing, Robyn waited for about twenty seconds before the room card keys were pushed her way. “All checked in. Room three three three, third floor. With your booking, you have full use of the wellness centre, pool and gym. There is also a free spa treatment included in your booking which you can arrange by dialling nine on your phone. That will put you directly through the to the wellness centre and spa. Your suite also gives you access to the club lounge and the breakfast buffet as well as reservations for dinner and lunch in our Crescent restaurant which you can book through us here at reception. You can take the lifts to the left to the third floor to get to your room.” The receptionist looked to Robyn. “Do you know what time Mr Egerton will be arriving at?” She asked with a wicked smile.

“I am not actually too sure. Mr Egerton is quite busy at the moment and his schedule is not running to a timed plan but as I know what room we are in; I can easily give him a quick phone call to let him know and he can just come on up to our room. No point in him calling to reception when I can just contact him myself.” Robyn slid the keys towards her and picked them up. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Are you Robyn?” Another woman came to stand behind the reception desk with a badge that said ‘manager’ on it. “Robyn Quinn?”

Robyn looked to the smartly dressed lady and nodded. “Yeah I am.”

“My name is Cleo. I am one of the managers here at the hotel. Taron called earlier. Wanted to make sure your check in went as smooth as possible explaining he was caught up in work and would be arriving later. Everything ok for you so far?”

Robyn looked to the first receptionist with a slight smirk and then back to the manager. “Everything has been fine so far thank you.”

“Good. I am glad. Taron has also asked me to keep one of the room keys here at reception for him. He will get it when he arrives and then he can let himself into the room. Said something about naps.”

Robyn felt her cheeks blush but handed back one of the keys. “That is fine by me.”

“So anything I can do for you Robyn?”

“At the moment, no thank you.”

“Well if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call reception. Gloria here will be very happy to help you or myself. Would you like some help with your bag to your room?”

“Do you know, I think I can manage it myself thanks.”

“Please enjoy all our facilities Robyn. You have full access to the spa too.”

“Gloria was telling me about that.” She looked to the receptionist who was flushed red with her annoyance. “I might wait until Taron arrives before we both decide to use your spa facilities. After his day of work, he might enjoy a dip in the pool.”

“Sure. It opens till nine anyway so you have lots of time to take a wander to it and please do take a swim. The pool is heated.”

Robyn smiled. “We might just do that. Thank you so very much.” She looked to Gloria with a grin. “I will be sure to call if I need anything.”

Making sure to take her case with her left hand, Robyn turned away from reception feeling a sense of accomplishment and victory and walked to the lifts, though now without the distraction of the smart-arse receptionist, her focus was back on how tired she felt and how her hand still ached. Once in the lift she pressed the button for floor number three and when the door opened on the third floor, she was met with a stark dark contrast to the brightness of the white lobby downstairs. The corridors had black walls, doors and ceiling, the carpet a black colour too and although it should have made the hotel seem gloomy and dull, the spotlighting in the ceiling and along the floor added a second layer of colour and light and it was spotless. Robyn walked down the soft carpet, feeling it bounce under her feet and she could only grin as she reached room three three three, the corner room.

“Bloody corner rooms.” She murmured letting go of her case. Her injured hand was making the easiest of tasks, like holding her belongings and opening a hotel door impossible but somehow, she managed to hold the key against the black lock and a little white light appeared letting her know the door was unlocked. Now faced with another every day task of opening the door, Robyn pushed down on the handle with her left hand and used her hip to hold the door open while she grabbed her case and almost stumbled into the room.

She stopped and stared in front of her, the door closing of its own accord behind her. Leaving the case where it was, Robyn walked further into the room. In front of her was a large living area with a very comfortable looking two-seater grey couch, desk, TV mounted to the wall and coffee table, a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket with two glasses on it. To her left and behind her a bathroom, with full size bath come shower, toilet and sink. It was spacious and elegant, little touches like a plant and some pictures on the wall to add some more dept to the room. The window was large and let natural light in through the net curtain, dark gold curtains pushed back against the cream colour walls.

“Where is the bed?” Robyn asked out loud. “Only a chair.” She noticed another door to her right. “Couldn’t be.”

She opened it and walked through and her jaw dropped. To her right was not only a very large bed but a very large four poster bed with curtains. The wooden frame had dark brown curtains with a white checked pattern and they matched the yellow and brown bedding and pillows. Robyn walked into the room and tried to take everything in around her. She headed straight for the bed, her hands running down the curtains. She had never seen a four-poster bed before, let alone have the opportunity to sleep in one and she definitely would have made a run and jump on the bed if she knew both hands could catch herself but she wouldn’t risk the move. She walked to windows, the brown and yellow curtains matching in with the bedding perfectly. Taking a glance out the windows, their view was of some street of London but if she looked to her left, she could see Marble Arch through the curtains, Hyde Park behind it. She strolled past the bed and quickly realised there was another bathroom in the suite and again black was the main colour of focus with white furnishings, another full-sized bath and rainfall shower.

“Your gonna love that Taron.” Robyn mused as she leaned against the doorframe. She looked to her right and regretted the glance to the mirror. She looked a fright, her hair in a very messy bun, with no make-up on and deep black circles under her eyes. “No wonder Gloria was so bitchy. Least my clothes look good.”

Robyn headed back into the separate living area and just stood, trying to comprehend what on earth was going on with her life lately. Before she met Taron, she could happily stay in the cheapest hotel with a single bed, no room to move and the tiniest bathroom but now she was in a hotel room that was nearly bigger than her living room and kitchen together. It would never be something she could chose herself, never being able to afford it and she was quite happy to stay in the tiny rooms but taking her adventures with Taron opened her eyes to what a life of luxury actually looked like and when he was willing to share it with her, she was going to enjoy it.

She walked to her case and pulled it into the bedroom. She moved to put it on her side of the bed, looking to the bedside locker and frowned. On the locker was a tablet sitting on a silver alarm clock. She bent to look at it more clearly and the screen displayed what looked to be different functions for the room such as lights, air-conditioning and room service.

“Not touching that.” She said out loud, sitting on the side of the bed, dropping her shoulder bag into the bed, taking her phone out. She sent Taron a quick text to tell him she was checked in and settling in the room. She stood up and slightly kicked her case so it fell to the ground the right way up. She unzipped it and pulled out her toiletry bag and some more cosier clothes. She stuffed her swimsuit back into her case understanding now why Taron had asked her to bring it. The hotel had a pool which he obviously wanted them to make use of but she wasn’t too sure how that was going to work out now with her busted hand.

Robyn had to make two runs to the bathroom with all of her belongings, becoming seriously hindered by not being able to put pressure on her right hand and once she had everything she needed, closed the bathroom door and turned on the rainfall shower. It was going to be a struggle to strip and re-dress but she was going to have to find a way because her hand was going to be out of use for a least a week before she could even try to use it properly. It was certainly going to make for an interesting weekend.

Taron was giddy as he sat in the car on the way to hotel and the smile couldn’t be wiped from his face, Lyndsey teasing him as they parted ways until tomorrow.

“I like you like this. I definitely like you like this better than four days ago.”

“Don’t remind me.” Taron was still completely ashamed of the mess he had gotten himself into in Paris and was happy to try and make up some of the interviews he missed out on over the phone especially that he felt so much better, apart from an odd cough and had caught up on his sleep, his whole face bright now that his overtiredness had left him. “I am excited to see Robyn, actually properly see her this time.”

“‘Cos you didn’t see her last time?” Lyndsey asked with a grin, seeing Taron’s face flush. “I was in the hotel room in Paris with you too and I know the hotel you chose has a pool Taron.” She laughed as his neck turned red too. “So, going for a swim later?” He didn’t answer her as he pulled his jacket on. “Go and enjoy your time with her. I will meet you outside the hotel tomorrow at nine am sharp.”

Now as Taron sat in the car, the nerves that were missing from Paris were back with full vengeance and along with his nerves were his butterflies and he was very fidgety in the car and couldn’t sit still. Paris was a blur to him but this weekend was one he had been ready and waiting for, for weeks. Even before he had asked Robyn to go with him, he was ready for this premier. His health scare in Paris had opened his eyes to a lot of things and the most important one was that he knew without a doubt that Robyn was in love with him. Her affection and devotedness to him, where she put every ounce of energy she had into looking after him made it more than obvious to him. This weekend was his chance to return the favour and it was his mission to make her feel as comfortable as possible, especially as she stepped completely out of her comfort zone once again. Having him go visit her was an entirely different situation to her coming to see him for one of his events and this one wasn’t just a little red-carpet event. It was an official move premier complete with what could be described as an overwhelming media presence and Taron only wanted Robyn to feel safe.

Bringing his right hand to his mouth he coughed three times. It still lingered in his chest, normally appearing after a lot of talking or strenuous movement and his cough turned to a slight yawn. He looked out the window as he felt the car slowing down, the car pulling into the hotel he had organised for the next two nights. He had spent Wednesday at home in his flat, mostly sleeping and tiding but when Lyndsey asked if he wanted a hotel organised for the premier, Taron had to think about it for a little while. He decided in the end to book a really nice hotel for himself and Robyn for two nights, and not just a room but a suite so they would both have the space they needed to get ready the next day but more so for Robyn to get ready. Stella had a whole Friday plan in place while he was working and he was sure Stella was going to need to the space of a suite. His flat was not ideal and although not overly far from London, the hotel was much closer for travelling to Leicester Square and keeping the hotel close, meant that if they chose to leave early, their bed for the night was not too far away. He then planned to bring Robyn to his flat on Saturday so he could show her around and just relax the whole day together.

The car stopped and Taron opened the door to let himself out, thanking the driver for taking his case out for him. The Montcalm hotel was definitely one of the more extravagant hotels in London’s Bayswater district but Taron had wanted something really special for Robyn, though knew in his heart that she wasn’t any way materialistic. However, he was happy to spoil her. He wanted to spoil her.

“Thanks.” He said to the driver who had brought him from his early afternoon work to the hotel and he walked through the glass doors into the bright lobby, making his way to reception.

“Good afternoon and welcome to the Montcalm Marble Arch.” The receptionist gave him a wide smile. “How can I help you today Mr. Egerton.”

Taron felt his breathe hitch at the back of his throat. He should be used to being recognised but it still always made him slightly nervous. “I just want to check in and grab the key to my room. I know my friend has already checked in.”

“Of course. That is no problem at all. My name is Gloria and I will be able to help you with anything you need.”

“I would just like the key to my room please.”

“Sure.”

Taron watched as the woman typed on her keyboard and could feel a little frustration and annoyance building inside him. He just wanted to see Robyn and all he needed was the key to the room, having already rang the hotel earlier to ask them to keep a key at reception so he could get into his room quietly himself without disturbing Robyn if she was sleeping. He tried to hold the angry puff of air in, but it left his lips loudly. He felt like he was standing for more than a minute before she even looked to him.

“So, your guest…”

“My friend.” He quickly interrupted.

“Your friend has already checked in.”

“I know. I have been speaking with her. Can I just have my key please?” Taron asked again.

“Gloria, there is a bit of a queue forming there. Do you need help checking this man in?”

Taron looked to the second woman who walked behind reception. Glancing to her name tag, it read Cleo, the word ‘manager’ under her name. He recognised the name from the phone call he made earlier.

He took a step to his right, so he was standing more in front of the manager. “I would just like the key to my room please. I rang earlier about keeping one of the keys to my room. My friend Robyn has already checked in.”

“Yes, Mr Egerton, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I have your key right here.” Cleo reached under the desk to take the key for his room and handed it to him. “Room three three three on the third floor. Like I said to Robyn, if you need anything at all please just call down to reception and Gloria will be happy to help you out.”

Taron looked to the other woman behind the reception and shook his head. “I think Robyn and I will be ok thank you.”

Cleo looked to Gloria and then to Taron, immediately picking up on the tense atmosphere. “If you need anything at all Taron, dial zero and you can ask for myself Cleo or Stewart. We will be very happy to answer any question you have.”

“Thank you.”

Holding the key card in his left hand, Taron grabbed his case and quickly walked away from the desk, trying to turn his mood around before he saw Robyn. He was thoroughly irritated by the unprofessional behaviour of the hotels receptionist and hoped Robyn hadn’t been subjected the same nonsense. Standing in the lift, he shook his annoyance off and turned his thoughts to seeing Robyn. His excitement for the premier along with the nerves had grown and he was so ready to get dressed up with her again and share with her the movie he had finished filming because of her quick actions eight months ago.

Once out of the lift, he strolled down the dark carpet, following the numbers until he reached the suite. He knew he had maybe gone a little overboard with the suite for himself and Robyn, both having stayed in a so-called normal hotel room before but for the special occasion of a movie premier it just added to the excitement of the weekend and he just kept telling himself that the extra space would be used. He was just sorry he hadn’t been there to see Robyn’s reaction when she walked into the room because he knew it would have been a good one. He also knew their next hug was going to be an amazing one and Taron was determined to make it a tight one, ready to put his everything into hugging her, knowing it would say more than his words could for her actions last weekend.

Robyn definitely struggled a little in the shower. Not as much as she thought she was going to and that was probably down to the fact that she didn’t wash her hair. She managed to get dressed into a pair of jeans except she unexpectedly had found herself in a slight predicament with the back strap her bra. She had closed the strap but once she had pulled it up and fixed the shoulder straps, quickly realised that the back strap was twisted around and itchy and uncomfortable and she couldn’t turn her right hand the right way she needed to open it and she was so tired at everything taking so much extra effort. Her head turned at she heard her name called and recognised the soft tones of a calming male Welsh accent.

“Hey Taron.” She called back very relieved to hear him.

He had wandered into the living space and then into the bedroom. Once he didn’t see her curled up on the bed, he called her name, Taron hearing her answer him from the bathroom.

“Come out when you are ready chicken. I am gonna chill on the bed.” Taron took two steps to the bed when he stopped when he heard Robyn reply.

“Actually, could you come and help me please?”

He looked to the closed bathroom door. “Robyn?” He was completely taken aback by her answer.

“The door is unlocked. It’s ok. I kinda need your help.”

Taron shrugged his shoulders and walked to the bathroom door and opened it, shielding his eyes a little with his hand. “Robyn?” He heard her laugh a little and answer him.

“You can look Taron.”

Taking his hand away from his face, Robyn stood in front of him with her t-shirt half on, covering the front of her body. Her hair was tied up is a very messy bun, messier than normal and her face was a mix of frustration and weariness. “Can you help me?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

Robyn turned around so her back was facing him. “Can you open the back of my bra strap and close it again for me? It is all twisted.”

Taron stood shocked for a few seconds at what Robyn was asking him to do and knew she felt the hesitation from him but she turned around so her back was to him.

“Please Taron?” She looked at his reflection in the large mirror. “It’s all screwy and I can’t fix it.”

“Yeah sure of course.” He stepped closer to her. He had been in this position before, having to move her bra straps when he was cleaning her shoulder wound in Florida but he hadn’t quite been asked to actually open her bra but as he looked to the lacey black material, he could see what Robyn meant about it being screwy. The right strap was twisted around awkwardly and he couldn’t imagine it was comfortable for her. He slipped his index and middle fingers behind the soft material of Robyn’s bra and with the help of his thumbs unhooked it and then turned the right strap around it sat flat against her back. “Which row do you want it hooked into Robyn?” He asked her.

“Second please.”

As she asked him, Taron closed the hooks back in place. “All done.”

“Thank you Taron.” Feeling immediately more comfortable, Robyn used her left hand to hold the neck of t-shirt and slipped her head through, again using her left hand to fix her stripped t-shirt on her body, before she turned to Taron who was looking at her with a half grin and confused face.

“So, Robyn what is going on?” He asked her. “I mean I am sure hooking a bra is a skill a woman learns as a young teenage girl.”

“Probably the same time as teenage boy.” She chuckled back but Taron didn’t laugh.

“Robyn what is going on? You have been so different on the phone all day. You just seem a little deflated.” He reached to take her hands but she took a quick step back, Taron’s face becoming worried. “Robyn.” His eyes widened as she held up her right hand to him. “Fuck Robyn.” He reached over and very carefully took her hand in his much larger one. “What happened?” He didn’t miss how she wouldn’t look at him as she spoke.

“The side gate to the garden in creche slammed on my hand. The wind caught it and my hand was still on the metal frame when it slammed.”

“Robyn…” Taron’s voice was barely audible. His eyes were glued to the painful looking bruises on her hand. He had seen her hand black and blue from when she had given him CPR before but as he turned her hand over, her previous dark bruises were nothing compared to what she had now. Along with the discolouration on her skin, was a long thin welt front and back, red raw and extremely sore looking. Deep multi-layered discolouration’s of black, purple and very dark blue marred her hand and when he went to touch her skin, she pulled her hand back immediately. “Sorry, sorry sweetheart. Robyn this looks really bad.”

Robyn finally looked at Taron and apart from looking so rested and healthy, he looked extremely worried and concerned. His eyes were wide and beautiful and they pierced through her. “I had it checked out by a doctor. Nothing broken, no tendon damage. Just really bruised.”

“When did this happen?” He asked her lightly taking her fingers in his. “Sorry chicken, I didn’t hear you?”

Robyn had whispered the word but closed her eyes as she repeated the word a little louder. “Yesterday.”

Taron looked to her. “Yesterday.” He ran what he hoped was the lightest of strokes over her hand. “You saw a doctor?” He watched her nod. “Dr Greene?”

Once again, Taron completely surprised Robyn with how much he listened to her, how he remembered the name of the doctor who she had brought him to see, who took his stitches out. She looked back to her hand as she answered him. “No not Dr Greene.”

Taron put his left hand under Robyn’s chin to make her look at him. “Robyn, did you go to the hospital?”

She looked to her hand again. “Yeah I did. Well not so much a hospital but a clinic for those with private health insurance.”

“And?”

Robyn was a little distracted by the very delicate movements of Taron’s thumb over her knuckles, his touch soft and staying away from the hurt part of her hand and it took her a moment to answer him. “Sat for a long time to wait for an X-ray and then for an MRI. All clear. Just bruised.”

Taron looked to her, finally making eye contact and keeping her eye contact, seeing the pain in her eyes along with an intense tiredness on her face. “How long?”

“Most of yesterday afternoon and all night.”

“Jesus Robyn.”

“I am fine Taron. I will be fine. Just makes doing things a lot awkward.”

Taron suddenly stopped his thumbs moving. “Yesterday.” He mused. “Robyn, I spoke to you earlier on and you didn’t mention this happened. I even asked you if you were ok.” He dropped her hand carefully, taking a slight step backwards. “You didn’t tell me yesterday either.”

“Taron…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He took another step back so he was standing in the bathroom doorway. “Isn’t this something you should have told me happened?”

“Taron…” Robyn moved to take a step to him but again he moved back and could immediately feel the change in his mood and this was exactly what she worried about happening, how his reaction was going to be.

“You should have called me yesterday.” He said to her, an obvious hint of irritation in his voice. “You think this is something you couldn’t tell me? That I wouldn’t want to know?”

“No Taron, of course not.”

“After everything we have been through Robyn and you couldn’t tell me that you were in hospital all night getting an X-ray and MRI for your hand which you have severely hurt?” He turned and walked into the bedroom. “Jesus Robyn.” He stopped in front of the bed and turned back to look at her. “So, it’s ok for you to come running to me when my publicist calls you but you can’t call me when you need me? When you need someone?”

Robyn followed him out into the bedroom. “Taron…”

“No Robyn. It’s fine for you to do all these things for me but you won’t let me do them for you? You don’t even think I would like to know that you had hurt yourself, that maybe you needed someone to talk to? To be there for you?”

“It was late Taron.”

“You said afternoon too. Could have called me then.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Not like I was doing anything at home in my flat after my flight home from Paris yesterday morning. I lay in bed watching TV.”

Robyn stood a few steps away from him. His tone had now turned from slight anger to disappointment and hurt. “Taron…”

“You just ran to me Robyn. You literally ran in your heels in Paris to come to help me and you held me for nearly two days straight but you won’t even give me the option to return the favour to you.”

“Taron…”

“I mightn’t have been able to run to you Robyn but to talk to you in the phone, to keep you company while you sat in the hospital, I could have done that. Like I said, I wasn’t doing anything else yesterday.”

“Taron I…”

“You need to get over this Robyn. This trust issue you have because it is just closing you off to anyone who wants to help you and soon no one will want to even try because you won’t let them in.”

As soon as Taron said the words and Robyn’s whole face changed, tears forming in her eyes and he knew he had completely messed up. Even more so when she turned without a word and walked to the door of the bedroom, opened it, walked out and slammed it with a bang.

“Fuck.” Taron cursed, wincing as the door slammed, running his hand up and down his face and then through his hair. He knew he was in trouble and had said words he knew Robyn would never forgive him for, words he could never take back.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Adventures #Hurt #Discomfort #Worry #Excitment #Reunion #Robyn and Taron

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antman-56 · 4 years

Text

I Know

“Ah Joker.”

“I know.”

Right now both Mona and Akira were being followed by a very nosy Makoto Niijima.

Right now she was behind them reading this weeks manga release.

They had noticed her following them after the Madarame incident. He will admit he didn’t notice her until Mona said he felt uneasy. It wasn’t until they were near Untouchable that Akira felt the same feeling and quickly turned around to see a familiar face duck behind the corner of the alley.

This has been going on for a week now. and he figured out her pattern. She would wait until he left his last class and follow him until 8 pm.

Sometimes longer when he’s with Iwai or when he was in the clinic whenever he was with Takemi-san.

“She’s doing a very bad job at being hidden.”

“I know.”

Akira found the game they played enjoyable. She tried so hard to try and find proof that he had some info on the Phantom Thieves, not knowing he was the leader.

“What should we do then. She’s being annoying.”

“Lets just waste her time.”

“So, same plan like last time or something new?.”

“Well Takemi-san is still looking through the data and Ann and Ryuji are on a date. (Mona grew a small, sinister, dark aura on being reminded, AGAIN) And Yusuke is being Yusuke.”

“So, how do we kill time.”

“Wanna see if Iwai needs help?”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what we want?”

“Were just being a part timer in a respectable business and being upstanding citizens on top of it.”

“Your picking up some of his habits.”

***A little later, Outside Untouchable***

Makoto just saw Akira walk into the Air Soft Store. He has visited the store quite frequently, was he a worker? A regular? Or was their something more to it? He would spend hours in there and come out later then she could actually afford to watch.

Her sister had given her a harsh lecture when she came home at 1 in the morning.

She heard of the shady stuff that went on in there, mostly stuff with the Yakuza, but right now she couldn’t help but worry a little bit for Akira.

He may be a suspect in her investigation but he was still a student. Maybe he was innocent in all of this and was dragged into it? Maybe she could help him?

That was why she was ready this time.

Right at her side would be her tool in finding the first step to the Phantom Thieves.

***Inside***

Akira was up by the register and Iwai was in the back.

Iwai knew of the problem and gladly helped Akira out. He would let him stay in the shop and fix the guns he bought as long as he helped around when their were customers or the occasional police harassment. In all honesty, he felt like he had another son.

Right now, Akira was cleaning Ryuji’s Fury shotgun, his face showed annoyance on how misused this thing looked. He was so caught up in fixing it that he didn’t notice the door being opened.

DING

Akira dropped his attention from the weapon and looked up.

If only he could take a picture.

In came Makoto, wearing a blue bandanna over her hair, sunglasses, a biker jacket with a red shirt and black biker jeans.

She looked like a the thug from the western cartoons.

Makoto looked at Akira with shock, worry, and fear.

Here in front of her was Akira with a shotgun in his hands.

Akira noticing what she was looking at put the shotgun under the counter.

“It’s a fake”, He said hoping it would put her at ease.

It really didn’t.

“So, how can I help you miss?” He said with his customer smile.

Makoto shook her head and meet his smiling face with her shaky stoic face.

“I’m looking for a gun for my little brother.”

She was prepared. She had a story to help her questioning and kinda hoped he wouldn’t really pry into it said story.

Akira could already see right through her. He decided to play along, just to see the panicking look on her face if she was caught off guard.

“Well what guns is he interested in? Automatics, semi, explosives, syfy, something with a kick or easy to handle?”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit more when she struggled to pick what gun her fake brother wanted.

“Automatic.”

“Well then your in luck because we just received an advanced shipment of the AR-X.”

Akira then proceeded to walk over to were the rifle was displayed, took it out. and walked back up to her.

“This baby looks as realistic as the gun it’s based on and is one of the few things that would make any gun enthusiasts in Japan jump with excitement.”

Akira showed the weapon with pride and began to explain in detail why you would want to buy it.

***Outside***

After staying longer than she should have, Makoto left. After asking questions like; what kind of customers entered the store, how often do people buy guns and if she could talk to the owner for his recommendations or to place a custom order. She realized she was hitting dead ends.

She was a bit disappointed on how things played out and kinda embarrassed that she was forced to buy a fake revolver with the rest of her allowance.

She hoped her sister would not search her once she got home.

***Inside***

After she left and a few minutes went by Akira began to laugh.

The look on her face was priceless when she tried to improvise on the spot.

And she bought a gun at the end of it.

He definetly had to tell Mona about this.

In the back Iwai gave a quiet chuckle.

The kid was a natural.

***Two Days Later***

.”When will she give up.” Mona complained.

“Well she did try to spy on Ryuji’s and Ann’s date yesterday and they said they would owe me one if I could take her this time.”

“How about we tell her that Ryuji’s said she was annoying and then after she could kicks his-”

“Mona what did Ann say.”

“If he hurts her then I can kick his ass.”

“Before that.”

“Be nice.”

They began to discuss their plan as Makoto hid behind a fashion magazine this time.

She was at the other end of the train car to Yongen-Jaya.

She was speculating were he was heading off to. It was either the laundry mat or to go to that clinic. And with a little research it has a reputation of being able to heal almost everything.

She could see him on his phone and smiling. Maybe a message about another change of heart or nothing at all.

She had to know!!

As he exited the passenger car, she quickly followed.

He was going to the clinic.

When he entered she waited by the entrance and waited until she knew he would be in the exam room.

***Inside***

“You do know testing experimental tonics isn’t really helpful to me? Right?”

“I know but I want to waste her time.”

Tae looked at her guinea pig curiously.

“Why would you like to waste her time? It’s not like your doing anything ill- more illegal?”

Akira was stumped. But quickly came up with an answer.

“Well I like a good laugh when see tries to be sneaky.”

“If I didn’t know any better it would sound like you like being followed.”

“You caught me, that’s my kink.”

“Whatever. Just don’t... don’t play too long with her, okay.”

Akira hummed a response as he’s laid on the Patient’s bed in the room, his arms behind his head, eyes closed and a smile on his face. His only wish was to see her face behind the glass window on the door..

Tae looked at the door and saw a silhouette. She reached for another tonic.

“Here, try this one now.”

Akira reached for it and downed the whole thing.

It tasted sweet, like the color pink.

He suddenly felt his body lighten up.

“Subject lasted longer than expected. This is should be a nice prescription for people with insomnia.”

Akira was in bliss. His body felt relaxed and his head felt light.

The last thing he could see was Tae smiling.

On the other side of the door. Makoto was trying to brace herself from barging in demanding to know what she had done to him or from calling the police.

Tae obviously knowing she was being spied on went to check his vitals for the girls sake.

“Looks like the drug can actually help him. Kid has been having trouble sleeping.” She made something up on the spot and made sure to say it loud enough so the girl wouldn’t draw the wrong conclusions.

“Now to see how long it lasts.”

Makoto left the clinic and decided to just wait outside.

Tae saw the silhouette move away.

“(sigh) Teenagers.”

***Much Later***

She was about to go home when he walked out of the clinic and was now walking to Leblanc. It looked like he had a skip in his step and he looked happy.

She saw him enter the cafe and then quickly leave with two thermoses.

He was on the move and he didn’t have his bag. She made sure to follow procedure.

After awhile they were now in a park. He was sitting on a table, just looking at the sky. He would drink out of his thermos every now and again.

Was he waiting for someone? A meeting? A report? Why was he here?

It wasn’t until she saw Takamaki-san enter her view. She had an umbrella in one hand and a flashlight in the other, and was dressed prettier than she was with Ryuji. Was she- NO!! Their was no way!!

She put the umbrella over them and turned on the flashlight, so Makoto could only see their shadows.

“You know this is messed up. Right.” Ann said it more as a statement than a question.

“Ryuji is across the lake with binoculars watching the both of us. And our friend.”

“Still it seems kinda wrong.”

“We aren’t kissing or anything. And this is to make her think she’s wasting her time. I mean do you like it when she spied on your guyes date.”

“True. She did sit in the booth right next to us.”

“So, lets think she’s seeing two friends hang out. With a suggestion to make her mind explode.”

/”I CAN HEAR YOU!!!”

Akira and Ann flinched at the sudden screaming in their ear.

“Ryuji you agreed to this and nothing will happen. You think I would betray my best friend.”

“ I know but- wait I’M your best friend!!”

“You were my first friend since I got here of course your my best friend.”

Ann could do nothing but laugh at the moment her guys were having. The way the shadows looked it made Makoto wonder what were they doing. Are they dating secretly? What is making her giggle? And why dose she feel the need to scream and pull her hair out?

/“Holyt Shit!!Guys I think the last train leaves in a few minutes can we rap this up!!”

“How about we finish the show for her.”

“Lets hope for the best.”

Both Ann and Akira put their faces side by side of each other to make the illusion of them kissing to their known stalker.

Makoto just stayed in he position and covered her mouth to yell at them. She began to shake from rage but was barely controlling herself for the sake of the students who have entrusted her and the school council to help them .

After they were done they got up and began to walk towards the train station. They made sure to go by Makoto’s position.

“Thank you again for helping me with practicing for the audition for that movie Akira.”

“Anytime. I just hope Ryuji doesn't find out. That felt so wrong.”

“Well I am staring in movies from here on out. And if he has a problem with it then I guess he doesn’t have to walk the red carpet with me.”

They both continued their conversation until they reached the station and said their farewells.

Makoto let out a sigh of relief when Takamaki-san said it was for a movie role and that it wasn’t a love scandal.

“Wait why did I do that.” She wondered.

She began to wonder why the thought of Akira with someone else made her react that way.

Either way it was late and she needed to get home otherwise her sister would have her head. Again.

***Leblanc Attic***

“Joker where have you been!!” Mona screamed.

“Just having my fun for tonight.” Akira said happily. Like a kid who just played his favorite video game.

“Well get some sleep. Last thing we need is you falling asleep in class.”

Akira complied and went to his bed. Plotting how to waste her time on her free day.

***Niijima Residence***

Makoto just got home and was thankful that today was one of the late shifts her sister has been having.

Here she was alone and coming out of the roller coaster that was today.

The moment after school he went to a shady doctor to test out a sleeping tonic and then he helps Takamki-san by practicing for a role for a movie? Not to mention she almost blew her cover when they kissed. Which she was still trying to figure out why she cared if he was dating someone.

But It was nothing like yesterday when she saw him holding a gun at the Air Soft Store, granted it was fake, but what would the police have done if they went in and saw THAT!!

She took a deep breath. Tomorrow was another day for her to see if he keeps it up.

He is the only lead she has about the Phantom Thieves and once she has proof of how he and his friends are connected to them, or if they’re not, then she would decide to tell the authorities.

But right now her bed is calling for her. And she needed it.

The last thing that came to her mind before sleep overtook her was when Akira smiled at her in the park.

She didn’t question if he knew she was their or if he knew she was following him all along.

She just didn’t care at the moment.

But apart of her hoped.

She was starting to like the game they were playing.

#persona 5 #persona 5 akira #makoto niijima #morgana #mona #persona au #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #tae takemi #light fluff #akira x makoto #wholesome #makoto x joker

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ikeromantic · 4 years

Text

Horns

Day 24 of Ikemektober!

I chose Shakespeare - I’ve no idea what happens in his route. This is entirely my brain (caffeinated), the prompt, and deciding The Bard had to get his own story. It’s spicy fluff. Approx 1800 words.

Will picked up the costumes for his next production - a new play, inspired by his patron. They were fanciful pieces, with bat wings and goat horns and hooves. There was even a serpent-skin coat in the lot. Perfect for the story of a devilish king and his court of impish jesters.

The play was equal parts suffering and passion. He hoped Comte would come to see it, or that rumors of it would reach his ears at least. Taunting the old vampire was a dangerous sport, but for William, that only made it a more alluring pursuit.

If he had eternity, or close to it, to make his plays, there was no subject that was taboo. He would push his art to its limit - and his life with it, as his plays were so enmeshed with experience that sometimes he had trouble separating one from the other.

“Will? Will, is that you?” The voice caught him mid-thought. His arms were so full of costumerie that he couldn’t see who was speaking, but he knew anyhow.

“What fair maid calls mine name so sweetly? Could it be my newest friend?”

She laughed in reply, a bright sound. Unburdened. “I don’t know why you always speak in poetry, Will.”

He felt her hand touch his arm, the lightest brush of her fingertips like a touch of fire. “Do you need help carrying those in?”

“Fear not, I’ve strength enough to finish - but if you could - the door?” Shakespeare heard her open the door to his home. He walked in and set the costumes on the nearest table.

The girl followed him in, her eyes darting about in curious fashion - as if she wanted to see everything before he stopped her looking.

Will smiled. It was strange to see her here, alone. He wondered if the Comte’s imps knew she’d come. He somehow doubted it. “To what do I owe this unforeseen pleasure? I hope tis nothing untoward.”

“Oh, no. I was just going to market to pick up a few things and I saw you getting out of the carriage.” She shrugged, the gesture gentle and indefinable feminine. “I thought maybe you’d like to have a coffee with me - or a tea. We didn’t get to talk much last time I saw you.”

“No, indeed we did not. You are always most welcome here, whither you’ve only passed by or come to visit with intent.” He motioned to his parlor. “Please, go in and sit down. I’ll put on some tea.”

Her bright smile returned. “Good! I was hoping you weren’t busy right now, but when I saw you with all those - clothes?” She glanced at the pile with wide eyes, “I thought maybe you were in the middle of something.”

“I am never to busy to see you, fair one.” He found his own mouth curling upward with genteel pleasure. The sensation made him vaguely uneasy, as if this was dangerous ground he tread. She always did this - setting him on edge with her cheery disposition. He wondered if something dark lay beneath it, something that, with prying, he could uncover. If so, it lay deep.

Will left to put on a pot of tea. When he came back, she was still in the entry hall, picking at the pile of costumes.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped back, dropping her hands to her sides. “I - sorry! They just looked so interesting. I wanted to see if I could figure out the play from the clothing.” Her hands grasped her skirt, a nervous gesture.

Shakespeare closed the distance between them in a few quick steps. He knew how unnerving his heterochromatic gaze was, especially on silly little girls. “And? Did you find me out?”

“M-midsummer Night’s Dream?” She guessed, voice full of hope.

“No.” Will leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “I am afraid you’ve now been rude on two accounts. Searching through what belongs to another, and assuming a dramatist is bound by their older work.” The irritation he felt around her lent heat to his words, a sharpness despite his soft voice.

She looked down. “I’m so sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She sounded almost at the edge of tears, far more upset at his reprimand than he expected.

Will drew a line with his finger at the edge of her jaw and tipped her face up to his. “I shall forgive you this once, if you consent to a single favor. What say you, fair maid?”

“A favor?” She was trembling, her pulse racing. Excitement or fear? Will wasn’t certain.

“Indeed. I’ve need to check each costume you’ve handily sorted through in that pile. I can try on the gents’ clothing but the ladies’ outfits I must use a mannequin for. Today, you will be my mannequin.”

Her face brightened, though he could still feel her galloping heartbeat. “I could - could do that. It sounds exciting!” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly thoughtful. “Would you tell me what the play is about?”

“Perchance, if I am pleased.” Shakespeare stepped away from her, relieved and disappointed by the distance between them.

She immediately headed back to the pile of costumes, picking at them until she’d found a woman’s costume. “What is this one supposed to be?” She held up the oddly cut dress. It was all long, straight lines and harsh edges. Dark colors.

“It is clothing from the future.” He couldn’t help the wicked smile that lit up his thin face.

“Oh! Neat!” Her innocent enthusiasm missed the point entirely. She took a step toward the parlor, uncertain where she should go to change.

“Yes, you may undress in safety there. I shall refrain from opening the door.”

The tea kettle summoned him with its high pitched whistle. He went to pour the tea, and brought back a tray to set out for them both once the costume-modeling was done.

For himself, he chose the horned outfit. It was Faustian, at a glance. The jacket was black-furred, and the boot cover was made of hoof. The horns themselves were from a goat, but polished to obsidian black. The knobby twists seemed to capture the afternoon sun, reflecting nothing back.

Shakespeare stepped into this study to change. It felt odd to slide on the heavy jacket. The pants were a little big on him, but solidly made and adjustable with the addition of a belt or suspenders. He slid the headpiece on last, savoring the weight of the horns.

The mirror showed him what a monster he’d become with just the change in wardrobe. He looked wild now, like a faun or a devil, out to hunt virgins in sacred groves. Will shook his hair loose to further the effect. In this, he was the divine hunter. The gentleman demon. It was funny how a costume could often bring out secrets closely held.

He stepped back into the entry hall. The girl was still shuffling around in the parlor. He could hear her.

“Are you in need of assistance, fair one?”

“I- uh - the buttons are, they’re kind of hard to reach.”

“Then rescue you, I shall. For what troubles lie under the sun that cannot be bested by two hearts in concert?” He pushed open the door.

Sunlight came through the curtains, painting the room in sunset hue. The girl was standing straight, trying in vain to hold the gown up with one hand, the other reaching for buttons ill-placed. Her cheeks were stained pink, eyes wide.

“Tis no matter, fair maid. I’ve seen many a pretty half in, and half-out of costume. You’ve no need to fear my eye, nor my helping hands.” Will tried to reassure her, though he found her discomfort amusing. He had, in fact, seen many beautiful actresses in all stages of undress, but none quite like her.

Her face didn’t have the diamond hardness of the determined beauty. She lacked the edge of feminine weaponry, as if ignorant of her body’s charms. It only made him more away of her bare shoulders, the curve of her breast at the side. The naked line of her back as she turned to present him with the impossible buttons.

“You look amazing,” she babbled. “Like a faun! It’s called a faun, right? But . . . more cultured?” She inhaled sharply as Will brushed a finger down her spine.

“More of a devil, I’m afraid.” Her shiver provoked in him a need to touch her. He resisted it. He was the writer of passions - a witness. Not a participant. The director did not star in his dramas. He buttoned the dress and stepped away from her.

The girl turned to face him, brushing a hand down the front of the dress to smooth it. The dark blue was perfect for her. And the way it clung to her curves - indecent. Will did not think he’d see a clearer map of her body even if she stood nude before him. Best was the slit up the side of the skirt, as if made for a dancer. Her skin tantalized in glimpses, drawing the eye.

“You’re staring. Is it - is it bad?”

“No.” Shakespeare shook himself. “It is a perfect costume for the victim of a demon.” He gave a wicked sharp smile. “Do you feel like a victim, fair one?”

She started to laugh, but stopped at his forbidding expression. “You kind of scare me sometimes, Will.”

“And fear me you should. For I am a wicked creature.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest. She smelled sweet, like perfume.

“Will,” she gasped, trying to pull away.

“It is too late for you, fair maid. To my lair you came, and now you shall never leave.” He lowered his head to her neck, letting her feel the slightest prick of his fangs.

“Th-this isn’t funny. Let me go,” she whimpered.

Shakespeare realized his own heart was beating as wildly as hers, his breath as ragged. He pushed her away. “I am - am only acting my part. The horned devil.”

“Then you’re a pretty good actor.” She stared at him, wary. “I think I should probably go.”

Will reached up, touching the cold, sharp tip of one of the horns. “Yes, perhaps you should. Send the dress - no, better, keep the dress. It fits not the character of my new script, but I think it sits perfectly upon you.”

She blushed. “Ah, alright. If you’re sure.” Though she took a few steps toward the exit, it seemed she would hesitate, now uncertain if he posed a danger to her.

Shakespeare stepped closer to her, widening his thin, sharp smile. “Unless, fair maid, you’d like to stay and allow me to remove the garment from your skin . . . with my teeth.”

“Nope! No thank you!” She practically ran away, comical in her haste.

Will stood there in the sun-drenched parlor, still smelling her light perfume. It felt so much emptier with her gone. And though he’d hoped for peace in her absence, he felt only turmoil.

“Perhaps I truly am bedeviled,” he mused. The blackened horns atop his head bobbed in silent agreement.

#ikemektober #ikemen vampire #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp william #ikemen shakespeare #ikemen william #otome #otome guys #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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dweetwise · 4 years

Text

day 21: i don’t feel so well

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: the hanahaki au nobody asked for. i’m still a little confused about the trope but i tried <3 warnings: descriptions of illness, injury and blood, temporary character death word count: 3130

“That was awesome! She didn't stand a chance!” Steve cheers.

“That's what she gets for camping. What a bitch!” Nea laughs

Ace grins despite the pain, steadying himself against Jeff's sturdy form while the four of them are making their way back to the campfire after a successful trial.

His head is swimming and there's blood staining his teeth, his back stinging from numerous bloody gashes from the killer's katana. But he's alive, even if he had to crawl out through the exit, his teammates not letting the Spirit secure the kill on him.

When they get back to camp, Steve and Nea are off to spin the tale of their rescue to the others, and Ace can't help but smile when they generously color the experience; just like he would.

Jeff supports him to sit down against one of the logs, offering a somewhat awkward "There you go, buddy" in encouragement.

Ace sees Quentin hand Claudette one of his med-kits and then the group's resident healer approaches him with determined steps.

“Hey, sweetheart—” Ace starts with a grin.

“Stalling isn't going to work,” Claudette shoots him down quickly, seeing right through his act. So Ace sighs dramatically and shrugs off his jacket, and the girl immediately hikes up his shirt to start cleaning the wounds on his back.

Ace hisses from the sting of some kind of alcohol, turning his attention back to the others to try to distract himself from the pain.

Most of the others are listening to to Steve's and Nea's story while the rest are scattered around camp, doing their own things. Kate is tuning her guitar, Jake is stocking one of his toolboxes, and Cheryl seems to be practicing the card trick Ace taught her a couple of days ago.

And then there's Felix.

Finally giving himself permission to look at the handsome German, Ace's heart immediately starts beating faster. He's not even doing anything, just sitting by the fire engrossed in a conversation with Zarina, but Ace is so infatuated even just Felix breathing is almost enough to make him blush.

He thought he was too old for schoolboy crushes like these, but then again how could he not fancy Felix? The guy has some absolutely god-tier genes, a chiseled face and ice blue eyes and a body to die for. He’s also smart, and sophisticated, and filthy rich.

And god knows none of those qualities had ever been Ace's strong suit.

At first Ace had thought his hyperfixation on the man was jealousy, but then his body showed him that was definitely not the case; he didn't want to be Felix, he wanted to be in Felix. The realization didn't phase him as much as it maybe should have, because even the straight-as-a-board Ash had commented on Felix's good looks. And Ace sure as hell wasn't even straight to begin with.

No, his panic had come from when he'd caught himself looking at couples like Jeff and Adam being mushy together and imagined himself and Felix in their place.

Ace had a healthy amount of confidence, though the others might not describe it that kindly, but he wasn't blind. Felix was younger than him, maybe not by an impossible amount but still enough to be noticeable. He was also model-tier gorgeous with a body to match, and while Ace wasn't bad-looking he also had a crooked nose and a build solely used for drinking and gambling.

All in all, he recognized when someone was out of his league, and even though he couldn't resist a cheeky flirt ever now and then, he knew his feelings would never be returned.

But he still allowed himself to look; sue him.

He's in the middle of an indulgent daydream about laying his head on Felix's lap like Kate is doing to Yui on the other side of camp, all the while effortlessly keeping up small talk with Claudette tending to his wounds.

And then he starts coughing.

It's not a normal dry cough, it wracks his entire body and keeps going, and he curls in on himself because damn it’s making his throat hurts and his lungs ache something fierce.

“Ace, what's wrong?” Claudette's worried voice cuts through the attack. He tries to reply but it just makes him cough more, and it's not stopping—

Something slimy lands in the palm he's using to cover his mouth and then he can breathe again, taking sharp gasps of air while his throat tingles from the abuse.

He looks at whatever piece of his organs he managed to cough up, the Spirit's blade probably having rearranged some of his guts. He opens his hand and sees—

A flower?

It's absolute covered in blood, but there's no mistaking it, a single flower sitting in the palm of his hand with some loose petals surrounding it.

Why did he cough up a flower? Where did he even get it? It looks like some sort of cherry blossom, a far cry from the Entity's pustulas or the forest bouquets they pick and use for offerings.

“Are you okay?" Claudette asks, moving to kneel beside him in worry. When she sees the flower, she gasps in surprise.

“What happened?” Meg is quick to join her friend, coming up behind Ace to peer over his shoulder. “Uh… did that flower come out of you?”

“I… guess so?” Ace says, his voice raspy and throat protesting being used.

“So you just, like… ate it? Before?” Steve cocks his head in confusion.

“Come on now, I'm not that stupid,” Ace snorts, some of his worry giving way to amusement over the incredulous situation.

“Then what the hell was that?” Meg asks, scrunching her face up in thought while poking at the gross flower.

“I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong,” Adam raises his voice from across camp, straightening his back when all eyes turn to him. “It’s an illness, I recognize the symptoms."

“Can't say I've ever heard of a disease that makes you barf petals,” Ash offers, clearly skeptical, and Ace shares the sentiment.

“Shh, hear him out!” Laurie scolds.

"It's a Japanese folk story,” Adam explains. “Flowers start growing in a person's lungs, causing coughing and bleeding and..." he hesitates.

“Well?” Meg demands.

"And ultimately resulting in death, unless the condition is cured," Adam says grimly.

“Are you talking about hanahaki?” Yui pipes up before anyone can question the weird statement. “You know that's just a shojo manga trope, right?”

“It's also mentioned in historical literature,” Adam argues, though from the way he refuses to meet Yui's gaze, he seems to be embarrassed over the subject.

“Dude, nobody cares if you read girl comics, just tell us what the cure is,” Feng snorts, and that's probably the most concern Ace has ever seen her display over his well-being.

“It's—” Adam starts, before faltering, awkwardly scratching at his neck while looking at the ground. “Supposedly caused by unrequited love.”

There's dead silence in the camp.

And then Nea bursts out laughing.

“Jesus, what a story!” the tagger snickers. “Can you imagine Ace as a fairytale princess?”

“Honey, I think you might have gotten some myths mixed up,” Jeff says diplomatically, patting Adam's knee affectionately.

“Yeah, you probably just inhaled a flower in your sleep or something,” Steve encourages Ace.

“I'm pretty sure this is just a practical joke from our dear spidery overlord,” Ace chuckles and pointedly doesn't look Felix's way. Come next trial, his injuries will have healed anyway, including the weird burn in his lungs.

But they don’t.

Trial after trial, the Entity resurrects him and heals all of his wounds but the coughing persists, more and more flowers following.

Even the others are getting worried.

“That's it, bud,” Ash offers, patting his back while Ace is wheezing for breath after coughing up some more petals. “It's just a weird flu, you'll be good as new soon.”

“At least the flowers go with my shirt,” Ace jokes, voice reduced to a rasp, clearing his throat. “Pink was always my color.”

He's trying to keep his and the others' spirits high, since there doesn't seem to be anything they can do to fix the situation.

“We need to do something,” Ace hears Laurie hiss to Dwight, apparently disagreeing with his sentiment.

“B-but how can we even help him?” their leader, bless his heart, looks genuinely upset over Ace's condition.

“Maybe we should try Adam's suggestion," Laurie says.

“Yeah, except you know he wouldn’t tell us even if he did like someone,” Yui huffs from beside them. “Good luck getting an answer out of a compulsive liar.”

Ouch, but also fair. Ace sure as hell isn't going to reveal his dumb little crush, especially since Felix has avoided him since this entire goddamn flower thing started. He knows there's only a slim chance that Felix realizes what's really going on, but it still feels like rejection nonetheless.

He can deal with this. Even if it kills him, the Entity will just bring him back anyway. It's not even that bad.

But then it gets so much worse.

After a week, Ace is laying on his side while black spots dance around in his vision and he struggles to draw enough wheezy breaths into his lungs. His chest hurts, and his throat is so sore even just the air passing through burns like fire. He hasn't been able to speak in days, and that's almost worse than the pain, not being able to use his only coping mechanism of running his mouth until something sticks to lighten the mood.

His head is cushioned on Kate's thigh and he gets a tiny bit of satisfaction from the knowledge that at least he managed to lay in one pretty blonde's lap before dying, even if it’s the wrong one. The touch is comforting nonetheless, though the fact that it’s accompanied by Kate's girlfriend practically screaming in his ear kind of puts a damper on the whole thing.

“I swear to god, I will make every single person in this camp kiss you, do not test me,” Yui threatens, one of the few who haven't given up on curing him. “Is it Jane? Bill?”

If Ace had the energy, he'd probably laugh about her choices, curious as to why those two were the ones she picked. As it stands, he merely stares at her, wondering if his eyes look as dull and lifeless as he feels.

“He's going to die,” Jake says from somewhere to his side, but Ace doesn't even bother turning his head or denying the statement. Hurried voices shush the saboteur while Kate starts humming a melody to distract him, Yui glaring absolute daggers in Jake’s general direction.

His next trial, Jake's prediction comes true.

Ace collapses to the ground in the midst of a coughing fit. The flowers are growing even bigger now, he can feel them tearing at his throat and vocal cords, retching when they trigger his gag reflex on their way out. His vision blurs and then goes black, body finally giving up as the illness consumes him.

He's not even injured from the killer, but the pool of blood he falls into is big enough to cover the entire side of his face. He lays there, not sure if he's even breathing, just thankful that the awful coughing has stopped for at least a moment.

When he comes to, he expects the small comfort of the campfire before he has to go through the same thing again. Instead, he doesn't have enough energy to even open his eyes, slowly realizing he's still in the trial.

It takes him even longer to realize he's being held partly off of the ground, his body hanging limply in someone’s grasp. He idly wonders if a killer is going to mercy hook him, but then he hears something.

Crying.

Focusing on the sound, Ace realizes he's not just being lifted, he's being held in someone's arms. Someone is holding his near-dead body and crying.

With both his mind and body broken from suffering for so long, he allows himself to imagine it's Felix, even though he knows it's not true. Felix has shown he doesn't care, not talking to him and being so grossed out by his symptoms he’s barely even looked at him—

“Das tut mir leid,” is whispered against his hair, and Ace wonders if he's hallucinating or if his brain has given up on speech comprehension, because that sounded an awful lot like German.

Suddenly, he gains some of his strength back, his chest not feeling nearly as tight as it has for the past few days.

“Felix?” Ace asks, and even though it comes out as a raspy whisper, it's impossible to miss in the stillness of the quiet moment. The surprised hitch of breath he gets in response sounds impossibly loud, and he manages to blink awake just enough to see the tear-streaked, wide-eyed face of the person he never thought he could have.

And that's when the Entity decides he's bled on the ground long enough and he blacks out from blood loss.

When Ace comes to, he's no longer in pain. He can breathe. And he wants nothing more than to get back to camp and be reassured that he wasn't imagining Felix being there for him in his final moments.

He runs to the campfire, panting from exertion once he's illuminated by the familiar glow and shocked faces turn to look at him.

“What the—did you run here!?” Meg exclaims incredulously.

“Yeah,” Ace says, eyes scanning the small crowd of familiar faces, so focused on finding a particular one he doesn't even realize the implications of managing to speak without issue.

“Your voice!” Kate exclaims happily, and Ace pauses to collect some of his thoughts.

“Shit, you're right,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“Welcome back, you bastard!” Nea cheers and flings herself at him in a sideways hug, and Ace stumbles to catch himself from falling, chuckling at her antics.

Claudette is sobbing, looking impossibly relieved, and the others are cheering among themselves, though Ace can't make out the contents because he sees a familiar figure making its way to camp and his entire world zones in on that person.

Felix looks up at the sound of the commotion, and Ace's heart breaks a little over how puffy his eyes still look, but then their eyes meet and Felix looks so hopeful—

“Hey,” Ace says, and it probably gets drowned out by the others, but Felix's eyes widen in recognition and he starts walking faster.

“Are you…?” Felix asks, close enough for Ace to hear him over the others shouting.

“He's fixed!” Nea answers for him, finally letting go of the almost painful hug in favor of smacking Ace on the back encouragingly.

Felix glances at Nea but quickly looks back at Ace, waiting for confirmation.

“Yeah, I… guess I'm cured,” Ace says, and it almost feels weird to hear his own voice again. “Or... You know, I hope so.”

Because he's still not sure about Felix's feelings, and he has no idea where they're going to go from here.

But he doesn't need to worry, because Felix's face lights up in a way he's never seen before, letting out a disbelieving, genuine laugh. And then he's stepping forward and cupping his cheek and Ace only has time to blink in confusion before his head is tilted up into a kiss.

“Woah,” Ace hears Nea exclaim, her hand leaving his back like burned. “This, uh… this is new.”

Ace smiles into the kiss and tunes out the rest of her and the others’ surprised babbling, grabbing Felix by the collar of his dress shirt and pulling him deeper into the kiss.

When neither of them are making a move to pull away, their friends seem to be getting fidgety from the show.

“Why don’t we go for a stroll in the woods?” Kate suggests, and the chorus of “Sure!” “Great idea!” and “Oh fuck yes get me out of here” that follow are enough for a laugh to bubble up in Ace’s throat and get swallowed by Felix’s mouth.

When the last pair of footsteps have hurried away, Felix deems it appropriate to finally break away from the kiss. Though he doesn’t go far, burying his head into the crook of Ace’s neck and shoulder and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Welcome back,” Felix murmurs against his skin, and the warm affection spreading through Ace’s chest is a welcome change from the constant pain he’s been in for way too long.

“Didn’t expect such a thorough welcome,” Ace can’t resist flirting, hands sneaking up to rest on Felix’s incredibly firm back. The chuckle he gets in return reverberates through both of their bodies due to how close they are, and Ace wonders if Felix can hear his heart frantically beating in excitement.

“I’m… shit,” Felix eventually sighs, lifting his head to meet Ace’s eyes. “I don’t know how to make up for being an idiot. I just watched you suffer and didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Ace says, but now he’s curious. “Why did you avoid me?”

“Because I was afraid that I'd get the illness too,” Felix says, looking at the ground in shame. “I thought any one of us could get it, and because of how I feel about you… I was scared I was next.”

The confirmation that Felix had feelings for him even before this whole clusterfuck started is enough to make more butterflies dance in Ace’s gut, a flush creeping up his neck over how the other is openly spilling his heart.

“If I’d have known I was the one causing it, I would have done something sooner. I’m so sorry," Felix murmurs, looking at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Hey, it's not like I was being very cooperative,” Ace points out, giving his most encouraging smile. “It's not your fault, it's the dumb flower sickness.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, regardless,” Felix frowns. “But… I'm glad it lead us here,” he adds with a bashful smile that makes Ace’s heart do a couple leaps.

“Figures the best and worst things of my life would happen simultaneously,” Ace flirts, and apparently Felix enjoys being called the best thing in his life, because his sappy smile widens even further.

Ace can’t resist diving in for another taste, capturing smiling lips in a kiss that lasts even longer than the first one and makes their friends groan and complain about “Geez, you’re still going?” when they rejoin them at the campfire.

#whumptober2020 #no.21 #i don't feel so well #dead by daylight #fic #blood tw #death tw #riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd #dbd fanfic #prompt #felix x ace #illness cw #vomiting tw

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mosscaps · 3 years

Text

❄ taz november celebration ❄

theme: “by the fire” for day six of @taznovembercelebration

summary: Taako is sent out to retrieve the Light on a barren ice planet in one of many stolen century cycles. He does not take it well.

read on ao3

“Stupid fucking ice planet,” Taako wheezes, whipping off his snow-dampened gloves and thrusting his hands over the fire. “Fuck!”

He regrets it instantly and draws his hands back, fingertips singed and stinging. He sucks on his thumb, stymied, the warmth of his breath against his knuckles barely touching the deep cold threatening to numb his exposed flesh.

He shoots a halfhearted glare at Lup tending to the fire beside him, lazily shooting bursts of flame into the crackling woodpile. “Can you maybe make it a little hotter? Or like, something besides lukewarm? I can’t feel my fucking face over here.”

She shoots him back a scathing look in response. The tips of her ears are a bright cherry red, her cheeks just a shade lighter. She’s bundled in three patchwork coats and has a scarf pulled up close around her neck, flyaway strands of yarn and fluff sticking to her lips as the harsh winter wind whips around them. She plplplbths, spitting the fluff out. “I’m doing my best, hot shit, does it look like I’m enjoying this?”

“Oh, no, Lup, I thought you LOVED—” Taako’s bitter jab is cut off by a whole-body shiver. It makes him bite his own tongue, and he lets out a stream of curses, clamping his arms in a vice over his knees in an attempt to preserve what’s left of his rapidly-waning body heat. “Gah!”

“I can’t turn up the heat, dumbshit, we’re sitting on ice,” Lup says, more to herself, the annoyance in her voice at her own impotence cut only by how hoarse she sounds. She massages her throat gently, making a face.

“Make the fire elf go on a mission on the ice mission, what a good idea,” she mocks, stirring the fire up to a crackling peak with a pointed vengeance. The ice melts slightly around the wood, dampening the ends. In seconds, the smoke turns black and fills the air around the fire, working its way into the twins’ noses and eyes. Lup curses ungracefully.

“Here,” Magnus says, appearing behind Taako and draping a cloak over his shoulders. Taako slumps under the weight, curling his stiff fingers around the heavy cloth. “Thanks, Magnus. Hey, quick Q—how are you not freezing your ass off right now?”

“My ass is toasty,” Magnus says. “Here, look.”

Magnus reaches under his ill-fitting eelskin coat, gifted by a particularly enamored young village woman, and pulls out a small burlap sack. He palms it and pulls the cord gently, so the top starts to unravel. Steam escapes from the sack, curling upwards until it’s snatched by the wind. Taako’s eyes widen. “You sneak!”

The sack, full of uncooked grain, wafts a not-unpleasant peaty scent over to Taako. It’s almost enticing after frankly too many weeks of poorly-cooked blubber. When they stayed at the village, the food was divine—inspirational, even. None of them had mastered how to cook it though, and even Davenport’s best attempts were unfruitful and generally tasted worse than they looked. “I thought we ate it all!”

“Don’t tell,” Magnus says, putting a conspiratorial finger to his lips. Taako shoots a conspiratorial look towards Lup, who mouths, there’s no one else here? as Magnus roots around in his jacket, his muscles bulging comically as he tries to stretch to reach the pockets on the back. Finally, he digs up a second and third sack, tossing them unceremoniously in the fire.

“Wh-” Lup starts to object, but the sacks don’t catch flame. Instead, they sit in the embers and start to steam, the scent of fresh grain wafting up to their nose.

“Divine,” Taako breathes, closing his eyes, warmed for just a moment. After an impatient few seconds, Magnus dips his hand in the fire and quickly grabs the sacks by their ties.

“Owch! Fuck!” He yells, clearly not having been quick enough to avoid a light scorching. He flexes his fingers, tossing the sacks between his hands, still steaming.

“Magnus, buddy,” Taako begins, the beginnings of a wicked smile in his tone, but Magnus turns and presents him with one of the sacks, and Taako quickly redacts his scathing roast of Magnus’ empty skull. “Ooh!”

Taako takes it into his hands, and Magnus turns to Lup and hands her the second sack. She takes it gratefully, pressing it to her face and breathing in the steam.

“Fuck, that’s nice. Thanks, Mag.”

The brief respite from the biting cold, no matter how pleasant, only serves to make Taako angrier. He sits and seethes on this frozen hunk of ice, ever-aware of the hulking shape of the Starblaster marooned miles behind them in the distance. If it weren’t for their own bad judgement in the beginning, they wouldn’t be walking across a fucking tundra to find the Light.

While Taako seethed, twin suns had dipped behind the horizon, leaving a gradient of blues and pinks behind in their wake. The pinks were now turning darker, the blues fading into the dark black of the universe, stars alight. He tries not to think dwell on its familiarity—you’re here now, you’re stuck here, you can’t change it—but it tugs on him all the same.

“Look,” Lup breathes, pointing to something in the distance. Taako bobs his head, trying to look from her angle.

“What? Oh, quelle suprise, more ice. Never woulda guessed.”

“No, doofus,” Lup says, pointing to a spot in the horizon past a cluster of massive glaciers. Taako still sees nothing but white, stretching on for miles, dim in the new dusk. Then, Lup clamps her hands around his ears and yanks, turning his head to line up with her own visions.

“Ow!” He complains, starting to slap her hands away—but then he sees it. Faint, but visible—a speck of light, different than the stars, shines from a snowbank just in their field of vision. The snow must have melted enough over the course of the day to finally reveal it. They had been right.

Taako scrambles to his feet, still smarting from the days’ journey, and rushes to get to his bag.

Lup, a step ahead, extinguishes the fire quickly and spreads the logs across the ice. They skitter away from where she sits, punctuated with pops and crackles as the fire is lost to the icy air.

“Magnus!” Lup yells, hoarse. Taako frantically rustles through his bag, pushing past supplies before he finally whips out an ice-cold compass. He shakes it between his hands for luck, and points it with flair at the snowbank with its eminent light. North.

“YES!” Taako hollers, tossing the compass to Lup, who barely catches it in her big puffy gloves. She fumbles and holds dramatically it up to the Light, a perfect mirror of his own actions, and a triumphant smile spreads across her face.

“We found it!” Lup yells at Magnus.

“Let’s go,” Magnus says.

They walk across the ice in victorious silence, eager trepidation palpable even after ten, twenty, thirty cycles. It was never a guaranteed win, but it always felt like something. Now, there would be a new goal—notably, a goal that could be accomplished from the warmth of the Starblaster. Taako hoots, his voice echoing over the stretches of tundra.

“FUCK yes!”

Magnus makes it there first, digging through the snowbank with his bare hands. He pulls the Light up, snow coating his shoulders and hair, lifting it over his head triumphantly.

Taako turns to Lup to celebrate, but her expression is unreadable, partially masked by her thick coat.

“What?” She wrings her fingers, finally turning to him, her expression a storm of emotion.

“Just once,” she says, iron in her voice. “Just once I’d like it to feel like it’s the last time.”

She lets that sit, and Taako turns it over slowly. He grabs her shoulders and pulls her in close, sheltering her against the wind as they watch Magnus dance through the snow, the Light as his partner, catching the wind and spinning multicolored beams onto the icy ground.

Taako rests his head on hers. “I know,” he says. “But—” He hesitates, the urge to mince his words so forefront on his tongue that he has to bite back the lies before they spill out. Finally, he settles on telling her what he tells himself. A motivational falsehood. A hollow prayer.

“You’ve gotta believe. You’ve gotta believe that one day it will be.”

#taz november celebration #taznc #writing #taz balance #taz fanfic #taako and lup #read more

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justlightlysedated · 4 years

Text

oh, i know that love is all about the wind, how it can hold me up and kill me in the end (still i loved it)

"Are you okay?" Kyle asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them while Alex went through the decoded files and Kyle went through the video footage that they'd gotten from Caulfield.

Alex looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm fine?" He says, asking more than stating, and clears his throat a little.

"That's what I mean," Kyle says like Alex did a magic trick or something. "You keep clearing your throat. Are you feeling okay? Because we can't really afford for you to get sick right now."

Alex rolls his eyes a little, and clears his throat, again, and says, "I'm fine, Kyle. Probably just the air in here or something."

Kyle doesn't look like he believes him, but it's not like Alex is hiding some secret illness from him.

His throat has been bothering him more often than usual over the past couple of days, but Alex thinks it's the fact that the air is getting colder, or he might be getting sick, but the flu isn't anything to really worry about.

Kyle gets called into work and Alex loses track of the passage of time.

He only stops working because his alarm starts beeping that it's time to wake up.

He looks blankly at his phone and then reaches out and stops the alarm.

Alex watches the lockscreen of his phone telling him that it's five thirty in the morning until the screen goes dark.

His phone buzzes at the same time with a message from Kyle, Go the fuck back to sleep.

He's about to reply that he’s feeling very well rested, fuck you very much, when he feels the need to clear his throat, and instead coughs.

He clears his throat again, and shakes his head, swallowing convulsively. It feels like there is something stuck in the back of his throat.

He clears his throat again, and then starts to cough, harder and harder, until he’s covering his mouth with his hand, and leaning over the side of the chair, feeling like he’s going to hack up his lungs.

He coughs hard enough that it feels like something rips in his throat and then he feels something wet and more solid that saliva hit his hand.

He looks down at his hand, curiously, and feels confusion, but also a terrifyingly cold fear sink through him.

There are three petals in his hands that look like they belong to a carnation, white, stained pink with blood and a thin oval shaped, no more than an inch long and a quarter inch wide.

He looks at them for a long moment trying to come up with a rational explanation, but he draws a blank.

Maybe he’s been down here to long and his mind is playing tricks on him.

He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands, looking into his reflection in the cheap bathroom mirror.

There are bags beneath his eyes and he looks really tired, and when Alex tries to remember when was the last time that he actually slept, he draws a blank.

Maybe he is getting sick from overworking himself. But something inside of him just wants to finish with this whole Caulfield mess as soon as possible.

He pointedly keeps his thoughts away from the why, and clears his throat again before rinsing his mouth with some water from the faucet and then scrubbing his face to wake himself up a little bit more, scrubbing his wet hands through his hair.

He inhales deeply, and frowns when it catches in his throat and he has to clear his throat again.

He decides to stop at the pharmacy on his way back home and leaves the bathroom, turning the lights off behind himself. The flower petals caught in the drain, glow strangely in the dark light, but he doesn’t notice it.

* * *

Kyle isn’t exactly sure what happened, one second they were sharing a beer and Kyle was telling him one of his more raunchy medical school stories and Alex was laughing and then Alex started coughing, harder and harder and harder, until he’s leaning over in his chair, sounding like he’s gagging.

Kyle is thankful for the fact that they were at the cabin hanging out, because Alex starts to hack up mouthfuls of petals that spray out of his mouth and paint the deck in front of him in gruesome red and white.

Kyle watches him helplessly frozen for a second because in all of the things that he’s seen over the last couple of months, and even while he was in Med School, this is by far the strangest. But then his instincts kick in as Alex starts gasping like he’s not getting enough air, and he’s dropping to his knees beside Alex’s chair.

He puts his hands on Alex’s chest and pushes him back, trying to get a good look at his face.

Alex lets him and he wheezes weakly as he tries to catch his breath again.

He’s clearing his throat, like there is something still caught there, and there are four petals stuck to chin, one brushing his bottom lip, red staining the corners of his mouth.

He swallows convulsively, and blinks his eyes several times, and when he spots Kyle leaning over him, he grimaces.

Kyle frowns at him, but since he’s not actively dying in front of him, he moves back and sits on the edge of his seat, waiting until Alex catches his breath again.

Alex leans back down to grab his beer which he had set down on the floor, and Kyle watches him with eagle eyes as he winces as he swallows.

"It's just a cold, Kyle," Kyle starts, mocking Alex's intonation as Alex lowers the bottle from his mouth and sighs, long and tired. "Nothing life threatening about the common cold, Kyle. I'm sure it will pass in a few more days, Kyle. There's nothing to worry about, Kyle. I'm fine, Kyle."

Alex just rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and looks back at Kyle with an amused, but sheepish expression on his face.

"So I may have understated the gravity of the situation," Alex starts.

Kyle scoffs cutting him off. "You're coughing up flower petals, Alex. That's not only understating, it's also highly unusual and unheard of. Possibly alien."

Alex coughs, covering his mouth and a flurry of petals fall out from the sides, these are less bloody than the ones already spread across the deck.

Kyle looks at him pointedly and Alex just drops his hand, shaking it to get rid of a few stubborn petals.

"I'm f-" he starts and Kyle glares at him.

"I'm handling it, okay?" Alex says instead, looking at Kyle seriously. "I promise that if it gets to be too much for me, I'll let you run all the tests you want."

Kyle makes a face. "How about you let me run some tests, and let me monitor your vitals for one night and my peace of mind?"

Alex rolls his eyes again. "It's just flower petals. They're annoying, but I'll survive."

Kyle gives him a look, "You do realize that that's not normal, right?"

Alex gives him a look back, "What exactly about our lives is normal anymore?"

Kyle has to concede the point, so he takes a sip of his own beer and keeps telling the story, deciding to trust Alex for now.

But if this got any worse, Kyle was going to bring in the big guns.

* * *

Michael and Maria are in the middle of a faux argument, which Liz is pretty sure counts as foreplay, when she gets into the bar searching for one of them in particular.

She stops right next to Michael, pushing him slightly, so that it knocks him off balance and he has to sit back down on the stool instead of leaning across the bar showing everyone a perfect view of his ass.

He turns to her, a pissed off expression on his face, that turns into a mock glare when he sees that it’s her.

He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds her hand up in front of his face to stop him.

“I need your help,” she says, in her most serious no nonsense voice.

Michael looks at her in confusion, which Maria shares, and Liz doesn’t blame them, really.

She also hadn’t really noticed that anything was wrong until Kyle had forcibly opened her eyes by hiding her inside the exam room while he checked Alex over.

Liz stuffs her hand into the pocket of her jacket and grabs a handful of the bloody petals that had littered the examination table when Kyle had walked Alex out of the room, probably to do more tests, and throws them down on top of the bar.

Maria makes a noise like Liz kicked a puppy in front of her, and goes to get the disinfectant spray and a rag to clean up.

Michael on the other hand makes a curious noise, since she peaked his scientific curiosity, and pokes the petals.

“You found flowers that bleed?” He turns to her raising an eyebrow to ask what this has to do with him.

She shakes her head, and tries to get her thoughts together in the right order so that she can explain without sounding like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but that’s the problem.

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

All she knows is that it's happening to Alex, and Alex is sure that there is only one way to stop it, and he's also equally sure that it's too late.

He's resigned himself to dying, and Liz refuses to accept that.

"Alex is dying," she says, when she looks at Michael to see that she's losing his attention.

Michael goes preternaturally still beside her, and Maria seems to lose all the color in her cheeks as she comes to a stop right in front of them, a dishrag in one hand and the disinfectant spray in the other, eyes wide, lips slightly parted as she stares at Liz

"And he's refusing to actually do something about the problem-" she starts satisfied that she has his full attention, but then he moves, startling her and Maria, who jolts like she'd been shocked.

He sweeps the petals on the bar into his cupped hand, leaving behind the smear of blood and a few stragglers, and then he's stuffing his fist into his pocket and walking out of the bar without another word.

Liz watches him go, mouth hanging open, making disbelieving noises as she turns to Maria, who is looking at the space that Michael vacated with a frown.

She looks up at Liz after a long moment and tilts her head, looking at her intently before she sets the bottle and rag down on the bar and turns towards where she keeps the bottles of tequila.

Liz takes a seat on the stool she's leaning on and picks up the spray and the rag, cleaning up the bar of all traces of blood and petals.

Maria smiles in thanks and sets the bottle down and two glasses in between them before pouring the drinks and downing hers quickly.

Liz grabs her shot and follows suit, gasping wetly at the sting of the alcohol, and then she turns to Maria, who is looking at the door with an almost wistful expression before she turns to Liz and looks at her as seriously as she can manage.

"What's wrong with Alex?"

Liz licks her lips, and leans her elbows on the table. "I'm not sure."

Maria gives her a look like she can't believe that Liz is keeping secrets from her again, but Liz shakes her head rapidly, reaching out for Maria's hands.

"I'm really not sure," she repeats, looking at Maria, seriously. Maria just nods her head and squeezes Liz's hands once.

"All I know is what I overheard Alex telling Kyle. That there is nothing he can do, even if they had caught it earlier, and the only viable option is not an actual option. He didn't explain much more than that, so either Kyle knows what he's talking about, or Alex is deliberately keeping him in the dark."

Maria purses her mouth, and looks at Liz, expression complicated, a mixture of fear and guilt with just a hint of defiance.

"I saw Alex a few days ago, and he seemed fine," Maria says slowly.

Liz gives her a sad smile, "It looks like we're both being crappy friends now. I got so caught up in trying to get Max back and dealing with Rosa and work that I haven't talked to him in weeks, let alone seen him. And you-"

She cuts herself off grimacing, and Maria squeezes her hands again before she lets go.

"And I was too busy ignoring all of the signs that he wasn't doing well because I didn't want it to be true, because if Alex wasn't fine then that meant that I made a huge mistake."

Liz sighs and gives Maria a look, "Falling in love isn't a mistake."

Maria bites down on her lip.

"The mistake comes from letting it get in the way of your friendship."

Maria sighs, "I didn't mean to, but being around Alex made me feel guilty about being happy about being with Michael, and feeling guilty made me feel pissed off because none of this would've happened if he had just talked to me, but feeling pissed off made me feel guilty all over again, because it's not Alex's fault that he was in love with Michael any more than it's mine for falling for him without knowing about their past, and feeling guilty made me even more pissed off, because it made me doubt that being with Michael was even a good idea, and the cycle just repeats itself, and it started to taint my feelings about being with Michael, so I just started to avoid Alex."

She blinks her eyes, and Liz can see that she's trying not to cry.

"And I only did that because I thought all we both needed was time to get used to the new normal, but we're running out of time, aren't we?"

Liz shakes her head immediately.

"No," she says, with as much conviction as she can infuse into the word. "We're going to figure this out, together. Even if Alex is too stubborn for his own good, and doesn't cooperate. I'm not losing anyone else. And you aren't either okay? We'll fix this, and then we'll fix things between the three of us. We've been friends forever, a guy and a life threatening disease is not going to get in the way of that."

Maria is nodding her head at her, feeling Liz's confidence, and she opens her mouth to say something when Liz phone rings in her pocket.

She gives Maria an apologetic look and takes the phone out of her pocket.

She sees Kyle's name on the display, and her heart jumps into her throat.

What if it had gotten worse? What if it was already too late and Alex was-?

Before she can psych herself out too much, she answers the phone.

"What-?" She starts to say, but an explosion of noise makes her pull the phone away from her ear.

"You told Guerin?" She can just make out Kyle hissing into the phone, over what sounds like Alex and Michael arguing.

Liz looks to Maria and wonders if that's just how Michael shows his affection, by arguing with the people he cares about.

She puts the phone back to her ear, "We need all the help we can get."

Kyle exhales roughly, and Liz can just imagine him, dragging a hand across the top of his head.

"You should've told me before you did that. The last person that Alex wants involved in this is Guerin."

Liz makes a face and she doesn't look at Maria as she speaks.

"You do realize that in Alex speak, that means that Michael is most likely the one who can figure out what he's trying to hide."

Liz can just imagine the look on his face as he thinks that over.

"Once again, it was none of your business, Guerin!" She hears Alex snapping in the background.

"You're dying," Michael says, like that's all the reason he needs to get himself involved.

"We're all going to die sometime!" Alex answers back.

Michael makes an enraged noise back at him.

"Not from something that can be treated," Kyle interjects, voice sounding as pissed as Michael seems to be.

There is a perfect drop of silence over the phone, so absolute that Liz thinks that the call must've dropped, and then Michael speaks, and she can hear the glassware in the lab shaking with the effort he's exerting to keep himself under control.

"What is he talking about?" He asks.

Kyle makes a noise that tells Liz that Alex is probably glaring at him.

"Nothing that concerns you," Alex responds, sounding cool as ice, while Michael sounds like a volcano about to erupt.

"Alex, if you know how to fix this-" Michael starts.

"There is no fixing anything," Alex says, cutting Michael off. "You can't pick up the pieces and try to duct tape me back together, Guerin. It's far too late for that."

"Alex," Kyle says in a soft voice. "We're just trying to help. We care about you-"

Alex laughs a little derisively and Liz frowns at the phone, looking at Maria who is watching the phone with a furrowed brow, leaning over the bar so she can hear the conversation.

"You have a really funny way of showing it," he snaps. "I'm leaving now."

"No," Kyle starts and stops.

"You're not going anywhere until we figure out what's wrong with you and how to fix it," Michael says voice deadly serious.

"And how exactly are you planning on keeping me here?" Alex asks, like he's honestly curious how Michael would accomplish that.

"Don't think I'll have a problem with that at all," Michael drawls, voice coming out a weird mix between flirty and pleading.

"Without using your abilities?" Alex asks, and before anyone else can say anything, Liz hears the sound of glass breaking and a whoosh, and then coughing which doesn't sound like the hacking cough Alex had hacked up earlier, and someone saying Alex's name and then the call drops.

Liz looks up at Maria who is looking at the phone with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I have to go," Liz says putting her phone back in her pocket and looking at Maria who gives her a strained smile. "I will call you as soon as we know anything."

Maria just nods her head, "I know."

Liz gives her a brief smile and leaves the bar.

* * *

Michael stares at the x-rays with a furrowed brow, darting his eyes up at Kyle, who is looking at him seriously.

Michael hasn't said anything since Alex darted out of the door. It had taken him ten seconds to realize that the vial of yellow powder that Alex had thrown on the ground, was just that, yellow powder, but by then Alex was already gone.

“This is impossible,” Michael says, because someone needs to point that out, first.

Kyle blinks at him twice and then sighs. “Okay, look. I’m going to need you to process this a lot faster. It’s happening. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve been monitoring his vitals since November-”

Michael’s head snaps up at that, and he looks at Kyle who stops speaking when he gets a good look at Michael’s face.

“This has been going on for months,” Michael says incredulous and disbelieving.

At that moment Liz walks in through the door, tying her hair up into a ponytail as she turns to Kyle and Michael, “So what’s the plan?”

Kyle gives her a look, “I’ve been trying to catch Guerin up to speed, but the alien is saying that it’s impossible.”

Michael makes a face at Kyle, making mocking noises and looking back down to the x-rays.

As impossible as it seems, there are flowers growing inside of Alex’s lungs.

Michael can see the tiny spikes of roots growing into the soft tissue inside of his lungs, growing into tangled vines that were blooming with flowers made up of millions of petals that fell away everytime they were slightly disturbed.

“Show me everything,” Michael says, turning to Kyle and Liz who both turn to him at the same time.

Kyle just nods his head and walks out of the lab, while Liz takes her jacket off and slides on her lab coat.

“This has been going on for months,” he blurts out, and Liz freezes momentarily, before turning slowly to face him. “How did I miss it?”

“Alex didn’t want anyone to know,” is what she responds with. “We all missed it. It wasn’t just you.”

Michael wants to protest that he isn’t just anyone, but he bites down on his tongue, because that’s not exactly true anymore.

“Kyle knew,” Michael says, sounding sullen, and Liz just rolls her eyes at him and walks over to the desk, where the x-rays were lying on.

She makes a face as she picks one up.

“Kyle says he found out by accident,” Liz says, as she looks at the x-ray with a thoughtful expression.

“Well then why didn’t he tell anyone?” Michael says turning towards Liz.

“Because Alex asked me not to,” Kyle says as he walks back into the room with a filing box. “And even though I didn’t agree with it, he really did have a handle on the situation. But it’s gotten progressively worse over the last two weeks.”

Michael feels his heart skip a beat in his chest, but he shakes his head and forces his thoughts to concentrate on the present.

Kyle sets the box on top of the table, and Liz and Michael immediately move to open it, pulling files out.

"Give me the x-rays," he says, "You're the only person who can read Kyle's atrocious handwriting."

Liz nods and they divide the files between them, while Kyle turns on his laptop.

Michael looks at the first couple of x-rays and he sees exactly what Kyle means immediately.

Each x-ray is dated every two weeks, and the ones from the first couple of months show small flowers, nestled at the bottom, no vines in sight, but they suddenly appear in the x-rays dated two weeks ago and Michael doesn't have to look at the exact date to know that the time matches up perfectly.

"I looked up some similar sounding stories, but the only ones I found involved people accidentally inhaling seeds, but nothing as extensive as this."

"Do you know what kind of flower it is?" Liz asks, as she pulls out a plastic bag full of petals.

"I tried," Kyle said, "but I keep drawing a blank, the shape of the petals is strange to any of the flowers I found that sort of matched, and they kind of glow in the dark."

Both Liz and Michael look at Kyle, blinking in unison before they turn to each other.

"Definitely an alien thing," Liz says as Michael nods along.

"And if Alex knows how to fix the problem," he bites out.

"Then that means that the information must be in the Caulfield files," Kyle finishes his train of thought.

Michael makes a face at that and Liz smiles triumphantly.

"You two stay here and try to find a non alien solution to the problem, I'll go check the files," Michael says and moves before either of them can protest.

He gets into his truck and just drives.

Michael's phone starts to ring in the pocket of his jacket but he ignores it already knowing it's nor either Isobel or Alex.

His fingers tighten around the steering wheel and as much as he wants to force himself to stay in the present, he can't help but think about exactly what happened two weeks ago.

Arguments with Alex weren't a new thing. They had been getting better at actually communicating without turning it into an argument, but even sort of becoming friends hadn't stopped that particular habit from taking over.

Another habit that seemed difficult to break was the fact that when either of them got backed into a corner they lashed out with the most hurtful thing.

Michael hadn't meant to say it, but he'd spent the morning arguing with Isobel and the afternoon arguing with Maria, that when Alex appeared, Michael lashed out immediately instead of listening to what he was trying to say.

“Can we talk?” Alex had asked, voice hoarse and sounding just a little bit desperate.

Michael had leaned back in his seat, dragging his eyes up from Alex's feet to his face in a slow deliberate crawl.

He had noted that Alex looked tired and a little worn around the edges, but there was a look in his eyes that had Michael's guard up immediately.

"We really don't have anything to talk about," Michael had drawled looking away.

Alex had cleared his throat and had sat down beside Michael, making Michael’s gaze go to him involuntarily.

“We have tons to talk about, but there’s just something I need to know, and then we don’t have to talk about anything else.”

He had cleared his throat again, and Michael remembers thinking that he had sounded like he was getting sick.

He had stayed quiet for a long moment, just staring out at the road at the odd cars that crossed the street every now and then at this hour of the night. Michael remembers thinking that it had seemed like he was savoring the moment for some reason.

“Are you happy?” he asked, turning to look at Michael, and Michael had felt the question like a punch in the stomach.

Isobel had told him that morning that while he may be content pretending to be happy, she wasn't going to spend the next ten years living in another comfortable lie like him and Maria had accused him of just going through the motions with her, after Michael had asked if they were still going to go to the Drive In that Saturday.

Michael hadn't known what to say in both instances without putting his foot in his mouth, so he'd stayed quiet, but he always knew what to say to Alex, whether it be good or bad.

“Why?” he asked Alex, the tone of his voice, caustic and mocking. “Hoping that I’m miserable so that you can come to my rescue, and fuck me up some more?”

Alex’s brow had furrowed, and had shaken his head, and he had leaned forward in his chair. “What? No, I-”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Michael had kept going, talking over Alex. “But I’ve never been happier, and I’ve never felt more loved. I’m not pretending to be happy or going through the motions, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

Alex had just nodded his head and left soon after that, clearing his throat way too many times, and Michael had felt a pang in his chest at the look on his face.

Thinking about it now, Michael could see how someone who didn’t know what his day had been like, could take those words that he had said to mean something else.

He could see how Alex could’ve taken the words to mean that that’s what he’d been doing with him, pretending and going through the motions, but it was too late to take it back now.

And thinking about it now also helps him see that that was Alex telling him goodbye.

His fingers clench around the steering wheel, and the engine protests loudly as Michael pushes the truck harder without pressing down on the gas.

Michael tries not to think about the fact that Alex knew that he was dying back then, and hadn't even tried to push Michael into having an actual conversation, had just accepted that Michael was happier without him and would be okay if he died.

And that’s what’s bothering him the most about this whole thing. That Alex actually thought Michael would be okay if he died.

His phone rings again, jolting him out of his thoughts and he just sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Maria’s name flashes across the screen, and he furrows his brow, wondering why she would call, when she barely even ever calls him.

He answers the phone.

“Finally,” she says. “Jesus, Guerin. I called Kyle and Liz. Get to the cabin. Alex is getting worse.”

Michael doesn’t answer as he drops the phone and pulls an illegal u-turn and pushes down on the gas, pushing the truck even harder.

* * *

Maria barely waits before Liz is out the door before she’s calling Juniper over and leaving her in charge. She tells her that she has a family emergency and that she’ll be back in time to close down the bar before she grabs her keys and heads out of the door.

She gets into her truck and pulls out of the parking lot taking the road that will lead her out of Roswell.

She's not entirely sure why, but she has a gut feeling that that is where Alex is going to end up, at his cabin.

She makes it there before him, and he stops walking the second he sees her.

She stands up from where she'd been sitting at the top of the stairs and Alex opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, he coughs.

His eyes go a little wide, and he turns away from her. All she can see is his back shaking as he coughs, hacking painful sounding coughs that make him bend over with the strength of it. He's inhaling wheezily, like there is something stuck in his airways.

She takes one step over to him and then he coughs hard and out fly dozens of white petals, streaming out from his mouth.

Maria freezes unable to actually believe it, and only moves when Alex drops to his knees as he starts to gag.

Maria drops to her knees beside him, and rubs her hand up and down his back, trying to figure out what she could do.

Alex coughs, hard enough that it sounds painful, and out of his mouth falls a fully formed flower, just the bud, made up of hundreds of white petals.

Alex stops choking, and starts breathing easier, still a little bit wheezy, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to the ground as he catches his breath.

Maria stares at the flower as the petals rustle in the light April wind, and she thinks about something her mom told her the last time that she visited her, the same day that she had seen Alex last week, love grows roots, and if we're not careful they could end up suffocating us.

Maria had assumed that she was being metaphorical, but Alex had apparently taken it to the literal extreme.

The thought that it being Alex's feelings for Michael that had him like that, left Maria feeling a little bit like she was the one coughing up flowers.

But no, there had to be a non Michael related explanation to this, even if it's an alien one. Whatever was going on with Alex could not be about Michael, because Maria doesn't really know what she'll end up doing if Alex isn't coping as well as he projects to be.

Alex leans back up, and seems to steel himself, inhaling deeply, and it's almost like Maria can feel a wall coming up between them.

He turns to her, and Maria can see it in his face that he's going to do his best to lessen the blow of whatever it is that is happening to him, but Maria has never been someone that needs to be protected, especially not from her own feelings.

"No," she says before he even starts speaking, and he just looks at her with a furrowed brow.

"We're going inside and you're drinking an entire bottle of water, and then you're going to tell me the truth, deal?"

Alex just stares at her for a long moment before inhaling carefully, and nodding his head once.

He doesn't protest as she helps him to his feet, and doesn't say anything as she pushes him back to sit on the couch and then gets him a bottle of water from the fridge.

She hands it over and sits down on the edge of the coffee table, staring as he swallows the water, wincing like his throat is tender.

He drinks about half of the bottle before he caps it again, and sets it aside looking at Maria.

Maria stares at him and really looks. He's pale, but more on the clammy I'm really sick side, than the I haven't seen the sun in months one. The bags beneath his eyes should have their own PO Box address, and there seems to be something permanent about the way his mouth is tilted downwards, like he's been frowning a lot.

She finds the corners of her mouth dipping even more as she studies his face, and she can feel the guilt settling uneasily in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he says after a few minutes of staring in silence.

Maria purses her mouth and looks at him seriously. "The truth."

Alex winces and clears his throat, grabbing the bottle of water and drinking some more.

He gives her a half smile that immediately falls off his face, "The truth about what?"

Maria tries not to grit her teeth too hard as she realizes that there must be a lot of things that Alex is keeping a secret.

She had thought that after the mess that came out of him keeping Michael a secret for ten years, he would've known better.

But clearly, he doesn't.

"Are you dying?" She asks, and Alex just closes his eyes, inhaling deeply like he really doesn't want to deal with this, like he actually thought that he could quietly fade away into the night and no one would care.

He opens his eyes again, and Maria tries not to let it show how pissed she actually is right now, but she can tell that Alex can tell.

"Yes," he says, simply, like he can't be bothered with a longer answer.

Maria expels a harsh breath and resists the urge to reach out and shake him.

"Okay," she says. "I'm going to need you to stop pretending like this is normal and okay and like no one will care if you die, and tell me what the hell is going on."

"I'm not pretending anything," Alex responds leaning back in his seat. "I've stopped pretending. I'm too tired to keep going through the motions, and frankly, I'm dying so I don't need to pretend anything."

Maria furrows her brow, feeling like the words he's using are familiar but not really remembering where she's heard them before.

She understands what he's trying to say, however, which makes her pissed off, feeding into the guilt she can feel making knots in her stomach.

She just shakes her head at him, not really wanting an argument, but feeling like the only way to get through to him would be to fight, which tells her a lot more about his relationship with Michael than he ever has.

"Alex," she says, and he just blinks at her, like he's already heard all of her arguments and already has an answer for anything that she's about to say.

Which pisses her off.

"Is this about Michael?" She asks, throwing the question in his face, and watching the way it affects him before he shuts it down.

She can tell that it is, but he just lies to her face, clearing his throat slightly.

"No."

"You're lying," she tells him through gritted teeth.

He just exhales roughly and lifts his hands to his face scrubbing his fingers across his face and into his hair before he nods his head once, like he came to a decision.

"Someone should know the truth," he tells her, leaning back in his seat and just looking so tired that she really just wants to bundle him up and put him to bed. "It might as well be you."

"Were you hoping it to be Michael?" She asks, and he just exhales roughly and gives her a look, and she just raises her hands in defense and sits up, letting her hands fall to tangle her fingers together on top of her lap.

"No," he says, answering her question, which surprises her slightly. "I don't want Michael to know about anything that I'm about to tell you."

Maria licks her lips and nods her head once, raising an eyebrow to give him the all clear to speak.

He clears his throat, and has to turn his face away from her, and he covers his mouth with his hands as he coughs, but the flurry of petals explode from beneath his hand, sending the petals everywhere, some even landing on Maria.

Maria brushes the petals away from her hair, and they feel soft and fragile, but she hisses when she feels the edges of the ones that aren't wet with saliva, giving her tiny papercuts across her fingers and palms.

She looks at the tiny cuts and then looks at Alex, who is shaking the petals away from his hands.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Alex clears his throat and starts talking.

"It started a couple of days after Max died," he starts, and Maria gets a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, vile and spiky, making the guilt feel even worse.

"I thought I was just spending too much time in bunkers, that the humid air probably messing with my allergies, so I just ignored it. Even after the first time I coughed and found flower petals on my hand, I thought that I was probably tired, and seeing things, so I ignored it."

He inhales carefully, and in the quiet stillness of the cabin, Maria can just make a sound like wind rustling through leaves.

"It got pretty hard to be in denial," he says, giving her a half smile. "But I had a handle on it. I knew it wasn't normal, and could probably be alien related, and after agreeing to let Kyle run a few tests to determine that it wasn't life threatening, I decided that it wasn't a priority."

Maria bites her tongue down on the question of what could possibly be more important than his health, but she had a feeling that she already knows the answer.

"A couple of weeks ago," he continues carefully. "I was looking through some files because Liz asked me to search for something to do with the vegetation that had been recovered from the ship when I found the picture of the flower. Confirming that at least the flower was alien in origin."

He clenches his jaw and gets that look in his eyes like he's about to tell her something that she's not going to like.

"Finding out the name of the flower, peaked my curiosity so I went looking through all the files we've managed to retrieve from Project Shepherd, and found out exactly what was happening to me."

Maria licks her lips. "That was really vague."

Alex sighs. "I know."

He inhales carefully again, clearing his throat a little, and then swallowing hard.

"The Antarians called it, veolut en carre which as far as I was able to translate, roughly means, the vines of the heart. It's the flower that is traditionally given to the one left behind. Usually used in funerals and given to widows."

Maria swallows heavily, trying really hard not to jump to conclusions, but it's incredibly difficult not to.

"In the files I found out that the scientists in Caulfield call it, the disease of the brokenhearted," he says and Maria's eyes fall shut, tight.

"And it's the only proof they have that aliens landed here before the crash of 1954, since there have been reports, that Project Shepherd made sure to have the only copies of, of people dying by suffocation, surrounded by flowers, and autopsy findings that state that the patient's lungs were entirely overtaken by a floral bush."

Maria inhales deeply and opens her eyes, to see Alex looking at her with a furrowed brow, like he's worried how this is going to affect her, instead of worrying about himself.

She feels a pang in her chest and she wonders if he would've just taken it and beared it if Maria wasn't a part of the equation.

"None of that explains much of anything," Maria tells him, and he just sighs.

"It doesn't explain why you're suddenly dying, after months of it not being life threatening."

Alex clenches his jaw again, "There are two ways to get rid of the problem. The first one isn't even an option I would consider, but the second one was doable, in a sense."

He inhales deeply, and there is something that looks a lot like guilt swirling in his eyes.

"I went to Michael," he admits. "To ask him if he was happy, because I refuse to do or say anything that will jeopardize that, and if I told him the truth, it would cause nothing but issues. So I asked and he told me that he has never been happier, and I let it go."

Maria wants to tell him that he's being vague again, but she doesn't.

"What is causing these flowers to grow inside of your lungs?" Maria asks, since it looks like she'll need to ask pointed questions for Alex to give her the answers that she wants, and she can't actually believe that that is a sentence that came out of her mouth.

"It doesn't happen to everyone who's had contact with an alien," he says quickly, trying to reassure her. "There are other things that I don't really want to get into right now, but it's caused by unrequited love."

He stops speaking, and Maria is thankful for that. She needs a few seconds to store that information for later, but at the moment there are more important things that she needs to know.

"Okay, so what's the option you wouldn't even consider?" She asks, and a small part of her hopes that it's something to do with asking Michael if he still loves him, because she would hope that Alex would at least let her know if he was going to go ask her boyfriend what he feels for him, but a much larger part of her knows that that's not it.

"An operation," he says, and Maria feels a small spike of hope, before she remembers that he has already said it wasn't an option. "You remove the flowers by the roots and that solves the problem."

"But?" She asks when he doesn't elaborate.

"But," he says, giving her a wry smile, before it falls off his face and he gives her a serious look. "If you take the flowers out at the root, it also takes with it the feelings that caused it in the first place."

Maria blinks a few times, trying to parse out how this would be a bad thing, and then the whole thing hits her like a bag of bricks in the pit of her stomach, and for a second she feels like she can't breathe.

"You're still in love with Michael," she says in a breathless voice.

Alex gives out a disbelieving laugh, like he can't believe that she actually thinks that he got over Michael.

Maria glares at him, because she wouldn't have been thinking that if he would just talk to her about the important stuff every once in a while, but she's starting to realize that Alex thinks that all of his relationships are a one way street.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the words catch in her throat, when the irritating huffs of laughter turn into a cough, and then he's gagging, leaning forward suddenly enough that it makes Maria scramble backwards, her boots dragging along the edge of Alex's wooden coffee table as she climbs fully on top.

Alex just coughs and coughs and it sounds horrible, like a sound from a nightmare, and it gets even worse when he spats out another bulb full of petals, bloody petals, and then reaches up with his hands to continue to pull the rest of the flower out of his mouth, stem and leaves and thorns and all.

Maria feels like she might be sick, but she inhales deeply, several times, while Alex pulls the rest of the flower out of his mouth and lets it drop to the ground in front of him.

It falls with a sickening thud and Alex spits out a mouthful of blood.

She stares at him for a long moment while he gets his air back.

"That looks like it hurt," she says, to break the silence.

Alex makes a noise that could be a laugh.

"I've been through worse," he responds with a groan as he leans back in his seat.

He looks a little dazed and his mouth is stained red at the corners, and he's dying, and Maria doesn't understand.

She feels helpless, and it's not like she can force Michael to tell Alex that he loves him, and it's not like she would know if he did or not.

Michael had told her once that Alex was an off limit topic between them. He said that it was in the past and he was looking forward to the future, and Maria had accepted it.

She had actually believed that they had a chance to actually be something great, something more.

But somewhere between finding out about Alex and finding out that he was an alien, something had fizzled, and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get that spark back.

There were sometimes when it felt like she might, but most of the time, it just felt like Michael was following steps he found in a book on how to have a perfect relationship, going through the motions-

She stops the thought short and looks at Alex, who seems to be doing deep breathing exercises, but she can practically feel how hard he's trying not to cough.

"Is it worth it?" She asks, and his eyes snap open and he looks at her like he'd forgotten that she was there. "All that pain you're going through. Is it worth it? Wouldn't it be better to just get rid of it all once and for all?"

Alex just looks at her like he doesn't understand. "Of course it's worth it."

Maria nods her head once, and stands up, "Well, I don't accept that. I don't accept that you're just going to let yourself die like this in this horrible, painful way. It's terrible, and nothing is worth your life, Alex. You can fall in love with anyone. It's not a once in a lifetime thing."

Alex shakes his head at her, getting to his feet, and there is some color in his cheeks, and Maria swallows hard, but she doesn't back down.

"I can't," he says, voice trembling a little. "You don't think I've tried. I've tried everything. It's been over ten years, and I just can't seem to ever make it work with anyone else, not that I can manage to make it work with Michael either, but with everyone else, there's just this feeling of like, static, like they're on a different frequency-"

"Like you can't connect," she says, and he nods his head at her.

"With Michael," he says and swallows hard, wincing a little. "When it's just the two of us, and I forget that the world outside exists, everything is so clear."

He stares at her with wide eyes, and then blinks rapidly, looking away, looking to the side and shaking his head.

"But it's not like it matters-" he starts and then he chokes, and Maria reaches out to grab him before he collapses on the floor.

"You're getting worse," she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I'm calling, Guerin."

"No," he manages to get out, garbled, through a mouthful of flowers. "Kyle "

Maria is already calling Michael, but she'll try Kyle next.

Alex drops to the floor, on his hands and knees and Maria closes her eyes and looks up to the ceiling as the phone rings in her ear.

She hopes and prays that Alex will be okay.

She hopes that it's not in vain.

* * *

Michael bursts into the cabin, slamming the door open before he clears the balcony.

He stutters to a stop when he sees the macabre aftermath on the living room floor, a flower, stem and all, in a pile right by the coffee table, and even more of them leading to Alex's bedroom, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of metals.

He's not prepared for the worst and is really hoping for the best when he pushes Alex's bedroom door open, and he very nearly collapses in relief when he finds Liz and Kyle hovering over Alex, who is breathing shallowly, but still breathing.

He holds on to the doorjamb and it creaks in protest.

Maria appears suddenly in front of him, blocking his view of the bed, and his gaze focuses on her, and she looks pissed off and scared and there are flower petals caught in her curls.

"Fix this," she tells him in a no nonsense voice, and Michael really doesn't know how she expects him to do that. "You have to tell him to get the operation."

Michael looks at her blankly for a second, and he opens his mouth to speak, when he hears Alex speak.

“No,” he’s saying, and his voice sounds raw and wet.

Michael looks away from Maria, and finds Alex immediately, eyes closed as he lies back, brow furrowed like he’s in pain.

“There are no other options,” Kyle is saying. “You’re at the end of it. You told me that we could talk about it now.”

“No,” Alex says again, more firm but just as painful sounding.

“This operation is the only thing that can save your life,” Liz tries next.

“What operation?” Michael blurts out, finally finding his voice.

Alex’s eyes snap open, and they find him immediately, and he exhales, and a flurry of petals fall out of his mouth.

Before anyone can say anything, or Michael can repeat his question, Alex coughs, and makes a low strangled noise and then leans over the bed and coughs and gags and chokes and Michael stares in macabre fascination as Alex pulls the flower out of his mouth. He makes another low strangled pained sound and as the rest of the stem comes out of his mouth, with it comes enough blood to tell Michael that Alex most definitely needs to stop being a stubborn idiot and listen to the doctor.

Alex coughs and spits and more petals fly out of his mouth.

“No,” he says on a heaving gasping breath before he’s choking and dragging another flower out of his mouth.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch him die or are you going to do something about it?” Maria says, pushing him backwards and making him snap out of it.

Michael looks at her, and she looks terrified.

Michael just nods his head once and walks over to the bed, pushing Kyle aside, who protests immediately and dropping to his knees right next to Alex, barely avoiding the pile of flowers and blood.

“Alex,” he says, and Alex groans and presses his face to the side of the bed.

He’s leaning awkwardly, and looks like he just might fall down to the floor, but Michael plants one hand right by his waist, and says his name again.

Alex inhales deeply, seemingly holding his breath, before he opens his eyes and turns to Michael.

Michael lifts his hand towards him, and Alex stares at him for a long second like he’s trying to make sure that Michael is actually offering what he thinks he’s offering, and Michael just stares back at him, trying to project as much openness as he can instead of the debilitating fear that keeps paralyzing him and making him want to flee in equal measures.

They need to have a conversation, and they need to have it while Alex isn’t actively dying, and they need privacy and Michael knows only one thing that can offer both.

Alex swallows hard again and he lies back on the bed, his breaths coming in fast and short, blood dripping from his nose, and Michael knows that they’re running out of time.

Michael kneels up and takes Alex’s hand between both of his, and he exhales carefully and closes his eyes, concentrating.

With Alex it’s always so easy to connect, even easier than it is with Isobel or Max.

Michael refuses to think about the why, and pulls Alex into his head.

It always takes him a second to get used to being in the mindscape, a second where he has to get used to the strange sensation of floating but also being trapped by gravity.

He hears Alex take in a breath, and then he gasps, a little like he's in shock, and pulls away from Michael.

Michael opens his eyes then brow furrowing in confusion and then his mouth drops open a little in shock.

Alex is covered in vines, except for his face, pressed close to his skin, like they're embedded, the leaves rustle as he moves around trying to see how far it goes, and the flower petals fall, making it look like a tiny flurry of snow.

He turns to look at Michael who doesn't know what the hell is going on, but they don't have time to figure that out.

"Why won't you let Kyle do the operation?" He asks as soon as Alex turns to him.

Alex shakes his head, and Michael steps forward, frowning when Alex takes a matching step back.

"Alex," he says. "Either give me a good enough reason not to or I will knock you out and carry you to the hospital myself."

Alex makes a low frustrated sound and takes several steps backwards and then paces in place for a few seconds where Michael can literally feel every second pass, like a loud drum banging in his ear.

Alex breathes in deeply, and then turns to Michael, locking their eyes together, making it impossible for Michael to look away even if he wanted to.

"The operation would work, taking the flowers out by the root, would fix the problem, but-" he stops and looks away from Michael momentarily, before looking back at him, expression more determined than before.

"But," he says again, and he's holding himself so still that he's actually shaking with the strain, and petals are falling to the floor, but Michael still can't look away from his face. "It would take with it the feelings that caused it in the first place."

Michael stares at Alex, and tries to figure out why that would be a bad thing.

Alex sighs and moves his hands to his face, only to freeze as he catches sight of the vines curling around his fingers.

"Alex," Michael says, and he doesn't think he's ever said Alex's name as much as he has in the last hour. "Just spit it out."

Alex laughs, a huff of laughter that makes Michael frown immediately.

"I don't think you actually want to know, Guerin," he says, letting his hands drop to his sides.

Michael tries not to get defensive immediately.

"Of course I want to know," Michael says. "I wouldn't have asked you otherwise."

Alex shakes his head. "You told me that you're happy and that you're loved, so it doesn't matter the why or the how."

Michael takes a step towards him, "I knew that that day had something to do with this. You got worse after you came to see me, didn't you?"

Alex doesn't reply, only swallows hard, looking away, but to Michael that is answer enough.

Michael tries not to tear his hair out. "I don't understand. What do I-?"

Michael stops speaking as Alex looks back at him, eyes wide and shining bright, and he feels the air catching painfully at the back of his throat, and his fingers itch with the desire to reach for him and pull him in close.

"What do you have to do with this?" Alex finishes for him, and there is something in the tone of his voice that tells Michael that he's done beating around the bush.

"Nothing," he breathes out. “And everything.”

Michael swallows hard and just looks at him, impatience making him a little jittery because they are running out of time, but he waits Alex out.

“Because you’re an alien,” he says, and Michael tries not to flinch away from the accusation. “Because you weren’t careful enough the three times you dragged me into your head. Because psychically you don’t let anyone go. Because we formed a bond that you rejected. Because I had hope for months, that maybe things between us would get better, would get to a place where we could eventually try again, but you took that away from me too.”

Michael shuts his eyes, feeling every single word like a punch in the chest. He aches with it, and he wonders if this is how Alex felt when Michael had accused him of being the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Michael feels hands on his shoulders, and opens his eyes to see Alex standing right in front of him.

“But it’s not your fault,” he says looking at Michael seriously, and stressing every word. “You didn’t ask to be an alien, and you didn’t know what would happen, and it’s not your fault that you don’t love me anymore.”

Alex shudders, eyes falling shut, and Michael can hear the rustling as the vines move and the petals fell to the floor, and Alex gasps quietly, and Michael’s eyes drop to his throat where he sees the vines crawling higher, a flower blooming right by his ear.

“That’s what this is about?” Michael asks, and Alex’s eyes open.

“These things are killing you because I don’t love you?”

Alex shudders again, and Michael exhales roughly not really needing Alex to give him a concrete answer.

He pulls away from Alex and tries to think clearly, but he can’t, not when there is a ticking time bomb in his brain reminding him that they don’t have the time.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he says, and Alex just blinks at him. “You’re dying, and the only way to fix the problem is for you to remove these things that are growing inside of your lungs, but you refuse to because it will take away how it feels to know that I don’t love you?”

Alex huffs out a breath, and he rolls his eyes a little, and Michael gets defensive immediately.

“For a genius, you can be such a dumbass,” he says, sounding fond for some reason, and confusing Michael enough that all he can do is stare.

“The scientists stationed at Caulfield called it, the disease of the brokenhearted,” he starts, and Michael freezes, feeling his heart stall in his chest. “It only occurs when the bond is unrequited.”

“Alex,” Michael says sounding a little breathless, and lot confused.

Alex swallows hard and looks at Michael, eyes honest, lashes wet.

“I love you,” he says, and Michael gasps, feeling the words hit him right in the pit of his stomach. “I love you, and I would rather die than ever forget that.”

Michael blinks, feeling a little dazed, like Alex knocked him over the head with a brick.

His heart beats in his chest in time to the words echoing in his head, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Michael feels something brush against his consciousness, like someone is trying to call him back to his body, but there’s still one more thing that he needs to know.

“What was your first option?”

Alex lets out a breath and closes his eyes shaking his head, but Michael doesn’t really need an answer. He thinks that he already knows.

And it’s so crazy that Michael can’t help but huff out a laugh, smile widening when Alex’s eyes open again and he looks at Michael in confusion.

“For a genius,” Michael says a little mockingly. “You can be such a dumbass.”

Alex furrows his brow, not understanding at all, but Michael doesn’t feel like clearing anything up.

“I never look away,” he says instead, and Alex immediately takes a step back, shaking his head in denial. “I told you that.”

“No,” Alex says. “You told me that you didn’t love me.”

“I was lying,” Michael says. “And you knew that I was.”

Alex shakes his head again. “You said that I was the worst thing to ever happen to you.”

Michael nods his head. “And you’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Stop,” Alex says looking at him a little desperately, but Michael doesn’t.

He steps close again, wrapping his fingers around Alex’s arms and tugging him in close.

“You’re happier without me,” Alex whispers. “You said that. That you were happier, and you never felt more loved, and I don’t want to mess that up for you.”

“The only way that you can mess anything up is by dying, Alex,” Michael says, tone insistent as he pulls Alex in a little closer.

“You can’t do this to Maria,” he says then, looking at Michael pleadingly. “She loves you, and you’re happy with her. You’ll forget all about me eventually-”

“No,” Michael says, cutting him off, and Alex shuts his eyes. “I won’t forget about you. I haven’t been able to. I have a good woman who loves me and who makes me happy and still you’re all I think about.”

Alex shakes his head again. “You can’t.”

“But I do,” Michael says, and he waits until Alex opens his eyes again, distraught, but Michael can see the cautious hope that he doesn’t want to give into in the way he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, staring at Michael intently.

“I love you,” he says, and Alex’s mouth falls open slightly, eyes going a little wide.

“You-” Alex starts, shaking his head, but Michael pulls him in even closer, pressing a kiss right against the curve of his cheekbone, lips brushing against the skin softly, making Alex’s words die in his throat.

“I love you,” he breathes. “I never stopped. I never will. And I promise to spend the rest of my life reminding you, over and over.”

Alex whimpers low in his throat, and he reaches for Michael, hands tangling in the collar of his shirt.

“I love you,” he says again, and Alex drops his forehead to Michael’s exhaling roughly, and he’s so close that Michael feels it when the vines start to move, seeming to shrink and shrivel like they’re dying.

“I love you,” Michael says again, and Alex makes a relieved sound at the back of his throat, and Michael closes his eyes and drags them out of his head.

* * *

Alex gasps, air flooding his lungs so fast that he almost chokes on it, moving his head to the side and coughing weakly, feeling his throat ache, but not like something was stuck.

He’d gotten so used to fighting for every breath over the last couple of months that breathing easily sends a shock through his system.

He opens his eyes and sees Liz, looking at him in shock, with tears staining her cheeks.

He smiles weakly at her, and she smiles back like she can’t help herself.

Alex feels someone squeeze his fingers and he turns to find Michael staring at him expectantly.

Alex just breathes in deeply and finds himself smiling at Michael, who just huffs out in relief and then pushes into Alex’s space, to pull him into a hug, pulling Alex to sitting position, and burying his face in Alex’s stomach.

Alex automatically places his hands in Michael’s hair, trying to soothe him and jumps a little when he feels someone wrapping their arms around him from behind.

He smells Liz’s coconut shampoo as she presses their heads together arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands clasped right across his chest.

“What?” Kyle asks sounding confused.

Alex looks at him and he gives him a half smile, and Kyle exhales roughly.

“You take decades off my life and you don’t have the decency to at least let me try to save you?”

Alex would speak, but while he doesn’t feel like he’s fighting to breathe, his throat still feels rough.

He just stares at Kyle, who rolls his eyes before he drops on the bed and pulls both him and Liz into his arms.

It’s a little awkward but Alex doesn’t say anything as Kyle exhales in relief like Alex really did scare him.

There is one person missing, and when he looks for her, he finds her standing awkwardly by the door, staring at the way Michael is holding on to him like she’s finally figured something out.

He clears his throat, and everyone reacts.

Maria’s eyes snap up to him, and Michael’s hands dig into his back, and both Liz and Kyle basically stop breathing.

“Sorry,” he says, wincing a little, but doesn’t look away from Maria.

Maria stares at him for a moment longer, before the look on her face cracks, and her eyes fill with tears and then she’s also crawling on the bed and wrapping Alex up in his arms, from his other side.

Alex feels completely smothered, and a little uncomfortable, but he knows how close it got.

He can give them this for a few more seconds. He has a feeling that they all need it after the day that they’ve had.

After a few minutes, he starts to feel more than a little uncomfortable.

Kyle and Maria notice immediately and let him go, sitting back on the bed, close enough that they’re still touching him in some way but not smothering. Liz tightens her hold on him marginally, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Never do that to me again,” she whispers trying to sound stern, but the relief in her voice just makes her sound fond.

“I promise,” he tells her, reaching up with one hand to pat the back of her clasped hands.

She lets him go and leans next to Kyle, dropping her head on his shoulder, and closing her eyes. “I feel exhausted even though it’s like not even dark out yet.”

Michael doesn’t let go, and Alex doesn’t know if he actually wants Michael to let him go.

Maria clears her throat, and everyone’s eyes snap to her immediately, Michael included, even though he tightens his hold on Alex even more.

“I’m okay,” she tells them, but Alex can already feel Kyle clearing his schedule for tomorrow morning so he can check her out as well as make sure that Alex is actually in the clear.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kyle says, and Alex can feel him moving to get off the bed. “Tomorrow,” he says pointing at both Alex and Maria. “I want the both of you in my office, ten am sharp.”

Alex shares a look with Maria and they both turn to Kyle with one eyebrow raised.

“I had no idea you felt like that, Valenti,” Maria says, and Alex opens his mouth, and closes it when Kyle glares at them both.

“Don’t you two start.”

Maria just snorts and Alex bites down on a smile.

Liz pushes Kyle towards the door, “Come on, I’m sure Alex has a secret imported vodka stash somewhere that we can raid.”

Before Alex can protests, Maria is also scrambling off the bed and joining Liz and Kyle, wrapping her arm around Liz, and she doesn’t look back as they walk down the hall, but Alex can see how tense she is.

After a few seconds, where Alex hears the shouts of triumph as they find his secret imported vodka stash, Michael finally pulls away from him, leaning back on his heels and letting his hands fall to his lap.

Alex stares at him for a second, looking at the messy, frizzy curls on top of his head, and he can still hear Michael’s voice, strong and sure telling him that he loves him, and the certainty of his face and the honesty in his eyes is enough to give Alex that hope back.

But he can still see Maria’s face as she realized that her relationship with Michael had a part to play in what was happening to him.

Alex inhales carefully and reaches for Michael, fingers curling into his hair, and Michael lifts his face to look at Alex.

Alex stares at him and very gently slides his hands down to cup his face.

Michael closes his eyes leaning into the touch, lips parting slightly, and Alex has to bite down on his lip to remind himself that he can’t kiss Michael.

At least not right now.

“We have to-”

“Talk,” he says, blinking his eyes open and looking at Alex with an expression so soft and full of wonder that Alex feels a little bit faint. “I know.”

He shakes his head a little. “Yes, but you have to talk to Maria first, and decide what it is that you actually want, and only after all of that can you make good on your promise.”

Michael stares at him for a long moment before he kneels up, and Alex’s breath catches in his throat, but Michael just presses a kiss to his cheek, so soft and sweet, but it leaves Alex aching for more.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Alex gasps, eyes falling shut. “I’ve already made my choice.”

Alex presses his cheek to Michael’s and closes his eyes tight, before he pulls back.

Michael moves at the same time that he does and they both stop short, noses barely touching.

Alex looks into Michael’s eyes, and Michael looks into Alex’s, and he feels overwhelmed by the amount of love he can see shining out of Michael’s eyes, but he loves the way it makes him feel warm inside.

Alex doesn’t know how long they stay there, just staring at each other while Alex basks in the warmth of knowing without a doubt how Michael feels about him, but someone clears their throat, and they both flinch, pulling away and looking over to the door.

Kyle grins a little sheepish, but there is something a little disapproving in his stare.

“We’re heading out to let you rest,” he eyes him intently as he speaks. “Drink plenty of fluids and I’ll be giving you something tomorrow to help you with your throat.”

Alex nods his head, and tries not to feel too disappointed when Michael lets him go and gets to his feet, groaning a little as he walks around from kneeling in place for a bit too long.

Kyle nods back at him and turns to go.

“Wait,” he says, and Kyle stops and turns back to him.

“Thank you,” he says.

Kyle just smiles back at him. “It’s my job to keep you healthy. You have to stop making it so difficult.”

Alex just rolls his eyes good naturedly, and watches as Kyle leaves.

Liz bounces into the room, holding a fifth of vodka beneath one arm. She presses a kiss to his forehead, “I will also see you in the morning, ten am sharp.”

He smiles at her, and she just waves as she turns and follows Kyle down the hall.

Maria walks into the room, and Michael excuses himself without a word as he walks pass her and down the hall.

Maria stares at him in silence for long enough, that Alex starts to fidget. He hears the sound of Kyle’s car turning on and pulling out of the driveway which propels him to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Maria furrows her brow. “It was never my intention to do anything that would come between you and Michael.”

Maria’s face clears and she shakes her head at him. “You didn’t. Things with Michael haven’t been working out the way that I had hoped they would. I thought that maybe what we needed was time, but I don’t think anymore that this is one of those things that will be fixed by time.”

She walks over to him slowly, and sits down beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist and tucking her head into his neck.

Alex wraps his arm around her shoulders and holds her tightly, feeling tears prick behind his eyelids.

“Be good to him,” she whispers, so low that he almost doesn’t hear her. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Alex just tightens his hold on her, and doesn’t say anything.

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and then lets him go, getting to her feet and sending him a smile. “See you in the morning.”

Alex smiles back at her. “I’ll bring some fresh blueberry scones.”

She makes a happy noise at the back of her throat and then turns and leaves.

Alex doesn’t wait for Michael to come back and tell him goodbye.

He gets to his feet, wincing a little as he bends to release the pressure of his prosthetic. He feels like he’s been wearing it too long, but first, he needs to at least take a shower, then he’ll worry about everything else.

He takes his time in the shower, and when he gets out, and wipes the steam away from the mirror, he stares at his reflection.

He does look tired and like he could use at least three weeks of sleep, but unlike the time when all of this was starting out, he doesn’t feel like he’s at the end of his rope.

He walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, to get to the clothes in his dresser and when he darts his eyes out of the window, he freezes momentarily.

Maria and Michael are sitting on the tailgate of her truck, and he’s speaking, and Maria is listening to him with a serious expression.

Alex turns from the window and walks towards the dresser.

He wasn’t really expecting Michael and Maria to have this conversation right now. He had figured that he would have to wait at least another week before Michael told him what his decision actually was, even after he said that he had already made his choice.

Alex gets dressed, and throws his towel over his shoulder, grabbing his crutch from where it had been leaning on the wall so that he can actually get to the kitchen without having to use the wall for balance.

His eyes dart back outside of the window, and this time they are standing, and Maria is placing something in Michael’s hands, before she leans up, and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Alex looks away and makes his way to the kitchen.

He jumps slightly when he hears Maria’s truck start up and leave, and goes and grabs a glass of water.

He downs the whole thing, and sets the cup down on the counter, waiting for the sound of Michael’s truck to start up, but it doesn’t.

But Michael also doesn’t appear at the doorway.

Alex worries his bottom lip and then exhales slowly.

He’ll give Michael all of the time that he needs.

Right now, Alex wants to clean up the mess on his floor and then take a nap, but not necessarily in that order.

He knows that if he leaves the mess that it will stink up the place later, but as soon as he thinks about sleeping, he starts to yawn.

He exhales and just walks towards his room.

He’ll lie down for a second and then clean up.

Alex swears that he’s only just closed his eyes, when he feels the bed dipping beside him.

He turns towards the movement, blinking his eyes open and is surprised by how dark it is.

He looks at Michael, who is settling himself beside Alex, and jolts a little when he sees that Alex’s eyes are open and on him.

Alex doesn’t say anything, and Michael just stares at him carefully, before he moves closer, sliding one arm beneath Alex’s head.

Alex turns to him, and wraps one arm around his waist, and Michael takes that as permission to wrap himself around Alex like an octopus.

Alex lets him before he tries to get comfortable and then he buries his face in Michael’s hair.

He smells faintly of sweat and slightly sweet like he uses Liz’s coconut shampoo, and also a little bit like bleach and lavender scented disinfectant.

Alex doesn’t really have to wonder why, he just wraps his arm tighter around him.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Michael says in a low voice. “I promise. I just, need to hold you right now.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, he just inhales as deep as he can, filling his lungs with air, and he exhales closing his eyes and falls asleep.

#malex fic #references to miluca #alex being a disaster emotionally and michael actually being emotionally mature #oh how the turntables #i looped 'moments passed' while writing this whole thing #so be prepared #i promise that i don't actually kill anyone no matter how close it seems to get #and i hope the climax isn't as anti climactic as i feel it is #tw body horror #tw blood #tw hanahaki disease

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crystaljins · 5 years

Text

Take a chance. | 05

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 6.5K

Synopsis: You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

Hanahaki!au

Notes: @trumpettay asked that they be tagged when this fic is released! First time receiving a request like that, but I’m happy to!

And I suppose.... I should give you guys some warning.... the fluff gets a little bit... thin from this point on...

Warnings: Angst. Graphic depictions of vomiting. Mentions of illness and death.

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Seri has been working here for a few months now. It isn’t a long amount of time by any means. Yet even as new as she is this event-planning firm, she knows that when Kim Seokjin walks in with bounce in his step, whistling a cheerful tune, that her day is going to be very, very long. He’s not a nasty man by any means- no, he’s well-meaning, kind, patient, amiable. So it’s not like he’s trying to make things difficult for her. He just manages to, somehow.

His expression lights up when he sees that she is huddled in the kitchenette, hugging a cup of coffee to her chest like it is her first-born child. Don’t come over to me, don’t come over to me, don’t come over to me, is what Seri chants repeatedly to herself but alas, Jin has never before heeded her silent pleas for peace and quiet. He strides over to her with the confidence and cheerfulness of a man who has been handed the entire world on a silver platter.

“Good morning, dear Seri!” He cries. He never wears a business jacket into work on warm days- he prefers to sling it artfully over his shoulders like he’s a model. Seri knows it’s only so that he can roll up the sleeves of his button up to expose his forearms because he likes catching women staring. He shoves his right hand into his pant pocket and leans against the counter Seri is standing by. Seri offers a weak smile and avoids his gaze- perhaps if she doesn’t acknowledge his presence, he’ll leave her be.

He does not.

“Isn’t today such a fine, warm morning? Did you notice the birds chirping just outside our office building? Why, even the homeless man on the train this morning didn’t smell as much like feet as he normally does.” Jin recounts cheerfully. If he were an anime character, his eyes would be sparkling and there would be a soft pink background and hearts floating behind him.

“I suppose it’s an ok morning.” She says. It’s not. Her toilet was clogged, her sister’s baby couldn’t sleep the entire night and was howling because of a cold and she has a ladder in her stockings. But she also doesn’t want to ruin his good mood- it feels kind of like kicking a puppy if she does. Jin stares at Seri expectantly, but she merely sips at her coffee. She hopes eventually the work he has to get done and the meeting with clients she knows he has in 20 minutes will draw him away. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy talking to Jin. It’s just that he’s always so full of energy and on mornings like these she just wants quiet.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m in such a good mood?” He prods.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” She mutters under her breath. He doesn’t seem to hear.

“Because haven’t you noticed how close our boss and resident space cadet have gotten over the past few weeks? All thanks to me.” He cries. He glances from side to side before leaning in close enough that Seri can feel his breath puffing against her cheek. “And yesterday they came into work together. And late.”

“They own this place. They can come in at any hour they please.” Seri points out placidly. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Jin nods his agreement, folding his arms across his chest.

“Hm… You’re right.” Jin admits. “They’ve been making some great progress, but nothing solid so far.”

He goes silent, and Seri takes that as her chance to try and edge way from him. But suddenly he pushes off the counter, straightening and clapping one fist into an open palm.

“I have an idea!” He cries, with enough volume that she flinches and nearly spills her coffee all over herself. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top if she did? “Last night I was watching this drama- great drama, by the way, 100% would recommend. I’ll text you the name later. Anyway, in it, the female lead ends up being tricked into thinking the male lead likes her and because of that she starts to notice all his charms and whatnot, and in the end she falls for him. That’s what we need to do for Jungkook! And it wouldn’t even be lying, considering that (Y/N) really does have feelings for him! It’d just be… not telling the whole truth.”

“I really think that this isn’t-” Seri protests hastily, hoping she can stop Jin before he tries yet another one of his stupid plans that puts her boss at risk.

“Oh, Seri, Seri, Seri. What Jungkook needs to realise his feelings is just a little nudge. We’ve laid some nice groundwork with our plans so far-” Jin explains.

“I’ve had no part in these plans, Jin, they’ve all been you-”

“But now he needs something harsher. Something more definite. We need to drop a bomb, if he’s going to take that last step to returning (Y/N)’s feelings and curing her Hanahaki.” He says aloud, and Seri has a feeling he wouldn’t even notice if she stepped out of the room this instant. He really has a one-track kind of mind. “You’re brilliant, Seri. Finally, the last step to Operation “Cure-(Y/N)”!”

Seri rolls her eyes as Jin cheers and prances out of the kitchenette, oblivious to the world around him. Playing with peoples’ feelings, especially when the stakes are so high, is a terrible idea. And Jin means well, he really does, but she can’t shake the feeling that the best way to deal with this is to convince you to get the treatment you apparently need. She can only hope that both you and Jungkook manage to survive this latest plan unscathed.

Jungkook has kind of been hoping for a chance to speak alone with Jin, ever since the weird clubbing experience. He hasn’t really had the time or emotional space to process the things Jin said that night, what with stuff for the wedding starting to pile up and his days steadily becoming busier the closer the dreaded date gets. But Jin’s words have been buzzing in the back of Jungkook’s mind like storm clouds on the horizon. Why had Jin warned Jungkook that things won’t last like this forever? At the time, when Jin warned him, the thought of you not being a constant had been a bit sad but it hadn’t been something Jungkook felt he should worry about. But after that day in your apartment, after crying in your arms, Jungkook is suddenly scared by Jin’s warning- what will he do, if you aren’t there? As corny and ridiculous and selfish as it is… Jungkook needs you. And he needs you for more than just your help- he needs that feeling you give him- that warm, safe, comfortable feeling. He needs you, and your gentle smile and the sound of your humming as you work and the passion in your eyes when you plan a wedding. But, even knowing all of that, he can’t think why Jin said the things that he did. Why can’t things stay like this? Why can’t he continue to rely on you and trust you like he’s learnt he can? Why would you finding someone else come in between that? The more that he thinks about it, the more questions he has and so when Jin offers to treat him to lunch, Jungkook jumps at the chance.

“I’m feeling something soup-y.” Jin announces, as he leads Jungkook through the crowded street. In the lunch hour, the streets are often packed around their office building, but there’s enough places to go to that it’s always easy to eat out. Jungkook nods.

“I’m happy with whatever.” Jungkook informs him, adjusting his tie. In the sweltering heat, the business attire you insist on can be quite uncomfortable. Jin doesn’t look bothered- he has his suit jacked draped neatly over his forearm and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He’s probably used to formal business attire, though- being from a rich family probably meant he’d had to spend a lot of time wearing it.

Jin grins and leads Jungkook down a small alleyway between buildings. Jungkook recognises it- there’s a small, family owned restaurant at the end of the alleyway. It’s usually a quiet place, even during the lunch rush hour, which makes him feel like maybe Jin has something to say to him as well. It isn’t until after Jin has ordered, charming both the waitress and the owner of the restaurant, and the menus have been taken away, that he speaks up about what’s on his mind.

“Have you thought about what I said that night at all?” He asks Jungkook. He folds his hands neatly on the table and stares expectantly at him. Jungkook nearly chokes on his drink because in the time it had taken Jin to order far more food than was necessary, Jungkook had let his guard down.

“I have.” Jungkook coughs. “I actually wanted to talk about what you meant that night. Were you saying I’m holding her back from finding the right guy? Are you worried I’m taking her for granted? Because I promise, I really do appreciate her-”

To Jungkook’s immense surprise, Jin merely starts laughing.

“Oh, my poor, sweet, naïve Jungkook!” He exclaims fondly. “I would never think so lowly of you! Of course, you appreciate our boss, I’m sure- that’s not what I was saying.”

“Then what were you saying?” Jungkook answers, feeling a little patronised, and a little frustrated. What could have Jin meant, then? Why does he have to be afraid that things are going to change with you?

“Well, at the time, I wanted you to realise that the way things are now could change very quickly and suddenly, and I didn’t want you to realise something important after you’d lost your chance.” Jin explains. He tilts his head and peers at Jungkook like he’s having a lot of fun at Jungkook’s expense. “But now… Now I want you to work out something else. Forget what I said about not getting too comfortable. There’s something else.”

“Then say it!” Jungkook complains. “Please just come out and say it- why do I have to be worried about things changing? Why can’t things stay like they are now? Why are you being so cryptic?”

Jin ponders this.

“Well, it’s more fun if I’m cryptic. At least for me.” He admits. “But I suppose you’ve always been a bit obtuse so maybe I should come out and say it. I’ll put you out of your misery, then. You don’t have to worry about getting too comfortable but there’s a reason you might want to rethink the nature of your relationship with her.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“(Y/N) likes you.” He announces. He says it gleefully, like Jungkook should be excited or happy at the announcement. “Like… romantically.”

There is a sudden roaring in Jungkook’s ears following Jin’s announcement. His heart plummets into his stomach. He doesn’t understand the sudden panic that seizes his gut. Adrenaline floods his veins as if Jin were threatening his life.

“N-no she doesn’t.” He protests weakly. Because you don’t. No, because you can’t. If you like him… if you like him… then…

“She told me.” Jin admits with a shrug. He pauses to smile at the waitress as she sets his food down before him. When she leaves, he takes a large mouthful. “The other day,” He continues to explain, though the words are hard to decipher when Jin’s mouth is still full. “I asked her why she was putting in so much effort to Taehyung and Minah’s wedding and she said it was because she didn’t want to let you down.” He swallows and flashes Jungkook a thumbs up, unaware of the way Jungkook feels like his world is suddenly crashing down around him. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but she said it’s because she has feelings for you, and that’s why she’s trying so hard.”

The sound of a chair screeching against the floor echoes loudly in the quiet restaurant. It takes Jungkook a few moments to understand that it’s because he’s gotten abruptly to his feet. He stares, bewildered, wondering why he’s breathing like he’s just ran a marathon. It’s hard to describe what he’s feeling, short of panic. Yes, the two of you have been close of late. Yes, he feels like he can trust you perhaps even above Taehyung and Minah right now. And yes, you’re so, so important to him. He came here in the first place because you’re important enough to him that he’s scared of losing you.

But the thought of you having romantic feelings for him… it scares him in a bone deep sort of way. Because he’s still dying of Hanahaki for Minah, which must mean that your feelings aren’t returned. And the thought of you feeling even a fraction of how he feels about the Minah-Taehyung situation makes him feel sick to his stomach. And that’s not even beginning to consider what happens if those feelings progress- what if you end up with Hanahaki? He really wouldn’t be able to handle it if something horrible like that happened. The fluttery, joyful high he’s been experiencing ever since that day in your apartment vanishes- he’s left feeling like he’s suddenly plummeting towards the earth and deathly speeds. He’d ruin you, if you liked him. Your smile, your laugh, your kindness… they would be gone, and it’d be his fault. He feels a wave of self-loathing so powerful he feels it may knock him out.

“Tell me you’re lying.” Jungkook begs. “Please. Say it’s a practical joke.”

The mirth slides off Jin’s face at Jungkook’s reaction. Instead concern knots his brows and tugs his lips downwards in a frown.

“Jungkook, are you ok? You look a little pale.” Jin says, about to get to his feet.

“Say it’s not true.” Even Jungkook is surprised by the volume of his voice. Jin’s jaw drops and the silence that follows Jungkook’s shout is jarring.

“I know, I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together. But it’s just because we’re friends. She cares about me as a co-worker. As a co-worker.” Jungkook explains, his voice hoarse and choked. “But she can’t like me, she can’t.”

“Ok, ok. Jungkook, calm down.” Jin says urgently, getting to his feet and planting his hands on both of Jungkook’s shoulders. Jungkook can’t seem to slow his rapid, panicked breathing. “Hey. Look at me.” Jin’s voice has gone gentle and soothing, as he urges Jungkook to meet his gaze. “I was joking. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it. I thought it would be funny. She doesn’t like you. I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Jin says placatingly.

But Jungkook has been working with Jin for three whole years now. Even though Jungkook has always preferred to distance himself from his coworkers, it’s hard not to get to know someone as friendly and open as Jin, after three years. And Jin has always been easy to read and easy to understand. Which means Jungkook can see it, plain as day. Jin is lying through his teeth, right now, which can only mean one thing.

You do have feelings for him.

Jungkook stares at Jin with wide, panicked eyes for one moment longer, before fleeing from the restaurant like his life depends on it.

And as Jungkook leaves, it occurs to Jin that maybe… maybe he went too far this time.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Jungkook is avoiding you. After all, the two of you run a business together, and have been fairly close as of late, so it’s easy to notice the suddenly chilly way he treats you. Even messages about important things, like the scheduling software you use malfunctioning, or picking a location for Minah’s hen’s party are met with simple, one-word answers. What’s difficult to work out is why. What could you possibly have done wrong?

After that day in your apartment, the morning after the wedding dress fiasco, things had been great. He’d been weirdly emotional then, but he’d been normal at work that day, and the next- better than normal. He’d been sweet and friendly and eager to spend time with you. If you had to identify a specific starting point for things going weird, it had been after he’d abruptly taken the rest of the day off after lunch with Seokjin that day. It was rare for Jungkook to agree to any kind of social outing involving his co-workers so you had been surprised when Seri informed you that the two had gone to lunch together. So, your best guess at what could be wrong is that Seokjin said something strange. The two of them certainly have a strange dynamic- you still haven’t forgotten how weird that night the three of you went to the club was. But shouldn’t he be avoiding Seokjin, if that were the case, and not you? What could Seokjin have possibly said to trigger such baffling behaviour in your business partner?

Across from you, Minah carefully raises another forkful of cake to her mouth. She’s watching you like at any moment you are a bomb that could go off- perhaps she can sense your stormy mood.

“Um… (Y/N)…” She starts meekly. You start and shake yourself. You’re suddenly aware of the tension you had been holding in your expression and force yourself to relax into a smile. “Are you ok? You seem a little… off.”

You suppose you have been off. You’ve been weird and flu-y all week, and when coupled with how Jungkook has been treating you, it’s been a rough time.

“I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” You offer kindly. “How do you feel about this one?” You question, gesturing to the white chocolate and coconut cream cake before you. She watches you curiously for a moment longer before turning to the cake.

“Well, I really like it, but Tae is a bit picky with what he eats.” She offers with a laugh. “He doesn’t like the texture of coconut. So far I think that caramel mudcake and the red velvet are winning.” She says. She pats her stomach delicately. “But I don’t think I can handle much more cake! I never thought I’d see the day when this happens, but I think I’ve eaten enough cake to last me a lifetime.”

“Yeah- it’s why I normally avoid cake tasting with clients. I’d put on too much weight!” You tell her while patting your stomach with a laugh. She nods and smiles. There is a long drawn out silence where the two of you have run out of things to talk about unrelated to the wedding.

“You’re probably wondering why I invited you and not Jungkook.” She offers suddenly, setting down her fork and folding her fingers neatly together in front of her. You pause in the middle of trying the next sample of cake and stare at her curiously. Her smile is tight but concerned. “I’m worried about him. Especially after the other day. He’s been so distant lately, and I was wondering if he’d maybe spoken to you about it. The two of you seem so close lately, and he hasn’t been speaking to me or Taehyung.” She confesses. It makes sense, as his best friend, for her to seek you out. She’s probably desperate for answers. After all, they are life-long friends and Jungkook has been sick for over a year at this stage. Even the most obtuse people in the world would notice something strange is going on.

“It was just a spot of food poisoning.” You offer, though your smile is restrained and decidedly icy. Her frown deepens at your obvious lie.

“See, that’s the thing.” She says. “If it was just food poisoning, why did he call you? He could have asked me for help. I could have called the ambulance. He was barely conscious when you dragged him out. And I didn’t say anything because you asked me not to that day, but I can’t hold back anymore. What is wrong with Jungkook? What is he not telling me?”

You press your lips together nervously. Suddenly all the cake you’ve eaten leaves you feeling a little sick, and the nerves don’t help.

“I…” You say slowly. Your mind draws a blank- what’s a believable lie you could tell her to throw suspicion off? As it stands, she doesn’t seem to be suspecting Hanahaki. It’s not the most common disease in the world- it certainly wouldn’t be at the top of her list of what she suspects is wrong with Jungkook. “I don’t know.” You finally settle on. “He’s been acting weird towards me too.”

Her gaze softens at your confession, and you are surprised at the genuine sadness that comes out in your voice. Perhaps you have a future in acting.

“He’s been avoiding me all week, since that day in fact.” You confess. It’s a temporary fix, at best, but if you can contact Jungkook in time, perhaps the two of you can come up with an acceptable lie when you aren’t put on the spot like this. “So, if you want to know, you’ll have to talk to him.”

Minah seems to soften and relax when she realises that she is not alone in her bafflement over Jungkook. Of course, you are a little more informed of the situation than her, but he’s just as confusing to you. Even after all this time, after everything the two of you have been through together, he’s treating you like this. You can understand her confusion and hurt, at the very least. She leans back and sighs.

“He’s been like this since he was a kid.” She confesses. “Always suffering alone. I wish… I wish just once he could rely on someone else.” The sadness in her voice makes your heart ache for her- not for the first time you are made aware of just how much she loves her friend.

“I’m sure… I’m sure he just doesn’t want to make you worry.” You offer weakly and her smile is thin and doesn’t reach her eyes.

“See, that’s the thing.” She sighs, defeated. “Friends are supposed to worry about each other. It’s in the job description. If you can’t trust your friends, who can you trust? But I suppose he wouldn’t be Jungkook if he wasn’t frustratingly closed off and difficult to read, would he?” She says with a chuckle. She straightens and smiles at you. “Thank you, though. I’m sure you have to get back to the office.”

You glance at your watch- you do. You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to go through and some new clients have just filled out a questionnaire you have to read through. You smile at her apologetically.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” You say, getting quickly to your feet. “Email me what cake you and Taehyung decide to go with, and I’ll be in contact about finalising the invites to send off next week as well.” You say as farewell.

Back at the office, the atmosphere is strange. Seri is out for the day, taking clients to see a nearby venue, so Seokjin and Jungkook are the only ones in. Jungkook, when in the office (since there are times when he prefers to work from home), is often flitting from place to place as he makes phone calls or is seated at his desk going through paperwork. But currently he is seated stiffly at his desk. He is unmoving, instead staring at the monitor of the computer that rests on his desk like it has personally wronged him. And Seokjin, who is normally the kind of worker who spends more time gossiping in the break room than actually working, types vigorously at his desk like you’ve threatened to fire him if he doesn’t meet an email quota for the day. Normally, the work environment you have set is relaxed and free. Jungkook normally tracks the in- and out-of-office tasks and he does monthly performance evaluations, but as a whole, event-planning requires flexibility, and demanding customers often ensure your workers are meeting deadlines better than you ever could. But the office you have just walked into looks grey and bleary.

You can’t help but feel the oddly chilly atmosphere is linked to Jungkook’s recent behaviour, and it only furthers you suspicions that Seokjin is at the root of it all. But you have no time to dwell on it, for you feel it is better to inform Jungkook of Minah’s concerns sooner, rather than later.

“I need to speak with you in my office.” Is what you tell him, and you can’t help the way your tone runs slightly chilly. You had thought his sudden distance didn’t bother you, but clearly it does. You swallow, and stride into your office before you can observe his reaction, and without checking if he follows.

He does though, and when the door clicks shut before you, you turn to face him. You don’t know how to hold yourself around him, suddenly. You settle on standing straight, with your arms dangling loosely by your side. He stares at you, his face impassive and difficult to read. If Seokjin were to peer in through the window to your office, perhaps he would think you were having a staring competition. You swallow deeply and clear your throat, willing the uncomfortable ticking feeling in the back of your throat to go away. You must be coming down with a cold.

“I just got back from cake-tasting with Minah.” You inform him, breaking the silence. Something flashes in Jungkook’s expression, but it is gone before you can identify it. “She… she wanted to know about that day. At the wedding dress boutique. At the time I told her you had food poisoning and managed to get her to back off by saying I would explain later, and she wants those answers now.”

Silence follows, and Jungkook drops his gaze to his shoes.

“I see.” He answers softly, and his tone is frustratingly lacking. You’d have an easier time reading a blank sheet of paper. “What did you tell her?”

You bite your lip.

“That I didn’t know.” Is your simple answer. “I figured it would buy us some time to come up with an answer-”

“Good.” Jungkook interrupts. He says the words so softly that at first you think you might have misheard them. “That’s all you have to do- I’ll handle the rest. This isn’t an “us” problem.”

“Sorry, what?” You ask. If you’d had any doubt that he had been oddly cold towards you before now, then the way he regards you when he finally raises his gaze confirms it. You’ve seen ice warmer than the chill in his eyes.

“There is no “us.”” He repeats, louder this time so that you know you didn’t mishear him. “This is my problem, and you don’t need to get involved. Thank you for your help all this time, but I’d prefer it if we kept our relationship strictly professional from this point on.”

He bows, and turns to leave the room, as if that is an acceptable point to end the conversation. As if it’s ok to suddenly drop a bomb like that and then leave. As if you have the kind of relationship that can be cut off so easily.

“I thought we were in this together?” You ask, and you can’t keep the hurt from colouring your tone. Jungkook pauses with his hand resting against the doorhandle.

“We were.” He says softly, and it almost sounds like he regrets the fact. “But after thinking it through, I think that that was a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought my boss at work into such a personal situation. We’ve crossed a lot of professional boundaries, recently. And I understand that that was because we were in very difficult circumstances. But I don’t think that this is what is best for us, and I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about our relationship. You’ve been really helpful so far with my… condition, but I can handle it just fine on my own. I’d prefer you avoid getting unnecessarily caught up.”

““Unecessarily caught up”?” You spit in anger, striding forward and wrenching his shoulder so that he’s forced to face you. “Is that what you think of all this? It’s not like I was trying to invade your privacy- I’ve only been trying to help you, this entire time! And it’s not like I asked for any of this. How could you even say such a thing? I don’t know why you’re suddenly acting like this, but Jungkook, I’m helping because I care about you. Is that a crime?”

“It is.” Jungkook shouts, forcefully throwing your hand off his shoulder and glaring at you with a wildness and pain you don’t understand. The mask he had been hiding behind has cracked but you don’t understand a single one of the agonised emotions on his face. “I don’t want you to care about me.” He says, and he’s panting with the exertion of his shout. “I need you to keep your distance.”

Something about the way he says it, weak and broken, cools your sudden bout of anger. But his word choice strikes you as odd as well. It almost sounds… it almost sounds like he feels like he has no choice in pushing you away. Which is a familiar enough scenario to you- didn’t he do exactly that to Taehyung and Minah? Under the guise of it being for their own good? For the first time, you think that maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, to keep this awful secret from them for so long.

“Jungkook,” You call softly. His shoulders hunch in a flinch like you’ve just threatened to punch him.

Whatever questions you could have asked him next or words of comfort you could have offered are cut off by Seokjin opening the door to your office. He doesn’t knock, instead swinging the door open with urgency. He looks supremely uncomfortable as he glances between the two of you.

“I… I heard shouting.” Seokjin says, and you have no idea why he looks as guilty as he does until he meets your gaze determinedly. “And… And I think you guys should know about my part in your fight….”

Of all the ways you could have expected Jungkook to react in the ringing silence follow Jin’s story, bursting into laughter is not one of them. But that’s exactly what he does- he laughs loudly and freely like someone has lifted a weight off of his chest.

“Oh, Jin,” Jungkook cries, almost in tears- his laughter sobers quickly but the relieved smile remains. Seokjin frowns, adjusting how his spectacles sit against his face and for the first time perhaps ever, he looks bashful. “That’s not the case at all. (Y/N) doesn’t have Hanahaki. Although thank you for trying to help her.”

Seokjin blinks a few times in bafflement, before looking to you for confirmation. You offer him a smile.

“It’s true.” You tell him. “I don’t. And if I did, as much as I appreciate your attempts to help, I would get treatment- my brother’s not a specialist for nothing.”

“But then, what about when you were randomly asking about Hanahaki?” Seokjin accuses, and you feel bad for him. Everything he’s picked up on is a half-truth. The rose petals were likely from Jungkook having an episode. And you had suspiciously asked about Hanahaki not long after. But he’s missed the whole truth, and now the two of you are going to have to lie to him to continue to keep Jungkook’s secret. You open your mouth with a lie prepared, but Jungkook beats you to the chase.

“Because I’m the one with Hanahaki.” Jungkook announces, no longer laughing. Instead he smiles kindly at Seokjin.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows such an announcement. Seokjin’s jaw actually drops.

“Not for (Y/N) though.” He continues to explain. “For Minah. My best friend, and the woman (Y/N) is currently planning the wedding for. (Y/N) has just been trying to help me all this time.”

Seokjin’s mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish before he finds his voice.

“So, you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?” Seokjin rasps.

You bite your lip, prepared to deny it, but the words don’t come out for some reason. Like they are caught in your throat. Luckily Jungkook is quick to jump in before you can force the denial out.

“Of course she doesn’t, thank goodness.” He sighs, and he looks so genuinely relieved that you should feel happy for him.

You don’t, though. You don’t feel happy at all. In fact, his words trigger something in you- your mind races as you put two and two together. Slowly the gravity of Jungkook’s behaviour occurs to you, now that you know the reasoning behind it.

“Then… Jungkook…” You wonder aloud. He turns to you curiously, patiently awaiting your question. “This past week that you’ve been acting weirdly around me…”

Jungkook grimaces and rubs nervously at the back of his neck.

“Oh… that…” He says slowly. “I’m so sorry about my behaviour, (Y/N). It’s because I was worried you had feelings for me. I was scared I would hurt you.”

His words shouldn’t hurt. They shouldn’t feel like he’s simultaneously plunged a knife into your heart and punched you in the gut. All his earlier, nastier words were because of a misunderstanding. He had been trying to push you away, maybe even for you own good, knowing Jungkook. You shouldn’t feel hurt. The feelings he was worried about don’t exist so you shouldn’t feel so heartbroken over him responding so vehemently to them.

But you do.

“Am I really that repulsive?” You ask softly. Both men in the room stiffen, perhaps picking up the undercurrent of hurt that, before this moment, hadn’t been detectable in your voice. It’s clear as day now, though. “Was the thought of me liking you so horrible that it justified you saying all those awful things to me just then? You had to go that far to push me away?”

The air changes slightly- gone is the relief and slight amusement at Seokjin’s antics. Instead your mind races as you filter through the hurt, the distress, the confusion Jungkook has put you through, all because he was terrified. Terrified of something as small and insignificant as you having a crush on him. As if your feelings are disgusting enough to justify casting you aside like a dirty rag.

“N-no.” Jungkook protests. Seokjin looks like he very much regrets being in the room in this instant. You regret being here too. “It- it wasn’t like that, (Y/N). It was for your own good.”

“‘My own good’” You repeat, and the bitter sarcasm is not lost on the two other occupants of the room. Jungkook stares despairingly at Seokjin but he has nothing helpful to offer, too subdued by his previous blunders. “You don’t have to lie, Jungkook.” You spit, as hot, angry tears begin to pool in your eyes and your throat burns. “Thank you, though, for showing me just how important I am to you. I’ll be sure to keep our relationship purely professional from now on.”

And you turn, ready to storm out of your office so that neither of your co-workers see the way your face has crumpled with hurt and the way the first of the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

“Wait, wait,” Jungkook cries, panicked now. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, trying to hold you in place. “No that’s not what I meant (Y/N).” He calls, and he’s almost in tears as he says it. “You’re important to me. You’re so important to me it scares me sometimes. I didn’t push you away because I don’t want you to like me or because you’re repulsive. You’re not. I’d be lucky for you to like me.” His grip on you is so tight it almost hurts, and his expression is pleading. “It’s because I couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling even a fraction of the pain that I know comes with not having your feelings returned, and because of someone like me. No way. You deserve so much better than that- than me. I... I care about you too much to be the reason for you being in pain. And what if the feelings grew? What if you ended up with Hanahaki? I thought... I thought if I pushed you away, you’d be safe. That the feelings would go away because I was such a dick and then you wouldn’t be hurt because of me.”

You stare at him in bewilderment, trying to comprehend the slew of feelings he has basically pelted at you. You’re still angry, that’s for sure, and it was stupid of him to assume that pushing you away rather than talking with you was the best way to handle the situation. And how egotistical of him, to think that it was up to him, to deal with your emotions rather than leaving you to sort things out for yourself. But you kind of understand. Jungkook’s always been the kind of person who feels the need to take responsibility for people’s hardships- and he’d done that to Taehyung and Minah, his lifelong friends. You open your mouth to respond as much, but then the strangest feeling overcomes you. Like the words are trapped in your chest. You wince, placing your hand over your sternum. You are puzzled by the sudden pain that sits behind it.

“(Y/N)?” Seokjin calls hesitantly. He registers more quickly than Jungkook that something is wrong. “Are you ok?” He takes an unsure step towards you from where he had been awkwardly watching the fight unfold. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Jungkook seems to register this fact as well, and one hand comes to rest lightly against your back and the other steadies your shoulder. The pain worsens as he does so, and you cough once.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks softly but urgently. You open your mouth, trying to reassure them but then you break into a coughing fit. It’s not a normal one though- you feel like something is caught in your throat. You swallow, trying to stop the coughs, but they just grow in intensity until you are doubled over from the force of them.

“Maybe we should call an ambulance-” Seokjin cries urgently, and that’s when it happens.

A single white daisy petal bursts from your lips and flutters to the ground. For a moment, the three of you can only stare in horror. Slowly, the reality of the situation begins to dawn on you, and all the implications of the harmless white petal that rests lightly on the ground hit you like a tonne of bricks.

In the next moment you flee from the room, before they can say anything. You don’t even spare a glance over your shoulder.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #jeon jungkook x reader #btsboulangerie #writing

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

Mistletoe Manor - Part 10, Final Chapter

Genre: 1900′s AU/Romance

Pairings: Park Seo Joon, Bang Yongguk, Brian Kang, Jung Daehyung, Jung Jaehyun, Lee Taeyong x OCs

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 | Words: 4,408

A/N: Chelle ( @prettywordsyouleft ) and I wanted to create a magical Christmas for everyone and what better way to do that than at Mistletoe Manor! Because of the nature of having several idols, we chose to work with OCs and we hope you love them as much as we do.

Mistletoe Manor will be posted daily at 10am NZST / 4pm EST daily.

“Lydia!” Evie hissed as the maid passed her room, her head sticking out into the hallway in quite the unladylike fashion.

Lydia paused, her head jerking back slightly in surprise, and she turned on her heel to face the middle Hawthorne sister. “Yes, My Lady?” she answered back in a whisper.

Evie simply motioned the maid inside her bedroom, opening the door a bit wider to allow her to come through.

“What is it, Lady Evie?” Lydia asked quietly once both of them were behind a closed door.

“Will you...” Evie began, her brow furrowing nervously. “...Do my hair? For the ball tonight?”

A smile immediately spread across Lydia’s lips, and even though she would be adding in doing Evie’s hair to her list of other things to do tonight, she nodded. “Of course, I will.” Because Lydia was quite sure Evie was only asking her because she wanted to look especially lovely tonight.

For a certain gentleman.

Evie let out a soft sigh of relief and then headed toward her vanity, sitting down in the chair and waiting patiently for Lydia to get situated.

“I’ve got just the idea, Miss,” Lydia grinned as she reached for Evie’s hairbrush. “Trust me. It will look gorgeous.”

“I trust you with my life, Lydia” Evie replied with a sly smirk. “I most certainly trust you with my hair.”

Lydia chuckled gently, shaking her head a little as she began to smooth Evie’s hair back into a chignon.

About twenty minutes later, Lydia placed the final pin into Evie’s coiffure and took a step back.

“Just one more thing, Miss,” she said before opening a drawer in Evie’s vanity and pulling out a pearl-encrusted clip. “This is the perfect finishing touch, and it will go lovely with your green gown.”

Lydia carefully placed the clip just above Evie’s ear, holding her breath and trying to keep as still as possible.

“Oh, Lydia,” Evie breathed as she gazed into her mirror, eyes a bit wide. “It looks beautiful.”

“Lord Yongguk won’t know what hit him,” Lydia said with a soft giggle.

Evie’s cheeks pinkened, of course, but the corners of her mouth lifted into a delighted grin.

“Thank you,” Evie gushed, turning around and reaching for Lydia’s hands, grasping them in-between her own. “I owe you.”

“Of course, you don’t, My Lady,” Lydia chuckled. “I’m happy to help, especially if it means you’re one step closer to finding love.”

Evie’s eyes darted away bashfully, but then she took a breath and forced her gaze back to Lydia. “Well... I would still like to do something for you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Lydia asked with a confused smirk.

“I... would like you to...” But instead of finishing her sentence, Evie rose from her chair and hurried over to her wardrobe. She opened the door and reached inside, taking out a simple but beautiful blue dress. “I would like you to wear this. I think we’re about the same size, and... something tells me... tonight will be special.”

The look on Evie’s face, though, made it clear she didn’t just think tonight would be special but she knew. As if someone had actually told her.

“My Lady,” Lydia murmured, aghast. She walked over to the wardrobe, reaching out and grasping one side of the dress in-between two fingers. “Oh, I couldn’t. This is much too fine for a maid to wear.”

“You could, and you will,” Evie insisted. “I’ll help you get changed.”

“But --”

“You know how stubborn the Hawthorne sisters can be,” Evie interrupted. “I am not taking ‘No’ for an answer.”

Lydia tried her best to act exasperated with Evie’s insistence, but she was secretly (or maybe not-so-secretly) delighted. It would most certainly be the most beautiful dress she’d ever worn, and she had a strange feeling it would be a special night.

Maybe not for her, but certainly for Evie.

...But also maybe for her, too.

All around the manor, nobility and servants alike were preparing for the Mistletoe Ball. All the decorations and food were ready, the orchestra was warming up in the entryway, and the first guests would be arriving any minute now.

Upstairs, Evie finished buttoning up the back of Lydia’s dress, holding back a squeal at how beautiful she looked.

Daehyun snuck into the bedroom he shared with Cassie, admitting to wanting a peek before the ball began. The couple shared a warm kiss (or five) and whispered loving compliments to each other.

Joey examined herself for the sixtieth time in the full-length mirror in her room, smoothing down the skirts of her gold dress and wishing she could smooth the rapid beat of her heart.

Grace forced out another cough, assuring her aunt that her illness was nothing serious. Just a head cold. All she needed was rest, and she would be fine tomorrow. And she tried not to think about Jaehyun waiting for her out in the garden, hopefully not freezing his fingers off.

Brian slid Yongguk’s jacket onto his shoulder, brushing off any stray hair or piece of lint. He ignored the nervous breath his employer let out because he knew by now Yongguk would rather not talk about whatever anxieties were on his mind. And also he didn’t have time for any sort of pep talk now because he had to go downstairs and get ready himself.

Speaking of downstairs...

Seo Joon furrowed his brow as he tugged at the cuffs of his jacket. It was probably time to replace the only nice suit he owned that wasn’t his uniform, but it was too late to worry about that now. He had plenty of other things on his mind.

Anna let out a squeal before clapping her hand over her mouth, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Taeyong, like Daehyun upstairs, had snuck into her room to see her, and he’d greeted her by tiptoeing silently up behind her and grabbing her suddenly around the waist.

And then the footman standing by the front door opened it, greeting the first guests to arrive and effectively starting the evening.

Even though Yongguk and Evie hadn’t verbally agreed to meet in the library half an hour into the evening, he still knew that’s where he would find her. Over the past few weeks, it had become their special place. They had spent hours together in the library, and... Well, it was where he’d fallen in love with her.

Truthfully, Yongguk had never been in love before in his life. He wasn’t exactly certain what love was supposed to feel like, but... if what he felt for Evie wasn’t love, then he had no earthly idea what would be.

Every spare moment, he found himself thinking of her. Or wishing he was with her. Or coming up with an excuse to find her and spend time with her.

He dreamed of her, both at night and during the day. He imagined his future, and every single time, the only person he imagined sharing it with was her.

When he had approached Daehyun just yesterday and confessed all of this to him, hoping to get some advice, his friend had surprised him by letting out a victorious ‘whoop.’

“More than half the reason I brought you here was because I knew you would like her,” Daehyun had admitted, clapping Yongguk on the back. “I just adore when I end up being right.”

But then Daehyun had given him actually helpful advice and had told him to just... go for it. Tell her how he felt. Put his heart on his sleeve.

Yongguk had never been great about doing that, but he was positive Evie returned his romantic feelings. If she wasn’t quite in love with him yet, maybe she would be in the near future.

But Daehyun was right. He would never know unless he told her.

So, he was going to tell her.

Tonight.

Right now, actually, because -- as he’d suspected -- she was in the library already.

The creak of the door closing alerted Evie to his presence, and she jumped slightly, almost dropping the book in her hands.

“Oh,” she breathed, though a smile came to her lips when she realized who the intruder was. “I was wondering if you’d find me here.”

Yongguk tamped down a smirk as he slowly made his way over to her. “We said we’d be wallflowers together,” he reminded her with raised eyebrows. “We can’t do that if we’re not together.”

“You are absolutely right,” Evie replied, giggling softly.

“And you,” Yongguk said quietly. He was now close enough to truly take in her appearance, and his breath caught in his throat as he attempted to continue speaking. “Are… exquisite.”

Evie’s cheeks pinkened, and her smile turned bashful. “Lydia did my hair. She said this clip --” She lifted one hand to point to the pearl hair clip above her ear. “-- was the perfect finishing touch.”

Since he was now standing directly in front of her, as close as he could get without just taking her in his arms, he lifted his hand to touch the clip. Though, really, he would have taken any excuse to touch her.

“It does look beautiful,” he murmured. “But... you don’t need a perfect finishing touch to make you look beautiful.”

Evie blushed even more, her cheeks now a very deep pink as she tried to hold back a grin. “My Lord, if you keep saying things like that to me, I fear my heart may beat right out of my chest,” she said with a soft chuckle.

Yongguk shifted his gaze from her hair clip to her eyes -- her soft yet sparkling eyes -- and took a deep breath. “Evie... As long as your heart is mine, I don’t care what it does.”

Evie’s grin fell, her eyes widening as she returned his gaze.

“Surely you must know already: my heart is yours. I think it’s been yours since we met, and it...” Yongguk took a nervous breath, hoping he could say this without sounding too forward or too sickly sweet. “It shall be yours for as long as I live.”

Evie’s eyes now filled with tears, and even though Yongguk assumed they were happy tears, he still lifted one hand and gently cradled her cheek. He trailed his thumb delicately underneath her eye, and he found he couldn’t stop his lips from pulling into the tiniest grin.

“Do you really mean that?” Evie replied in a choked whisper.

“I do. I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I never imagined I could feel this way about someone before, and I --”

But she cut him off with a kiss.

Yongguk hummed in surprise, but it only took him a few seconds to gather his bearings and kiss her back. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest and feeling as if the world was turning upside-down because she felt so good against him.

Evie kissed him desperately, her lips obviously inexperienced but also hungry. And when she pulled away, she only did so enough to speak. “I’ve felt the same way,” she whispered, her breath fanning over his lips as she talked. “It’s been so strange because I didn’t understand, but now --”

“I love you,” Yongguk told her, and he tightened his hold on her.

“I love you, too,” Evie replied with the most delighted tone. She sounded happier than any human had any right to be, and Yongguk knew he would never forget this moment for the rest of his life. And then she repeated herself, her smile brighter than any Yongguk had ever seen. “I love you, too.”

Yongguk leaned in to capture her lips in another kiss, and he knew -- deep in his soul, he knew he would never kiss anyone else ever again. And that knowledge made him the most content man to ever walk the Earth.

“I hardly even recognized you,” Joey stated as she arrived on the dance floor with Brian. “You actually don’t look half-bad.”

It took everything in her not to blurt out that he was probably the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her entire life. He was wearing a dark green, well-fitted suit, and he’d slicked his hair back from his forehead. Apparently, that was all it took to make Joey’s heart leap into a frenzy.

“You look...” Brian began, his eyes shifting down to her gold dress. “All right, I guess.”

“What a compliment,” Joey replied as she pursed her lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Brian then slid his arm around her waist, taking her hand in his and pulling her close to him -- maybe a bit too close, but surely no one would notice. And when he began to lead her into a sway in time with the music, her heart began to beat even faster -- maybe a bit too fast, but surely no one would notice.

“So, are you happy now?” Brian asked quietly, just a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why should I be happy?”

“Because you told me I’d better dance with you at the Mistletoe Ball, and now here I am. Dancing with you at the Mistletoe Ball.”

“Yes, but I also said I would dislike dancing with you, and that’s why you should do it. Because you adore doing things I dislike,” Joey pointed out.

Brian let his smirk take over his lips just a little more, and his gaze was rather intense as he looked down at her. “But do you dislike it?”

The tone of his voice -- the gentle teasing, the subtle flirtation -- was enough to make Joey’s breath catch in her throat. “...What would you do if I didn’t?”

Because she certainly did not dislike being so close to him. She did not dislike the feeling of being in his arms.

“It may surprise you to hear I also adore doing things you don’t dislike.”

“You’re right, this is surprising.”

Brian chuckled softly, and Joey couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the sound of his laugh.

“You know...” Brian murmured, almost whispering. “You -- you’re beautiful when you smile.”

“You flatter me,” Joey replied instinctively, trying to tamp down her grin.

“I’m not in the habit of flattering anyone,” he stated. “Especially not you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I only mean -- I like to just be honest.”

Joey lifted her eyebrows slightly, and when she heard the orchestra winding down, finishing up the song, she suddenly felt an urge to take action.

“Can I be honest?” she asked quietly.

Brian simply nodded, his gaze somewhat intense and causing palpitations in Joey’s heart.

She opened her mouth to speak... but the music stopped, and all the couples around them ceased their dancing to applaud politely. So, Joey took Brian’s hand and led him to a small room nearby. Her gaze shifted around to make sure no one noticed, and once she had herded him inside, she closed the door.

Since no one had previously occupied the room, there were no lights on. The almost complete darkness settled around them, and it took a few moments of blinking for Joey to be able to see Brian’s outline.

But she could feel him. She felt his presence and the intensity of his gaze. And she felt his hands gently grasping at her arms.

“Honestly,” she whispered, stepping as close to him as she dared. “I never thought I would meet someone who could put up with my personality. Who would challenge me and -- and accept me and --”

She had been about to say ‘love me,’ but she wouldn’t go there. Not just yet.

“You drive me absolutely insane,” she continued. “But in the best way possible. And I think, after all this time of thinking I would never find my match -- I think... I have. In you.”

Brian didn’t say anything for a few moments... several moments... more than several moments, and Joey was about to excuse herself out of embarrassment.

But then she suddenly heard Brian move, and before she knew it, his lips had crashed down on hers, kissing her more intensely than she’d ever imagined.

Her heart leaped up into her throat, her stomach flipped over and then dropped down to her feet, her breath got caught inside her lungs... but despite her body’s physical reaction to the kiss, Joey accepted his lips. She cradled them and pulled at them and moved her hands to the sides of his face and tangled her fingers in his hair and let out a soft moan when she felt his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

And then Brian suddenly pulled away.

Joey whined instinctively, reaching to kiss him again, but Brian spoke before she had the chance.

“I’m just a valet,” he breathed. “And you’re --”

“If you think I care about that, I’m walking out of here this instant,” Joey interrupted before she pulled him down into another kiss.

As his lips melted her insides, as -- eventually -- his tongue slipped into her mouth and explored, the beginnings of an idea unfolded in Joey’s mind.

A certifiably bonkers idea, but...

When Joey could no longer breathe, when her lungs were burning from kissing Brian for so long, she broke away.

“Take me away,” she panted.

“What do you --”

“I want to be with you, but I don’t know if it would even be possible if we stayed here,” she explained. “Do you want to be with me?”

“More than anything,” Brian whispered, tilting his head to press his forehead to hers.

“Then let’s go. Let’s go somewhere no one will judge us or try to keep us apart. Somewhere we can drive each other crazy and no one will know who we are.”

Brian chuckled softly, leaning in and capturing her lips in a quick, tender kiss.

“You want to run away together?” he smirked.

“Yes. I want to run away together.”

She knew it was crazy, but... truthfully, only her head knew it was crazy.

Her heart knew it was right.

Seo Joon had tried so many times to approach Lydia, but every single time he had taken a step toward her, someone else had beat him to it.

He’d never known Lydia was so popular until tonight.

Of course, she was, though. She was...

Well. She was the most amazing person he knew. Kind and gentle and loyal and caring and beautiful and --

And if he didn’t go through with his plan now, he felt like he would burst.

She was currently speaking with one of the housemaids, and Seo Joon felt rude for interrupting... but he had no choice. Not anymore.

“Excuse me,” he murmured when he approached the two ladies. “I... I was wondering if I might ask Lydia to dance?”

The housemaid tamped down a smirk and took a few steps back.

“Of course,” Lydia answered, her cheeks pinkening as she reached up to slide her hand into his.

Seo Joon led her onto the dance floor, pulling her into his embrace and trying not to blurt out what he needed to tell her. She just looked particularly beautiful tonight, and he had been holding his feelings in for so many years...

But another few minutes wouldn’t kill him. Probably.

“You look lovely,” he said as they began to step around the room in time with the music. “Is that a new dress?”

“Oh -- it’s Lady Evie’s,” Lydia explained with a blushing grin. “She lent it to me.”

“It...” Seo Joon gulped down his nerves. “It looks like it was made for you. I’ve never seen that color blue complement a person so well.”

“Seo Joon,” Lydia chuckled, her cheeks getting pinker. “Well, thank you. I appreciate your kind words.”

Seo Joon simply smiled down at her before silently leading her in the dance for a minute or two. His brain was working a mile a minute at the moment, and he knew if he said anything right now, it would all come out in a jumbled mess.

He’d had feelings for Lydia for so long now; if he didn’t sort through all of his thoughts and emotions, he knew he wouldn’t be able to properly convey to her just how...

Just how much he...

Well, now that he was thinking about it, there was really only one thing to say.

“Lydia, there’s something I need to --”

Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, Lady Evie hurried up to Lydia with an expression of stricken panic.

“Lydia,” she hissed. “Lydia, you must come quickly. I cannot find Joey, and Yongguk cannot find Brian, and we think --”

“Oh, dear,” Lydia said with a whimper as she began to turn away from Seo Joon. “I am so sorry, Seo Joon, please excuse --”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone more sharp than he’d intended. “I have to --”

“Will you help us look for them?” she pleaded as if she hadn’t even heard him.

“Lydia, wait. I need to tell you --”

“Please,” she said, grasping his arm and trying to pull him off the dance floor.

He felt the words coming up his throat, and he knew there was no way he could stop them. He hadn’t wanted to tell her like this -- rushed and in front of so many people -- but he had to. He couldn’t wait even a second longer.

“Lydia, I love you.”

Lydia paused. Lady Evie paused. Even Lord Yongguk paused.

“I love you, and I’m sorry for telling you like this, and I’m sorry for not telling you years ago. Please -- accept my humble apologies for going about this all the wrong way, I just --”

To his -- and probably everyone’s -- surprise, Lydia stepped up to him, rose up on her toes, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you, too,” she replied earnestly. “So very much. You don’t ever have to apologize to me, but will you please help us find Lady Josephine and Brian?”

Seo Joon searched her eyes, his brow furrowed deeply. But before he could agree, Lydia spoke again.

“I promise we will talk more later. But right now --”

He nodded and swiftly took Lydia’s hand, striding off the dance floor and toward the closest room where two people might hide.

Even though Lydia stayed close by his side for the next twenty minutes, Seo Joon was able to focus on the task at hand. He wanted to lock her in a room with him and kiss her like he’d always wanted to... but he knew there was plenty of time for that later.

After searching every single room on the first and second floors of the manor, there was still no trace of either Joey or Brian. Seo Joon and Lydia were headed to the entryway to meet back up with Lady Evie and Lord Yongguk when, all of a sudden, he heard two voices.

The door leading to the downstairs staircase burst open as did the front door to the manor. Anna (and Taeyong) came through one, Grace (and Jaehyun) the other.

“Lady Evie!” Anna cried breathlessly, holding a piece of paper tightly to her chest.

“Evie! Cassie!” Grace called out at the same time.

“What?” Lydia answered, hurrying down the stairs to meet up with the two of them. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“A note,” Anna answered immediately. “From Lady Josephine. She’s --”

“I saw them,” Grace interrupted. “I didn’t know who it was at first, but it was definitely Joey.”

Evie and Yongguk appeared in the entryway then, and Cassie and Daehyun followed behind them.

“What on earth is going on?” Cassie asked, her brow deeply furrowed.

Lydia jumped a little, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to, but she knew she should be the one to break the news to her mistress. “We believe... Lady Josephine... has... run off. With... Brian.”

Before Cassie had the chance to gasp or cry out or yell, Yongguk stepped in front of her and took her hands.

“I will find them. And, if it helps, I know my valet. He would never do anything to hurt your sister.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Cassie told him with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what she’ll do!”

“I’ll go with you,” Daehyun volunteered.

“I’ll drive,” Seo Joon nodded. “Come, we needn’t waste any more time.”

“Please be careful,” Cassie implored, gripping Daehyun’s arms before he had the chance to leave. “I’ve only just got you back.”

“I will return,” Daehyun assured her with a grin. “I promise you.”

He leaned in to kiss her, whispering his love against her lips and then kissing her again.

Yongguk turned to Evie, reaching up and delicately cradling her face in his palms. “We will find them. And as soon as we get back, I’m asking you to marry me, all right?”

Despite the frightening situation, a smile curved Evie’s lips, and she couldn’t stop herself from standing on her toes and kissing Yongguk -- her future husband.

“All right,” she whispered. “Please hurry.”

“Seo Joon,” Lydia called out, hurrying after him and grasping the sleeve of his jacket. “Shall I come with you? I don’t want Lady Josephine to be frightened --”

And she then realized how utterly silly that sounded.

Lady Josephine? Frightened?

Seo Joon, who had turned to face her, looked down at her with a lopsided grin. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he chuckled. “Besides, I think Lady Cassandra needs you here.”

Lydia simply nodded, but she tightened her grip on his jacket before she said, “And... we’ll talk when you return.”

Seo Joon’s gaze softened, and he lifted one hand, pressing it gently against her cheek. “Yes,” he whispered. “When I return.”

And as Cassie, Evie, and Lydia stood in the entryway watching Daehyun, Yongguk, and Seo Joon rushing through the front door out to the garage, they all held their breath.

Evie linked her arm through Cassie’s, holding her older sister close to her side and resting her chin on her shoulder.

Lydia slid her arm across Cassie’s back, her fingers brushing against Evie’s shoulder. Anna and Grace joined them, providing their own comfort and assuring the two ladies of the house that everything would be all right.

Cassie wasn’t sure if everything would be all right. She had no way of knowing what would happen when -- or if -- they ever found Joey and Brian. Nor did Evie.

But what they did know was there had never been a Christmas quite like this at Mistletoe Manor. It was certainly one nobody would ever forget.

The End

62 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Blue Roses (Crowley/Azira)(FlowerShop AU)

The obligatory Flower Shop AU for these Ineffable Dorks, ft. entirely smitten and dramatic demon!Crowley and adorable in every way human!Azira.

There’s more on my FIC MASTERLIST!

(A “hells bell” is another name for the ‘Devil’s Breath’ flower but also of course, a song by AC/DC, who I think Crowley would have thoroughly enjoyed)

Also, idk how this got so long?? I finally forced myself to stop??

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

Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London and in no way could that success be attributed to excellent customer service or the owner being the sort of chap who was friends with everyone.

In fact, Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London despite having the worst customer service imaginable and an owner that obviously enjoyed making every moment in his shop as unpleasant as possible.

Anthony J Crowley was surly and ill mannered, impatient with potential customers and downright aggravating with repeat customers, and underwent transactions as if it irked him to his very soul to sell the plants he raised.

Most times he was hiding away in the green leaves and staring balefully from behind black sunglasses when a customer tried to talk to him, other times he sprawled gracelessly across the counter and smirked at the shock over his sheer unprofessional-ism.

He was awful-- sarcastic and churlish and flippant to the point of disrespect, but his plants were so lush, his flowers so lovely, the succulents beautiful in a nearly unearthly way, that even the Queen herself preferred his arrangements over any others.

Gardening magazines came to interview him, asking about his methods and his secrets, looking for tips and tricks so regular people at home could hope to have gardens as wonderful as the one Crowley boasted in the greenhouse out back.

All inquiries were answered with a smile bordering on insolent, a flash of too sharp teeth, and a snarky, “I’ve had six thousand years to perfect my gardening, why on Earth would I give my secrets away to you people?”

Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the best, its owner quite literally the worst, and seeing as how Crowley had been around since the dawn of time and had seen any and everything the world had to offer, he didn’t see anything changing anytime soon.

But then the empty bookshop across the way was purchased by a blonde man in an old fashioned sort of suit jacket, and life as Crowley knew it changed quite a bit.

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

“What on earth did you do to this plant?” Crowley levelled his fiercest frown at the twenty-something boy across the counter, holding up one brittle, spotted leaf of what had been a gloriously full aloe plant just a week before. “Did you torture it?”

“Of course not!” he sputtered, drawing himself up to rather un impressive height of just about five feet. “I watered it just like I water all my plants! Left it in the sun to give it a bit of perk! If you ask me, you sold me a dying plant and that’s why--eep!”

He shut up abruptly when Crowley’s frown turned into an outright glare. “What I meant was--”

“This aloe was perfect when I sssold it to you!” Crowley announced and the poor boy had the distinct feeling of being threatened by a snake. “How much did you water it?”

“...every day?”

“Every day?” he shouted. “You killed the poor thing! Drowned it like a pile of ratsss! Look at it!”

“I--I--”

“My god--” the word sounded strangled as if it physically pained the shop keep to say it. “--Who on earth kills a cactus? A cactus!”

“Anyway.” the young man said timidly. “I was hoping you’d give me another one? Quite liked it sitting there in my window and--”

“Here.” Crowley pulled a jar of aloe gel from...somewhere... and smacked it into the boy’s hand. “This is all the aloe you get to have. No more plants for you.”

“But--”

“No more plants for you!”

The boy left with his jar of aloe, shuffling out the door feeling inexplicably guilty for having failed at taking care of his plant, and inside the shop Crowley carried the wilting thing back to the greenhouse.

“Humans.” he snorted, tossing away his sunglasses to squint closer at the poor thing. “Six thousand years on this bloody rock and they still haven’t figured out how to take care of a plant. Suppose I shouldn’t be all that shocked considering they’ve barely figured out to take care of themsel--”

“Crowley?” A voice from the front of the shop and Crowley straightened with a jerk, flailing for his sunglasses to cover his rather other worldly eyes. “Crowley my dear, are you in today?”

Oh. Oh there was exactly one human in this city, on this isle, maybe even on the entire planet that made Crowley not want to breathe unholy fire and it would only be--

“Azira.” Crowley purred the name, baring his teeth in his friendliest smile and taking care to hide the sharper bits. “How are you today?”

“As well as always I suppose.” Azira was all things good cheer, an always ready smile topped with sparkling eyes and curls as bouncy as his always ready to burst laugh and Crowley absolutely adored him. “Back in your greenhouse, were you?”

“Coaxing life back into an aloe plant.” Crowley jumped up onto the counter just because he rather liked it when the bookshop owner had to look up at him from beneath damnably-- blessedly-- thick eyelashes. “Are you here for your flowers again?”

“It is the seventh.” Azira grinned and Crowley had to keep his wings from rustling in response, checking over his shoulder just in case he’d lost his hold on them and they were waving black and feathered above his head. “I’m here for the usual amount of blooms. You know, I’ve had so many compliments on those flowers, it’s brilliant how they manage to hold their color a month at a time.”

“I take special care to be sure they do.” Crowley answered, thinking back to the more than stern talking to he’d given the last round of flowers to be sure they stayed lovely and fresh for exactly a month. “Dunno why it is, flowers just seem to respond to me.”

“I’d say you have an angel’s touch.” Azira complimented, positively pink cheeked with it all and Crowley bit back a very un angelic growl at the innocent flirting. “I think something in shades of yellow this time, for the summer months?”

“I have just the thing.” He promised and jumped off the counter to head for the back room, a little extra swing in his already swaggering walk since he’d caught Azira watching more than once. “Do you like blue, Azira?”

“Yes, it’s quite lovely!” Azira called. “If you had a few pieces to put in with the yellow?”

“I’ll check and see.” Crowley called back from behind the door and then looked over at a pile of pink sweet peas and ordered quietly, “You are blue, aren’t you? At least three different shades so hop to it.”

And as an afterthought as he wrapped up a bouquet of yellow dahlias-- “Make it match the color of Azira’s eyes. Get on it now.”

The sweet peas did exactly what someone would expect pink flowers to do--meaning they did absolutely nothing-- until Crowley pointed a finger at them and growled, “I said hop. to. it.”

In a puff of pollen that was as close to talking back as as flower could come, the sweet peas shaded into a rich navy blue, a summer sky blue and then a shade that perfectly matched Azira’s eyes that Crowley mentally dubbed angel blue.

“Oh, Crowley they are perfect!” Azira beamed when Crowley returned with arms full of yellow dahlias and blue sweet peas. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad your flowers live so long you know, otherwise I’d be in here ever few weeks buying more and that would put a damper in my pocketbook, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, you’d come in here more if the flowers didn’t live so long?” Crowley queried. “How interesting.”

“Of course I would.” Azira buried his nose in the flowers and made a happy noise at the sweet scent. “You’re my favorite place on the block, you know. I don’t see why everyone else thinks you’re terrible, you’ve never said a cross word to me at all.”

“Yes.” Crowley had to work hard to keep the hiss from his voice and the smirk from his face. “Yes, I don’t see why they think I’m terrible either. I’ll see next month, then?”

“Of course.” Azira lay down the usual amount of money and turned to leave. “Good day, Crowley!”

“You will grow for two weeks and two weeks only.” Crowley snarled at the departing flower. “Thirteen days and on the fourteenth if you aren’t wilting, so help me someone I will come over and cut you myself!”

If Azira felt the dahlias trembling as he arranged them into a vase by the window, he didn’t think anything of it, just gave them fresh water and a soothing pat on the leaves. “There there, lovelies. Be fresh and sweet for me and brighten up my shop for a while, won’t you?”

He went to work shelving books, humming quietly and letting his thoughts wander back to the oddly good looking flower shop owner who had absolutely no reason to walk quite so provocatively or to wear pants quite that tight or to smile quite so knowingly.

And when Azira’s thoughts wandered too far down that particular path, he set himself to reorganizing the old encyclopedias.

Nothing remotely romantic about the Encyclopedia Britannica.

Nothing at all.

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

Exactly fourteen days later, a sheepish Azira stood in Crowley’s shop and waited with red cheeks for the man to stop practically howling in rage at someone having returned an apple tree that had been so thoroughly stripped of its bark it barely resembled a tree at all any more.

“Now, didn’t I tell you to get a bit of fence to put around it? Keep the deer away?”

“Well yes, but--”

“And you didn’t, so it got chomped to within an inch of its life?”

“I suppose so--”

“And you have the absolute nerve, the unmitigated gall to walk in here and to my face--” Crowley pointed at his sunglasses. “--and demand a refund because the tree didn’t survive? What a great pair of clangin’ brass balls you’ve got, huh?”

“I--I--”

“GET OUT!”

The woman scuttled from the shop muttering something about ‘lousy prick, would piss off the pope’ and ‘absolutely do not have brass balls, how dare he?’ as she went.

“You’re acting as if she maliciously murdered the poor thing.” Azira tsked, stepping up to the counter and touching the sad looking tree. “Just some careless on her part, sure to be forgiven don’t you think?”

“I am not in the business of forgiving.” Crowley snarled. “Especially not when people are lazy and careless and hurt innocent--” he looked up to see Azira’s lovely eyes very wide. “--um, innocent things. Did you need something, Azira? It hasn’t been a month already, has it?”

“Oh no, no it hasn’t been a month.” Azira whispered something encouraging to the tree and then looked up with an embarrassed sort of smile. “On the subject of plants not lasting as long as we hoped, I’m afraid to tell you my flowers have already withered. Don’t know if I watered them too much or forgot to add a little plant food, but I’m here for more.”

He rocked back on his heels, tugging at his coat in a nervous sort of gesture. “You aren’t going to shout at me and accuse me of having brass nethers are you?”

“I would never.” Crowley said solemnly, trying his very hardest not to laugh at how contrite Azira looked. “It’s no fault of your own that cut flowers don’t last long, it might be my snipping the stems at the wrong angle or something along those lines. I certainly won’t be shouting at you for that.”

“Oh thank heavens.” Azira’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Anyway, I’m here to purchase more? In the same blue and yellow if you have it.”

“I’m sure I can make it happen.” Crowley cocked his head, looked Azira over curiously. “I don’t suppose I could make this up to you? No charge for the flowers since its most likely my fault and if you were amenable...” six thousand years on Earth and Crowley had never been more nervous than he was now. “...could I tempt you to dinner? The Ritz?”

“Oh dinner would be---.” Azira looked adorably flustered, flushed to the tip of his ears and playing with buttons of his vest. “The Ritz seems too fancy, though? And of course I’ll pay for more flowers, that isn’t an issue.”

“That isn’t a no to dinner, then?” Crowley planted both hands on the counter and leaned right over into Azira’s space, waggling his eyebrows above his glasses. “Just that the Ritz seems too fancy. Do you have another spot in mind?”

“Well, I--” Azira couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “If you insist, I do love a yummy dinner.”

“What’sss your favorite food, Azira?” Crowley let his ‘ss’ roll lazy at the end of the word, thrilled by the way Azira was so clearly happy about the invitation. “I’ll take you out tonight?”

“....I’m fond of seafood.”

“Excellent.” Crowley hated seafood but that didn’t matter at the moment. “I’ll bring your new flowers by when I pick you up.”

“Oh.” Azira looked as pleased as he’d ever been, eyes dropping shyly to the floor before meeting Crowley’s again. “Thank you.”

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

Crowley had tired of dating or courting or anything even resembling those ridiculous customs almost a hundred years prior, giving up the arduous chase to settle for the occasional tumble with whichever pretty person caught his eyes.

He didn’t really have a sex drive, not in the traditional sense anyway, but it was fun to do all that sort of thing. Sex involved pleasure and lust and coveting and jealousy and half a dozen other things he had every right to indulge in seeing as how he was fallen and all.

Not that fallen really meant anything anymore. Angels themselves roamed around indulging in excess in the form of food or possessions, claiming to be in love and then moving from partner to partner and deciding that any sort of love was blessed love. Demons kept to mainly small time mischief and angels were usually there to thwart them, keeping the balance as to not upset any of the higher powers that were, and things were generally calm.

In fact, if it weren’t for the plants he supernaturally threatened into flourishing and the yellow and black eyes he hid behind the sunglasses, Crowley would feel human most days.

But tonight as he crossed the street to Azira’s bookstore clutching an over large bouquet of yellow and blue roses, Crowley was distinctly aware of the sunglasses over his eyes, the weight of his hidden wings on his back and the way his movements were just a hint too smooth to be natural.

Perhaps Azira would be too smitten to notice.

Oh he hoped so.

“Crowley!” Azira looked simply cherubic in a smart white suit and matching hat, burying his face in the roses and peeking up at Crowley with a shy sort of smile. “Roses! You shouldn’t have!”

“I absolutely should have.” Crowley replied flatly, as if his heart wasn’t practically pounding from his chest. Honestly a mortal had no business looking so sweet. “Do you like the blue?”

“I love it!” Azira dropped the blooms into a waiting vase. “I thought blue roses were all genetically engineered, though? You don’t strike me as the type to use altered flowers?”

“Ah. These are not genetically engineered. They are entirely natural. My secret, of course. That’s why the Queen loves them so.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The roses weren’t genetically engineered at all. An hour previous they had been lovely and pink and Crowley had glared with every shred of his fury until the petals had dipped a glorious shade of midnight blue that contrasted wonderfully with the yellow.

“I love it.” Azira said again, shrugging into his jacket. “Shall we away, then?”

“Shall we?” Crowley offered his arm to the blond. “Dinner awaits.”

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

Dinner with Azira was perfect. The man was charming and sweet and hilarious in a well restrained sort of way, muffling his laughter into a napkin and sipping at his wine, eating each piece of sushi with the sort of joy Crowley had given up on feeling centuries ago.

They talked about Shakespeare, about Hamlet and about the hilarity of how certain plays had been misconstrued to mean something entirely different than the Bard had originally intended.

They chatted about their favorite music, Azira declaring anything written after the forties to be ‘be bop’ and terrible while Crowley waxed almost embarrassingly poetic about the raw truth in the lyrics of rock and roll, the way heartbreak and grief came through so clearly.

“Tell me how you came to be in the flower business.” Azira encouraged over a shared piece of cake called ‘Better than Sex’. “You’re so good at cultivating your plants, does it run in your family?”

“My earliest memories are in a garden.” Crowley said truthfully, and with no small amount of mirth. “I’m particularly partial to apple trees, if I’m being quite honest.”

“Which is why you frightened that poor woman half to death for letting hers be stripped so thoroughly?”

“Exactly.”

On the way back to their street Crowley asked, “Do you sell many books? I feel as if you just sort of hoard them, I never see anyone leaving with a package.”

“Oh.” Azira tipped his head back and smiled up at a flowering tree as they passed underneath. “I’m afraid I purchased the book shop simply so I could be surrounded by books. I have no intention of selling any ever. Too fond of them.”

Crowley burst into surprised laughter. “Honestly? You bought a book shop so you had a place to put all your books?”

“Well, I live above it as well.” Azira huffed. “It’s more that I bought a place to live that happened to have extra bookshelves.”

“Of course you did, angel.” Crowley’s smile was more fond than he meant it to be, the pet name slipping out before he noticed. They’d known each other nearly a year now, and it had been only the second visit when Azira had been framed in the window with sunlight filtering through his hair, ringed in a perfect halo and Crowley had-- embarrassingly enough-- shattered a planter pot on the floor he’d been so stunned at the thought of Azira being an actual angel.

He wasn’t an angel of course, and Crowley figured that out by the end of the day, but for a moment the man had been so stunning, so ethereal, so perfectly poised as if to take flight that angel had stuck firmly in Crowley’s mind--

--and now it had dropped into open conversation and it had been a long time since Crowley had been so flustered he full on reverted to snake form, but he could feel the scales slipping up his back, could feel his knees turn to jello and his eyes jerked towards an alley as they passed, wondering if it were an appropriate place to slither off to and--

“--angel, is it?” Azira bumped Crowley’s shoulder teasingly. “It’s the blond hair, isn’t it? I’ve been told I look terribly cherubic. Baby faced, even.”

“You’re lovely.” That hadn’t been meant to slip out either, but angel had gone over so well Crowley figured a compliment couldn’t hurt. “And cherubic doesn’t have to mean baby faced, all angels are fierce in their own right.”

“Well then, I suppose I won’t take any offense.” Azira paused in front of his bookshop. “Could I invite you up for a drink?”

Temptation, thick and familiar and well-- tempting, even if the drink was probably offered with nothing more than friendship in mind.

“I have to be up early with the plants.” Crowley said instead and Azira nodded in understanding. “Tonight was fun though.” it was easy to miracle a flower behind Azira’s back and offer it up with a smile that stretched to a grin when Azira took it with a pleased little gasp. “We should do it again. Tomorrow?”

“Dinner tomorrow?”

“If you’d like.”

“Oh.” Pink cheeks, and Crowley’s wings rustled in anticipation. “I’d like that. Very much.”

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

Dinner the next night went just as well as it had the first time around, and dinner the night after that was wonderful as well.

Then there were afternoons in the park, Crowley lounging on a blanket while Azira read poetry. Breakfasts of delicate crepes and rich coffee eaten on the rooftop cafe of fancy hotels. Music by the river, Azira insisting he didn’t dance and Crowley dragging him up onto the grass to sway the beat anyway.

For an entire month they met up every day for one reason or another, and every time Crowley came with flowers until the bookshop was nearly over flowing. He miracled blooms out of thin air to tuck into blonde hair, pressed them between the pages of books for Azira to find later, shut down the shop for no reason at all than to stroll down the street and hand over a carnation simply because he could.

Six thousand years and Crowley had never met anyone he’d wanted to see three--four--five days in a row but after a month of casual get togethers and romantic dates and long walks in the moonlight, Crowley had to admit that he was perhaps more than smitten with the book shop owner.

And then he called round for dinner on Saturday and Azira was ‘terribly sorry, but I’ve already made plans’ and stepped out with a tall man in a grey suit, dark hair and dark eyes and a booming sort of voice Crowley could hear even from down the street.

The next morning someone came by to pick up a few plants Her Majesty had ordered, and everything in Hell’s Bells Botanicals was withering away in their pots, leaves spotted and flowers wilted, vines limp and succulents dehydrated and a crankier than usual owner fallen dramatically onto the counter top, legs splayed and arms over his eyes, moaning loudly as if the very world were ending.

“Uh, Mr. Crowley, sir.” the customer asked timidly. “I’m here for the plants, the ones for Buckingham?”

“Fuck. Off.” Crowley muttered. “Right this moment or I’ll breathe hell fire and singe that stupid hairstyle right off your Botoxed forehead.”

“I--” the customer considered his options, thought about how much he liked his hair and wisely decided not to press the issue, letting himself out the front door, leaving the volatile owner to wallow in a black mood.

It was lunch time before the bell rang again and this time a cheerful, “Crowley, my dear?” had the demon falling right off the counter and scrambling to right himself, affecting as cool and casual a posture as he could in an attempt to not let Azira know exactly how long he’d been sulking.

“Ah. Azira.” Crowley snapped his fingers and growled something the human didn’t catch and every plant in the shop straightened and tried to green up again. “How are you?’

“Well enough, I suppose.” Azira looked extra cheerful today and it grated on Crowley’s nerves. “I was hoping you could sell me a potted plant today? I love the flowers, but I’d like to try my hand at actually growing something. Seeing as how you live so close, you could come over and help me water it and things, right?”

“Azira, you wound me. You only want me for my flowers?” Crowley’s hurt expression was only partly feigned. “And here I thought we were having so much fun with our dates! But then of course, you went out with someone else last night didn’t you?”

“Oh and about that as well.” Azira didn’t look guilty or embarrassed or even shy about it. “I’ve decided I’d much rather have dinner with you. I’m afraid Gabriel isn’t half as interesting as he thinks he is and I’m not exactly sure what his job is or where it takes him, but he’s only ever in London a few times a year and this was his first time visiting me at my new shop--” he waved his hand airily.

“Anyway, I thought if you weren’t busy tonight, perhaps you’d come over? I could cook for you! I bought a lovely bottle of wine and we could listen to old records and maybe just sit together?”

“Oooh sitting together.” Crowley didn’t mean to sound so snarky, or perhaps he did, but he was still a little irritated at being stood up-- even if they hadn’t had an official date-- for some one named Gabriel. He’d never met a Gabriel he liked and he was sure this fellow would be no different. “Moving awfully fast, aren’t we? Did you and your gentleman caller sit together last night?”

“If you’re going to act like that, consider yourself uninvited.” Azira informed him with a sniff, and Crowley gaped at the human for a full minute. “I had every intention of kissing you tonight but if you’re going to be rude, maybe I won’t.”

“You’d hold your kisses hostage!” Crowley was very nearly outraged at the thought. “Angel, how can you be so cruel!”

“Well they’re my kisses to withhold.” Azira was nearly laughing and Crowley relaxed. “Bring me blue roses again and I’ll forgive your little fit. Don’t be so jealous, love. It’s a terrible color on you.”

“All colors are good on me.” the vines behind Crowley’s head grew an inch or so when the censure left his voice. “And I’ll bring you blue roses.”

“Leave the sunglasses here, maybe?” Azira asked hopefully. “We’ve known each other for a year and have been out for dates for weeks now and I’ve yet to even see your eyes.”

“Ah.” Crowley hesitated. “My eyes are... well they aren’t entirely... you see the thing is--”

“Tell me tonight.” Azira blew him a kiss that had no business making Crowley smile so big. “Come hungry, yes?”

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

“You weren’t really jealous of Gabriel, were you?” Azira asked after a delicious dinner and custardy dessert and a bottle and most of another bottle of wine. “Not really, I mean.”

“I suppose I wasss a little.” Crowley admitted, letting the wine roll rich around his tongue. “Stupid of me, really. We’ve been seeing each other for a month and I’ve been acting like we’ve been going together for years. Ugly thing, jealousy.”

“Sort of flattering.” Azira said hesitantly. “In certain circumstances and in the right doses, maybe.”

“Maybe.” Crowley plucked one of the blue roses he’d brought over off the side table and held it to his nose. “But I’m sorry all the same. For being obnoxious, I mean. Not for being jealous. Can’t help that, sort of comes with the territory.”

“And what territory is that?” Azira asked, tucking himself into the corner of the couch Crowley hadn’t taken over with his long legged sprawl. “Hm?”

“Oh you know.” Crowley was drunk and half past caring, ready to share his secrets with his angel just for the sake of saying it out loud. “Angels get to be all pure and patient. We are supposed to be jealous and ill tempered. I enjoy it for the most part, shouldn’t really complain but--”

“Angels.” Azira repeated. “You mean wings and halos and all that?”

“You... are not as surprised as you should be.” Crowley said slowly and Azira replied, “Yes well, I’m very drunk. Nothing’s very shocking right now. Besides, it people can believe in aliens and the earth being flat, it’s not much of a reach for me to believe in angels--”

“--and demons.” Crowley finished, and whipped off his glasses with a flourish, baring his snake eyes. “Not much of a reach at all.”

“Look at that.” Azira’s eyes went comically wide. “My goodness. My goodness. My good--”

“Say something else besides that.” Crowley demanded, the rose crushing in his fingers as he clenched his fist anxiously. “And if you’re too upset about it all, I can make it so you don’t remember tomorrow, erase all of this last month if you want. We can go right back to you buying flowers from me once a--”

“Hell’s Bells!” Azira blurted then, and Crowley frowned.

“What?”

“Hell’s Bells!” he said again, clapping his hands as laughter bubbled up and over. “Oh god, a demon running a flower shop and calling it Hell’s Bells! Is it after the song or that awful flower or some sort of mix of the two?”

“I--” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “A mix of the two, thought it would be clever.”

“Very clever.” Azira toasted him and then refilled the glass. “More wine, my dear?”

“You’re far too drunk to process what’s happening.” Crowley decided. “Which means there will be no kissing tonight either. I’ll go home and let you sober up and if you want to talk in the morning--”

“Hell’s Bells.” Azira was still chuckling over it. “No wonder your plants grow so well. Put the fear of god into them, didn’t you? Or the fear of Satan? The fear of some higher power, right? Is that why you have the best plants in all of London?”

“You really are sloshed, aren’t you?” A long suffering sort of sigh because while Crowley really had been looking forward to a kiss tonight, he was sort of relieved to have another chance to have this conversation sober.

Announcing that he was less than mortal usually involved a lengthy explanation if the person bothered to stick around, at least a hundred mostly moronic and fairly invasive questions and seeing as how it had been over a hundred years since the last time Crowley had even attempted this sort of talk, he had to imagine now there would be hours and hours of research on the internet as well.

He wasn’t looking forward to any of that, but at least if Azira was sober Crowley would have the chance to explain and properly gauge his--

“Did you magic up blue flowers for me because I love them?” Azira whispered and Crowley nodded. “And make sure my blooms lasted an entire month?”

“...I did.”

“And only two weeks this last time so you had an excuse to ask me for dinner?”

“...yes?”

“Adorable.” Azira leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes, a peaceful smile on his face. “Simply ador...demon making blue flowers...so sweet...”

Crowley left him sleeping there on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his shoulders and wine put away. “Goodnight, angel.” he whispered, and pointed sternly at the blue roses. “Be beautiful for him, or so help me Satan I will pull your thorns off one by one, don’t think I wont.”

The bookshop door closed behind the demon, and the blue roses quivered in terror.

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

Morning dawned bright and early and Crowley came downstairs from his flat to open the shop only to find Azira already standing outside, tapping on the glass eagerly.

“What are you doing here so early?” Crowley kept the closed sign on the door and ushered Azira in. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Let me see.” Azira demanded, motioning to Crowley’s sunglasses. “I have to know I wasn’t dreaming.”

“...alright.” The moment of truth, the moment where Crowley knew if Azira really was alright with all of it, or if he and his plants were going to be alone for another millenia.

Azira gasped when he saw the yellow and black eyes, but then he let out a very undignified snort of laughter and asked, “So do the other demon’s think it’s funny or cheesy you call this place Hell’s Bells?”

“I don’t make a habit of talking to the others.” Crowley set his glasses down slowly. “Got tired of them after a few thousand years. Are you really alright with this?”

“Gabriel’s not human.” Azira informed him then. “He refers to himself as a celestial being and we met quite by accident almost ten years ago. He’s the one who got me most of my older books but there’s nothing romantic there, I can assure you. He’s pompous and arrogant and sort of an asshole, if I’m being honest. Anyway not half as fun as you are. Plus--” and here Azira looked hilariously offended. “--he makes fun of me for eating sushi and likes to brag that he doesn’t need to eat so he doesn’t bother. How that is bragging, I’ll never know, but we have drinks every few months or so and he usually brings me a new book.”

“The archangel Gabriel has drinks with you every few months.” Crowley repeated. “And you think he’s an asshole?”

“Yes.” Azira nodded. “Quite. Anyway, I’m used to having a supernatural being hanging around, must be why I’m so comfortable around you.”

“Being friends with an archangel is very different than having dinner with a demon.” he pointed out. “Very different.”

“It’s certainly more fun.” Azira countered. “And you’re much more handsome than he is. Though knowing you’re not quite human sure explains why you walk that way. All distracting and hip swinging?”

“That hassss nothing to do with me being not quite human.” Crowley teased, and Azira turned bright red. “And I’d never make fun of you for eating sushi.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Azira took a hesitant step forward, then another even closer. “And I’d still like to kiss you, if that’s quite alright. Unless you don’t do that sort of thing with people like me--OH!”

He startled when Crowley snatched him up tight and crushed a less than chaste kiss to his mouth, both arms wrapping around his waist, a tongue that felt maybe a hint longer than normal playing at his lips, the demon practically glommed onto his body for several minutes until Azira had to pinch at his side and remind Crowley, “Some of us have to breathe, you know!”

But it was hard to be irritated about things like losing oxygen when Crowley finally let him up for air and Azira noticed the vines climbing the walls, the flowers budding and then blooming one after another, and sunflowers turning to bask in the glow of their affection.

And swirling in gentle circles above their heads, dozens and dozens of rose petals in different shades of blue, brushing over Azira’s cheek and landing in Crowley’s hair.

“Oh my.” Azira’s eyes lit up. “Just lovely.”

“Just lovely.” Crowley repeated, kissing him one more time. “Angel.”

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

But lately things had changed at the shop just enough to encourage even more customers through the door. Now when Crowley took an irresponsible plant owner to task, the book shop owner from down the street was usually perched on the counter behind him, countering every harsh word with something encouraging and light hearted.

The plants still trembled in fear of Crowley’s wrath, but they also shivered in delight as Azira came along behind his boyfriend and soothed them with gentle pats at their leaves and encouraging words to the flowers.

When Crowley fussed and fumed and hissed through his words, Azira coaxed his wings into view and set about smoothing the ruffled feathers until Crowley wasn’t quite as fangy or scaley.

And the next time Gabriel came to town, he was greeted at the door to the bookshop by one very delighted demon who shoved a bouquet of black roses into his arms, flipped him off with no small amount of glee, and shut the door in his face.

Azira laughed at least once a day over the name of the shop, changed his phone ringtone to ‘Hell’s Bells’ by AC/DC though he loathed the sound of it and accused Crowley of liking the terrible bebop just to be obnoxious.

“I’d never, angel.” Crowley swore, and then conjured up a blue rose to boop his love on the nose. “I might have helped them write the song though.”

“Oh for heavens--”

“--hell’s.” Crowley corrected.

“--for someone’s sake.” Azira finished and Crowley kissed him just because he could.

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

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thesalemsaga · 4 years

Text

𝟲 — 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘆

— 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.4k words

𝙨 : they’ve left the walls, and now it seems like they’re unstoppable. however, having to make a short stop, they soon uncover the savagery that has taken hold of the world, putting their training to the test.

“ doesn’t your eye-sight hurt? ”.

alexander peered up once seren’s voice caught his ears.

she had been sitting at his side for a good hour, glancing over his shoulder whilst his index finger trailed beneath the lines consisting of runes and symbols that she had never dreamt of seeing before. for the first time she took knowledge over how his fingers were tainted with ink, red from hours of writing, pouring every last pint of energy he had into his studies.

seren had seen copious books thrown in front of her when exam season hit the calendar, but nothing could compare to what this boy probably had to sit through to be a qualified cleric. she took to admire alexander for how he persevered, it didn’t seem like it was labor for him, he must enjoy it to some degree. even now, when he could be talking to the others, growing closer to them, strengthening bonds, he continues reading as if to never give himself a break from the school they probably wouldn’t see for a while.

yet, the more she thought about it, the clearer it became. maybe it was for the very reason that they would not face their school for some months that he clung to the only thing that might bring a sense of normalcy. school is hell, albeit the only thing they’ve ever known within the walls. it kept them grounded, centered on something. even seren, an avid daydreamer, allowed herself to be consumed by her studies and let it became the center of her life.

now she realizes that she has to distance herself from the only life she’s ever known and replace it for one she could not control, where the laws didn’t bend at her will, because nature kneels to no one.

alexander was wise, though, to keep something to occupy his mind. who knows how long it’ll be before they start to lose their ways and begin to cave into the reality of the world outside?

“ m-my father got me these at the start of the year after . . . some glasses that made my eye-sight worse. these ones have steadily improved it, though ”, he replied after a moment, immediately drawing his attention once more to the book he grasped within his hands.

seren hummed, swinging her feet slightly. “ is your hair also always like that? ”, she questioned. she found herself in a very questioning mood that day, maybe it was an attempt to distract herself from the utter boredom she might face during this flight to egypt.

“ like what? ”.

“ that bowel-shape cut. ”

his face suddenly incredibly pink, red rising to the tip of his ears. seren’s eyes widened for a moment with slight realization, “ w-well, you get what i mean. always the same style, quite conservative. do you ever switch it up? ”.

“ how? i find it unnecessary. and a waste of time, if you ask me. ”

chuckling, the girl rested her back against her seat and ran her fingers through her own hair, “ not exactly. i find that boys switch up their hairstyles more than girls on some occasions. have you seen percy? one day he has a perm, the next he’s wearing a beret. ” it was super cute.

alexander appeared timid all of a sudden. “ well i’m not percy, seren. i find that i quite like my look. sure, the glasses can be fussy and the hair is hard to cope with in the morning, but it’s my signature look. like your hair bow ”.

seren defensively grasped her ointment, “ i have my bow but i still style my hair differently on occasions. i customize it, explore my way of dressing. it’s actually a great way to learn to appreciate your looks, looking at yourself in different ways. ”

alexander seemed unwilling to counter, attention on the book once more. taking a deep inhale, the girl smiled and reached over. he had a signature look himself, that face. his entire face was a signature because his features were so firm and bold and beautiful, it would still be him even if he chose to wear something different or styled his hair.

she found herself removing his glasses, ignoring the fuss he appeared ready to put on, and messed up his hair, bringing the locks hiding his forehead and pushing them back. thankfully, they fell right into place. capturing a glance at him, seren felt like she was looking at a different person, she smiled to herself, content with the transformation that had occurred under her doing.

“ w-what? ”.

seren shook her head slightly, “ you look good. you look even better, actually. people never realize how beautiful they are when others are looking at them. you still look like you, in case you’re wondering. but just without the glasses. stop squinting~ ”.

“ s-sorry ”, letting out a small laugh, alexander raked a hand through his locks and seren was barely able to contain her excitement, he seemed to be liking it! “ i just really can’t see without my glasses. contact lenses are hard to wear, as well, i tear up and people think i’m constantly upset. ”

seren peered at the frames in her hands and hummed, “ can’t you enchant yourself to fix your own eye sight? or are long-term conditions out of question? i hear only a witch doctor can do that. ”

“ percy could. he’s a mage. the magic i access is limited only to healing and enchanting things that might bring people at death’s door. a stab wound, i can deal with. a cancer or a chronic illness, i’m afraid i can’t deal with that. believe me, i’ve tried ”, he countered, flipping aimlessly through his pages. seren’s eyes suddenly frowned. “ i would ask percy but . . . it’s too much to ask. it would demand a crazy amount of mana. ”

seren held her breath.

she’d witnessed it herself, the moment percy went pale the night before and for just a split second, it felt like he went totally limp before managing to catch himself. mana was the fuel source for anyone dealing with magic, and if you drain it, it eats your energy away in chunks if you use your magic excessively and recklessly.

alexander pushed on, “ besides, he could end up panicking and blinding me for life. i know he feels slightly reluctant when dealing with his magic. he hesitates all the time in magical art lessons. it’s like he’s scared of what he’s capable of. ”

“ well isn’t everyone? having that much power should scare anyone ”, seren shook her head, staring at her feet. “ magic is serious business, that’s why i felt lucky to not have inherited it. because as a swordsman, i have control of who my target is. as a mage, i might end up burning a whole village to kill just one man. ”

the aircraft suddenly shifted, and the girl caught herself in case she went overboard. it wasn’t turbulence, it seemed like they were going to start to make a descent into the territory they’d dreamed of stepping into. she stood up, clinging to the security railings on the roof and walls. “ what’s happening? ”, she called.

perseus peeked his head out of the cabin door with his cheeky, boxy grin. “ we’re about to land! ”, he replied over the sound of the engine roaring, but as they neared their descent, all that she could hear was the whistle of the wind. beyond the windows, she saw red. well, red soil.

the landscape in which they’d landed resembled a savanna region which you wouldn’t have expected to find in egypt a long time ago. the dirt paths were overtaken by spreading grass, tall acacia trees scattered around but not close enough to resemble a full forest. no animals in sight, as expected. and if there were, they probably fled when they heard the aircraft landing.

landing in a desolate terrain that a human being has probably not stepped into yet was a thrilling idea, albeit terrifying. because if there weren’t humans roaming then there had to be something else, lurking, aware that something strange and out of their world had just touched down on their soil.

it felt forbidden, like they shouldn’t be here.

“ are we in the sinai peninsula? ”, seren quizzed.

at the shake of kailen’s head, she was growing confused. “ i made an emergency landing because i need to figure this compass out. if i try to do it on hair it’s just going to waste fuel. we might as well pause here until i get this thing working. ”

“ well, what do we do in the meantime? ”.

“ explore for a bit, i suppose. ”

romeo was the first one out once the hatchet opened. seren stepped out and landed on the grass with her two feet. the sensation was albeit the same but knowing that they were no longer caged within stone walls and now roamed the wild, it was no wonder her heart felt heavier, blood pumping with excitement.

what she did notice was how unbearably hot it was, the sun smiling down at them, toasting the girl beneath her dense military clothes. they only weighed her down, and if she was going to traverse through desserts and dry lands, there was no point wearing it.

after ripping her jacket off, she felt a massive improvement, loosening one button of her white shirt and slipping her gloves off. “ s-seren, what are you doing? ”, she heard perseus stammer behind her. she blinked at him cluelessly.

“ i’m burning hot. besides, these things are only going to slow us down. we’re not representing valhalla out here, we’re by ourselves. ”

pacing forward, she began to investigate her surroundings with a little more liberty. time was of the essence, but they were not expecting to reach salem within a week, that was very unlikely. so whilst tying her hair back with her ribbon, she took to admiring the trees, the landscape, the mountains in the distance.

“ from what i heard ”, alexander began suddenly, crouching down to take a sip of his water. “ the peninsula became densely populated with trees. it used to be more of a dessert, mountain range. now it’s practically a rain forest. most of the middle east is a rain forest. ”

which would mean that there would be less dessert to traverse, which the girl was thankful for. she’d heard rumors that during the apocalypse period, the world underwent a series of freezes that meant temperatures drastically cooled down and even countries that used to be in the line of the equator became sudden areas stained with trees and wildlife. egypt was one of them.

and with cooler temperatures, trees and humidity, the wildlife can be, well, wild. the girl realized that after spotting something on the dry dirt just after a patch of grass. something that seemed to resemble footprints, huge ones.

whoever they belonged to, the creature had hands resembling a human being if it wasn’t so thin and so lanky, and she was certain she had just come across claw marks embedded into one of the nearby acacias. crouching, the girl ran her fingertips over the prints and hummed.

“ you okay? ”, romeo asked.

she motioned him over and pointed to the foot prints, measuring at least at three metres in length. “ what kind of animal would you find in the middle of these plains who could have such a claw? ”, she questioned.

“ dragons, or some sort of lizard-resembling creature ”, the gunner replied, grazing his fingers over the marked dirt. “ these aren’t new footprints, though, they have most likely been here for at least three or four days. they’ve not faded yet because of the lack of wind. ”

seren frowned, looking off at the set of mountains in the distance. casting her memory back to when she met alexander in the library, she had pulled out a book on the creature at hand. it spoke of the domains dragons took to, and long mountain ranges were some of them.

hopefully we’ll be out of here before such dragon can spot us, she prayed.

“ hey, i think i found a lake or pond! ”.

they immediately stood and walked on over to where evangelos stood and pointed. there was certainly a body of water, a stream of some sort that most definitely belonged to a greater source, perhaps something verging off of the nile river. “ it’s pretty cool, i’d suggest maybe getting clean water or cooling down before we head back ”, perseus called.

seren did just that, crouching over the edge and taking the water in her hands, holding it to her nose. no funny odor, and based off of how evangelos was drinking, it had no funny taste either. and it wasn’t pristine, yet she could at least see the bottom of the pond.

she refilled her water bottle and set it to be cooled, and then splashed her face a couple of times and instantly felt better, headache simmering down with each passing second until it stopped. “ you’d never would have thought the world would be peaceful like this after stepping outside ”, romeo began, grinning to himself.

“ this won’t account for the rest of the world. for all we know, the rest could be filled with monsters of all sorts trying to kill us. but it’s nice that there’s a safe haven here, minus the dragon footprints ”, evangelos ran a hand through his now damp hair. “ i asked kailen. we’re apparently very close to cairo. we might even be able to see the pyramids if we fly low enough. ”

“ seriously? ”, seren gasped and beamed. “ that’d be so great! but . . . we’d be best off staying on higher ground to avoid being spotted or alarming anyone we don’t want knowing we’re here. ”

it was unknown just how for salem’s hand stretched. eastern europe was occupied completely by her henchmen and it was why they advanced so easily down into the balkan countries. the empire military was being forced back into greece as their defenses fell, their greatest fear being that salem would find crete soon enough, and the last set of human beings would be crushed under her wrath.

earth would have to start again, smaller, weaker, with no means of fixing what they had since it was going to be stripped from them anyway. seren’s blood boiled, it came to a point where she was done questioning the morale of a person like salem, of why people go to these lengths to pursue things for their own benefit. evil people just exist, they don’t need a reason.

she would be damned if she let the woman get close to her home. having been spotted in russia already probably had her hiding out in fear, but fear brings panic, and in the midst of panic, she might do something catastrophic and seren promised her father the woman would be dead before such thing could happen.

“ do you think . . . there are human beings outside of the walls? ”.

seren turned to perseus and rose a brow, “ separate populations? ”.

the boy nodded. “ yeah. people who weren’t given a chance of treading into the walls like everyone else, people who isolated themselves. people who saw the wild as their home and never thought to abandon it. different languages, a different culture. i think it’d be nice if we came across something like that ”, he suddenly chuckled. “ though, let’s hope they’re not aggressive. ”

“ for all we know, they could also believe they’re the last people on earth. we’d surely give them quite a scare, being armed to the brim ”, evangelos stated, tilting his head. “ human beings can be sympathetic despite their differences. i don’t think we’re going to get killed at the hands of people like that, though. that’d be a waste. ”

it was never said whether there were humans beyond the walls. seren knew the government worked hard to expand the walls at the same pace that the population grew, allowing people to situate their homes in zones they deemed ‘safe.’ never was it said that they made contact with other people, and if they did, they kept it as a very, very good secret.

they suddenly jumped at an echoing sound and threw their gazes over their shoulders to find kailen at the open hatchet, waving them over with a grin. “ i’ve fixed it! ”.

romeo grumbled, “ about time. ”

once inside the ship, seren found alexander tapping away at some control buttons on the board, the compass glowing green and seemingly working pretty well. kailen had pulled out a map of the old world, and he prayed that the land structure hadn’t changed exactly.

“ it seems like we’re going in a more north east direction. as soon as we get into sinai, we’ll start treading through the middle east, and even more east just to avoid the baltics. from what i heard, salem doesn’t have much control over china and mongolia. so we have to enter through there ”, kailen spoke whilst running a red pen, tracing through path and drawing what seemed to be a border around the baltics. it was a good tactic, avoiding where the enemy’s front line was. he looked back at seren who stood just behind him. “ what do you think? ”.

the girl shook her head, “ it’s perfect. what we have to be mindful of is not disturbing any of her minions in the area, but we can worry about that later. how much fuel are we on? ”.

kailen winced, lowering his head. “ three hours, at least. t-though, i hear there is a place where we might find some . . . ”.

time skip . . .

the flight wasn’t too long, but it was long enough for the girl to catch another nap. the seats were incredibly uncomfortable, the components of the seat belt digging into her torso and waking her up when the airship would shift at times. the feeling only relieved when she had an idea.

evangelos had been sitting beside her quietly, doing what appeared to be doodling on his phone. valhalla students were given school phones that aimed mostly at giving them a better experience in their classes, and they had longer lasting batteries, which is why evangelos seemingly whipped it out. some adjustments made by alexander meant that the school could not trace them.

the seat beside the male was free, and the seat belt component was lowered which meant that what she had in mind could work, it was just a matter of whether evangelos would be comfortable. seren bit her lip and sat down beside him regardless, he lifted his gaze and glanced at her. “ what’s up? ”.

she didn’t say a word, resting her head against his shoulder and finding herself feeling way more comfortable as opposed to before, smiling softly to herself. evangelos merely held his breath, but made no attempt at moving or pushing her away. you’d think she would be more cautious around him of all people.

in reality, she would have felt awful for avoiding him because of that dueling incident. her arms were still recovering, albeit slowly. and the burn marks became heavily obvious in the daylight, hence her attempts at hiding them as best as she could.

and she probably to avoid making evangelos feel bad.

“ comfortable? ”.

the girl nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips slightly. she was bothered by the marks she saw on the dirt road despite romeo’s reassurance. in all honesty, she was far more concerned with the idea of there being a dragon roaming the heavens than getting to salem.

kailen had stated there was a nearby bay area on the coast of northern sinai where human dealings had stained. some sort of power plant from a long time ago had exploded, leading to the area becoming unstable and too toxic to support human life. after many, many years, it looked as if the toxicity levels were low enough for the fuel to be deemed safe enough to power the airship’s engine.

what didn’t bide well with the girl was the lack of a hostile presence ever since their journey began. they had not encountered one enemy aside from clues pointing to a dragon terrorizing the nearby area, but to come face to face with an abnormal creature was still on their to-do list. it was silent, peaceful, nothing she was complaining about but it drained the thrill from the situation and made it feel as if they were sneaking out to a party rather than, you know, saving the world.

that would only mean that whatever they encountered soon was going to shake her to her core. hence why apprehension to easing down and resting too much, but she found evangelos’s shoulder to be comfortable. his presence radiated that of protection aside from intimidation. and he was warm.

seriously warm.

“ did it hurt? ”.

“ hm? ”.

his fingers grazed gently over the surface of her arms. his touch was delicate, not an ounce of mal intention with it. it was perhaps the most docile thing she had seen from evangelos from the moment she met him. her thoughts drifted once more to the duel, to the internal shock she experienced after that impact, the agony that came from the burns, the way her bones rattled in fear when she realized her weakness.

“ well, of course it hurt. but does it still hurt? ”, he sounded concerned, and a part of her ached on his behalf. to have everyone glance at you as if you’re some sort of monster when your anger builds and you act upon it must be something nobody wants to necessarily deal with. she hurt for him. and she didn’t see a reason for holding a grudge against an injury that will heal. sure, the marks will always be there. but they will never be a reminder that evangelos was a violent person. ever.

seren glanced at his hand and chuckled, patting it gently. “ it did. but what hurts me most is that you’re still hanging on. it’s healing, as most injuries do. i just want you not to worry about it when there are other things we have to heal ”, she said.

and that was not her attempt at shutting down the conversation, it was simply a way to reassure evangelos in case his thoughts were scrambled, in case he somehow considered himself as the monster people painted him as.

“ like . . . the wounds of people who might have been denied a home within the walls. the wounds of people who never got a chance to be saved. if they’re out there, then we have to help them heal. isn’t that what heroes are supposed to do? ”.

evangelos started, “ y-yeah, but . . . ”.

“ my wounds will heal. memories stay but it’s how you remember them that counts. i don’t remember it as an attack. i remember it as a mistake. and we all learn from them. ”

it was clear she wanted to say more to nurse the situation, to put his mind at rest but she was cut off when the engine began to roar a little louder. upon listening out, it became apparent it was not the engine. but rather, waves crashing against each other. an ocean. a beach.

when the ship landed and the hatchet opened once again, seren felt a chill crawl down her spine when the pristine blue sky she had seen previously turned bleak, grey. lifeless. something you’d expect to see on a cold island in northern europe, not in a tropical region blessed with greenery and life.

upon stepping out, it felt like entering another planet.

craters of sharp rocks and dips made the landscape, the waves thrashing roughly against the shores. it was violent, turbulent, as if a storm slowly crept above them. it was a phantom menace, one that would bare its fangs and strike the rocks with pummeling strength. it took her a couple of steps back suddenly to avoid getting hit by a wave. when her back hit kailen’s chest, she let out a minor squeak.

but he applied a firm hand to her shoulder and nodded to the others, “ alright, there has got to be an oil source nearby. the toxicity will not kill you since it’s harmless at this point. but still be careful. fill the tanks as best as you can. if there’s any sign of movement, don’t wait. just act. ”

the tanks he mentioned weren’t large but it was enough for each member to carry one individually. kailen had suggested that he stayed in the ship whilst they went off to get the oil before quickly returning.

but seren was apprehensive to leave him alone. “ are you sure you don’t want someone to stay behind? ”, she quizzed as they prepared to leave. “ you know we can’t exactly communicate without alerting the academy of where we are, what if something happens to you? ”.

kailen gave her his usual comforting smile, one which causes every suspicion or worry to practically vanish. but it didn’t work this time around on seren. “ i’ll be okay. you just hurry back. it’d be nice to get going before night fall. ”

there was no use convincing him, of course.

seren hurried just like everyone else. it was in their best interest to hurry in order to avoid enemies, but her worry remained grounded on kailen who had stayed in the ship. and although he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he might not be able to resist a mob of enemies, in whatever form they manifest themselves in. dragons, goblins, maybe even the very henchmen from last night.

“ kailen can handle himself, seren ”, romeo briskly reminded her with a quick pat on the back before hurrying her along. “ he’s an archer, sure. but his semblance won’t fail him in an attack if he gets swarmed. trust me, he will be okay. ”

seren chuckled, “ it’s a habit of mine to worry. i was even concerned when he was with alex fixing the compass. i suppose i feel anxious when we’re not in a group, if you can understand that. ”

romeo hummed, and swung the tank in his arm in a childish fashion that incited a grin from the girl. even if they were escaping mortal danger and running towards the enemy, he still acted as if it was a walk in the park. “ i don’t. but i reckon it’s due to the fact that i know their skills. and i know how strong they are individually. don’t worry, you’ll only exhaust yourself if you keep panicking during the journey. ”

to a great extent, she agreed. but this was also a habit that she has had from a young age, like her habit of taking the blame when it wasn’t hers to claim. unhealthy habits, as one might call it. it was going to take her a lot more time to grow distant from that constant worry. it wasn’t as if she was doubting their skills, they were in higher ranks than her and had stellar combat performances. yet . . .

a whistle from alexander caused her attention to shift. it seemed as if he had found something worth checking, so they hurried over.

what they stumbled across was a bunch of iron barrels with some sort of symbol on them. not the danger symbol, not the flammability symbol, but something else, a mark of manufacture. it was long faded, something that belonged to the old world yet it still sent shivers down her spine. part of the past stood in front of them.

perhaps the most bizarre detail to the scene were the skulls.

skulls.

ribs, skulls, arms and feet. as if a graveyard had surfaced from the soil, the barrels might have been a metaphor for a gold mine but the apparent human remains was what stunned seren the most. and even as the boys moved to fill the tanks, she remained with her feet nailed to the ground, her concern growing tenfold.

there was no use asking for what they believed happened here when it was somewhat clear. it had been a previous power plant, as kailen stated, and after an accident, nobody ever came to look at what remained of the location. craters of oil remained, yet what appeared to be the bodies of the workers also stayed. it was a disturbing sight of which she thought she’d only see in movies.

her steps brought her beside perseus who was studying one of the skulls closely, gloves slipped on and eyes narrowing in thought. “ notice how there is what appears to be bite or scratch marks near the top. that wouldn’t happen if it was a power plant accident, except if they were making monsters instead of oil, which i doubt ”, he stated, looking up at her. “ what do you think? ”.

seren brought her eyes towards the ocean, angry, thrashing, crashing, battling for what seemed to be a victim to pull into its grasps and yank it back into unknown depths.

“ i believe . . . it could have been a monster of some sort. maybe some animals that moved to the area and thought it would be nice to feast on the remains but the toxicity should have killed them and there are no animal bones . . . ”, she spoke, looking around. “ my bet is that it’s a monster. ”

evangelos suddenly grunted as he filled up the tank and screwed the lid shut. “ if there were monsters, they might have showed up by now. those marks look new, if we had the equipment we might have been able to locate the origin. but if it’s monsters, i suggest we hurry up ”.

but what kind of monster would attempt to dig their fangs into a human skull and then leave it aside. it would be normal if the flesh of the bodies had rotted and joined the soil beneath their feet, yet seren was uneasy. it felt too good to be true that this bay, dark and grey, was radio silent aside from the waves crashing ahead of them.

it was a horrible sensation, ignoring that worry gnawing at the back of her mind and then proceeding to fill up her tank with as much fuel as it could carry. she strained to lift it from the ground after screwing the cap shut but she heaved it up and sighed, following romeo who offered the way back to the ship.

with fuel in hand, they will be able to travel a longer distance before sundown and probably find themselves within the rain forest quickly. it would mean that they will be exposed to new danger but it would keep them hidden from any eyes from above trying to track them down.

“ where’s the ship? ”.

huh?

surely enough, when seren glanced up from the ground, her hand suddenly trembled and the tank met the floor within seconds as the ship had vanished. gone, as if it had never been there to begin with.

her first reaction was to believe that kailen might have left them. but if it had been the case, they would have heard the airship taking off and would have come running back long before their current return.

when they heard kailen’s scream, though, they all acted.

romeo suddenly bolted towards the edge of the rocks where he soon spotted the airship being dragged down the rocks, constantly being engulfed by violent waves that they couldn’t stick too close to. what was dragging the ship into the ocean?

seren’s worst nightmare.

mermaids, in mythology, are often depicted as beautiful creatures. alluring, tropical, ethereal. with perfect teeth and hair and stunning voices that will drive a sailor mad, inviting you in with docile smiles and large, curious eyes.

the mermaids that were dragging the ship into the ocean were far from it.

they were scathing around like wild animals, screeching and screaming loudly. there were dozens of them, seren was driven dizzy by the waving tails and the blunt force they used to drag the ship, pushing and pulling and screaming repeatedly and it felt like her ears were going to start bleeding soon, yet she gasped and reached for iron thorn the moment romeo fired a shot from his weapon.

“ kailen’s there! don’t let them get away! ”.

the ship was probably long gone, half submerged under water with kailen in the hatchet, motionless. seren’s food rose to her stomach in heaps yet she managed to fire some essences of ice from her blade, and it reached at least five mermaids, enveloping their tails and pulling them down into the rocks, keeping them from grasping at kailen.

but that still left at least twenty of them that evangelos and perseus were trying their best to blow away with the shots they could fire. evangelos was re-loading consistently, looking fed up by the second and perseus struggled on remaining on his feet. “ kailen! kailen, come on, man! kailen! ”, alexander yelled over the edge, flinching back when a mermaid jumped from a wave and tried to claw at his face. it was only then when seren realized that their nails were razor sharp.

with each stroke of ice and fire, the mermaids seemed to scream their way into the waves but when they began to drag kailen, alexander finally jumped into action and motioned with his hands. when the faint glow swarmed kailen’s body, the mermaid pulling him down shrieked and clawed at him. when alexander began to lift kailen’s body, seren was hopeful he would make it all the way.

when a mermaid jumped and suddenly grasped his ankle, romeo ran to keep the male on the rocks but kailen’s body began to fall back into the waves and seren did the only thing she could. and threw her sword that then pinned the fabric of kailen’s cape against the rocks. and then bolted, running the curve and launching her body over the edge and grabbing him roughly.

and soon, with the little strength she had, heaved him up, caring not for her sword that was probably going to fall into the waves.

“ perseus! ”.

seren busied herself with removing the tight jacket kailen wore as well as the chest coat and yet he made no attempt in breathing or moving. her blood began to run cold and when she began to apply her weight onto his chest, compressing a dozen times, she didn’t notice the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

she was crying.

“ kailen? kailen! come on, wake up, wake up! breathe for me, kailen, please, we can’t lose you now! ”.

she grunted and pressed harder at a steady pace, her compression only becoming sloppy when she began to realize it wasn’t working. he wasn’t breathing. he wasn’t breathing! choking back a sob, seren pressed harder and felt someone grasping her shoulder but yanked their hand away and brought herself closer to the unresponsive boy. “ kailen, for fucks’s sake, stay with us! please! ”, she cried.

it was only when seren moved over him, pinched his nose and covered his mouth with hers, followed by two steady inhales, that she felt the boy flinch beneath her and jumped back to see the life rushing back to him.

kailen looked pale, coughing up the sea water that had been trapped within his lungs for some minutes. he was drenched, in some sort of pain, groaning through every cough and when he came to a stop, he panted. looking at the concerned faces looking over him, bringing his attention to seren and then looking around, as if to look for the ship.

“ w-what happened? w-why did i black out? ”, he grunted, moving to sit up but being pushed back down by evangelos who removed his jacket and wrapped it over the other’s shoulders. “ where’s the ship? o-oh god, did i lose the ship? ”.

seren’s lip quivered whilst she wiped the tears from her eyes, grimacing at the thought of having lost a team mate in the midst of something like that. the mermaids came out of nowhere, and through the way they shone their teeth at her, they were not good mermaids, not the ones she wold read about in stories and fairy tales. they were monsters.

and they had almost killed kailen.

if they hadn’t arrived faster, kailen would have suffered the same fate as the remains of those people they had come across near the iron barrels. he would have been eaten.

“ they dragged the ship into the ocean. there’s no way we’re going to recover it now ”, romeo voiced with a sigh. seren glanced up when perseus gave her iron thorn. her heart sank once more. if she had lost kailen and her weapon . . . she gave the boy the best smile she could manage and nodded in gratitude, looming worriedly over the boy. “ looks like we’re gonna be walking. ”

kailen sighed and met eyes with seren, smiling timidly at her. “ sorry if i scared you. but thank you for acting so quickly ”, he managed through another cough.

“ y-yeah, it’s no worries ”, seren said and smiled back at him.

but they had a lot to worry about. the day had seemingly grown darker. they had faced possible carnivorous mermaids and they had also lost their ship.

night would fall soon.

they would get hungry.

they lost their direction.

they lost their means of travel.

they were lost. officially.

#chapter six #original writing #fantasy #magic #futuristic #dystopian

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beerecordings · 5 years

Note

I had a dream that you wrote a thing about Eric meeting Jackie or Jamie or the Septics in general, and then I woke up and I am Enraged™️ that my brain would play such a cruel trick on me.

yeah hi i’ve been in an airport for three hours and i love you so of course i wrote this

there is, however, a twist

I am currently reading the Bartimaeus series

and I can finally make my oWN DEMON AU HEHEHEHEHE

have y’all seen these? it’s the best universe ever it’s like there are magicians and most of them use spirits from the other world as weapons and slaves, but there’s this one kid who starts to become unwilling friends with an equally unwilling demon and then ahhhh

so anyway, have this. i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately lol. written in about an hour at the Denver airport, playing TAZ from my phone and eating overpriced chicken tenders OH DAMN TIME TO BOARD BUT ANYWAY

“Jackie,” hisses Jack, shoving him back in his pocket. “Stay hidden.”

Jackie’s little mouse head pokes out again, obstinately. “But I want to see!” he squeaks, trying to climb up Jack’s suit jacket.

“Joachim,” Jack warns, picking him up by his little pink tail and tucking him back in his pocket. “You have to stay hidden! You know I can’t let the other magicians know how well I treat my spirits, mouser.”

“I will turn into a mosquito.”

“No, you’ll get swatted.”

“A cloud of smoke.”

“Too noticeable.”

“A louse on your head.”

“Gross! Stay in my pocket!”

“Fine,” grumbles Jackie, curling up in his pocket with his mouse arms crossed over his chest. “But I’m turning into a slimy little frog.”

He makes good on his promise and ribbits irritably. Jack sighs and rubs a finger over his head, sitting back in his chair and exchanging overly-polite smiles with the magicians nearby.

“Why are we even at a fancy little party anyway?” sighs Joachim. “Everyone here is a dick.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“I’m serious, Sean!”

Jack hisses, giving his pocket a little shove. “Shut the hell up! If anyone here learned my real name – ”

“Yeah, they’d curse the hell out of you. Cause everyone here is a dick. Jack, these magicians would sell you out for a thimble’s worth of power. And we both know they’re here talking shit about you for living in that little cottage downtown, and for not taking a limousine here, and because they’re jealous that you keep five spirits at once.”

Jack sighs.

This is not entirely untrue.

“Besides,” sighs Jackie. “Everyone else here treats their spirits like shit.”

Glancing around with glasses enchanted to allow him to see on the second and third fields, Jack sees imps and foliots scattered around the room, and even a couple of djinni like Joachim, all close to their master’s hands. Some are curled up in pockets, some sit on shoulders as birds or cats, some are even little monsters snarling around their masters’ bodies. Each one of them is enslaved, bound to the master who summoned them to the mortal realm. Each one of them would be punished if it dared to disobey – maybe killed. And certainly none of them know their master’s true names.

If they did, they would kill them. And Jack can’t blame them. If he were a spirit – an imp, a foliot, a djinni, an afrit, or a marid – He would kill his slave-driver too, and go back to the other realm, and be free.

Jackie turns back into a mouse. Jack strokes his fuzzy grey head, grateful for his company. Grateful for his friendship. For his trust. He remembers when he first summoned Jackie, the first djinni he ever attempted. Jackie would have happily killed him to be free, and Jack barely restrained himself from using curses like stippling or silver to punish him for his insolence.

But he’s a researcher, not a warrior or a leader. He asked questions. They talked. Jackie accompanied him through many dangers. Over time, they learned to trust each other. And then the day the little monster came –

They trust each other with their lives now. Jack isn’t sure any other magician has ever had a bond like this with any spirit, let alone five. Fuck, to think that Magnificence and Haimerich and Blood Chaser and Nectarian could just be slaves if he hadn’t called them to himself –

“Let’s get some air,” he sighs, rising from his seat. Slipping past high-ranking politicians, corrupt to the core, up-scale salesman, making their wealth off magical goods stolen from other countries, and the exhausted, spiteful spirits enslaved at their sides, Jack makes his way to the door, and then to the garden.

Tended as neatly as it is, there is little love from the owners of the house. A gardener has helped heavy fruit trees to bloom into pink flowers for the spring, and flowers are inhaling up from the earth, swaying gentle in the warm night air.

“That’s better,” sighs Jack, undoing his tie to let himself breathe.

Jackie scurries out of his pocket and leaps towards the ground, transforming into a handsome red hunting dog before he hits the earth. “Someone out here,” he warns gently. “With a spirit of their own. Don’t be too loud.”

“Who?” asks Jack, frowning. Most everyone is inside kissing the prime minister’s ass. There’s supposed to be a speech in a few minutes.

He hears voices on the wind before Jackie can answer.

“Just breathe, buddy.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I don’t feel well, please, please, master.”

“Hey, come on, what have I told you about calling me that? What’s the matter? Talk to me, talk me through this. Please breathe, buddy.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Do you need to be sent back to the other world? You know I’ll set you free in a second if you say the word. We just need a pentacle, and then – ”

“No, please, I don’t want to be back there either.”

“What the hell?” whispers Jack, moving towards the voice, hidden from him by a copse of orange trees and a great green hedge. “Jackie, you hear that?”

The dog barks out an affirmation and the voices stop suddenly. There is a quick hiss of warning, and then Jack is rounding the hedge, and there, before him, stands a single magician, all alone.

His dark hair is cast in gold by the falling sun and he tilts up his proud chin with a flash in his eyes, straightening up and folding his hands loosely behind his back as he surveys Jack with a cool gaze, his curled mouth displaying an unhidden contempt. Jack would return his haughty look, but he’s almost too startled to process it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, backing away again, glancing around. “I thought I heard someone… um, talking?”

The other magician tugs the sleeves of his fine navy suit down to the wrists, sighing self-importantly. “Did you now?” His voice is rich and calm. “And you just thought you would interrupt, Mr…?”

“Jackson. Sam Jackson.”

“Mmh.”

“It sounded like someone was having a panic attack. It sounded like you were talking your demon through a panic attack. Joachim, is there a spirit with him?”

Jackie barks again.

“T-talk my demon through a panic attack,” the other magician stammers out. “I’ve never heard something so – so preposterous.”

But there is fear in his eyes, a dark panic flashing through his deep brown eyes. He backs away slightly, fidgeting with his sleeves again.

He isn’t much older than Jack, both in their early twenties. Looking at him, Jack would guess that the stranger is a government worker, and a prominent one at that – all that slicked back hair, the fancy clothes, the shiny blue dress shoes. Something in him fills up with contempt – and yet, looking at him, he does not feel his usual disgust or discomfort.

Something squeaks softly. The other magician flinches, a hand drifting up to cover the pocket on his breast.

“You treat your spirits with respect,” mumbles Jack. “You care for them.”

He needs to steady himself. He places a hand on Jackie’s warm red head.

“Jack,” says his djinni.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” whispers the other magician, drawing away.

“No, wait,” cries Jack. “Jackie, Jackie – ”

They’ve been together for a long time and the brotherhood between them makes it easy for Jackie to understand his unspoken request. The dog rises up on its hindlegs and transforms, this time into Jack’s own form, identical in every way, except a red hoodie thrown over his suit and a streak of djinni blue across his eyes.

“This is my djinni, Joachim,” says Jack. “But I call him Jackie. He’s my – he’s my friend.”

He turns and meets Jackie’s twin eyes. His friend smiles at him, reassuring.

“He’s my equal,” adds Jack, grinning back.

And the change in the other magician is instantaneous, is incredible; all his contempt disappears as though evaporated, his haughty posture falling away, and he stands shocked and gasping in front of Jack, his hands out-stretched uselessly.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck, I thought I was the only one. Man, I don’t – I thought – I’m Mark. Shit, it’s good to meet you.”

He moves forward, smiling, and if there are tears in his eyes, no one seems to mind, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny black hamster with thick, wild fur.

“And this is Eric,” he says.

“Eric?” laughs Jack.

“His real name’s Eristebus or something really fancy,” laughs Mark. “He’s a foliot, fourth level – oh, Eric, don’t be scared, bud, it’s okay.”

The hamster trembles fervently in his hand, covering its eyes with little pink paws.

“I – I’ve never seen a foliot act like this,” admits Jack. “It’s okay, little guy.”

Hard anger returns to Mark’s voice. “That’s because spirits who cannot carry out the cruel orders of cruel masters are almost certainly killed or worse – trapped in bottles or entombed in magical buildings for the rest of eternity. Illness and shows of fear have been bred out of these creatures not by time, but by murder. One of my teachers summoned him to demonstrate how to bind a foliot to me. In the two hours he had Eristebus in his control, he tortured him horribly for every shake and tremble. It’s a terrible way for an innocent spirit to live. So, soon as I was powerful enough, I summoned him myself. Now no one else will ever punish him again.”

“Yes!” cries Jack, so loud the sihouettes in the windows of the house startle, and Mark jumps. “Sorry, it’s just – I’ve never met anyone who gives a shit before!”

Mark bursts into laughter, and opens his mouth to speak again, but Jackie interrupts him by scooping the hamster up into his own hand.

Jack steps back, curious as to what his djinni will do. Eristebus is a lower-level spirit than Jackie, around the same power level as Chase, and he’s already afraid. He wants to warn Jackie to be gentle – but no, he trusts him. He trusts him.

“Hi,” says Jackie, softly.

Eric stares up at him with dark little eyes.

“You’ve had some shitty masters, huh?” whispers Jackie.

And then, in Sumerian, he tells him, “That makes us brothers.”

Jack lets out a choked laugh, grinning ear to ear. Fuck, he’s so fucking lucky to see something like this. How long have these creatures been their slaves? Spirits like Joachim and Eristebus taught to be weapons of violence since the day they were drawn into the world – and, in the meantime, all this goodness trapped inside of them, waiting for a chance to be freed.

“Your djinni is so kind,” Mark murmurs. “How did you teach him that?”

“I didn’t,” laughs Jack. “Just gave him the chance to be what he’s always been.”

“It’s going to be okay,” soothes Jackie, and, mimicking his master, he rubs his finger over the top of Eric’s head.

A moment later, the hamster transforms into a man. He takes Mark’s image – a sure sign of respect – except, from the knee, legs made entirely of stone. Some lower-level spirits tend to have difficulties taking on complex forms.

“Hi,” he whispers, in a voice that shakes, and yet, on his mouth, there is a growing smile. “Hi, I – I’m glad to meet another spirit who doesn’t want to eat me.”

“Well, yeah, you smell pretty good.”

“Jackie!” reprimands Jack.

“No, I’m used to it,” sighs Eric.

“Yeah, Wilford’s tried to eat you like four times this week,” agrees Mark.

“Is that a djinni?” laughs Jack.

“Nah, a marid.”

Jack’s mouth falls open. For a moment, he can’t speak at all.

“You keep a marid on hand?”

Mark grins, torn somewhere between pride and modesty. “Well… two.”

Even Jackie turns at that, staring.

“Hey, they don’t call me an up-and-comer for nothing,” laughs Mark. “Don’t be jealous, they’re both terrible. I love them a lot.”

“An up-and-comer – you are a politician, aren’t you?”

“I have a minor position in State Affairs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from the pm’s speech.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark blows a raspberry with his mouth, rolling his eyes. “That dick? I’ve heard him talk plenty enough for one lifetime. Anyway, I think he thinks I’m out to steal his job. And I’m like ‘give me a couple years first, man!‘”

“So you can’t let anyone know you treat your spirits like this. Because if you did – ”

“We’d be laughingstocks,” Mark nods.

“At the least! Man, I think it’s more likely we’d be labeled radical fanatics and exiled or assassinated.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Jackie pipes up, his teeth drawn in a smile. He has fangs, suddenly.

“So we have to be careful,” Mark sighs. “But, shit – we don’t have to be alone anymore, do we?”

“No. No, I guess not.” Jack can’t help it if there are tears in his eyes. He feels stupid – but at the same time, so very, very happy. “Dude, we have so much to talk about.”

“We really do,” agrees Mark, beaming. He reaches out to clasp his shoulder, drawing him in close. “It’s just been me and the spirits for so long!”

“You really keep house with two marids?” Jackie is asking Eric. “What is that even like?”

Eric’s eyes are big and exhausted. “Awful,” he says weakly. “But then again, also… wonderful. Some days, you almost get eaten, some days, they’d destroy armies for you…”

“I think we all have a lot to talk about,” Mark grins. “So, what do you say? Want to get the fuck out of here?”

Jackie and Eric are already moving towards the sidewalk away from the house, headed back to mortal homes, chatting about everything and nothing.

“Yeah,” says Jack. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here, man. Let’s talk.”

#bee writes #ask #nikkilbook #bartimaeus au

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melissatreglia · 4 years

Text

First Date

(After waaaaay too damn long, I managed to edit @southerndragontamer‘s and my first-ever roleplaying session into a proper fic for ease of reading. Back in December 23, 2017, Dark and Grace went on their first date at a coffee shop. Be warned: you’re gonna lose a filling or two on this sweetness. :D )

Dark waited patiently at a wrought-iron table outside the charming little café for Grace to arrive. His aura was pulled in so as to not draw unwanted attention to Himself… or potentially cause panic among the people drifting in and out of the cozy establishment.

It was an unseasonably warm day for late December, and there was no chilly breezes to cut through the balmy air. In sharp contrast, Annie Lennox’s voice drifted over from the speakers inside the shop, and her pre-recorded tune was a sweet melody about building snowmen and walking in a winter wonderland.

To anyone watching, He looked like an ordinary – if handsome and rather well-heeled – young man expecting His date to arrive at any moment.

He absently brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of His light woolen jacket, nodding in thanks to the waitress as she refilled His coffee mug. He did a quick inventory to make sure that not a single thread was out of place on His business casual suit. He then began to tap His fingers lightly against the container, stopping when He realized He was fidgeting.

Why was He getting restless? There was no rationale whatsoever for this bout of nerves. She’s just a girl, after all, He reasoned to Himself with cold logic. Only one of billions of humans on this planet.

He also knew that, in addition to the public setting, that Melissa and Ulysses were both already here somewhere. He couldn’t see where they were hiding precisely, but He could definitely sense their presence nonetheless. No doubt in an effort to protect their friend, because they suspected ill of Him.

He could scarcely blame them. It wasn’t like He’d given cause for them to think otherwise.

But He had no desire to harm this one. She had appealed to Him from the first, her quiet and soft nature a balm. And her blushes were quite charming, to say the least.

His gaze continued to scan the crowd, anticipating Grace’s arrival. He was finally gratified to see her walking down the street, sneakers thudding softly against the pavement. He saw her take a deep breath, shoving her trembling hands into her pockets. When she looked up from watching her own feet on the ground and her eyes met His, her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met. A lovely pink blush coloured along her face, but she closed the distance between them as He rose to His feet.

The smile on her face warmed His cold heart. "Hello again, Sir," she said, her voice soft and shy. The blush deepened noticeably when He took her hand and kissed the back of it in a chivalrous manner.

A smile spread on His face, mirroring hers. "Hello, Grace. You look lovely this evening." His voice lacked the echo and white noise, but was still fairly deep with His signature coolly polite tone. “How have you been faring since we last spoke?”

“Th-Thank You Sir, you look handsome as well. I’ve been well, getting ready for the holidays.” She sighed tiredly, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And dealing with an unruly family member along with that...”

He pulled out her chair for her, silently entreating her to sit with Him. She took the offered seat, smiling in gratitude for the kind gesture.

“Ah, yes. Family can be difficult from time to time,” He replied, as He wandered back to His seat across from her. “But they are still family, nonetheless.”

Grace nodded in agreement, adding, “That reminds me of a quote from the Disney film 'Lilo and Stitch': Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” She then giggled. "And I agree. Family is family, even if they are difficult."

Amused by her response, He gave a low chuckle. “I’m afraid I have never seen that film, but I can appreciate the sentiment."

Dark signaled to the waitress, who came over to their table for Grace's order. Grace tucked a long lock of her brunette hair behind her ear, looking up at Dark with a hesitant expression. “I’ve never been here before, Sir. What would You recommend?”

“The coffee is really quite excellent, as are the croissants.” He took a judicious sip from His own hot beverage.

Grace smiled and laughed teasingly. "I'll take your word on it, Sir." She then turned to the waitress. "I'll just have a glass of water and a croissant, please ma'am." When the waitress left, Grace took a deep breath to study an obvious bout of nerves. "Dark, there's... there's something important I should tell You..."

He placed His mug neatly on the table and folded His hands together. “And what would that be, My dear?”

There was nothing to suggest anything beyond a mild curiosity in His demeanour, but she nonetheless recognized the hidden bite in that question. She swallowed and took another deep breath, meeting His deep, dark eyes.

“Dark, Sir... Do You remember the rescue operation in October that was launched for Miss Melissa, when she was Your... ah, house guest?”

“Indeed. I remember everything.” He considered her for a long, silent moment that was heavy with unspoken meaning. “You were involved in that, weren’t you?”

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. I was." She slowly took her glasses off, ignoring as best she could how everything around the table blurred without them, and set them on the table. She then met His gaze again, letting Him see the emotions in her eyes without the thin glass shield. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I was the one who provided the consecrated acid. I'm not ashamed of it, because I did it to protect Melissa. She's my friend and I'd do it again, if I had to, even though it probably wouldn't work again. I also suggested using cold iron against You."

“I see.”

For a split second, a feeling of pressure and electricity pervaded the air, as if lightning were about to strike. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up as His power uncoiled around them with His anger. But reality instantly snapped back on itself so quickly, it was almost as if it never happened.

He closed His eyes for a brief moment, before opening them again to gaze at her calmly. “Forgive me,” He said in a carefully neutral tone for the fright it may have caused her. “I am sure your only concern was for the welfare of your friend. That is quite commendable, even noble.”

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She fumbled for her glasses, her hands shaking as she put them back on. Giving herself a moment to calm her racing heart, she allowed herself a small smile.

“It's alright, sir. I understand. And I was very worried for Miss Melissa; that’s why I did it in the first place. I don't really like hurting anyone, even a Hellgod, without a good reason."

He nodded at this, His expression softening into the hint of a smile. “I know you are not a violent person by nature, dearest Grace. And I should only expect such a thing from a lady who bears the name of a prized virtue."

She blushed at the compliment, squeaking, “Th-Thank You, Sir.”

He briefly sipped from His drink again, then added with a smirk, "I’m quite certain I have done something deserving of such recompense in My long and, one might say, chequered existence. Purity is for the angels, after all, and I am far from that.”

She giggled. “No. You’re no angel, Sir. I can agree on that.” She worried at her lower lip, reaching up to tuck the disobedient lock of hair back once again. “Dark, I’ve got to be a bit blunt. Why did You remember me, Sir?"

He considered her question for a long moment, as He struggled to decipher His own feelings on the matter. For one moment, the silver-tongued demon was at a rare loss for words… but then inspiration came to Him. He had found in Himself part of a strange but beautiful truth.

“There’s nothing so captivating as meeting one’s opposite,” He finally said. “Two selves fuse together to become one whole, as if you are two different sides of the same coin. You are as close to an angel as I will ever find in this world, or any other. My only hope is that I am worthy of your affections.”

Grace's jaw dropped at His words, and she stared at Him in shock for a moment. "Dark, Sir... I... I think that last part is mixed up. I'm the one who should be saying that." Her face turned bright red, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

He chuckled at this, a genuine sound of merriment. “Then we are at an impasse, My dear. If we both feel less than the other, perhaps we should agree that we are equally worthy and unworthy at the same time.”

"Sounds like a good idea, Sir." The heat in her blush wasn't fading, and she let out a tiny cough as the moment between them seemed to draw itself out. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she perked up. "This is gonna sound odd, maybe. But, what do Anti and Meg like for dessert?"

He tilted His head, regarding her curiously, then gave a shrug of His broad shoulders. “Meg has a preference for ice cream, and Anti has a taste for Yorkshire pudding. I rather like them both together. Why do you ask?”

Grace gave a quick, awkward laugh and rubbed at the back of her neck sheepishly. "I just wanted to make the three of you a little something for Christmas. I'm planning to bake a little something, anyway, and I thought it'd be nice for all of you to have a treat for the season too. A gift, you know?"

He smiled slightly, adding in a mild tone, “What do you prefer for a treat?”

She grinned. "Like you, I have a fondness for chocolate."

“That is very thoughtful of you, dearest Grace, to think of the three of us during this time of year.” His gaze met hers again unerringly. “It has little significance for Me, of course, but it is still a special occasion for them.”

He reached across the table, open palm up in a silent entreaty to bridge the gap between them, if Grace so chose. Grace reached over, hand shaking slightly, to grasp His hand in her own much smaller one.

She gave Him a shy smile, and His responding glance was pleased as He grasped her hand gently, enveloping her fingers as if she were made of fine porcelain. Her hand was warmer than His, and He held onto that sensation. When their eyes met, her cheeks pinkened further but she didn’t look away.

“And it is good to be thought of fondly,” He added.

“You’re welcome, Dark. I figured you’d all like a little something… even if human food doesn’t really sustain You.”

“As I said,” and one of His fingers gently brushed against the pulse point of her wrist. Her pulse was racing, but not out of fear, and this pleased Him more than He was likely to admit. “You are very thoughtful.” More on impulse than plan, He reached up with His free hand, tucking the dark strand of her hair that had fallen forward back behind her ear.

She felt a little shiver at the contact, eyes widening in surprise at how intimate such a simple touch felt, before finally registering that He had stopped talking.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Would Meg be alright with some kind of baked treat? I don’t know how well I can make ice cream if this unseasonably warm weather keeps up.”

He smirked a little at this. “Well then, if you wish to have a back-up, Meg also enjoys strawberry shortcake.” But then His moment of humour died. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to spend very much time with you until after the New Year’s celebrations have passed. I hope you are amenable to this.”

“Y-yes, Sir. That’s perfectly alright. Can I pass the gifts through Melissa, so you all get them on Christmas? And, um... maybe give You one early?” That last bit slipped free unbidden, and she covered her mouth with her free hand. Her face was burning once more, and He chuckled gently at the bright pink in her face.

“An early gift? I must admit, I am intrigued.” He purred, charmed and delighted by her shyness. “What might that be, sweetest Grace?”

She lowered her hand and said softly, throat suddenly dry, “Umm… You’ll need to lean over for it, Dark. I can’t reach You from here… a-and close Your eyes? Please, Sir?”

He shrugged, and decided to humour her.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her nerves and leaned over the last bit of distance to reach Him. She whispered, “Merry early Christmas, Dark.”

She kissed His cheek, His skin cool to the touch of her lips. He smiled as He felt her lips brush against the stubble of His beard. When His eyes opened again, there was a hot longing behind the near-black irises. A moment later, she pulled back, fighting a silly grin.

“On second thought, I believe I can arrange for us to have an appointment with a sprig of mistletoe.” He reached up again, this time to lightly brush His fingertips along the soft curve of her jaw. “Would you like to spend a little time with Me on Christmas Day?”

She trembled slightly at the touch. “O-only if I don’t take up too much of Your time, Sir. I… I know You’re busy, and You have Meg and Anti to look after.”

“That I do,” He replied, deep voice a pleasantly soft rumble. “But, if you are willing to put up with them for one day, I suppose we can manage.”

“I don’t mind, Sir. I’d like to get to know them both better. Especially Meg. Anti, I know well enough from Jack’s channel. But Meg’s something of a mystery to me. I hope they won’t mind my presence, though. I’m human, after all.” This last was said with a little smile and a bit of a teasing tone, mischief seeming to glint in her eyes at that moment.

“They will be on their best behaviour with you. If they are not, they will reap the consequences.” He sighed. “Such is the price of parenting.”

“You have all my empathy, Sir. I’m not a parent, so I can’t relate. But I sympathize.”

Dark chuckled. “But it does seem I have monopolized your attentions this evening, and you no doubt need some rest and quiet before the festivities begin. Perhaps, I could walk you home?”

“I thought You said You’re not an angel, Dark.” She giggled. “You’re such a gentleman.”

“Haven’t you heard, My dear?” He added with a quiet laugh. “It is often told I’m a humourless ponce with a makeup fetish. Truly, such is the worst of creatures.”

She burst out with a peal of laughter at His self-effacing description. “I-I’ve never heard that one before, Sir.” She then quieted. “But yes, please. I’d like it if You walked me home. Thank You, Sir.”

He stood, offering His hand to her, an invitation to walk with Him. “Shall we?”

She smiled, sliding her hand into His and standing as well. She was no longer shaking, and she actually grinned up at Him. “We shall.”

The walk was quiet, the streets darkening with the encroaching night. Constellations danced above their heads, and the kindly moon lit the way where the streetlamps failed. He did not let go of her hand until they reached her doorstep, where He kissed the back of her hand a second time.

“Until Monday, dearest Grace. ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’“ There’s the vaguest hint of an echo, but He otherwise held Himself back.

She blushed at the courtly gesture, her voice a near-whisper. “Until Monday, Dark. ‘That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’” There was a brief moment of silent thought, before she added, “Sir, You don’t have to keep holding Your powers back. Especially if it hurts.”

He smirked. “Next time, I won’t. Good night, My Grace.”

“Good night, Dark,” she replied as she slipped into the door of her home.

He waited until she was safely in her dwelling before taking His leave. A creaking like an oak threatening to fall lingered in the empty street as He vanished.

Alone in the comfort of her own home, Grace slid back against the door and sighed. Oh my god, she thought as she slowed her breathing. I survived a date with the Devil. I kissed Him on the cheek, and now I’m going to see Him and His kids for Christmas! She gave a little giggle that verged near hysterics.

Nobody will ever believe this!

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