#myself except stare straight out the window for 7 hours (with a few eating and bathroom breaks). not even joking lmao. It's like a trance
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where ignorance is bliss - chapter 4: except the willow
SUMMARY: Maria is forcefully escorted from the betting room, when she encounters the owner of the casino himself. [AO3 LINK]
CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 [4] 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆
November 20, 1959 – Monaco, France, The Hellfire Club
I’ve never thought about my what last words would be. I had always assumed I would be 98, having aged better than brie, lying in bed surrounded by my family, my curls perfectly falling around my face, with a pristine pale pink lipstick and pearls on my neck and diamonds on my ears. I’d have outlived my husband, as I’ve always flocked towards older men, but I would see him reflected in my great-grandchildren, one of whom would have shared my philanthropic interests. I’d leave them all with some well-planned poetry, a single sentence that would change every one of their lives, resound in them and inspire them to change their actions for the better, but, as of now, due to my arrogant foolishness, my last words were to be “I’d rather stay here and keep losing.” And no one would remember them.
Thick arms wrap around mine, hiking me up by the armpits, and I am escorted out of the casino and through the hotel lobby, my high heels scrambling to make purchase on the ground below me. The few people scattered in the lobby pause to look at me, and then keep walking. The fun from the baccarat game has dwindled, the rosiness falling from my cheeks and panic settling in my chest. I couldn’t pull against them; there’s no way I could win in a fight even with some of Peggy’s training. I should have taken her up on her thigh holster offer.
The men stop briefly at the front desk. “What room is Ms. Carbonell staying in?”
“Obadiah won’t let you get away with this,” I grit, my arms pinned behind my back.
“Mr. Stane is currently preoccupied.” One of the men asks for a spare key, and the desk attendant fumbles in the cabinet to find the correct one.
A man in glasses walks past, tall but not intimidating, broad-shouldered but not bulky, nose buried in a pile of papers in his hands, and glances up, pausing to evaluate the scene. Our eyes make contact, and it takes him a second to evaluate my panic.
“Do you need any help, madam?”
“She’s fine,” one of the suited men replies. I’m too startled to scream, or speak, or even think at all. All I can hope is that someone in the lobby reads my face and intervenes. Grumbling, they forgo the key, and pull me out of the hotel lobby towards the parking lot.
This is how I’m going to die, I think, reminiscing what a waste finishing school was since I never learned to hold my tongue anyway, and it is my penchant for petty remarks sending me to an early grave. I can’t keep up with their pace, my high heels catching in almost every dent in the asphalt, and I almost lose my balance several times.
We approach a long, sleek black car with darkened windows, and I finally start calling out, “Obie! Obadiah!” to the empty parking lot, writhing against the arms around me.
“Ms. Carbonell! I think you dropped an earring.” The voice comes from behind. It’s the man in glasses, walking swiftly, with authority, except for the little cowlick of dark black hair on the right side of his head, twirling in the breeze as he stalks forward.
The men holding me turn to confront him as he takes off his glasses and slides them into his breast pocket. The men’s postures drop and their faces fall. Their grip on me lessens. He runs a hand through his hair and stares them down.
“Mr. Stark.”
“Release Ms. Carbonell at once.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Stark, she-”
“You do know what at once means, don’t you, boys?”
They release me.
“I cannot apologize enough, Ms. Carbonell, for the behavior of these men. If they offend you again, I will personally write to their employers.” He looks at each one of them sternly, in turn.
One of the men stiffens defiantly. “We didn’t recognize you, Mr. Stark. In the betting room-”
“When you are the one who owns the casino, only then should you be concerned about its finances.” Stark’s stern face softens when he turns to me, offering me his elbow. He nods at each man with authority, and they shrink away. My heart is still racing, and I still must not be thinking straight, because I loop my arm through his, my life in the hands of yet another stranger.
-
The dinner at one of the restaurants inside Hellfire is delectable, but dining with the owner probably helps. There were too many options on the menu that I eventually pointing to something at random and ordered that. I had very little to say, besides non merci to the waiters who kept offering us champagne and thanking Mr. Stark for his kindness. The anxiety has set into my bones and I can’t help but fidget.
“I already told you, Maria, just call me Howard.” Up close, I can see that he’s older, probably in his forties. Creases line his eyes and mouth, probably from charming the pants off too many investors, and the investors’ wives.
“Okay, Howard, does wearing glasses actually work? To go unnoticed.” I peer at him over the top of my waterglass.
“It does. Works wonders. I had read about it in a comic and wanted to give it a try. People act different when their boss is lurking around the corner, and sometimes I just want to be a guest in my own hotel.”
A waitress clears Howard’s empty plate, leaving my full one, and she brings the dessert menu to him. Without looking at it, he hands it back to her, ordering two beignets. She asks if we need anything else, chest puffed high and smiling bright, and Howard responds in near-perfect French without looking away from me. The waiter walks away, dejected, her hopes of charming the billionaire dashed.
I pick at the dish, too rich for my current anxious appetite. My anxiety hadn’t run out of fuel yet. “What’s eating you, doll?”
“Why were those men watching me? And where were they going to take me? I wasn’t cheating.”
“I know you weren’t cheating.”
“You know? How?”
“There are cameras everywhere in the game rooms, tiny ones in lamps and plants and around every corner. They can tell when someone is cheating, and your moves seemed very intentional. And putting money in my pocket isn’t exactly cheating.” I don’t ask how the cameras would be able to tell, as I’ve been to two of his expos now and haven’t understood any of the gadgets presented. Any explanation would just go over my head. I wonder how many cameras litter the restaurant.
He doesn’t answer my question and instead asks one of his own. “Why were you spending your partner’s money like that?”
My partner. That’s right, I am technically in business with Obadiah; we’ve kept our short engagement to ourselves, and he’s always introduced me as his accountant. I slide my hands into my lap to hide the ring on my finger, and slide the ring off once it’s out of view. “My answer to your question might be the same as your answer to mine.”
Howard’s face lights up, and he leans forward on the table to get a better look at me. “So you’re clever, too, and not just pretty.” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but a statement, and I try with all my might not to blush like a child. The waitress returns and clears our plates, bringing the dessert he ordered. Howard leans back with a sigh. “I’ve kept my eye on Stane for the last few years. Not a bad man, but not a great one. Desperate. I was desperate, too, for a while, ‘til I realized the only thing that gets you anywhere is hard work. That’s how America does it.”
“He says while dining in France.”
“Hey, I paid for the meal in America dollars, doll.” His smile is wide, and honest, and youthful and endearing and… and it belongs to Howard Stark, notorious womanizer. Still, I find myself smiling in return, chin propped up in my hand, gazing at him. I can’t get caught up in his displays of wealth, but his confidence is something else. Obadiah isn’t confident like Howard. Howard has confidence to spare. He could bottle it and sell it, and convince everyone he met to buy it, that’s how confident he is. “How long are you in Monaco?”
“I leave November 22nd. Obadiah has had long meetings every day.”
“And because he leaves you alone in your room, you squander his earnings at the betting table in retaliation?” I look up at him, in surprise and defense, and he chuckles to himself. “If I were him, I’d bring you to every meeting with me. You belong in the business room. What do you do at Stane International?”
“I keep the books. Accounting. I went to Columbia.” I want to impress him.
“And what do you do when you’re not working?”
“I work a lot with charities.”
“When you’re not working.”
“I suppose I dine with handsome strangers in foreign hotels.”
Howard takes one bite of the dessert delivered, then wipes his hands and rises to his feet. “Let’s go have some fun, Maria.”
-
“You’re only here for one more full day, is that right?” Howard asks me from the rooftop of the Hellfire Club. “Spend it with me. Obadiah won’t mind.”
He’s right; Obie wouldn’t even notice, and I don’t feel guilty for accepting. “What do you have in mind?”
We sit up there for hours, talking until sunset, the wind licking at his hair, teasing it from the gel. The soft colors of dusk make Howard look younger. I want to kiss him, I realize, and I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before. At least, not like this. I push the feeling down deep. Every woman wants to kiss Howard Stark, with his deep brown eyes and his even deeper pockets. And if he wants to kiss me, he’ll have to work for it.
As if reading my mind, he whispers, “God, Maria, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d give it all up just to kiss you.”
“Does that line usually work?” I turn away. I feel like a child in his gaze, naïve and eager.
“I don’t know. I’ve never used it before.” I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. I fix my gaze hard on the horizon in front of me. After a moment, “Actually, I take it back. I don’t want to kiss you until I’ve earned it. I want to do right by you, Maria. I’ll become an honest man for you.”
I want to believe him, but I also believe the stories. I don’t know what makes me so special in Howard’s eyes, but I feel more seen with him than I ever did with Obadiah, and it’s the last sign I need to leave him.
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The Bond
Chapter: 5/?
Summary: The time has come, Henry creates the bond
Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC
Warnings: None
A/N: It is time for Henry to suffer
@ly--canthrope @vikingsbifrost
3 YEARS LATER
It was interesting to Mila how 5 years ago these meetings were one the biggest causes of stress for her and now they are simply boring, especially listening to everyone presenting their reports which she had already received via e-mail and analyzed them. The only interesting part was her colleagues suggesting new ways of improving their business, which was the case now. "Good, that's the spirit, let's bring summer to out kitchen. That's all I needed to hear, the rest is up to you. And, now, reservation and sales... We need to take more risk. I understand why you think that it's a good thing being fully booked in advance, why it makes you satisfied, it even makes planning easier,but it doesn't leave any space for yield management, we can't maximize our profit that way. Follow the occupancy rate and when you notice it reached, let's say 85% three weeks in advance, stop sales for those dates, then raise prices in last minute offer. Does it mean that we'll sell out for sure? Absolutely not. Is it worth the risk? I think it is. With this, I conclude today's meeting and in case I don't see you, have a nice weekend." She waited until everyone left to answer her private phone that wouldn't stop vibrating. "Hello?"
"Good morning, I'm calling from The Children's Hospital of New York, am I speaking to Mila Radcliffe?"
Cold sweat washed over her. "This is she, how can I help you?" Mila didn't even know any children, but she still got a good fright.
"You are a match for bone marrow donation for one of our patients, are you still interested in donation?"
"Yes, yes, of course. How soon can I do it?"
"We'd appreciate if you came tomorrow morning, you will leave the hospital in the evening. In this case, we will need to harvest your bone marrow, which means you will undergo general anesthetics. Is that alright with you?"
"Yes. What am I supposed to do now, how should I prepare?"
"You shouldn't eat anything after midnight and you can only drink a little bit of water. You should be at the hospital at 8AM, your surgery is scheduled at 10AM, so from the moment you enter the hospital, you shouldn't drink water anymore. Also, please, make sure you have someone who will take you home afterwords."
"Of course, I will do as you said."
"Miss Radcliffe?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"There's no reason to thank me. I'll be there tomorrow morning."
Mila called Ruth right away to see if she's available to pick her up tomorrow, she didn't want to call her aunt as that would mean listening to her worries from the moment she would've told her and Mila was pretty sure she would try to talk her out of it because of general anesthetics. Ruth, on the other hand, usually respected her choices no matter how risky they were and Mila considered her to be family too. Ruth confirmed that she was free to pick her up, but she also said she would be mad if she didn't get to drop her off too. Mila succumbed to Ruth's persuasion.
The next morning went as planned, except for the fact that Ruth didn't want to leave the hospital. "I'm going to wait until you get discharged."
"No, you won't. You are going to go home and I'll call you when I'm done." They were sitting in a waiting room.
"Mila Radcliffe?" A nurse holding a chart called her name.
"That's me," Mila walked over to her and Ruth followed.
"I'm going to take you to a room now and a doctor will soon be with you."
"Can I come with her too?"
"Of course, you can stay in the room the whole time. The surgery won't last long, but we need to monitor miss Radcliffe until late afternoon."
Ruth stuck out her tongue at Mila and she flipped her off behind the nurses back, an action that was followed by Ruth's blow of a kiss.
"This is it, make yourself comfortable." The nurse opened the door for them and went her own way.
Mila put on a hospital gown that was waiting for her on a bed. Just when she was folding her own clothes, she heard a sound of flash. "Really, Ruth?"
"I'm sorry, but I had to. Your butt looks so cute in that." Mila pulled the gown together, covering her underwear clothed behind. "You should think about including it in your wardrobe."
"Why did I even ask you to help me?" Mila set on the bed.
"Because," Ruth set next to her, "I'm your best friend and you love me."
The doctor joined them a few minutes later, asking Mila some standardized questions, checking her up, giving her a couple of more instructions before leaving. He came back for her 2 hours later with two nurses, rolling her bed to the OR, putting her to sleep.
When her eyes fluttered open, she noticed right away that she wasn't in the OR anymore, there weren't any bright lights placed directly above her.
"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" Ruth held her hand.
"Thirsty," she tried to focus on her.
"Here, take some water." She helped hold a bottle. "Does it hurt anywhere?"
"Nope," Mila barely managed to sit up straight.
"Stop lying."
"Fine, my lower back hurts like a bitch."
"You know, I'm really proud of you most of the time," she kissed her forehead.
"Don't get all mushy on me now." She intertwined their fingers together.
They spent the next few hours until her discharge watching trashy reality shows, laughing their asses off, just like they did when they were younger. When the doctor came to check her up on her for the second time and allowed you to get dressed, it was clear that she was about to go home. S different nurse came to give her discharge papers and show them out.
"May I ask if the kid received the transplant yet?"
"He did, but it will take a couple more days for us to be sure if the treatment works. He is such a wonderful little boy, barely two years old. He got one of the most progressive types of leukemia and we were lucky that you were in the register. His mom said that she wants to meet you, if you want that too."
Mila exchanged a glance with Ruth who shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, why not?"
The nurse took them through a maze of hallways until they reached a room where the boy was lying. "This is him, I guess his mother will be right back. Once you are done, please, just follow the exit signs and you'll find your way out. Miss Radcliffe, you probably gave this child a new life."
Two of them bid goodbye with the nurse and then they glued their faces to the glass window of his room.
"This has to be the most beautiful child I've ever seen."
"Agreed," Mila pressed her hand on the window. "He looks so fragile, poor baby. You, are going to be okay, buddy."
"Excuse me, were you the one who donated bone marrow to my son?" A woman approached Ruth and it became clear to her right away why the boy was so beautiful, his mother was gorgeous.
"That would be my friend." Ruth stepped aside.
The face that Mila met was the one she could never forget, she couldn't move an inch due to initial shock.
"I could never thank you enough for what you did," Mila received a short hug. "You are my angel, you don't know what this means to me."
She moved to the glass and Mila took the opportunity to silently mouth: "Elaine," to Ruth.
Ruth pointed at her back, mouthing mack: "Elaine? Henry's?"
Mila frantically nodded.
"He is such a little fighter, he has to be okay, he is the only thing I have left from my husband." Elaine wiped away a few tears. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
"Um, do you want to have a seat?" Mila's voice was silent and shaky and her friend came to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"No, I'm fine, thank you. You know, my husband died a year ago and then this happened, the apple of my eye got sick, I thought I was going to lose it, but when they told me yesterday that they found a match, I wanted to kiss every footprint of yours." She tuned around, facing Mila: "You saved my son's life, but you saved mine too."
"It was nothing, really, I'm glad I could help." Ruth increased pressure on her shoulder as she felt that her whole body tensed. "We have to go now, it was nice meeting you."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Elaine. Please, if you ever need anything, let me give you my number."
"Thank you, it's alright, we really need to hurry. Please, kiss the little warrior for me, he is going to be fine." Elaine and she shook hands and Ruth did the same with Elaine. "Goodbye."
"This was so fucked up," Ruth whispered when they made a few steps.
"Tell me about it, this is insane." She followed Ruth's lead, staring at tiles on the floor. Mila was still in a state of shock and definitely wasn't ready for another one, but that wasn't something she could control.
Ruth stopped in her tracks and yanked Mila's shirt. Her mouth gaped open when she saw that Henry came around the corner and stopped in front of them. "Oh, fuck."
Mila was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Ruth yanked her shirt or that she stopped moving, so when she bumped into Henry, she uttered: "My apologies," ready to move aside, but he grabbed her shoulders and her head yanked up.
"Mila, my Mila." Henry looked at her in awe, even though she was wearing sweatpants, that her hair was in a messy bun with hair flying everywhere across her face pale as a rug.
He looked at his wide smile for a few second. "I told you to pretend that you didn't know me if we ever ran into each other." She stepped to the side, but he followed, still keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Let go of me."
"I'm sorry," he let go right away. "How didn't I see this before?" His eyes searched hers. "I never thought it would be like that."
"I really don't have time for your bullshit now." She moved further to the side in order to pass him, but Ruth stopped her.
"Honey, you are not listening to him. This is what was supposed to happen, remember? You said it yourself, 7%?"
Elaine walked over to the small group as soon as she heard Mila's name, everything became clear to her right away. "This is unbelievable."
"Do you want to take a seat? Where does it hurt? Should I bring some ice? What can I do?" Henry's eyes never left Mila's.
Mila looked at the three persons surrounding her, everything became blurry and she couldn't hear anything anymore as marching drums rang in here ears. She walked towards the first exit sign she saw, then focused on the second one, walking one foot in front of the other until she saw the actual exit.
Henry started following her, but he stopped at Ruth's command: "Don't."
Even though he felt like he needed to touch her, to be close to her, to help ease both her physical pain and her psychological pain for which he was sure he was vastly responsible. He needed to hug her, to kiss every inch of her, to taste her.
"Give her time." She fished out a business card from her bag, handing it to him. "Here, you can call me, we will figure it out. Now that you feel it, can you imagine what she had to block out for 5 years? Be patient, she won't just throw herself into your arms."
"Why didn't this happen to me at the same point it happened to her?"
"In some rare occasions, something needs to happen before you both bond. In this case, if I'm right, you needed to be here for this lady and her son. She needed your support when she lost her soulmate and when the little man got sick and it had to be Mila's bone marrow in order for you two to meet. I don't think the two of you would've ever met again without this situation."
Henry's voice was full of frenzy: "But, I won't be here for 3 weeks, I need to see her now."
"You will make things worse, trust me, she's hurt enough. I have to catch up with her now." She took the same path Mila did, but she turned around before she tuned around the corner. "Cavill." He looked up to her. "Everything will be fine."
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Realisation
Summary: This story is about Feyre. She has a couple of small dreams she wants to achieve but turns out it isn’t as easy as she imagined it would. Trust me, the story is better than the summary. Modern AU. Feysand.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Disclaimer: Everything except for the plot belongs to Sarah J Mass.
Chapter 12: Disneyland
We left early in the morning and split into our groups before going off in totally different directions. I was with Cassian and Mor for the first day—pretty good people to spend my first day in Disneyland, in my opinion, despite their constant teasing.
Each group had been assigned a few sections in Disneyland and we were allowed to do whatever we wanted in that section for the whole day. We started at the Grizzly Peak and did the Redwood Creek Challenge Trail before moving on to Soarin' around the world and then we kept going, kept having fun. It was bliss. I would have to thank Rhys for giving this to me—the chance to just let go for once.
We spent the rest of the day, eating, goofing around and laughing. Cassian and Mor continued their banter. Not even an hour had passed and my stomach was already sore from laughing. It truly was a wonderful start to my first trip to Disneyland.
That evening, my limbs were still humming with energy despite how exhausted I was. Dinner was loud and enjoyable. I really was starting to fit in with Mor's friends, becoming a part of the "Inner Circle" as they called it.
Rhys talked with everyone, asking us how we were enjoying our time in LA so far. He was clearly very pleased with himself when he was met with a positive response. Towards the end of our dinner, Rhys said to me, "Feyre, are you having fun?"
And because I was so happy and glad about how I'd spent the day, I blurted out, "Oh Rhys, thank you some much for letting me come on this trip with you and your friends" in a such a loud voice that I was actually a little surprised that nobody turned to look at me. Rhys chuckled softly as I looked around consciously before I turned back to look at Rhys. Him smiling made me want to smile too, so I didn't try to stop it. I let my smile tell him exactly how grateful I was. "I'm glad." He said, and an expression crossed his face but it was gone before I could figure it out. I just kept smiling. I didn't think anything could ever take the wide smile I had on my face right now.
A smile.
I was smiling. Tamlin wasn't here to stop me and I wouldn't let him or his friends taint my time here in LA, or USA period. He was Auckland, far away from me. I was safe; I was healing; I was happy.
Rhys's POV
She was happy. I tried to stop myself from staring at her, but the look of pure contentment as she ate her dinner… there was nothing like it. She was just so stunningly beautiful. And then she smiled. And I felt my heart as it rose up and out of my body because of how light I felt. How unburdened I felt. How calm. Was it possible that she was doing that to me? Was she making me happy? So happy that I felt as if I were literally floating.
Was that even possible?
Was it possible that just making someone happy made you feel as if everything was right in the world? But then again, Feyre wasn't just anybody. She was Feyre, one in a million. She was unique, special. She was stunningly beautiful and for the first time since her, I wanted someone.
I wanted to be with someone, wanted to make them happy. I wanted to make her laugh, smile… and most of all, I wanted to protect her.
It was then that I realised just how much I need her to be safe. It was then that I realised that I could die protecting her. And I didn't mind. Because she would get to live, and that was good enough for me.
That night, while in bed, my eyes were closed but I continued to see Feyre's face. And then it hit, like a bolt of lightning.
I love her.
Feyre's POV
The next few days were pretty much the same. I spent the second day with Azriel, which I was honestly a bit nervous of doing but after an hour or so, I started relaxing and actually got to know him and it turned out that despite his quiet nature he was a really cool guy. He told me stories about Cassian and Rhys and all their antics which often left Azriel to clean their mess up.
At the end of the day, my stomach was in even more pain than yesterday from just laughing, though I'm sure some of it was also from the adrenaline rush lots of the rides gave me.
The third day I spent with Rhys and Amren. I was also nervous about that but mostly because Rhys and Amren both had such big personalities, but it turned out okay. I got more comfortable in their presence as the day passed, even though I couldn't help but notice Rhys staring at me multiple times throughout the day, and when he wasn't staring there was a strange… air in between us that even Amren's body couldn't obstruct. It was weird, to say the least, and I couldn't help but feel a little conscious.
But I didn't let that one thing—or I guess, two—ruin my time here at Disneyland. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance and I wouldn't let anything ruin it.
It was on the fourth day that I dreamed a particularly funny dream, but weird at the same time.
All of a sudden, the sky went black and haunting screams emerged from inside the gates of the castle. Sensing movement in one of the turrets, I stared at it before jumping in surprise as tiny babies flew out the cages set over the windows. As one flew past me, I got a closer look at it and realised they were actually fairies.
BOOM! BOOM!
More fairies came flying out of the window. People that had suddenly appeared around me started running; I still didn't understand what was happening but that wasn't the worst of it. Mickey Mouse, a giant version of him, was running straight for me. I couldn't move; my limbs were frozen with terror. And then all of sudden, he stopped, his fat belly inches away from my face. He kneeled and dug around in his pocket for a few seconds before pulling out a giant corndog. A corndog! And then I woke up.
Man, Disneyland was getting to me.
AN: Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think of it so far.
#feysand#feyre#feyre archeron#rhys#rhysand#feysand fanfiction#feyre x rhysand#rhysand x feyre#feyre x rhys#high lord rhysand#feysand modern au#feysand fanfic#sjm#amren#cassian#mor#azriel#Inner Circle#acowar#acotar#acofas#acomaf#sjmass#sj mass#sarah j mass#aelin#aelin galathynius#aelin ashryver galathynius#rowan#realisation
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all too well | 09
summary: you and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. but two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader
genre: idol au, makeup artist au, exes au | angst/smut
word count: 7k
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Out of all the boys in Bangtan, everyone has always assumed that Yoongi would be the individual most likely to think problems through before attacking them with the full force of a bullet train. He elects to care about very little things in his life, but when he chose to express personal interest in a situation it’s guaranteed that he would put his entire being into ensuring its success. Given that he’s very careful about what to put his heart into, it’s constantly assumed that Yoongi would at least have the common sense to analyze the positive and negatives of his placement before diving in.
But, then again, he’s never really had much of a filter when it comes to you. You would always be that exception, the only tangible object in Yoongi’s life that he could never so neatly observe from an apathetic standpoint. It’s as if his head could never get screwed on straight enough to see reason because the thought of you is enough to make him see stars in the best way possible—and that concept is terrifying beyond belief.
You've always been different in every singular aspect and nothing at its very core could change that, and that very difference is what drives Yoongi out the door. All that calm and collected composure had been unraveling from the moment everyone landed back in Korea, or maybe even in the time frame before that, and the cold hard truth that things might not be the same when you returned eats at his nerves. He doesn't think twice to grab his keys, his bag, literally anything he could get his hands on as he swings open the door of the dormitory.
He ignores the calls of Namjoon and Jimin, vaguely making out the sound of Seokjin chiding Jungkook for encouraging this reckless behavior of the older boy, but Yoongi doesn't care. He doesn't care about any of that. The only thing he can wrap his mind around are the hateful words he spit at you, like fire that burned across your skin and left the most visible of scars underneath the glimmer of your eyes. The flickering, tiny hope that he could get you to understand the weight of his guilt and hopefully forgive him or at least look at him without that hurt look in your eyes keeps his legs moving.
But still, there are so many reasons for him to be doubtful.
His song to you, while it had come from a place of need and longing to finally share the words that have buried him alive since the breakup, only seemed to drive you further and further away.
And now you were going to America. You hadn’t even bothered to tell him. Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by that, but he had been hoping that even if you were still wary about the thought of him, the pair of you could still continue on being friends and exchanging the most basic of good news with one another. Like normal friends should or, at least, what normal friends should be capable of doing with one another.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he continues pounding his way down the steps of the apartment, too caught up in his own little world of anxiety and desperation and regret that he doesn't hear the sound of footsteps following very shortly behind him. It's only after he has quickly arranged an Uber to take him to the airport and has shouldered open the door of the apartment complex does he feel a hand on his shoulder that startles him out of his trance. He whips around to find Seokjin staring at him, wide-eyed and confused. Yoongi doesn’t blame the older boy. The overwhelming presentation of information must have been too much for all the boys to absorb in just a matter of thirty seconds, especially with all the broken fragments of sounds and hasty accusations he and Jungkook were throwing at one another. Yoongi vaguely wonders if any of the boys are pinning after Jungkook with demands to know the background of the situation, since it's more than obvious that the maknae has just as much of a hand in the situation as Yoongi, if not just a little bit more since it's Jungkook who knew you were going to America in the first place and it was Jungkook who knew all of your flight information.
Yoongi tries to shove Seokjin off, but the eldest keeps his hand tightly wrapped around the shoulder blade. “Hyung, what are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Seokjin repeats, appalled. “What are you doing? Are you really chasing after Y/N now? You're insane!”
Yoongi shoves him away. “Look, Seokjin, I’m a fucking idiot okay? I know it’s a lot of information to take in such a short period of time, but I need you to understand this. Please. I need you to understand that I did something horrible to Y/N and she won’t even look at me, and if I let her go on that plane believing that I hated her and continue to hate her with every fiber of my being then I don’t think I could ever even begin to forgive myself. Please. Just let me do this.”
Seokjin’s eyes are the stormiest shade of brown that Yoongi has ever seen in his hyung. It looks like he has a whole round of protests and realistic statements that he wishes he could make. Yoongi doesn’t know what his own eyes look like, but they feel wide and he can feel the pleading in his own heartbeat. He has never longed for something more desperately than Seokjin’s approval, and that sensation is like a beating drum underneath his fingertips as he swallows and keeps his eyes on Seokjin just as Seokjin keeps his eyes on him.
Finally, Seokjin releases his hold on Yoongi. “Don’t do anything stupid,” He grunts, then sighs. “Stupider, I mean.”
Yoongi turns around and realizes that the Uber he has just called is sitting at the corner curb, a few footsteps from where Yoongi current stands. He turns back to Seokjin and musters the best smile he can manage. But the situation the boy has currently found himself makes the back of his throat tastes like bitter acid and it leaves him wanting to cry and throw up and scream all at the same time.
A wary look back from Seokjin tells him that perhaps the smile looks more like a grimace, but Seokjin doesn’t comment on it and neither does Yoongi, as he finally dashes across the courtyard towards where the Uber is and throws himself into the backseat. He lowers the cap of his hat, and tells the driver to take him to the airport.
He drums his fingers as soon as the car starts moving, shaking his legs, training his eyes nervously out the window as he watches the city lights of his town flash right before his eyes. He checks his phone, reads through your flight information to gather the time that your flight would be leaving the city, and feels like his heart might give out when he realizes that there is still two hours until your flight is set to leave. He momentarily thanks the unspoken rule that individuals flying international are recommended to arrive at least three hours before boarding.
The lurch of the car jerks Yoongi forward immediately as he shifts his gaze from the side window to the front glass between the driver and passenger seat, eyes widening when he sees the rows of red lights in front of him, stretching out for what seems like miles and smiles ahead of him. “What is this?” He snaps with a little more force than necessary.
The driver gives him a look over the shoulder. “Sorry, but the traffic's pretty bad around this time. According to the GPS, it’ll probably take an extra thirty to forty-five minutes to get to the airport. Seems like lots of other people are trying to get out of the city huh?” She’s clearly attempting some humor, if only to ease the stiffness that seems to be permanently stitched into Yoongi’s shoulders, but it only makes his anxiety of the situation worsen.
Maybe he really should have considered Seokjin’s warning before getting into the car.
Don’t do anything stupid. Stupider, at least. That’s what Seokjin had said. And now Yoongi finds himself caught in the middle of the late night weekend traffic. All because he hadn’t checked the time, or thought through the mapping of his situation, or tried to consider alternatives. If alternatives were even an option at this point.
Why did he always have a tendency to lose his mind at the very thought of you? Why did you always have a way of controlling his mind, even when he thought that the time and distance two years had carved would be enough to ease that natural ability you had obtained over the years? Why did he always do stupid things, really stupid things, just for you or because of you?
Yoongi grits his teeth, physically having to restrain himself from barking at the poor driver to go faster even if the physicality from the realms of reality will not allow for such a move. He settles instead with slumping against his seat, running a hand through his hair and letting the time slip past him as he alternates with checking the time on his phone to the time of your flight, only growing increasingly more anxious when real time ticks closer and closer to the 8:00PM flight of your departure. It feels like his mind is going through the shredder, running through honey, drowning out all sounds, as his heart pounds in a way that resonates through the entirety of his body. He can barely make out his driver’s few attempts to make conversation, managing the occasional hums every now and then—and she’s such a talker, Yoongi doubts that she even notices his distracted mindset.
The driver reaches the airport at 7:23PM, and Yoongi is a mad dash and a blur of shadow that finds him dashing out of the car before it comes to a complete stop. He throws more cash than necessary into the passenger seat, too hasty to think about the proper tip he should supply, before he’s out and dashing past the sliding doors into the check-in zone. Lines file out before him for different airlines, the chatter of people not enough to calm the bizarre storm in his mind, the stares and murmurs of immediate recognition leaving him feeling more exposed than ever before.
It is right then and there that Yoongi realizes that in his haste to leave the dorms and get to the airport as quickly as possible, he had forgotten to get in contact with Big Hit to tell him of his whereabouts. He had forgotten that while he may have just been Yoongi out in the private world he shared with the rest of Bangtan and the world he shared with you, things are different out here. In the real world, he's Min Yoongi of the highly popular and highly successful Bangtan Boys, a celebrity of an entirely different level. Stepping out in the way is the same as exposing himself so completely in the face of nosy strangers and fans, paparazzi, all of those little thing he always hated about the life he has inherited coming back to haunt him with the full force of a lightning bolt.
Since he hadn't contacted Big Hit to arrange security or bodyguards, the only people beyond the walls of the studio and the walls of your apartment that could make him feel safe to a certain extent, being alone in the middle of a busy airport makes him feel more lonely than ever before.
He hears the frantic scrambling of people before he can see them, and his legs act of their own accord as he takes down the walkway, dashing past people with suitcases and families awaiting the announcement of their own flight as the screaming behind him increases in volume. "It's Min Yoongi! It's Min Yoongi!" The statement rings like a bell in his ears as he runs, mind scrambling and his lungs feel like they might give out because he most certainly hadn't been expecting to have a run in with fans during his hasty attempts to reach you. If he had known he would be recognized at the drop of a hat, he might have put a little more thought into his decisions.
But again, another classic example of how he could never seen to get his head screwed on straight when it came to you.
Airport security eventually starts to pick up that a celebrity has arrived without warning, without prior arrangement, and they scramble to assign Yoongi in keeping some distance from the screaming girls and fans attempting to shove themselves and their cameras past the bodies. Yoongi feels the terror in his blood, more prominent than ever, because he's never had to shoulder the fright of the BTS fan base on his own. It feels constricting, air leaving his lungs in quick pants as he practically throws himself in the hall of bathrooms, the empty stalls leaving him the opportunity to hunch over the sink.
"Min Yoongi?" A voice calls, echoing along the bathroom as the footsteps follow the movement. A security guard enters the main vicinity, watching as Yoongi attempts to catch his breath.
Yoongi lets out a sigh as he brushes the sweat gathering over his forehead. His skin feels hot to the touch. "Y-Yeah," He manages. "That's me."
"What were you thinking?" The older man inquires, looking incredulous. "Those girls could have ripped your throat out if they got close enough. What are you doing here, arriving without any security of your own or the management of your label?"
"I came here of my own accord," Yoongi explains, straightening slightly as he leans against the counter. "I'm trying to get to someone before her flight takes off." He fishes out his phone and checks the time, nearly paling at the sight. "Which leaves in fifteen minutes." He looks up at the security guard. "Please. You have to help me get to that flight. There's someone about to leave, and I really need to talk to her."
The security guard shifts in his position. "A girlfriend or something?" He must see the defensive flicker in Yoongi's eyes, because he actually throws a smile. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that. It's just that I've never seen anything like this happen before, and I am curious how important this person must be if you need to reach her so badly."
Yoongi runs his hands over each other, feeling the rough skin underneath his touch. "Not a girlfriend," He grumbles. "It's, well, it's complicated. Please. I just need to see her one more time. Do you think you'll be able to make it work for me?"
"Of course we'll try to make it work," The security guard reassures. "I know you can hear them right now, but there is a herd of screaming girls outside the bathroom right now, so it's going to take some time to get more people over here so we can help you reach wherever it is you're going as quickly as possible. You're stuck here in the airport anyways, and you must have come here for a very important purpose.”
Yoongi takes in a few more deep breaths, trying to put a positive spin on the situation, and cursing when he realizes that he's never had too much of a sunshine filter. That kind of title was always reserved for Jimin or Taehyung. Or you.
The bitter tang comes back into his mouth, as does the reminder of the reason he had been forced into this position in the first place. He doesn't ever wish for many things in his life, with the exception of just a handful of extremely important things, but he so desperately wishes that he can reach you in time.
What Yoongi thinks: You probably don't understand how much I need to reach her, but I need to see her so badly it feels as if every bone in my body is breaking underneath the pressure and I've never felt more shitty about anything else in my entire life. If you fucked up your only relationship with the only person you've ever loved more than anything in your life, would you be as calm? Would you have been as thoughtless or careless or reckless to chase after someone so important?
What Yoongi says: "T-Thank you. The sooner I can reach her, the better."
The security guard manages a smile that doesn't give Yoongi the utmost confidence in the situation. The man leaves Yoongi with a final, “I’ll be back as soon as I can" before he disappears out of the bathroom vicinity. Even from where Yoongi stands, he can hear the high pitched screams increasing in volume, making his headache return in full force as he settles with pacing the area, taking in the empty stalls and feeling the time gradually start to slip out from underneath his feet.
He would check his phone every now and then to check the time, blatantly ignoring the other texts and missed calls he has gotten from the other members, knowing that he would get an earful from the boys about his suddenly reckless nature. It's like all of those previous times Yoongi would actually put effort into his thoughts was just adding up for the unfortunate disaster, like a line of consistent thoughts before the storm of reckless abandonment and disregard for everything within reason. Yoongi never thought it would fold out like this, however.
The ten minutes on the clock stares back at him, the time going by much too quickly and much too slowly all at the same time. He wants the security guards to work faster on their promise, or he was going to make a rush for the gate number regardless if the screaming fans were set on tearing him apart limb by limb. He wants the time until your departure to slow down until the blinking of his cell phone is something he no longer has to worry about. He wants everything and nothing and absolutely all those things in between, he wants things to go his way for once, he wants to make things better and right.
But most of all, he just wants you again.
He checks his phone again. Five minutes.
The security guard comes strolling back in as if it's not Yoongi's relationship with the only person who could make him feel grounded is completely at stake. "We're ready now. Which gate is your girlfriend at?"
Yoongi doesn't make a point to try and correct the older man as he says the number set that has practically been burned into his mind and his throat, saying it before he could even stop to think. "It's Gate 42."
The suddenly hesitate look in his eyes doesn't do good things to Yoongi's stomach. "I hear that flight is scheduled for an earlier departure. We better get going."
And so the pair of them depart from the bathroom, Yoongi emerging first and discovering a handful of other airport security either helping clear the area for him to walk through or standing near him for the additional protection. Even though the gesture is rather small, the gravity of it feels like miles of gratuity for Yoongi and he manages the best smile he can muster to the workers as they lead him to gate 42. The screams of fans as they try to poke their head around the guards is almost drowned out by Yoongi's own rushing feet as he paces as quickly as he can down the halls without actually having to run.
He reads the gates in the back of his mind, heart stopping for an earth shattering second when he sees gate 42. He half expects it to be littered with passengers, since there's still another three minutes before the flight is scheduled to leave and of course, last minute passengers should still be boarding. Right?
Instead, he finds the guest area completely devoid of people, not even lingering individuals on their phones or laptops. The sight doesn't do good things to his insides, as he completely freezes in his tracks, letting the panic wash over him like water.
He catches movement of the hostess closing the door leading onto the plane, and feels a burst of movement overcome him as he practically throws himself onto the desk and startles the woman out of her usual closing up routine. "I need to speak to someone on this flight," He says by way of greeting, social norms of proper introduction be damn. This is what happens when he doesn't get the opportunity to rehearse at least the basis of a statement in his mind before letting the words just leave his mouth with no filter whatsoever. "It's important, please."
The hostess gives him a look of complete and utter sympathy. "I'm sorry sir, but the crew inside just finished their final flight check, and are scheduled for an immediate departure. They've already lifted the connecting tube."
"What?" Yoongi inquires, his voice too breathless from the way his heart is suddenly pounding blood excessively through his body, his mind too hazy, his eyes wide, ears trying to strain in order to catch every single word that is leaving the woman's lips. "No, no, no, please, please, it's really important."
Her suddenly sad expression feels like the weight of the entire world has just been dropped clean onto Yoongi's shoulders. "I'm so sorry sir. I would love to help you, but there's nothing I can do right now."
Yoongi opens his mouth to protest again, but what could he say? All the pleading and begging in the world cannot possibly bring you back, cannot generate enough pity for a captain to turn an entire plane around. No one on the flight would appreciate such a gesture either. Everyone has places to go, people to see, countries to visit, jobs to take.
Just like you, and you would leave the soils and the base of Korea thinking that Yoongi did not love you enough or did not care enough or did not need you enough.
The weight of that realization makes it feel as if his heart has been replaced with a stone, as he can physically monitor the sensation of it sinking to the pit of his stomach. He bends his head lower, swallowing thickly, inhaling sharply as his heart beat quickens for reasons beyond running throughout the airport, his face heats up with something other than anger, throat closing up because he missed it. He missed you.
"W-Well," The hostess continues, the sight of seeing Min Yoongi so distraught over missing a flight clearly deepening the knife of guilt further into her chest. "You are more than welcome to watch the plane leave."
It's the last thing Yoongi wants to see, but he appreciates the hostess at least attempting to be kind. He can't muster anything other than a short and simple thank you as he drags himself to the window and presses his hands to the glass just in time to see the plane disembarking from its original standpoint. He gnaws harshly at his bottom lip as he watches the plane direct its way onto the straightaway, picking up speed, dashing down the highway, soaring up and up and up, away from the ground and Yoongi watches with the heaviest heart as it disappears into the sky.
He brings his hands back down to his side, shutting his eyes tightly together to block out the tears and the ringing of failure in his ears and the fact that the worst possible scenario he just thought of has actually happened. He thinks of how you must have looked boarding that plane, thinking with all your heart that you were only worth the string of letters and words he could rap in your ear and nothing more, that you were only worth the phrases of his past and not his present and definitely not his future.
You have left, and he honestly cannot say with much certainty as to how things are going to be when you get back. He tries to picture a world in which you’ve allowed the distance to create a wall, an emotional barrier, between the pair of you. He tries to picture a world where you’ll smile at him but not really smile at him, where you’ll hug him stiffly, and tell him of your endeavors with the same application you would bring to a complete stranger.
The thought absolutely crushes him, stresses him beyond belief. He knows how you get when you’re angry. You detach yourself from situations, you leave for a few hours, and you return with the intention of trying to pretend as if nothing had happened—staying away from the vocal art of talking things out that you’ve struggled with for years. But during those incidents, the situations were never so terrible, and you and Yoongi always found ways around those seemingly insignificant issues.
But now it’s of a completely different scale, and it’s not like he has the power to fallback to a nonexistent relationship to ensure that the pair of you could work through these differences.
He’s never felt more devastated about anything, training his eyes back onto the sky as if the plane would merge from behind the clouds. But of course, it doesn’t, leaving little doubt in his mind that he’s failed and he’s failed you and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do anymore.
.
It would be another hour before Min Yoongi is allowed to leave the airport. Big Hit is contacted during the frenzy, and they arrive shortly after the plane holding you and Yoongi’s heart has disappeared into the sky. It takes awhile to clear things up with press and publicity as everyone wants a different answer to the exact same question: Why was Min Yoongi at the airport? Who was he chasing? Why was he chasing this individual?
Management hides themselves well, telling everyone with a practiced grace that questions pertaining to Yoongi’s emotional state were strictly forbidden. Yoongi does not bother to help with these questions, electing instead to keep to the corner, hunched over in a chair, the hair over his face and the mental replay of the last few hours leaves him completely numb.
He keeps his mouth shut, refusing to indulge about his reasons for running off so recklessly, even when he is safe in the Big Hit company car and questioned by various members of management. It’s unusual for Yoongi to hold himself so quietly, especially after such an extreme incident, but no one presses the topic. Yoongi doesn’t know what he had been expecting, since he cannot stress just how little thought he had put into his evening, but an earful would have been the kind way out. The fact that no one is saying anything about the situation leaves him to believe that perhaps he looks much worse than he had initially thought—and that’s not a comforting thought to ride in silence with. A part of him longs to say something, to ease the tension in the air, but no one makes a shift of movement, and the car ride back to the dorm is probably one of the most awkward in Yoongi’s entire career with Big Hit.
Yoongi can barely spare a means of thanks or a glance over his shoulder before stepping out of the car. The heaviness in his heart at the loss of his utter defeat feels like weights drifting out throughout the rest of his body, equating to a sluggish movement of his feet as he attempts his way up the stairs.
He is so caught up in the hazy events of what exactly has happened to him, even though it's all beginning to feel like a very strange and deluded dream, that he nearly forgets that there are people waiting for him as soon as he unlocks the door to the dorms.
He starts as soon as the first greeting bombards past his thoughts, piercing into his mind, turning to deliver a wide-eyed glance at the boys are gathered around the table. The six pairs of eyes once pierced on Jungkook have swapped to the boy now standing at the door, all expressing the same emotion of curiosity and wonder and all clearly expecting some positive news after all that hassle. “So?” Taehyung inquires, wide-eyed. “Did you reach Y/N in time? What did she say?”
Yoongi collapses into his seat, the emotional drainage finally starting to catch up to him. “She didn’t say anything,” He discloses, keeping his eyes trained on one of the cracks in the wooden table. Didn’t Seokjin mention something about having to get that fixed up?
Jimin looks confused. “What do you mean she didn’t say anything? You mean she rejected you?”
He curses his reeling mind, his sinking heart, his closing throat for hurting him and betraying him when he needed to be confident in front of the others. “It means,” He speaks with a little more force than necessary, the action causing his voice to crack. “That I didn’t make it in time.”
The silence that follows his unexpected confession rings throughout the room as each of the boy’s process the information. Too afraid to see what kind of looks he’s going to get, Yoongi forces himself to turn his gaze as he gnaws on his lower lip and the walls of defense he’s spent the past hour building up comes burning down in one swift statement.
“You mean…” Jungkook inquires softly. “You missed the plane?”
“Y-Yeah,” Yoongi answers, turning his head as far away from the others and their stares as he can physically manage, blinking the tears before it could start falling down his cheeks. It’s a hard sight to not notice, but he’s thankful none of the boys bring it up or point it up or ask for further details: such as what happened when he got to the airport, why was he held up, or how he had gotten back home. “I missed it.”
Feeling as if he might suffocate on the air around him, Yoongi straightens and dismisses himself from the table with the excuse that he longed for nothing more than to take a shower and curl into bed. The whispers from the other boys seem to follow him out of the kitchen like the plague, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if they start taking sides or forming personal opinions about how Yoongi should carry out the next course of action. All he really cares about now is you. And you’re gone.
The amount of stress that has been eating at him ever since he let himself spill out those horrible, horrible words makes him think he might collapse or vomit or fling himself off a bridge or scream or just do anything. He can’t even count how many times he’s skipped meals or missed the opportunity to catch a few hours of sleep simply because he just laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling. All the self-hatred takes itself out on him, leaving him and sick and tired but providing little opportunities of ways around the problem.
He knows what tomorrow will bring, as he steps into the bathroom and settles with locking the door and just sinking to the floor. Tomorrow will bring questions from Big Hit, questions that he will have to answer, questions regarding truth and reason and most importantly, you. It means admitting his love for you, admitting that evening in Beijing and the words following that changed everything.
Yoongi looks down at his hands, lacing fingers together as he tries to picture the next morning. He pictures sitting in the conference room, everyone staring at him and attempting to draw the answers out as to what exactly drew Yoongi cause so much trouble. Would he do it? Would he come clean with his feelings for you and risk the standing of his career just to express that love?
He swallows thickly when the answer seems to jump out at him. Yes.
Yes, of course he would come clean with his feelings. He would scream about it from the top of his lungs, future scandal rumors from websites and nosy fans be damned. Anything to get you to return with the willingness to listen to him, anything to get you to return and commit to Big Hit again, anything, anything, anything.
He tightens his grip around his jeans, everything around him feel tighter and more constricting and he lowers his head, choking on another sob. He wonders if this is what the weight of missed opportunities feels like, the ‘what-ifs’ brewing in his mind like poison as he knocks the back of his head against the door of the bathroom. For a blinding moment, he hates the airport, he hates the screaming girls, he hates security, he hates you; but most of all, he just hates himself.
It takes him thirty minutes too long to take a shower—or should it be called a shower or more of ‘just standing and letting the hot water run down his back’ type of situation. Either way, it takes way too long and it’s nowhere as satisfying as he had pictured.
The boys are still in the kitchen when Yoongi steps through, a towel in his hair, and the halting conversation leaves little to the imagination of what they all had been previously discussing.
“How do you feel now, hyung?” Jimin asks gently.
Yoongi shrugs, not exactly sure how to categorize the desensitized sensation that almost makes he think he won’t be able to feel his stomach in the morning.
“W-Well,” Jimin continues, watching Yoongi settle back into the chair he had previously occupied. “Y/N should be back after a week, right—?”
Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat. “A-Actually, she doesn’t have a confirmed return date.” He hastily continues filling in the blanks on the rest of the statement after catching Yoongi’s look that makes him feel as if he’s just kicked the older boy’s dog. “S-She didn’t know if she would get the job or not. And she told me she might want to explore the city before turning back.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything to that. He simply supplies Jungkook with a side glance, before turning back to scrolling mindlessly through his phone. The action doesn’t sit well with the rest of the boys, who exchange glances like exchanging secrets, before it’s Namjoon who is volunteered to speak next.
“Hyung, maybe you should call her and tell her how you feel over the phone,” Namjoon starts delicately. “It might not bring her back faster, but at least there’ll be an open line of communication—!”
“No,” Yoongi interrupts, straightening up pocketing his phone. He’s still not making complete eye contact with any of the boys, who are all desperately trying to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to burden her right now.”
“But…” Jimin brings up, but a look from Seokjin halts the rest of the conversation, and they all watch as Yoongi drags himself to his bedroom and clicks the door quietly behind him.
.
One week later is met with the blaring of Jungkook’s cellphone and a ringtone that positively echoes throughout the entirety of the dorm. It’s not an ordinary ringtone for an ordinary person, however, it’s one that had been assigned with a certain caller that makes Jungkook spring out of his seat and practically divebomb for the object on the coffee table. “Noona!” He answers at once, and the boys around him halt all their conversations and the video game Hoseok had put on is instantly forgotten.
“Jungkook, hi!” You exclaim on the other side of the line. “How’s it going over there?”
“It’s good,” He answers after a moment, sneaking a glance at Yoongi only to find that the older boy has devoted one hundred and ten percent of unnecessary concentration onto his phone. “How’s it going with you? How did the job interview go?”
“Ah, it went amazing!” You gush at once, all that previous sadness he had left you with relatively gone. “I got the job.”
“Oh wow, congratulations noona!” Jungkook exclaims, sending a nod to Namjoon when the boys ask a question with their eyes. “So they put you to work immediately, huh?”
“Pretty much,” You admit with a sigh. “I meant to call sooner, but I’ve been spending the whole week getting an apartment and getting a work visa, you know all that fun stuff. I don’t actually start working until next week so I’ve just been running around.”
“That does sound pretty exhausting noona,” Jungkook admits, casting another look at Yoongi and electing to stare this time until the older boy returned his gaze. “I’m really happy for you, though.”
“Thank you Jungkook.”
He smiles at the genuine earnesty behind your voice, how truly happy you are and how truly oblivious you are to what you’ve left behind. Jungkook bites his lip. “N-Noona,” He starts a little nervously. “I know now may not be the best time but… I feel like there’s something you need to know.”
He can physically feel the tension in the air start to rise, as if everyone can sense the direction the conversation is heading in. Even Yoongi jerks his head up, the first sharp movement he’s produced since you left Korea. “Jungkook,” Yoongi cuts in sharply. “Don’t.”
“What?” You inquire from the other end of the line. “Jungkook, you’re scaring me. What happened? Is everyone okay?”
“It’s about what happened the night you left,” He continues.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi repeats. “Stay out of it.”
For a moment, Jungkook can hear your voice lowering on the other end of the line. “Is that Yoongi?” You ask, voice quietening considerably.
“Y-Yeah, he’s here,” Jungkook says, leaning back when it looks like Yoongi’s about to blow off his top and manhandle Jungkook off a cliff. Given that the past week has been filled with nothing but vacant stares and curling underneath the covers of his bed until noon, the sight of seeing Yoongi suddenly filled with aggression and negative energy is both an interesting yet terrifying sight to witness. “Noona, you should know. The night you left, I went back to the dorms and—hey!”
Jungkook throws an incredulous look at Yoongi as the older boy practically springs out of his seat and confronts the maknae with all the force of a bullet train. With a strength no one could have seen coming, Yoongi pries the phone out of Jungkook’s hands and hangs up with a forceful jab to the end call button.
All the boys are giving Yoongi a wide-eyed look at the violent gesture of the older boy as Yoongi stands above Jungkook, cell phone clenched tightly in Yoongi’s hand. “H-Hyung…” Jungkook is the first to speak, not having expected the movement.
Yoongi’s glare at Jungkook could scare away small children. “I told you to drop it Jungkook,” He says, voice low. However, even with the angry disposition, it’s easy to see that underneath the layer of aggression is just a version of Yoongi who is too small and too afraid and too desperate to look beyond into a future without you. Underneath all that is just Yoongi trying to hide away from the emotional despair in favor trying to make sure the ‘what-ifs’ would stop haunting him like ghosts of the past. Yoongi emits a sigh when the worried looks of his friends would not let up. “Look, I’ll call her when I’m ready, but you don’t need to fight my battles for me, okay? I’ll tell her when I’m ready.”
He offers the phone back to Jungkook, and Jungkook takes it without another word.
.
Bangtan makes a mutual agreement not to bring up the phone call, mainly out of respect for Yoongi’s own time and willingness to indulge in the subject manner, but also out of fear that slipping out one word involving you would evoke another spark of volcanic eruption on Yoongi’s part.
However, it cannot be helped that the question slips out once or twice—mainly on Namjoon or Jungkook’s part, light-hearted attempts to monitor Yoongi’s emotional state to make sure he wouldn’t do anything too stupid or jump too far off the spectrum. Yoongi typically answers the same way he always does: a glare, a quiet “not yet” or “soon”, and a drop of the conversation entirely.
They all almost think that Yoongi would never give you a call, or never bring you up again, or hide his emotions so deeply underneath the surface until it would come flooding out of him like a dam, until one afternoon when the boy returning back from his afternoon session at the studio. The boy seems surprisingly more upbeat than per usual, a shift in the emotional gear that is immediately taken note of by Jungkook.
“Hey Hyung,” Jungkook greets as he gently pushes forward the bag of chips he had been eating as a casual offering to the older boy. “How was your day?”
“It was fine,” Yoongi answers with a shrug of one shoulder. “I called Y/N today.”
Jungkook straightens in his seat, as does the others within the vicinity. “Did you really?”
He smiles a little, a gesture that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s so much better than the harsh glares that the household has witnessed over the past few weeks that nobody pays any attention to that.
“C’mon hyung, what did she say?” Jimin inquires brightly, poking his head into the kitchen after making sure to put a pause on the video game he had been indulging with Taehyung.
“We didn’t really talk much,” Yoongi replies vaguely, running his fingers across the patterns of the table. “I just… uh, apologized again for what I said. And she forgave me.”
“That’s great hyung!” Jungkook exclaims.
“Y-Yeah.” Yoongi still isn’t looking at anyone. “She, uh, said that she had a lot of time to think about… us while in America and thought that hooking up had been a little reckless for us too. There was a bit more talking, but she said that we could talk about it when she comes back to Korea.”
“So you guys are going to talk about it?” Jimin inquires, brightening as the words seem to sink into his mind. “Hyung, that’s awesome! I’m glad you guys were able to clear the air up.”
Yoongi produces forth a tight smile that no one else seems to notice, given that they’re probably too caught up in their little excitement over the fact that Yoongi finally seemed to mend the bridge that initially appeared too burned down to care for properly. He does one more nod before excusing himself to his bedroom, where he shuts the door and slides down to the floor. Yoongi doesn’t do anything for the quick flicker of a second, merely settling with staring up at the ceiling, before he fishes out his phone from his back pocket.
He opens up his phone app, scrolling through the call history button, thumb lingering over and eyes trained hard on the fact that his most recent call had been to Seokjin. One week ago. You are nowhere on his call history and have not been on his call history for the past two years.
He thinks back to his story with the boys—how their eyes had been coated with excitement and relief, how they seemed to have rid themselves of the sympathetic look in their gaze that seemed to be permanently etched everytime one of them looked at Yoongi. To say he grew tired of their worries, as reasonable as it truly is, would be an understatement.
And besides, it may have been a lie—but it’s not like they would find out the truth, and it’s not like you were coming back soon, and even if you did he would reach you before the boys before his lie could unravel. Min Yoongi knows what he’s doing. He’s just trying to get through the next few months of his life.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | epilogue
#yoongi x reader#yoongi scenario#yoongi x you#min yoongi scenario#yoongi angst#bts scenario#bts x reader#bts angst#repost: workofteaguk#traci writes
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Past and Present: Chapter 19
"Let me get this straight. You've been working with the Fentons for a while now in their lab, as an intern?"
The group was still in the same room, having just listened to Sam confess about her 'internship' with the Fentons.
"Well, like I said, it's been more like cleaning up Jack's messes," Sam concluded.
"Either way, Sam, if you needed answers, there were better ways to get them." Danny had a hurt look in his now green eyes.
'Says the ghost who has been doing the same thing,' Danny found himself thinking.
"It's not like you were being much help…" Sam said under her breath.
"Again!" Sarah chimed in before a lover's quarrel could ensue.
Both teens looked at her in frustration before deciding she was probably right.
"I understand you needed answers Sammy, but I wish you had tried a different way about getting them." Her grandma continued, "Or at least told me. Ever since you started hanging out with Danny you've been so secretive."
"Grandma, since when are you so against the Fentons? You do remember that Danny is one of them?" Sam asked, somewhat confused.
"Well of course, but he's different. I know him. I never even met Jack and Maddie…"
'Wait, what? She was so close to my parents, to Jazz. What happened to make her change?'
This statement took Danny by surprise, as he had assumed that Sarah had kept her connections to his family after his death.
"You didn't?"
Sarah turned to Danny, a pained look in her eyes.
"Danny it's a long story…"
"It was after your funeral. Your parents were devastated, you had such a bright future ahead of you, and then you disappeared. I, of course, was heartbroken and didn't even want to go off to college. I spent that whole summer in the house, barely eating. Finally, my parents realized something was up and forced me out. "
Sam and Danny both sat in awe as Sarah told a story she hadn't shared in years.
"But as bad as I was Danny, Jazz was worse. Your sister adored you, and always wanted to protect you. But she couldn't this time, and it ate her up. She wouldn't leave her room for the longest time, and when she finally did, she spent hours upon hours at the library trying to find answers. When the library couldn't help, she ended up skipping town to study parapsychology in California."
"Parapsychology?" Danny asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"The study of ghosts and paranormal activity," Sarah said dryly. "Back then there were only two programs that offered it, and no one took it seriously. Everyone tried to stop her, saying it was a waste of her time and money, that she was too smart to give up being a doctor, but she wouldn't listen. You know how independent Jazz was."
With the recent surge in memories, Danny could recall several things about his older sister, and her independence was definitely one of them.
"But she ended up back here, and she started the research that led to the portal, right?" Sam asked, trying to connect the dots to a family she'd been coming to know.
"Yes, she and her new husband ended up back here after they graduated, moving into the old house and starting their research. But that was after I was already gone, so I don't know the full story," Sarah confessed.
'Gone? Sarah left town too? Why hasn't she mentioned that before?'
"Sarah, You never told me you left town? You always loved it here!" Danny exclaimed in awe as the conversation started to change directions.
"Wait, Grandma? Is that what Dad used to always talk about when he said he'd visit you and Grandpa during summers?" Sam began, recalling stories of rain forests and African safaris.
Sarah turned to Danny. "Danny, as hard as it may be to believe, I needed to get away from here for awhile. Even at community college I was still too close to all the painful memories your disappearance brought."
Sarah looked away at this, small tears forming in her eyes .
When she next looked up, it was to face Sam. "Promise me Sam, that no matter what happens you will never run from your past like I did. It's my biggest regret in life that I left instead of trying to piece together things here. "
Sam moved closer to her grandma, putting her hand on her shoulder and giving her a squeeze.
"Grandma, I promise," she whispered.
There was silence for a moment before Danny broke in.
"It doesn't make sense to me. I know I just disappeared and my sister shut you out, but you never would have left before."
"That was before. When I went to school I met Tom, and he really helped me see that staying here was doing more harm than good. That we could do more good elsewhere. So we joined the Peace Corps, traveling the world and saving lives. It felt so great, for a while."
--
Sarah rolled over in her hammock and looked out the window of their tiny shack. Another day in Peru was about to begin.
She and Tom had been stationed here for the past six months, helping the locals of their village work on revitalizing after a major hurricane.
She had loved it at first, the same way she had all of their other missions. But the novelty was starting to wear thin, as thoughts of home and family weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Getting up to prepare for the day, she found herself brushing her long black hair in the mirror and thinking more and more about home.
'Can I really keep doing this? Running from my past? Shutting out my family the way my parents did to me?'
She looked over at Tom as he rolled over and stood up from his hammock, his scraggly beard a mess this morning. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at her and saw the frown on her face.
"Sarah, what is it this time?" he yawned, as he came closer.
"Tom, don't start with me. I'm not in much of a mood today."
"It's just, honey, you've been distant. I thought doing all this was supposed to help."
"And it did… for a while. But lately I've been missing home. My family. My son," she confessed, raising her hands to emphasize.
"Sarah, we talked about this when we decided to have him. Warren doesn't need to be globe-hopping with us. He's safer back in America at school, and when our mission is up, we'll go back and be a family."
"Which mission, Tom? This mission?" She waved her hands, emphasizing the area they were in, "Or the global one? Because every time one ends you sign us up for another!"
"Sarah, baby, you know how much I love doing good, helping people, traveling. It's been my dream since I was a kid!"
"And then you met me, a poor depressed loner and figured it'd be a good excuse!?"
Her blood was boiling now, as all the emotions she had been keeping inside as of late finally came to the surface.
Now Tom was frowning too."Remember how long we dated before you would even TELL ME why you were so guarded? Not once during that time did I ever think of you as an excuse to get away from town."
She had to admit he was right on that one, for during those first few months he had stood by and let her hide the truth without question.
Bringing her voice back to a normal level she began again. "It's just been on my mind a lot, how much I HATED it when my parents went away on business. We were never close, and now I'm doing the same thing to my own son. What kind of example is that?"
"Sarah, please, just listen to me. Going back there, to Amity Park, isn't going to help you. All your friends shut you out after…"
"Don't say it, I can't think about that right now." She quickly turned as the memories began to flood back.
"And that is exactly why you can't go back there!" Tom almost yelled in frustration.
"Who are you to say what I can and cannot do? We're not even married!"
Despite everything, including their son, Sarah and Tom had never taken the time to have an actual marriage ceremony. And the more she thought about it, Sarah was glad they hadn't.
'Who are you and what have you done with the man I love?'
They had been in love when they made the decision to take off and travel, or so she had thought. But now, twenty-five years later, the love was wearing as thin as her patience.
"I just can't do this anymore. I need to be somewhere stable. With running water and air conditioning. With Warren."
At this point Sarah had made up her mind and knew what she needed to do. Grabbing her suitcase and throwing a few things back into it, she stomped out the door, leaving Tom standing there, staring at the doorway.
"We can't just leave! We have a job to do here!"
"Who said anything about we?" she called as she stomped off. "I'm going alone. I'll send for the rest of my things soon."
With that she ventured off to the street, determined to make things right.
--
"It was after that that I moved back to Amity, moved in with Warren. He was so happy to see me, but so distant for the longest time. After all, he had grown up with barely a family, and now here I was living upstairs."
The strain in Sarah's voice became worse with each word.
"So that's why I never met Grandpa." Sam said, a bit of shock in her voice.
"He was a great man Sammy, don't let me tell you otherwise. But in the end, I needed to be here."
"Grandma, I… I knew Grandpa left, but you never told me all this… I wish I had known," Sam said, squeezing her grandma's shoulder.
" I didn't want to bother you with the pains of my past," Sarah said, laughing at herself for the irony they now faced.
"But that doesn't make sense," Danny interrupted. "You could have gotten in touch with Jazz when you returned, or my parents."
"I wanted to Danny, but they were gone. Your parents had died long before, and Jazz kept to her lab 24/7. No one ever saw her or her husband except when he took little Jack to school."
Sarah looked at Danny again, sincere remorse in her expression.
"Despite my return and the ease I finally felt about being back in town, I could never bring myself to approach Jazz. We had both changed so much and both gone our separate ways. I didn't need the burden of her and her research bringing me back down again. So I stayed away, never even explaining to Warren the true reason I left in the first place."
"And then one morning I woke up, turned on the news, and found out about her death. Apparently the amount of chemicals and radiation from all her research had gotten the best of her and she died younger than she should have. If I had known she was in the hospital, I would have visited, tried to fix the past. But it was too late."
"It was never too late Sarah. You should have tried to reach her the second you got back, or even before that. You said you never stopped caring, loving, but it sounds like all you did was run. You don't run from the ones you love. You help them."
Danny didn't know where this anger was coming from – he never expected to find himself mad at her. But something about this whole story just seemed off for Sarah.
'She leaves town, completely vanishes for a while, and then returns without even trying to reconnect? How could she?'
Almost as if knowing what Danny was thinking, Sarah let out a sigh.
"Danny, I know you are angry, and you have a right to be. It wasn't like me to just run from my family and friends like that. But you have to understand the circumstances. You were gone, Jazz was a mess, my parents didn't care. Tom did. He took me in and helped me, and even though we separated, I don't regret leaving town when I did. I needed to get away. Clear my head. And I did, and it helped."
Danny could tell Sarah was done with her story and was going to hold to it. Another thing from the past that he was remembering: her stubbornness.
--
Sam had been sitting on the sidelines for most of this story, trying to comprehend it all, and was still not sure if she understood. But there was one thing she did understand, and that was her Grandma's need to escape. After all, she held felt the exact same way recently, although the methods she had taken to escape were much worse.
But escape is escape, and sometimes we all just need to leave the world we know.'
"Grandma, don't listen to Danny. You did what you needed to do. You escaped, found a new home for a while, cleared your head…. But in the end you came back, and that's what matters."
Sam leaned over and squeezed her grandmother's hand, looking her straight in the eyes as a sign of support.
"Thank you sweetie, I knew I could count on you to understand," Sarah replied quietly.
'What would we do without each other?'
Finally breaking away, Sam pulled back a bit.
"But we do still need to talk to the Fentons. They have the answers we need to figure out what's happening to Danny. Why he's here and why he's changing."
Sarah sighed and turned to the boy next to her, his green eyes shining below a mop of black hair.
He looked back, unable to come up with anything more to say in regards to her story, and nodded.
"Well, I guess it's time I met my nephew."
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Run
This here is another story I had hidden away but would like to share.
Run. That's all I can think to do. Run.
It's cold and dark but I have to keep running.
I ran for hours, I couldn't run for much longer. Oxygen wasn't reaching my lungs, but if I stopped they would get me. They are hunting me and have been for ages. They are dangerous and will not stop until I have been caught. They have been hunting me since I crossed paths with a black magic user. I had accidentally ran into him one night on my way home from work, and by night I mean about 3:00 in the morning and when I say ran into him I literally mean ran into him.
flash back
I was tired and on my way home from work. I had to walk because my car died on the way to my work, so I walked home at 3 in the morning, through back alleys and dark spaces. I was nervous about taking this route home but I was to tired to care. A trash can behind me was knocked over by a raccoon and it scared the living daylights out of me, so I ran as fast as I could and turned a corner a bit to quick.
As I turned it I hit something, hard. I bounced off it and hit the ground with a thump. As I looked to see what I hit, that's when I first saw the thing that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. A pig mask stared down at my with black eyes and blood stains. As they stepped towards me I scooted back until I hit the wall of the alley. He continued walking towards me while I was glued to my spot staring into the dead black eyes of the mask. As he stood in front of me he reached down and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me off the ground and pinning me against the wall. This was when I finally snapped out of it and started to struggle against him. He through me and I slid to the opposite wall. Winded I struggled to stand up again, he walked towards me, I collapsed to the ground doubling over in pain.
"Next time watch where you are going." I looked up at his back as he walked away I let out my inner sass. "Next time don't beat on someone who accidentally ran into you." With that said he turned back to me. "What did you say?" he asked me in a low growl. When I didn't reply he asked again but only louder. That was when I noticed that his hand started glowing pink. Shit I made him angry. I stood as fast as I could and ran, ignoring the pain and his yelling and shouting about how stupid I was I managed to get to the park at the end of my street. I sat there for ten minutes making sure he didn't follow me. Once I knew for sure that he didn't follow I made my way to my house. I slipped out of my work clothes and got changed and went to bed.
The next Day I woke up and got dressed. I ate some breakfast and then decided to have a lazy day. When it hit about 7:30 I decided I should probably get something for tea. I decided to go down to a little place down the road and grab a pizza. Unfortunately I didn't make it that far. From the shadows of the park I was walking past emerged a little raccoon. It stood in the middle of my path and stared at me, then it did something I was not expecting. It started to grow and merge into a human form with a blue hoodie and a hockey mask. "You pissed off my friend last night, and then he pissed me off by sending me after you." I could here the smirk through his ice cold voice, but the words he was saying made no sense to me, that is until it clicked that I crashed into the pig masked guy last night. "He made me follow you back to your house and watch you until you left." I stood still, shocked that I didn't notice him follow me home.
I got lost in my thoughts trying to recall anything else from last night but it didn't work, I couldn't think of anything. I was torn from my thoughts when I was pushed roughly from the side straight into a tree. Everything went blurry for a few seconds and when my eyes readjusted I could see a bloody pig mask, the dead eyes were staring me at down. All I could do was stare back at them. The chills that traveled up and down my spine made me shake. All I could hear was a chuckle and a giggle, Then all I seen was black. I wasn't knocked out, I could hear and feel but I couldn't see. Then I was being dragged by my arm. I swung around and started to hit and kick whoever had a hold of me, but they still dragged me. My vision slowly started to come back and I saw piggy dragging me as hockey mask was skipping up ahead. Literally skipping. I realized he was dragging me to a van that had an owl sitting on the roof. The owl was rather large and had golden brown feathers. It was just staring with giant gold eyes as I was dragged towards it.
As hockey mask got closer he stuck his arm out as the owl flew towards him and landed on his arm. As we got closer to the van I thought of a plan to escape. I stopped fighting acting like I admitted defeat, so pig loosened the grip on my arm. As we got to the van door I ripped my arm out of his grip and ran. I could hear heavy footsteps chasing me and then the flap of wings. Sharp talons sliced open my arm as I through it over my head. I neared the park in my street and felt the familiar tingle throughout my body as I morphed into a fox.
I ran straight into a set of bushes to hide, but they soon found me so I once again ran this time going from different sets of bushes. They were running around trying to find me, two on foot and an owl in the sky. After I was sure I had gotten away I ran to my friend's, Brock, house. I changed and knocked on the door. As he opened it his face went from surprise to happy to concerned and then he dragged me into his kitchen as I basically collapsed on the seat by the bench. He came back with a first aid kit and demanded answers. After he patched me up and I told him what happened he took me to the spare room and set me down on the bed as I was just about to pass out.
I woke up a while later in pain, so I went to the kitchen to get some medication to stop the ache. Brock was sitting at the table eating some breakfast while reading the paper. He looked up at me to see what I was doing, as I grabbed a glass of water and a couple of pills he started up some small talk about where I was going to stay now that the psychos know where I live. He said I could stay in his spare room for a while until I was on my feet and healed up all proper an good.
After a few weeks I hated myself for accepting the offer of staying at Brock's house while I found another one. They found where I was staying and broke in one night. I managed to get out of the house just after Brock screamed to me. I jumped from the window and changed into a fox and ran into a bush to keep an eye on what was happening. I watched as Brock was dragged out of his house unconscious by a different person, this one had a glowing red eye and a metal arm. Hockey mask ran out of the house and down the street as pig ran out after him yelling and screaming at him about something, I could hear some key words from my hiding place, all I knew was that he was pissed. Shadows shot out from his hands and chased down hockey mask, wrapping around his body holding him down until Pig stood over him. Pig was yelling and screaming at hockey mask. As the shadows released hockey mask he jumped up and scattered, calling out to the owl to follow. After that night I never stayed in the same place. I was chased by their group, new and old people and animals chased me, but I always managed to escape them. I managed to run and hide out in a forest area for a while as a fox, but eventually I was found. After that I went to the city and that's where I am today.
End flashback
I was hiding in an alley behind some bins after being found once again. I had thought I had lost the animals chasing me. The golden Owl and a majestic eagle were flying overhead and a wolf was on foot. I heard a howl close by so I changed to a fox and ran as fast as I could to the park nearby. I could here heavy breathing behind me and before I knew it I was tackled to the ground and pinned.
All that is going through my head is now i'm screwed. I have been caught by the enemy I have been running from for years. I am dead meat. I didn't have the will to fight back. I just stayed on the ground pinned while the wolf growled at me. I exposed my neck in a gesture of surrender, he nipped at my neck as I whimpered in submission. I noticed the eagle had landed on a brunch above with their head lowered like they were ashamed. The owl landed next to them as they waited As I went limp I got a glimpse of a shadow headed towards me. I stayed still and tried to catch my breath. The weight holding me down was thrown away and replaced by something lighter. When I looked I seen the wolf that tackled me pinned to the ground by a shadow. He was submitting like I did except the shadow didn't bite him.
I heard footsteps approaching me and as I looked to see who it was I noticed the pig. As he got to me the shadow moved off me and pig knelt down beside me. I let out an involuntary whimper and curled in on myself as he reached for me. He gripped my scruff and lifted me up checking the bite on my neck as I whimpered in pain, as he dropped me back to the ground I changed back into my human form curling back into a ball. He stood up and walked over to the wolf as the shadow moved from above him. The wolf changed into a human and started to scoot backwards until he hit a tree. He continued to cower away from pig. "CaRtOoNz thought I told you not to hurt him." Pig growled out towards the 'CaRtOoNz' guy. "I-I didn't mean to. H-He p-p-provoked m-me." wolf stuttered out. I heard skin-on-skin contact as pig punched 'CaRtOoNz'. "Wildcat I t-told you it wasn't my fault, I-I-I d-didn't mean to. Please have mercy." CaRtOoNz pleaded.
I started to slide away but was stopped when I backed into a pair of legs. I slowly looked up only to see hockey mask looking down at me. I shuddered at his cold stare, and looked back to the ground. All I could hear was a crazed laughter from above me. "Delirious leave him alone." Wildcat spoke out to this 'Delirious' guy. "But Wildcat it is fun. He seems so innocent, and so easy to mentally scar."
"I said NO!" Wildcat shouted as he started towards Delirious. All Delirious did was put his hands up in surrender and walk towards the tree the birds were in.
Wildcat walked straight over to me as I stared in fear of what he was going to do once he reached me. The last thing I saw before everything turned black was the bloody pig mask and the eagle change into a human that I thought was dead.
time skip a few hours
As I woke up my vision started to clear but I couldn't move. Looking towards my arms I started to panic.the binds around my arms stared up at me. I looked around frantically at the small dark room. Before I could fully process everything the door opened flooding the room with light and making my head pulsate. I hissed at the light and waited for my eyes to adjust. When they finally did I seen who had come into the room. The person that had taken Brock from me was standing in front of me with his arms crossed. I stared at him as he stared back, both of us studied the other with intense glares. After about five minutes he stepped to the side and a tall black haired male walked in with a monkey on his shoulder. He walked straight off to the side of the room not even giving me a second glance. Another guy walked in, he had dark skin and the eagle from earlier was on his shoulder. The first guy stuck his arm out and the eagle flew over to him and perched on his arm and settled down. Delirious walked in with another guy that had a red jacket with two white stripes on each upper sleeve. Next CaRtOoNz walked in with his head lowered and a black eye and busted lip. Finally Wildcat walked in and stood directly in front of me.
"You don't understand how long I have waited for this to happen," Wildcat started. "to finally catch you." I just looked down at my lap not wanting to look at any of the people surrounding me. As time dragged on the silence surrounding me became deafening and I started to panic. My breathing started to pick up its pace and I started to pull and tug at the restraints trying to get them off. The voices around me started to blur into white noise and I started to hyperventilate. That's when I heard the voice that I thought belonged to a dead person. The restraints around my wrists and ankles were removed and Brock came into my view. I looked at him for a second and then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to the ground. He started to rock us both back and fourth until my breathing calmed down and the tears I didn't know were there stopped rolling down my cheeks. Once I gathered myself together I looked at Brock. He had a guilty look on his face. I glanced behind him to the faces of the people that have hunted me for years, and there was a mix of different emotions shown. Confusion, anger and hate they all looked at me and Brock. I started to freak out once again so I buried my face into Brock's neck. A low growl was heard from behind Brock but I ignored it and continued to hug him.
After a while everyone filtered out of the room, everyone except Wildcat and Brock. Wildcat grabbed me from Brock's grip and started to tie me back up. I struggled to try and get away and back to Brock but he walked over to me instead and calmed me down once again. Wildcat growled lowly at this and told Brock to get out. As Brock walked away and to the door he glanced back at me and mouthed to do what Wildcat says before leaving and shutting the door behind him.
Wildcat looked at me as I shied away. He grabbed my jaw after finishing my restraints and looked me in the eye. We stayed like that for a minute or two until he let go he chuckled and walked to the door. "Get comfortable, you will be in here for a while." With that said Wildcat walked out the door before closing it once again.
I should have run faster.
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The Return of Malaysian Flight 370
Inspiration from blog writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com :
“You work at an air traffic control tower. A plane that disappeared 12 years ago has contacted you on the radio to let you know they’ll be landing at the airport in 15 minutes.”
"Mayday, mayday, mayd-" came the message., cut off in the middle. Suddenly I was wide awake, all my training kicking in.
"Station calling mayday, this is Busselton Regional Airport. Please state your emergency." I answered immediately.
"Mayday, mayday, this is Malaysian 370"
I didn't immediately register the call sign, just wrote it on a flight strip and stayed focused on the call, already in emergency mode.
"370, this is Busselton, I read you. Please state your emergency."
"Busselton, Malaysian 370, we've got fire in the cabin and we need to land immediately. Is your runway available?"
"Roger, 370. Can you please state your aircraft type and number of souls on board?"
"Busselton, 370, we are a triple-7 with 239 souls on board."
"Roger, 370. Do you need to dump fuel?"
"Busselton, 370, that's a negative, we'd like to come in to land immediately if possible."
"Roger, 370. Please confirm your location"
"Busselton, 370, we are at three-two degrees three-niner minutes south, one-one-fiver degrees fiver-zero minutes east, descending past flight level two-zero-zero, bearing one-oh-six true at three-seven-niner knots."
"Roger, 370, maintain one-oh-six true and descend to flight level one-zero-zero. Reduce speed two-fiver-zero knots. Path is all clear of traffic, you are first in line to land on runway two-one. Please acknowledge."
"Busselton, 370. Maintain one-oh-six. Descend one-zero-zero. Reduce speed two-fiver-zero. Path clear to runway, first in line to land, runway two-one. Thank you."
"370, will you need emergency services upon landing?"
"Busselton, 370, af-" Silence for a few seconds.
"370, Busselton, I missed the end of your answer"
No answer.
"370, Busselton, please repeat"
No repeat.
"370, Busselton, come in"
They didn't.
"370, Busselton, please acknowledge"
No one acknowledged. Unsure what to do, I nevertheless called emergency services, thinking 'better safe than sorry', to make sure they'd be on the runway when the plane landed.
All the while I kept trying to contact the plane. When they reached the point where they needed to turn, I called, "370, Busselton, turn right, heading two-zero-seven, reduce speed one-eight-zero knots, you are cleared for a straight-in approach. Wind Conditions are clear, visibility unlimited, wind is one-fiver knots out of two-two-fiver degrees. Please acknowledge."
"Busselton, 370, rog-" came the brief reply. I tried to contact them again, while staring at the radar screen. Suddenly I realized how nervous and scared I was. I'd never had a crash before. I'd never even had radio difficulties with an aircraft.
As I called out repeatedly to the plane, I kept my eye on the radar. I saw it turn and head down toward the runway. Then, suddenly, meters away from the threshold, the plane vanished from the screen. By then I should be able to see it clearly out the window. Nothing. Craning my neck to look over the monitors, I tried to see it. I stood up for a better view. Nothing there. Dumbfounded, I stared back and forth between the radar and the runway. I then fumbled for the phone to call the emergency response team. They hadn't seen it either. The burning plane had completely vanished. It was like-
A jarring alarm brought me back to reality. A nightmare. It had all been a bloody nightmare! I hadn't lost a plane, I was lying in bed, at home, with nothing to worry about except getting up and going to work.
So as usual, I got up, woke my roommate Joe and hit the shower. While I was washing I thought back to my nightmare. It was still vivid in my mind, and I couldn't shake it. There was something creepy about that nightmare... I mean, aside from the nightmare part. Ridiculous. Nightmares are just in your mind. It must have just been nerves... Maybe I'm close to burning out, maybe I need a vacation.
Still, there was something nagging me at the back of my head. To convince myself of the absurdity of that impression, I played it again in my mind. The call from Malaysian... Oh. That was it. Malaysian 370. Why that particular flight number? In fact, why would the flight number stay so imprinted on my memory of the dream when I was already starting to lose some of the details? That must have been it.
As I killed the water and put the shower head back, I dismissed it again, for what I hoped would be the last time. It was just a nightmare, Malaysian 370 was just a fluke, maybe because of the fuss it caused almost 4 years ago when it vanished.
Dried and dressed, I went to the kitchen for a bite to eat. Joe was there, ready to go. He was always faster than me at preparing.
"What took you so long?" he asked. I realized just then that my thinking must have taken longer than I thought.
"What? Oh. Nothing. Did we get more cereal bars?"
"Yeah, I put them in the big cupboard."
"Thanks"
I checked the time and realized we were running late. I just grabbed a couple of the bars, stuck them into my bag and signaled to Joe that we should go.
The drive to the airfield was fairly quiet. As Joe swung the car around the corner of the airfield and drove past the area where the private jets are parked I looked at them. The Cessnas, the Learjets, the gliders and all the way in the distance, a few ATR-72s sporting the livery of the only commercial airline based here.
We parked the car in the staff parking lot and got out. I told Joe, "Enjoy your shift!". He nodded back, then made his way to the tarmac to coordinate ground services. I made my way up to the control tower (basically just a large third-floor office with a bay window sitting on top of the small terminal building).
I sat down at my workstation and logged in. Steve was still there for another hour, and before he left he passed on information from the previous shift. I was going to be alone tonight, as it was a quiet time of year. Before Steve left I went downstairs to the vending machine for a Diet Coke (the vending machine in the actual office only has regular). He and I chatted for a bit, catching up on life and everything (he'd just been on three weeks' vacation), which kept me awake and interested and best of all, thinking about anything but the nightmare.
Once alone, however, it came back with a vengeance. I didn't seem to be able to just forget it. Usually my dreams and nightmares are gone within the hour. But it just kept nagging.
And then...
"Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Malaysian 370". Oh no. It's happening. My nightmare is coming true. What the hell is up with the world? Anyway, just in case, I do have a job to do and bosses to report to, so I answer.
"Malaysian 370, this is Busselton Regional Airport. What is your emergency?"
"Busselton, 370. We've run out of fuel and have lost both engines. We're gliding down."
"Roger, 370. I only see you on primary radar. How many souls do you have aboard?"
"Busselton, 370. We have 239 souls aboard."
Oh bugger. Sounded like a larger jet. At that size, I wasn't even sure whether it could land decently on the runway here. At least they were out of fuel, that made for less weight.
"370, Busselton. Please confirm your location."
"Busselton, 370. We're at one-one-four degrees oh-six minutes east, three-three degrees, fiver-four minutes south, gliding oh-eight-fiver degrees at four-zero-zero knots from flight level two-fiver-three"
"Roger, 370. Continue on your track of oh-eight-fiver for sixty nautical miles, then turn left to two-fiver degrees to align with the runway. Conditions are clear and dry, wind is oh-one-niner at twelve knots. Cleared to land, you are first in line. Please acknowledge. Will you require emergency services?"
"Busselton, 370. Continue oh-eight-fiver for sixty miles, turn left two-fiver toward the runway, cleared to land first in line, wind one-two knots from oh-one-nine. Yes, we will require emergency services. Repeat, we will require emergency services."
"Roger, 370. Calling emergency services."
Suddenly I woke up. Apparently I'd just had another nightmare about MH370, having dozed off at my post. Panicking slightly, I checked the radio logs and the planned schedule in case I'd missed any flights. I hadn't. The perks of working night shift. I resolved to stay awake for the rest of the shift. Maybe out of shock that I had dozed off during the shift, more likely because I was freaked out at what might have happened if I'd actually missed an emergency while I was asleep.
The rest of the shift happened quietly, however. No extraneous flights, no problems, everything ran like clockwork. When Dan arrived for his shift at five, I took my usual late break to meet Joe out on the tarmac for a breath of fresh air and a smoke. Dan was a smoker, so he had to take his breaks outdoors. I'd stopped smoking a year ago, but this time I figured maybe a cigarette would help me clear my mind so I borrowed one from Dan and walked down. As I exhaled the first puff I sat down against the wall and asked Joe, "Have you ever handled an emergency out here?"
"No... why would I?"
"I don't know... Plane on fire, both engines dead, whatever"
"Naaahhh. this is Busselton, what are the odds anything like that's going to happen here?"
I took another puff and blew it out before answering.
"The size of the airport doesn't change the fact it might happen"
"True... But it might make it less likely. You remember, a few years back, when I applied for a transfer to Perth?"
"Yeah"
"It was going to be more interesting, bigger airport, more action"
"Yeah, I imagine it would be"
"I turned that down after all... Simpler, quieter here, and I already make almost as much"
"Right" I said simply, and kept smoking. He was right, of course, it was much quieter here. But emergencies can happen everywhere and anywhere. I was really troubled by the two back-to-back matching nightmares. I wondered what it could all mean (if anything - I don't believe in that kind of stuff).
After a few minutes I crushed the cigarette butt under my shoe.
"Hey, I gotta go. Meet you here at six?"
"As always!" he answered.
Before I left, I looked around at the airfield. Still the same Cessnas, Learjets and ATRs, nothing more. You couldn't fit much more or much bigger planes on this airfield anyway. Joe was right, it was simpler and quieter here.
Back in the control tower, Dan was relaxing, reading some adult magazine (he is a randy bugger), with his screens dead in front of him as usual. There would be a couple of scheduled flights to handle within the hour, I knew, then the rest of the day team would start arriving and I'd be off back home.
"All quiet up here?" I asked.
"You know it!" he answered.
I sat back down at my workstation, still bothered by the nightmares. I decided to pull out a notebook and take some notes on them to see if I could make any sense of them later on, especially if they were to happen again. No sense came just then. I left the notebook there, lying open, in case a brainwave came. It didn't.
At seven my shift was over, so I said goodbye to the team, walked down to the car and found Joe already there. As we drove out of the parking lot something caught my eye: almost dead ahead, in plain sight, was a 777 that shouldn't have been there at all. They're too big to land here.
"Hold up, Joe. What's that triple-7 doing here?"
"Yeah, that's weird."
"Think we should go check it out?"
"Why would we do that?"
"I don't know, something about it just feels weird"
"A great bloody wide-body on a small airfield like this? Course it's weird. Still no reason to butt into their business"
"Yeah but get this: we didn't have any wide-bodies all night, and I don't think you have either"
"So? Maybe it was here last night."
"It wasn't, I remember"
Now he seemed at a loss for words. I sensed he just wanted to get home to bed. But I couldn't leave this alone.
"Let's go check it out."
Reluctantly, he accepted. We drove back into the airport, this time right onto the tarmac, and parked next to the jet. We got out and walked around it. "Malaysian Airlines", it said, and had the now famous red-and-blue stylized plane/bird thing on the tail fin. Its registration was 9M-MRO. A quick search on my phone indicated this was indeed the plane that had vanished, MH370. I pinched myself to make sure this wasn't also a nightmare.
"This is it. Joe, this is the actual plane, MH370!"
"What? You don't mean... Are you bloody joking?"
"No, look!" I showed him my phone, then pointed to the plane's registration.
"We've got to report this. If it IS the jet, we could be in for a hell of a reward." I said.
"Yeah, but you were in the tower and I was on the ground when it popped up... How would we explain this?"
"I don't know, we can figure that out later. The authorities have been looking for this jet for years."
We both stood there, hesitant, unsure what to do.
I said, "We should check it out. Could you get a moving staircase here?"
"Sure. But... You're not thinking of going aboard, are you?"
"Just to make sure this isn't some kind of weird prank or something. Better not be if we report this to the authorities."
"Yeah, guess you're right. Come on."
We went to fetch one of the moving staircases and tucked it up neatly against the jet's forward port-side door.
I went upstairs then, unsure, started by knocking on the door. No answer.
I knocked again with the same result.
Then I decided to open the door. I pulled the outside latch and moved the heavy door aside.
Inside, all was silent and dark. Nobody was there. Moving through the cabin with my phone's flashlight on, I looked around. Not a soul, not a sound. On each seat was a rose and a picture of someone. I went back to the door and called out to Joe, "Hey, you've got to check this out, it's really weird." He joined me a minute later.
"Crikey" he said as he saw what was there. Together we moved back to the end of the plane, the same eerie scene greeting us at every row. We then went to the cockpit. There too, a rose and a picture lay on each seat. Then we heard something: the door slamming shut. We looked at each other, unsure what was going on.
"I'll get that open again" Joe said, and hurried out of the cockpit.
Looking at the instrument panel, I noticed they were all off. Normal, the plane wasn't flying. Then out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. The throttle was moving up slowly. Then I felt the plane start to move.
"Joe!" I called out, not sure what was going on.
"What the hell's going on?" he answered.
"We gotta get out of here!"
"Well this door's stuck... I'll try the other side"
Meanwhile, I decided to try to pull the throttle back down. As soon as I touched it, however, I found myself in the pilot's seat, all buckled in. "What the..." I tried to release the seat belts so I could get out of the plane. They were stuck. I then tried to at least stop the plane. Pulling the throttle down and pushing on the brakes as hard as I could, the plane slowed a little, but then raised the throttle again with a vengeance.
"I can't get it to stop!" I yelled to Joe.
"I can't get this door open either!" he yelled back.
Glancing out the windshield, I noticed the plane was already lining up onto the runway.
"Then get the overwing door! I'll join you in a sec, we've got to get out, and not in front of the engines!"
"Right-o"
Just then the throttle shot up out of my hands, and I was thrust against the seat back. I hoped Joe would be OK. The plane was taking off.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, almost at the overwing door"
"Get that thing open quick, we're taking off!"
"What the hell are you taking off for?"
"I'm not doing it, the plane is!"
"What?"
"Just get that damn door open!"
"It's stuck too!"
By now it was too late anyway... Even if we'd gotten out of the plane alive, we'd have been dead meat landing from over five meters up at close to 200 knots...
Then something else happened: voices popped up. I heard voices, as though from a crew talking to air traffic control. The instruments were all still off. No radio, no GPS, no altimeter, no ADI, nothing. Yet I heard voices. Joe shouted something, but his words were blanked out by the voices.
By now we were in the air, unable to open the doors, to control the plane or, in my case, even to get out of my seat. Survival instinct told me I had to try to get this plane back on the ground at all cost. Lucky I was such a big fan of flight simulators! But it really isn't the same, especially with no instruments.
I tried moving the control column, but it wouldn't budge. Panicking more and more, I tried putting more force on it, jerking it one way and the other, but it wouldn't respond.
After several minutes we were over deep ocean and still I wasn't able to control the damn jet. Then suddenly, unwanted, unbidden, came an urge to just push the control column forward. I fought it off, thinking it was just my desperation and resolve beginning to fail. But it came back, over and over again. I kept fighting it off, and trying to fight with the controls.
Then came something else: along with the urge, a voice in my head, saying "...don't...fight...destiny...must...closure...". And a force, unseen, unknown, irresistible, pushing my hands toward the control column. Forward, forward...
The last thing I consciously saw was the sea rushing up toward the plane's windshield.
***
ATSB investigator Kelly Cochrane looked at the aerial picture for the hundredth time, lost for words. In his 42-year career in air crash investigations, he'd never seen a case quite like this one.
"What the bloody hell..."
Two pieces of wreckage were obvious, floating on the surface. A tail fin with a red-and-blue stylized plane/bird, and a piece of fuselage with "9M-MRO".
And just near them, floating there: hundreds of roses and pictures.
In the intervening days they'd found that the plane did match MH370, vanished for four years. It was already hard enough to explain just that. Then news came in that there were only two victims, neither from the actual plane and both, it seemed, employees in some small regional airport near Perth. And the pictures were all of victims of the original flight.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cochrane?"
His secretary Sarah was at his office door.
"Yes?"
"This just came in from the - umm, pilot - well, that victim's sister. She said it might be useful for the investigation."
"What is it?"
"She was going through his stuff, and it seems he left this notebook at his control station the night before the crash."
"And?"
"And it's mostly information from his training for the post, and details about some flights he's handled, but... well, you should see the last entry for yourself."
Cochrane took the notebook and sat down to read it. Indeed, most of it looked like boring, humdrum stuff. He skipped ahead to the last handwritten page. As he read, disbelief and confusion grew stronger in his head. What the hell was this? All this told anyone was that the guy had had two nightmares about the plane before all this happened. He made to throw it away, but then something struck him. The very same flight, that very flight that had vanished years earlier... It couldn't be... He'd always firmly believed that there was no such thing as coincidence.
He then set to work typing a letter.
When he finished, he printed the letter, signed it and took it to HR, where he dropped it right into Sebastian's in-tray. He then left the office for the final time.
Half an hour later, when Sebastian was back from his meeting, he saw the letter in the in-tray.
"Dear Sebastian," it read, "I have spent 42 years piecing together hundreds of aircraft and crashes. I have proven my worth over decades of investigations and succeeded every time in finding a full and complete explanation for all the facts of every case. And even though I do say so myself, I believe i have earned every bit of praise I have received over the years for my work."
So true, Sebastian thought. Cochrane had been a brilliant investigator for his entire career, even coming up with a brilliant case-breaking detail on his very first investigation, after all the others had failed. He read on: "But now, with this case, I cannot in good conscience provide an answer. Faced with such strange and counter-intuitive evidence, I have to either give an outlandish supernatural explanation and go against everything I believe, or admit to complete ignorance. This case has beaten me. That is why I believe this is the right time for me to retire from the service, effective immediately. I wish to leave now rather than after this case, which it seems would inevitably result in the first blemish on my record.
"As for the ongoing investigation, I think the best that can be done is to just file it as additional evidence of the previous MH370 disappearance, and leave it at that. There will be no satisfactory solution. Yours, Kelly M. Cochrane"
***
A few days later, Bunbury Airport air traffic controller John McDuff was sweating. He'd just awoken from an awful nightmare. He was in the cockpit of a 777 and a voice was telling him "...don't...fight...destiny...must...closure..." over and over again, while an irresistible force pushed his hands onto the control column and forward.
#short#story#horror#mystery#mh370#fiction#airplane#flight#accident#crash#dream#nightmare#ghost#unfinished business#cycle
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suffocate (1/1)
pairing: oikawa/iwaizumi
warnings: depression, anxiety and references to an eating disorder, 1st person POV
summary: A (not so) regular day in the life of Oikawa Tooru //set sometime during high school
ao3 link
It's slow. Everything is so slow. Suffocating.
I woke up today and it took only a few sleep addled minutes to realize. Last night's anxiety and depression fit hadn't been washed away by sleep. Usually a new day guarantees a blank slate, a nothingness that can be filled as I desire.
Not today. Today the heavy feeling lingers. It's hard to force my brain into action, waking up, doing anything takes effort.
I check my phone, I'm late and my best friend is already bombarding me with messages asking me what I'm doing. A lot of cursing is involved as usual. He finally gives up and writes that he's going ahead.
That's fine, there's no need to wait for a person like me. Worthless.
The thought echoes in my mind, transforming and evolving into something more horrible each time. The vague clench in my chest at the self-deprecating thoughts isn't enough for me to stop myself.
Most days it's easy enough.
I don't want to exist. // Why am I so useless? // Is there a point to my existence?
Any number of these thoughts can be squished down, dismissed as ridiculous. On regular days that is.
Why are you so dramatic? // Really, Oikawa? // There's so much to live for.
But today any amount of strength I might have is sucked up by simply breathing. I roll over hiding underneath my blankets wondering if I could fall asleep again. Permanently this time?
It doesn't surprise me that the thought appears. My mind is fixated on staying still, sleeping more and preferably continuing like this until I am released from this state. Which at this point doesn't seem like it will ever happen. Permanent solutions sound perfect when it's like this.
As I lay still trying to clear the fog that's filled my mind to the brim, thoughts of last night appear from somewhere. I lift my head from the pillow already disgusted with how my body feels today, just a simple movement like that is enough. Lazy.
I stare at the mess on my table, it's blurry because I don't want to put on my glasses (putting in lenses would take a miracle), but I don't need to see perfectly to know what's there.
Homework all over the place, only half done, of course. Stacks of volleyball game CDs overplayed and the notes next to them much fuller than any of my school work. Empty tea cups from forcibly trying to keep myself awake as long as I could.
Last night had been bad. The thoughts of never being enough had overpowered me and no amount of strategizing, reviewing other teams and players had seemed to be enough. I tried writing to Iwa-chan, but his answers were halfhearted, no doubt he was busy himself.
Don't bother anyone, not telling is better. // Keep it all in.
But it's hard to keep it all in, the points of overflow come more and more often as time goes by.
I push myself up when I hear my parents start moving, getting ready for work. I can't let them see me like this, so I walk to the bathroom as fast as I can at the moment.
Everything is so slow. My body. The world around me. Time passes oddly like this. It speeds up and then slows down. Right now each second takes an eternity and it tortures my tired mind, reminding me how much more of the day is left to get through.
I shiver as I step onto the cold tiles of the bathroom. I feel cold, but it's a distant sensation like my brain doesn't even process it fully. But then everything feels distant, except the ugliness of my thoughts.
As usual the first thing I see when I step inside this room is the scale in the corner. It's tempting, oh so tempting. Just take a peek. It reminds me of a darker time when numbers were my one obsession. No more. I know succumbing to this temptation will only make me feel worse. But the desire grows stronger by the minute. I limp closer to it, my knee protesting now for some reason.
I look down and realize I forgot my knee brace. Idiot.
The physical pain cuts through the haze a bit, but that only serves to make me finally feel what I've been avoiding. What my mind has been trying to protect me from.
Useless. // You will never amount to anything. // Stop trying so hard. // Try harder. // Disgusting.
At this point it's involuntary, I step on the scale. My heartbeat speeds up. The anxiety keeps it fast almost constantly, but now I can feel it in my chest. It spreads nausea and a strange ache in my head fixates in one point.
The numbers change and I lean down to see. 70.5 kg. A strange relief flows through me, but there's also disgust. The mix of the two only heightens the imbalance in me. I stumble off the scales feeling light headed and stop at the sink. I steady myself. It's all a bit too much. I feel tears prickle my eyes. No. Crying is useless. It changes nothing. I rub at my eyes watching my reflection in the mirror. The blur can't hide how ugly everything looks to me.
I've lost about 2kg since the last mandatory weighing by our coach. It's not a big change, but it brings about a craving. Just a bit more and you would be in the 60s. And then it's a familiar downwards spiral. I look away from the mirror and splash water on my face.
It takes a long time to go through my usual routine, but I manage to clean up and even put lenses in. If I'm making it to school (my mind and body protest loudly), I can't show up there with glasses. My eyes are red, skin puffy around them, dark circles accentuated by the paler skin of my face. Ugly. I wish I could replace it with somebody else's face. At least for a day. Instead I put on some concealer. It doesn't make much of a difference, but makes me feel slightly better. Still ugly.
I scoff and exit the bathroom. It's late. Morning practice is over, but I can make it to classes. Question is if I will be able to. The heavy feeling that's weighing me down and making everything feel like it's in slow motion is still there, present as ever. I sit on my bed staring out of the window for far too long.
Messages keep pouring in, I can hear my phone vibrating somewhere between the sheets. No doubt it's Iwa-chan. Who else? He's the only one who still bothers with me, though I don't fully understand why. At one point he will leave too.
I stop myself at that. I need to move, it's getting really bad if I'm starting to doubt my best friend.
A floor board creaks outside of my room. I jump up and start putting on my uniform. My mother peaks in, takes in my half-dressed state and asks. "Slept in again? Don't make this a habit, Tooru." She looks tired too, her job taking a lot out of her these days.
I just nod and keep buttoning up my shirt. I don't trust my voice yet. She exits without another word. A part of me is hurt, another is glad. Less pretense until I make it to school.
Against my will though as soon as I'm sure she's out of hearing range I let a sob escape. I have to bite on my hand to stop. It's disgusting and leaves a mark. I don't want to cry. I don't want to.. Fuck.
It's been a long time since I've learned to cry silently. Tears slip out, messing with my lenses. The headache worsens and I feel like throwing up right there. I sit back down on my bed, my clothes strewn around me, but I don't make an attempt at dressing anymore.
Instead I reach for my phone. 10 messages in the last half hour. As I predicted all from Iwaizumi, but there's a few older ones from my teammates. Something like a vague feeling of happiness penetrates the wool in my head and the heaviness in my chest. My lips curve upwards, a sad imitation of a smile.
I slump onto the bed and open the messages Iwaizumi sent me. I scroll through them, my hands feel heavy, like they don't belong to me.
I only really focus on the last few messages.
[7:50] Iwa-chan <3: Seriously, it's not like you to miss practice.
[7:51] Iwa-chan <3: Reply now, so I know you're not dead. I'm gonna call your parents otherwise, Shittykawa.
[7:55] Iwa-chan <3: Are you ok?
I pause and stare at the ceiling. I'm so far from ok, but admitting that to someone else takes a lot of mental strength. Instead I type out the excuse I use the most, though it's usually to my parents.
[8:01] Me: I slept in. I think I might be sick..
I stare at the message for a long time before sending it. It doesn't seem like something I would write, so devoid of my usual excitement and emoticons.
[8:02] Iwa-chan <3: I'm coming over as soon as school ends.
The reply confuses me. Today is all wrong. Everything is out of order. I'm like this straight from the morning and Iwa-chan is skipping afternoon practice for me. It makes no sense to me.
[8:03] Me: Why? Stay for practice.
[8:03] Iwa-chan <3: Obviously you're not telling me something, I'm coming over. End of discussion.
Leave it to Iwa-chan to know something is off. I sigh and throw the phone to the side. I don't know if the coming confrontation makes me feel better or not.
I turn over to my other side and curl up. It's cold, but I don't move to pull the blanket back over my body. Instead I press my face into the pillow.
Sleep. Don't think. Sleep. Let it take you over and make everything disappear.
I doze for a while, emptying my mind further. The static remains, but the thoughts quiet down until there's nothing there.
The sleep is heavy, the blackness suffocating, but it's better than being conscious.
I'm startled awake when the door of my room opens. I move over stiffly, eyes clouded over from sleeping with lenses in. It's cold and I, suddenly, even through all this haze, feel self-conscious. I'm wearing only my half-buttoned uniform shirt and boxers, after all.
I try to pretend I'm still asleep, but the presence moves further into my room. The footsteps are so familiar. Iwa-chan.
He sits down next to me and suddenly a warmth is engulfing me. The blanket is back over me.
"What am I going to do with you?" He whispers and I curl up more as he threads fingers through my hair and checks my forehead. There's no fever, I'm sure my body is colder than it should be instead.
The strange headache is still there, I bite on my lip. Sleep once again hadn't erased any of the heaviness. The only thing that's keeping the darkness at bay right now is Iwaizumi petting my hair.
I want to tell him to stop. It's disgusting, my hair is probably greasy. But I take comfort in the soothing movement. I don't have the strength to say anything yet.
"I know you're awake, Oikawa. I'll get you some water, ok?"
Nothing gets past him, of course. I nod and he moves away to get the water bottle on my desk. I hear him moving around, filling it up in the bathroom. I want to call out and ask him for my lens case too, but the words are stuck in my throat.
Why are you here? // Why are you bothering with me? // There's no point. // I'm a lost cause.
He returns fast and I struggle to sit up, it feels like too much. There's a steadying hand on my shoulder and with the support I sit up properly.
"Here, drink it all." His voice is a bit louder now but still gruff and grounded. I love it.
I drink the water slowly at first, it doesn't feel like enough and soon I'm gulping it down. Trying to erase something in me while quenching my thirst. I stop to breathe for a moment and hand the bottle back to the blurry shape.
Something is pressed into my hand in return and I realize it's my lens case. I open my mouth to speak but still nothing comes out..
"How'd I know? I noticed it left open on the bathroom counter. Didn't take much to figure it out." Iwaizumi saves me from trying to talk again.
I quickly remove my lenses and sigh in relief, everything still feels like too much, like it's closing in on me, but at least that pressure has been relieved.
Next is my uniform shirt, he unbuttons it carefully and slides it off my shoulders. I'm intensely glad I can't see his expression.
Disgusting.
A warm hoodie replaces it and I snuggle into it immediately. It doesn't feel like one of mine, I breathe in the scent and there it is. Definitely one of Iwa-chan's.
"You went home before coming here?" I finally speak, my voice heavy with sleep and it breaks towards the end from not using it the whole day.
"Yeah, I'm staying here, if you don't mind. Already cleared it with both of our parents." Iwaizumi replies and I can hear the relief in his tone from hearing me say something.
"No, that's probably for the best. Stay." I mutter and pull on the sleeves of the hoodie. I want to make myself smaller, closer to not existing.
I know what's coming next. Interrogation.
But Iwa-chan surprises me. He pushes me further into the bed, fixes the blanket and pillows and settles next to me.
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But know that I'm here. Literally and figuratively." He laughs at that and I crack a smile too. But it feels bitter.
I should do more. I need to repay his kindness. Unwarranted kindness.
"Distract me. Tell me about practice. What happened today?" I ask instead and tentatively press closer, his warmth is intoxicating.
I listen to his voice, the tone, not really taking in much of what he's saying. But it feels good, the heaviness is fading slowly. I feel better than I have all day, which is not much, but that small sliver of comfort makes me think that maybe there is an end to this after all.
"They did ask about you too. The coach that is. Your parents didn't contact the school about you not coming in. This is probably going on your record." Iwaizumi says and I tense up. My heart beat speeds up, I hate it. It's not a big deal, but the anxiety is flaring up.
"Hey, it's ok. You should talk to the teachers. I'm sure they will understand." I bury my head in his chest, I don't want to think about it. Ignoring everything is easier.
"Mom thought I was going to school. So did I.." I trail off, my voice muffled.
"But you didn't." Iwaizumi says simply, finishing the sentence for me. I feel like he already knows everything even though I haven't said anything of substance. He really knows me too well. I feel like I'm not being fair to him. I should tell him. Something. Tell him something.
"Everything felt a bit too much. I couldn't pretend everything was fine today." I force out.
Iwaizumi hums in response. I know he doesn't really understand fully, but him listening is enough.
"I just felt heavy, too many thoughts and none of them good, sleep didn't help." Putting it into words feels wrong, even my sentences are half formed but it's hard to say it out loud. Which is why I usually avoid it.
I feel strong arms wrap around me, I'm being pulled further into his embrace. It's a bit suffocating, but this time in a good way. I don't ever want to leave. I want to stay like this forever.
"Your mind will be your undoing, Tooru. I wish I could help you, fix you somehow." He says, regret and sadness lacing his words.
"It's not up to you. I do this to myself, it's all me. You just have to be here, that's all. It's enough, believe me." It feels strange, like I'm the one reassuring him, when in fact it's him that has returned strength to me. It's not much, but the spark is there.
We lay there, silence settling over us now. It feels comfortable. Like everything about us. Time passes, but there's no weird jumps. It's not too slow or too fast anymore. I breathe easier.
I wish I could say that this was a one off. A day that was strange and out of place. It was, in a way, but the feelings and the darkness were familiar enough, even though usually I could contain it better. Contain it to long sleepless nights.
Maybe, one day.. It will get easier.
Until then, I cling onto Iwaizumi. My anchor. As the strange heaviness lifts from my chest with each inhale and exhale spent next to him, it’s filled with affection for him instead.
Show it, you have to let him know.
I scramble up and press my lips to Iwa-chan's. He makes a muffled sound of surprise and I feel confused too. Usually I’m not like this, no matter how forward I pretend to be.
It feels like I'm taking advantage of him in a way. But I'm craving the comfort and he seems willing. His strong arms move me to straddle his lap and we exchange more slow kisses. My chapped lips brush against his softer ones. It's usually the other way around. But today everything is off.
I accept it.
He's gentle, treating me like I could break at any moment. It's me that has to take the initiative again. I bite at his lower lip and smile softly when he groans. He stops my wandering hands though.
"Not today?" He says carefully, not wanting to hurt my feelings.
I want to force it, I want to whine and complain. But he's right. I'm in no fit state for anything more. Not mentally, not physically.
I lean my forehead against his. This close up, I can see his expression better. He's still clearly worried and it almost brings back the self-deprecation, but I control it. My mind stays clean now.
"Yeah, let's get some dinner instead. My parents should be home soon." I finally reply and Iwa-chan's expression evens out. I smile wider, carefully, testing it out. It will take a while before it feels natural again.
But I think maybe I can do it? It’s definitely easier when he’s next to me.
Breathe instead of suffocate.
#tw: depression#tw: anxiety#tw: eating problems#oikawa tooru#Iwaizumi Hajime#iwaoi#haikyuu!!#personal#OikawaAngstFest2k17
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The week that was
Back again. Trying to think of a word to sum up my week and ‘assorted’ would describe it best. Had my first therapy session last week, which had me in a weird mood for the weekend, but some time out of the city got me back on track.
Have you ever had therapy? I haven’t, so was a little disappointed that there wasn’t a nice chaise to lie down on, just two armchairs facing each other with a small table between. Maybe that was there as a prohibitive barrier to prevent ‘the patient’ leaping for the shrink.
‘Where do you want to start?’
Where do I begin?
I broke up with my girlfriend, here in New York, to pursue another relationship with a girl (Elise) in LA, who turned out to be married. This all came to light one afternoon, on the street in fairly horrific public circumstances. I broke this off almost immediately but she pulled me back in, but the longer it went on the ripples spread out like a stone thrown into a pond, hurting even more people, including myself, so I finally called it a day after a few months. Hanging around LA post break-up became tough. The places we’d visited or hung out at were a constant reminder of something that was dead and the more time I spent there the worse it became and the angrier I became about being mis-led. I didn’t really want to move as I liked living where I was, it was convenient for most things and I’d made some good friends in the area. But, it got too much so I’ve decided to totally bail out and come back here.
Do you always run away from your problems?
Sometimes, not very often.
Why do you think that is?
Maybe sometimes the problems just aren’t worth dealing with.
What problems do you think aren’t worth dealing with?
This one. Ironically that’s why I’m here so maybe that was the wrong answer.
Can you tell me when you’ve run away from something in the past?
Technically I haven’t run away from this one, I still have an open ticket back to LA.
That’s not answering my question
OK sorry. Err let me think….. we sat in silence for an eternity whilst I tried to think of an episode, but failed. This is not entirely true, I did think of something but I didn’t want to bring that thing up as I‘m fairly sure that wouldn’t be relevant. Maybe it is but I can always come back to it.
Then some homework for next week is to think of a time when you’ve acted in this way before.
OK
Tell me about this girl
She is older than me, only by a couple of years, fairly attractive, I’d say an 8/10, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes… She’s smart, like in a switched on way and a kind of hippy chick. She always amazed me with the outfits she wore, she knew how to wear clothes and could make any old thing look good. She was kind of captivating, gregarious, people always listened to what she had to say, like she had an unseen hold over them.
I went into much more detail about how we met (at work, she was a client and I was working on some creative strategy for the company she worked at), how we came to be together (She came on to me after a work dinner thing), how long and often we saw each other (every other week for 2-3 days when she came to town for about 4 months). There was more and I can talk about her at length, but I don’t need to go into it now.
My hour was up. I felt like shit. Having poured out all of the details of this person I fell head over heels in love with my time was cut off and I was left hanging. I left the office and went home, finding an empty house when I arrived. I sat on the sofa staring out of the window, again, and drank a couple of beers and tried to not think about the morning.
Sky came home around 1 and made polite conversation about her morning, then asked me about mine. I couldn’t speak and the tears just welled up from I don’t know where. She looked horrified and supremely uncomfortable. I told her it was OK and not her fault and that I’d just had a shit morning. She said ‘OK, tell me about it another time if you want, I’m a good listener’ and came and gave me a cuddle. ‘Let’s go do something to take your mind off.’
We went to MoMA, walked around for a few hours pointing out what we did and didn’t like with barely 100 words said. We finished up around 5 and talk started about what to eat. I couldn’t be bothered to think of what I wanted so took the easy option and opted for The Modern, after all it was right there. Neither of us were really dressed for that type of joint, but it was early so no one was there to judge, and I don’t really care about that shit any way. The food was good and I massively over ordered, putting it all away was a challenge, but I don’t like to waste food so it had to be done. We had some good chat, her telling me about her studies in law and how tough it was, me slowly unfolding the mornings entertainment. We were done by 7 and grabbed a taxi home. Sky was going out with Lucy to some gallery and then a party with her fashion buddies so had to get ready, although I told her she’s never be ‘ready for that crowd’. She invited me to go along with her, keep her company. So I agreed if it was cool, which I knew it would be.
The gallery was OK, lots of abstract Rothko type stuff that would befit the bland environs of a law office. The party was better. We arrived around 11 and there were lots of bodies there. By 1 it was in full swing, and by the numerous groups disappearing and reappearing from the bedrooms I guessed would be going till dawn. By 3 the pretence of taking drugs in the bedrooms was out the window… I’d made plenty of small talk to finish me off for the evening so thought about heading home. I told the girls that I was going, much to their complaints. Sky chose to come with me, Lucy stayed as her soon to be ex was coming along a little later. I said goodbye and thanked the Charlotte, the host, and we made for the street.
We grabbed a taxi without having to wait too long in the cold. I asked her what she made of the party to which she replied a simple ‘it was fun.’ There was a moment of silence until she asked ‘if I was OK?’ To which I replied ‘yeah.’ She cuddled up to me saying she was cold, so I put my arm around her telling her we’d be home soon and then nothing more. She was asleep by the time we’d got back to the apartment and not wishing to wake her I retrieved the keys from my coat then picked her up and carried her up the stairs to the apartment. She’s small and pretty light so the going was easy, except for fumbling around with the keys at the doors. I dumped her in my bed, grabbed a blanket and went and settled in on the couch. My mind was all over the place, sleep came and went. Lucy came in around 5ish with her man and they went straight to her room without so much as a word to each other.
By 8 I’d given up trying to sleep, I was also pretty hungry so got up and thought about breakfast and what to do for the day. Music on, low so as not to wake anyone and then set about making eggs florentine, the easiest tasty thing I could think of that would fill an empty belly. Nic came into the kitchen and asked if there was enough for her too. There wasn’t but she said she’d run to the store to buy whatever we needed, which was only bagels. She left, I made coffee. I cooked for all of us thinking that if Jason wasn’t there one of us would eat his food. By 9 everyone was up, including Jas, and we all sat around the table chatting about our night’s and what we were gonna do for the weekend. Luce asked if I had nothing on would I take Sky to Williamsburg and show her around. That wasn’t a problem.
With breakfast consumed and the chef thanked everyone set about their days. It was cold but we were fully layered up for wandering so it wasn’t too painful to stroll across town. I joked she looked like Madame Bibendum in her puffer. It was out on her. She liked it over the river and took loads of photos. I said ‘not as cool as it used to be’. No where ever is. We grabbed lunch at Setagaya, Ramen being the greatest food on a cold day. Whilst we were eating an old colleague tapped me on the shoulder, surprised to see me, blah blah blah. I asked him to join us and made introductions. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get around to work talk, as he always does, and for the first time in a while I actually listened to what he was telling me. Aaron desperately wants me to work for him again, but I’m always reluctant to. His clients are biggies that are uber conservative, take no risks and wouldn’t know a good idea if it was slapping them in the face. We did an interactive car commercial some time back that got a lot of traction and raised his profile somewhat, so he’s always looking to better it. I told him to mail me what he had and I’d take a look. I meant it too. I kind of need to work to get some money coming in plus distract me from things. We said our goodbyes and continued mooching around until the cold finally got to us and I posed the option of dinner out or back home. My partner chose the latter as didn’t want to spend to much being a student and all. I would’ve paid but fair enough, I told her I’d cook whatever she fancied. We made a simple pork ragu. Was OK but not my best, although she said it was brilliant and complemented me on my cooking abilities. What can I say, I absolutely love to cook, plus I worked in kitchens for a while and was a chef, very briefly, many moons ago. For the full experience you have to see my roast dinners... which we were discussing as we were cleaning up. Nicola agreed and said if I was cooking one the next day she would hang out.
I poured over the work options that had been sent and a loose idea came to me. I asked Sky if she had any plans for her last week other than more sight seeing, to which she said no, other than going to the theatre on Wednesday. That would be enough time, so I mailed Aaron back and told him my idea for his watch company and asked if there some budget to go location hunting. There was so all was cool and I used it to get us out of the city and up to the beach. The beach! I hear you say. It’s still a beautiful place in the winter and perfect for an out of towner.
Sunday came and went and apart from Jase missing it was me and the girls. All we did was prep food (rack of lamb), eat it all, and consumed a lot of red wine whilst sitting in the dinning room chatting all day. Weed was produced as the sun went down and we rounded the night off playing Trivial Pursuit.
Monday morning I picked up a hire car and at 10, we headed over to Queens and on to Montauk, to see how the rich and the shameless tough out the winter. I kept the drive out pretty sedate, as I usually like to drive fast, but didn’t want to scare the pants off my passenger so kept to the speed limit. I’d booked a room at the Royal Atlantic as that was pretty cheap and wouldn’t give me much grief with my budget, if there was any. With our bags dumped we headed straight for the beach and as expected it was empty, save for an old couple walking their dog. It was great to have that salty breeze on my face, stare at the ocean and get lost. We didn’t stick it out for long as hunger got the better of us and went for a lobster roll.
We spent the afternoon in our room sitting at the window listening to Sky’s choice of music, me working up a loose story board for work and her writing emails. She has a pretty good taste in tunes from a plethora of genres which I had to remark on, but later took it all back when a Ronan Keating number came on. She seemed truly embarrassed but I told her it was fine and let it play. I fessed up to having some shameful tracks in some of my collection that would outdo anything she could muster up. I won’t divulge that here of course.
We went for a wander in the hope of an early dinner but didn’t end up sitting down until about 8. She was really taken in by the tranquility of the place. I told her it was a different place in the summer and well worth a visit and then reminisced about when I met Jason here. He was staying up here one week in August with some friends, all finance types, blowing off some money as they do. He came sniffing around me and some friends for weed or anything else we had. I clocked him straight away as someone that didn’t really have a clue so I sold him a bit for too much money and he didn’t bat an eyelid. Told him I could get more if he wanted, which he did, and he invited us to a party they were having. The rest is history. For a banker he’s fairly OK and living with us ups his street cred a fraction.
We were up early the next day, Sky’s snoring was too much to take, and I told her at great length over coffee and pastries. We walked up to the point and I told her to look around the lighthouse whilst I scoped out the beach and rocks for possible camera locations and work on my story. After about an hour some cars pulled up with boards in the back so I knew I could probably achieve what I wanted with my idea - cool surfers riding waves in all weathers with expensive watches on their wrists - it will also play into that preppy Hamptons lifestyle of the already target demographic. I sat on the beach watching the 2 brave souls in the water, thinking of the many times on the beach with Elise. I wondered what she would be doing at that moment, getting up for breakfast most probably, and then I remembered the first time I watched her get ready for work as I languished in bed. Her morning routine of creams, make-up, deciding an outfit, evaluating, changing, moving back and forwards between bathroom, closet and bedroom.
I snapped out of it when Sky plopped down next to me. ‘Wake up dummy, I’ve been calling to you for ages.’ We watched the riders for a while and I asked if she’d ever done it. She hadn’t. She asked the same. I had, and still try, but I’m not much cop at it. Now if the water is frozen it’s another matter. Told her about my recent exploits in Austria, the people I was with and the glorious off-piste. She could empathise as she’d been there in the past and had fond memories of it too. We discussed snowboarding at length and other places we’d been to whilst sitting there huddled together on the beach and my mind was taken away from the funk I had been falling into.
The afternoon was again spent in the room at the window. Me downloading images, refining my script and treatment with her writing and posting on social media. With our jobs done we went back to the same restaurant for ease, joked about being the sad old couple that does that shit, but we didn’t live up to the cliché of ordering the same food. I pretty much grilled her all evening about her life as I still didn’t really know that much about her other than her like of photography, boarding antics, studying law and love of Ronan Keating. She told me about her family, boyfriend, studies, where she’d come from and where she hoped she was going. It was all very interesting. I asked why her boyfriend hadn’t come with her on this trip. He was a lawyer and new into work so couldn’t get the time off. Told her work was never that important to not spend time with people you love, but that was a pretty flippant comment from me so took it back.
That night our drinks bill was nearly double that of the food so we both woke pretty sore headed. Told Sky her snoring had made my head even worse to which she apologised. She doesn’t really snore, or hadn’t since we’d been there but she obviously does sometimes because she’s always apologetic about it. I will tell her I’m joking at some point, promise. After breakfast we drove back to town feeling the city close in the nearer we got. I dropped her at the apartment then dumped the car and headed to Aaron’s office to show him my idea. He wasn’t there so I left it all with one of his teaming a message to call me. I took a slow wander home feeling rejuvenated from my days at the beach but tired so was a little relieved when I got back to an empty place. I made some food and settled in to catch up in some reading but Nic came home and distracted me. She was telling me about a movie she was gonna watch which sounded fun so we crashed on the couch and watched it together. Schneeflöckchen (Snowflake) is pretty funny/weird and very entertaining, I highly recommend. It’s German with subtitles but that should dissuade you. Contract killers on the run from other contract killers with a screenplay telling them how things will play out, if they follow the script. With that over I went to bed and read till I fell asleep.
I woke up stupidly early and was immediately thinking of was Elise. Why? Why not? No one was moving around so I got up, put some coffee on for all and had a smoke, thinking it would help. Went back to my pit and read some more of my book, that engrossed me enough to clear the head. Once I was sure everyone had left for the day I got up and made some breakfast and checked my mail. Aaron was in there inviting me to the office to talk over the idea with the team. So the embryo of my idea was a good one, maybe. There was a message stuck on my door which I’d failed to see earlier from Sky. “Going to the highline. Meet me for lunch.’ I could do that.
I went to Aaron’s office but he wasn’t around so I left for the highline. I had loads of time and I figured Sky would walk south to north so headed to w30th. Called her when I got there to find she’d done the opposite, damn. I told her I’d catch her up and if she stopped anywhere let me know. I finally caught up with her just past the market and we detoured back and wandered around looking for a place to eat. She chose Friedman’s, which was OK, we shared a rice bowl and a salad, over which she told me all about her morning. I had to head back to mid-town so I said my goodbye’s and that I’d see her later, but she said no I wouldn’t as she was going out with Luce. Never mind. She said she’d left Friday free, her last day, to hang out so that was cool.
I ended up working all afternoon with Aaron’s team. My idea had been well received, but one of the art directors had another thing they wanted adding in, which was fine by me as it added a little more depth to the story we were telling. We ended up staying late and playing pool whilst discussing the client pitch. That’ll end up being next week I suppose. Feeling like I’d actually done a good day’s work I walked home. No one there again so was all peace and quiet. Wasn’t feeling hungry as I’d had a few beers, but I made some toast to act like a good sponge in my belly, and didn’t stop until I’d eaten about 6 slices. Had a smoke and then went to bed with my book. Rock & Roll.
Later Gator
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Rivin’s Legend Chapter 1
‘All… wow. '
I dropped down my heavy double duffle bags and stared at my new home. The floor is made of mahogany. Looking at the smooth amber coloured wood reminds me of the day the Raix fell. My people fell.
I knew from my Corors, that the day was magnificent. My people were celebrating the reset of our planet, which was going to happen in 6 days.
I’ve seen second-headedly through a memory spike how great the actual day was. I remember the glass-paned skyscrapers looming over the flat lands of Raixien, piercing the blue skies up above. A single house jutting out in the centre of all these monstrous buildings.
The slanted hillside were filled with booths, bars and Raix. I remember hearing joyful laughter, seeing people flying around, enjoying the day.
But all the happiness, went away just as quickly as they came.
‘It’s great, isn’t it? Glad I bought this thing before anyone else could.’ My Robot guardian, my Coror, Daniel nudged me on the shoulder. He is so lifelike, I at times forget that he is a highly advanced robot who can fight really damn well. The Raix built him, and acts exactly as a Raix would. Or in my special case, the perfect ‘parent’.
His serial number is actually D4N, but since I’m not saying that, I just took to calling him Dan. I think he took the name Daniel eventually a few years back.
‘Being rich has its perks. Speaking of, who sold this house? And you said something about an underground bunker?’ Daniel told me there was a bunker we can use to train my oncoming powers. I’ve heard of bunkers built by the military for bomb proofing and such, but I never imagined there’d be one right here, in Chicago.
‘Yeah. Apparently, the previous owner believes in “The end is near”, and spent fortunes building a bunker that is resistant to almost anything both from the outside and the inside. He went bankrupt and things happened. We got lucky and we bought it.’
When I was sent off, My Coror got loads of amount, to a near infinite amount, given by the Raino themselves.
I chuckle. I’m an alien, but I don’t really believe all that ‘The end is near’ crap. I’m more focused on taking down the Losac.
13 Earth years ago, the Losac attacked us. We knew their existence but never really contacted them or anything, we just sort of did out own thing and just went on with our lives. That was until the day they came, warships blazing and troops massing into our capitals.
We didn’t expect them to come for us. We knew that their planet was dying and their reset was broken, but we didn’t do anything. They took us by surprise, really. They just warped into our orbit and started firing down fiery metal.
They took us down in 5 simple days. The Raix put up a good fight, but that wasn’t enough.
On the final day, our leaders, the Raino, knew we were lost. They knew it was a war that cannot be won in days. They took me, transferred their powers to me, then split me into 6 pieces, each with different powers and personalities, but with the same looks.
They told my Coror to protect me, to teach me of my culture, my powers, and my mission. And then they sent me off. To Earth. To finally one day bring the fight back to the Losac, to finally reset my planet and restore life.
All 6 of me landed in different parts of Earth. I landed in North America, somewhere around Washington. We spent a few years running around, settling into different places, but in the end, something always happened and we left town. We came to Chicago because I accidently blew up an abandoned house in the middle of Minnesota. We left before the cops can ask questions.
I am supposed to find my other pieces once I get my Rengar, my powers, and take the fight back to the Losac. I never questioned how I am to do it, how I am supposed to fight an entire army on my own and take back Raixien, but now that I’m getting older, I’m starting to have doubts.
‘I’ll go pack up the things and move in the boxes first. Go pick your room and help me with them.’
‘Ok.’
Before I went upstairs, I took a tour of my new home. It’s a fairly secluded house somewhere on the outskirts of Chicago, but it’s a nice spot. The house is big, bigger than all my last ones, and the inside is just as impressive as the outside. Inside, white painted walls cover the house, and there are empty picture frames hanging all around.
The living room is the first thing I saw when I stepped in. A flat-screen TV dominates the left wall, and a giant 5-man couch dominates the opposite. A coffee table sits in between and there is a sheep wool rug on the floor.
The kitchen is pretty large compared to the old one we could manage to call a ‘kitchen’. It is outfitted with state-of-the-art kitchen equipment and is stuffed with a fridge.
I turn and walk up the stairs. There are 7 adjacent rooms. The hallway goes circular, and both ends eventually meet up back at the stairs. I’ll ask Daniel what’s in the centre space later. I take the 1st door to the left, and turn open the doorknob. There’s a single bed on the right corner, as well as a window with slide-up curtains on it. A desk with chair sits opposite of the bed, and I set my duffel bags on the desk. I noticed a wardrobe with really weird carvings on it, and it didn’t really fit in with the rest of the furniture’s.
I reached out to touch it, then thought better of it. I feel a weird intuitive not to. I pull myself away, and look at it one last time. I’ll add this to my list of questions later.
I look out the window. My window is facing the empty road, and the view is pretty good, if I have to say so.
Satisfied with my room, I left the room and closed the door silently. I walk back down to see the front door open and see Daniel hauling boxes from a pickup truck. I walk over to the truck, lift up 2 boxes with both hands, and runs into the house.
Daniel sees me, and smiles. My enhanced speed and strength is really handy, and it was the first real proof that I can really fight back.
After an hour or so, we finish unloading all the boxes, and I plopped down on the couch in the living room, and Daniel sits down beside me.
‘Why did we never get a house like this?
‘Because that was because I’d never thought there would be a house with a bunker in Chicago.’
‘Can I go see it?’
‘Yeah, sure. $50 for a tour guide.’
I glare at him emotionless. He laughs and stands up.
‘C’mon, let’s go. I’ll show you the bunker.’
I stand up, and we go up to the first floor. My question about the circular space in between the rooms is answered as Daniel walks up to the wall and puts his hand on it.
As soon as he does, the wall at the back opens up. I raised my eyebrows, and starts looking through the space.
‘Tada. We’ll take the elevator down.’ Daniel starts walking into the open room, and step in the centre. I stand next to him, and the walls in the room are black. Cool.
As if sensing our movements, the floor begins to hiss and the door closes. The floor starts moving downwards like something straight out of those old spy movies. I look in awe as the floor descend into the ground.
We come to a halt about 5 seconds later, and I wonder how deep we are. I’d say about 2 meters down. We are in a small room, filled with little computers, monitors, and a large circular table in the middle of the room. I walk around the smooth metal floor and turn back to Daniel.
‘When you said bunker, I thought it will be concrete, old-styled bunkers.’ I turn to admire it again. ‘This is way better.’
‘Yep. The owner was definitely high on something.’ He laughs. ‘Good for us.’
He taps the floor twice, and the ceiling opened up again. The floor begin to rise and soon, we’re back on the 2nd floor, and the floor looks seamless, like there was never anything to begin with. I admire the skill it took to build it. Then again, my people built something way more sophisticated and cooler than this, so it could definitely use some improvements.
‘It’s pretty late now.’ I look at my watch. True, it’s around 11 and I am pretty tired out from moving around all day. ‘You should go get some sleep, Rivin. You still have school tomorrow. You know where it is, right?’
‘Yeah.’ He showed me earlier while he was driving. Oak West school, I think. I yawn, and I walk to my room, and open the door to my room.
‘Good night, Daniel.’ Daniel’s a robot. He doesn’t have to eat, sleep, drink and all those stuff that humans or Raix need to survive. I never see him recharge or anything, so I don’t even know what keeps him up and running all the time.
‘Night.’ I close the door, and hop onto my bed. Even the bed is so much better than the last one I had. This fabric is soft, and I can almost instantly fall asleep in it.
I turn off the lights, and lay there silently, staring at the ceiling.
I think about the recent memory spike I had. Memory spikes are mostly videos of past events, put in place by someone of high power, in my case, the Raino.
In my spike, I saw the 6 Raino leaders, standing in a semi-circle in a dark room, only illuminated by purple lights hovering in the air. I couldn’t see much of the room, so I focused on the Raino instead. They all look the same, all wearing the same grey cloak and hood, covering most of their faces except for their mouth and nose.
One of them spoke to me. I still remember what they said that day, word for word.
‘You are the last Raix. You are the strongest of us all. You will retake Raixien. You will restore like to us all. You are gifted.’ The middle one said. I didn’t see their mouths moving, but somehow, the words came out perfectly fine.
‘You are one of the six. You will find them, and unite with them. Do not lose hope, even in the darkest of times, for there is always a brighter day, waiting over the horizon.’
‘Honour us, child. Hope will bring you through. You are Raix, and we do not give up. Never lose hope.’
That was the end of the recording. It happened during a day last month, while I was still in Minnesota, watching TV in the canteen at the school. I later told Daniel what I had seen, and he seemed pretty excited, for a robot. He asked me if I saw anymore, and when I said nothing, he looked slumped, like he was expecting more out of a private recording out of the Raino.
We never really talked about the video ever since. We had more things to worry about, like thinking about where we should go after I accidently destroyed an abandoned cabin in the woods. I was testing out my newfound strength and speed, and when I learned I could actually make dents in metal, I got maybe a little over excited and punched open the wall in the cabin, breaking apart the entire thing. That’s why we left, so we could avoid questioning since we live near the cabin.
Clearing my mind, I closed my eyes and succumbed to the night, letting sleep take over me.
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Indochina Trip - Siem Reap, Cambodia
EXIT FROM THAILAND
For our next stop in our great Indochina tour, we were suppose to ride a bus that would take us directly to the heart of Siem Reap, Cambodia. If you haven't read the first part of our adventure, you can click the link here.
(or just scroll down to find the post).
So anyway, in order to stick with our schedule, we left our hotel at an early hour to arrive at the bus terminal to buy our passage for our next destination. I thought all was well since we got there in time, but then again, the universe was kind of getting bored that day and decided to make things interesting by finding targets and then screwing their lives up.
And it so happened that the targets it found where us.
Well fuck.
When we got to the transaction window, the lady behind the glass informed us that all the buses that would travel straight to Seim Reap have already been fully booked and/or have left already. What's worst was, the next bus was scheduled for tomorrow.
Hearing that piece of revelation felt like a bucket of ice cold water being poured down on our backs. I could still remember my inner brain shouting "fuck fuck, paano na?! Sira na trip natin!" in a panicked tone as the three of us just stared blankly at each other. Looking forlorn about our trip's impending demise, the lady we just talked to, prolly sensing our collective negative energies of doom, then suggested another alternative for us. We could still book a bus today that would take us to Cambodia, but only up to the border; and a wee bit hours later than the one we originally planned to ride.
Having no other better this only alternative, we took it in a heartbeat and paid 9 USD to reach Popeit.
So while waiting for a few hours for our bus ride, we bought some breakfast and take-out lunch (since the travel would be several hours long) at 7-Eleven within the terminal premises.
My 7 Eleven breakfast while waiting for our bus.
I swear, Thailand is lucky for having such awesome variety of food selection at 7-Eleven. Why can't our country be the same? >.<
Anywho, we also converted some cash at a nearby money exchanger and watched a TV show that I could have sworn I've already seen once upon a time in Arirang channel to kill time.
When our bus finally arrived, all the passengers including us lined up outside and got on the transportation vehicle.
Our experience during our travel to the border was... quite ear-shattering to say at least. Because a few chairs behind from where we were seated, was a non-stop crying baby in high pitch voice as he/she was being cradled and hushed by the poor parents who were already getting a lot of looks from other passengers.
From what I've observed from the small family, the baby looked like it had a fever and was feeling very uncomfortable, thus its screeching. Throughout
the journey, my mind was torn between sympathy for their predicament and downright annoyance because of the hassle and their insistence of making the trip despite their child's condition.
The only silver lining during the the ride was the complimentary snack box it provided, as well as the single stop over we had for bathroom breaks and whatnot.
By late afternoon, we've reached the Popeit, the border of Cambodia.
POPEIT
At the border
If there is one thing I've learned from crossing the border of one country to another, it's this: IT'S A PAIN IN THE ASS!
Kinda like lining up at the airport after getting out of the plane, there are certain procedures required before you can safely say "Hello Cambodia!". Of course, I'm quite grateful for the fact that we didn't need a visa for this country (which meant lesser steps involved), but the process of lining up to have our passports verified at the checkpoint is very cumbersome.
Or maybe because we were late than our expected time of arrival that I was this cranky and biased.
Anyway, after walking around, lining up, almost getting lost and tricked in the process, and also answering an interview for their tourism purposes, we were able to safely enter the country.
Since we were already halfway to our main destination, the next problem at hand now was how to reach Siem Reap. According to one of the locals there in-charge of transporting tourists there from Popeit, we had the choice of either 1.) getting a taxi for an exorbitant fee or 2.) Getting on the bus for a much cheaper price.
So we ended up settling for the bus option... which happened to house some rather smelly foreigners. I thought that one stinky foreigner was bad enough,
but a bunch of them grouped together in a single closed space within sniffing range... ah.
I'm so amazed at myself for still being alive back then.
Going back, we noticed that most of the seats were already occupied when we entered the bus. Not wanting to separate by seating in different locations, we pushed on towards the back, which had a lot of room for us and our bags...
...Except for this Russian couple who occupied the whole damn row all by themselves.
How you ask?
Well, just imagine a hot-looking Russian babe sprawled in all its long-legged-glory on all seats like Cleopatra, but instead of fruits and pillows lying around her, were their trash and food wrappers scattered about. Oh and her ugly boyfriend serving her as her lap pillow.
So much for that god-given beauty if your manners and demeanor are like that.
Anyway, we did the good 'ol passive-aggressive approach by staring at them and mentally telepathing to their faces how a hindrance and a pain in the ass they are and blah blah... you get what I mean. Thankfully enough, they got the hint and the girl reluctantly (I think she even rolled her eyes) got into a proper sitting position and freed the chairs for us to sit on.
Finally!
Them smelleyicious crowd~
When the bus was full, we set out to our destination. While en route, a Cambodian representative who was with us on the bus stood at front and talked about their culture and what to expect in the country. After it was over, there was a temporary buzz of chatter from the foreigners who wanted to get acquainted and whatnot. As hours passed, the noise had finally died down as the sun disappeared into the night.
At around 8 or 9pm, we had a short stop in the middle of the road to eat dinner. What's great about this country, according to the local who talked at the bus earlier, is that Cambodia accepts all types of currency (from peso, to baht to dollar etc) as payment for anything. So there was no problem with regards to exchanging money or buying stuff. With that said, I paid 2.5 USD for my dinner, and peacefully ate with my companions. When we were done, we went ahead and returned back to the bus. Since everyone else was busy eating and mingling outside, the three of us enjoyed our solitude together. We even vented our previous frustrations by shouting in Filipino how smelly they were, lol. Talk about releasing stress!
Anyway, when our break was finally over and all the passengers have been accounted for, we resumed the rest of the trip and continued to our Siem Reap drop off point.
SEIM REAP
I couldn't remember what time we arrived, but as we got out of the bus, several tuktuks were already camped there, ready to sell their services to us foreigners. There, we met and hired our tuktuk driver named "Met" who agreed to tour us to Angkor Wat the following day (for 7 USD, can’t remember if each or as total). He also got us to our designated hotel, before leaving and reminding us of our early call time tomorrow.
BLOSSOMING ROMDUOL LODGE
We spent several minutes at the lobby area of our hotel paying the rest of the fee (16.6 USD from each of us), as well as also booking a night bus that would get us to Pnom Penh. We initially wanted to book Mekong bus (which is one of the most decent buses for tourist travel), but unfortunately, it was already fully booked. So upon recommendation of our hotel, we got a b-rate night bus worth 13 USD... which, little did we know, proved to be the second WORST DECISION we've ever made throughout our indochina trip. But that's a story for another post.
Recharging ourselves for awhile.
When we got the keys to our room, we unpacked our stuff and had a short reprieve from the hectic travel.
Anyway, despite our fucked up schedule due to the delay, we still had time that evening. I wanted to at least accomplish some stuff that was written on our itinerary that day, so I urged Arlyn and Denise to go out for a walk at Pub Street, which was supposed to be a walking distance from our location.
PUB STREET
Similar to Khao San Road in Bangkok, the buzzing streets of pub street is a place for backpackers and other tourists alike who’d like to enjoy Cambodia’s night life. From the local bars to food establishments and even doctor fish massages, there's so many things to see and experience in this area of Siem Reap.
Night Life - Pub Street.
We've strolled the area for a good while and found how large the area was. Luckily, we stumbled into the souvenir stores that were all lined up together and was able to bought some (1 USD for 4-5 magnets) for back home.
I also bought a local painting for 5 USD, woot! It was very hard to choose from among the stack because everything looked so good. But in the end, I settled for this one.
I chose this because... TREES! XD <3
When it was already late, we went back to our hotel to sleep for our early morning schedule at Angkor Wat (should be there before sunrise!)
ANGKOR WAT
When it was already late, we went back to our hotel to sleep for our early morning schedule at Angkor Wat (should be there before sunrise!)
At dawn, we woke up and prepared ourselves grogilly as we took our complimentary breakfast as a takeout from the lobby and met up with our tuktuk driver at the front of our hotel.
As we silently rode through the street of Siem Reap, cold breeze enveloped us on the way to angkor wat.
God, I wished I could have brought a shawl with me. Brr!
We were the first to arrive to the ticket booth. While waiting for it to open, we ate our breakfast, which was a rather thick bread with spread. Not a spectacular breakfast but it was enough to fill our stomachs. Arlyn had the unfortunate experience of breaking her tooth while biting to her bread in the process. I felt sorry for her, but I can't deny how hilarious it was, lol! Both denise and I laughed, since we're such true friends, hahahaha.
Anyway, a lot of tourists came trickling by after that and once the booth was open, we got our pictures taken and paid an entrance fee of 20 USD for our pass to the heritage site. We went back to the tuktuk and rode further inside, to the entrance site where the iconic sunrise photo spot of Angkor Wat is shot.
My angkor wat pass valid for 1 day
Before parting with Met once we arrived, he told us where to to find him once we came back from our sightseeing. We then followed the other walking tourists further inside. While treading through the darkness, several Cambodian locals came by, introducing themselves with codenames. The ones who I remembered in particular were James Bond and Harry Potter, lol. Basically, they spoke to us, telling us where the best location to take sunrise photos and then sweet-talking us afterwards into visiting their food tent after sunrise for breakfast or even a sip of warm coffee or chocolate.
Talk about mad PR skills eh?
So anyway, we found a good spot for us to standby and waited several more hours for the sun to rise, as well as the gates inside Angkor Wat to open.
My best attempt of photographing Angkor Wat’s sunrise.
The many tourists who awaited the same sunrise as us.
When it was already after sunrise, we then entered the temple and followed the rest of the crowd.
Angkor Wat is the ruins of what was once the magnificent civilization of the Khmer Empire. Being one of the UNESCO Heritage sites of the world, this archaeological park is a must see for tourists in Siem Reap, Cambodia.Angkor Wat is a very big complex that contains several temples, including the famous Bayon, Preah Khan and Ta Prohm.There are two sets of tours available for this place. The small circuit tour, which comprises the inner area of the place; and the big circuit tour, which includes the outside temples located at the outer perimeter of the park.
Inscriptions. I wonder what it says.
Detailed carvings.
At first glance, it may look small...
But it’s noooooot. D: I wonder for what purpose this area was used for.
Inside, there were monks situated in a certain area where they would tie a red string on your arm while chanting. Of course, during that time, we had no idea what it was for but nevertheless we wanted to experience it so we went ahead and got one for ourselves. Later on, I overheard a tour guide explaining that the rest string bracelets were Buddhist bracelets that symbolized several things, like good karma and whatnot.
To be honest, I felt kinda fuzzy inside when the monk tied one on me. I dunno if its the incense or the red string's fragrant odor, but I want to believe that the monk invoked some sort of prayer of good luck to me. Hopefully. :<
My red string.
Angkor Wat towers
Monkey!
After exploring around the big temple, we went back near the entrance to have breakfast at Harry Potter’s tent. While eating, local children would come to us to sell their merchandise. I was even amazed when some of them could even speak in Filipino! But sadly, we already bought our souvenirs last night so we weren't able to buy from them.
My order: Pancake with fruits for breakfast
Once we've finished eating, we returned to our tuktuk driver to get us to Bayon inside Angkor Thom
BAYON
Built a hundred years after Angkor Wat, the Bayon Temple is located at the center of the city of Angkor Thom. It apparently represents the intersection of heaven and earth.
A beautiful view of Bayon Temple.
Just outside Bayon, there's a row of elephants that can be ridden for a fee (around 20-30 USD, from what I can remember). Denise and I contemplated on riding the elephants , but Arlyn was not feeling it (boo!) so we opted out. We just took a picture as souvenir. #sob
Efeluuuuuunttttttzzz~ <3
- Spent a lot of time just exploring the area
Statue of some sort of guardian.
Intricate bas-relief that tells a story of long time ago.
More intricate wall carvings
Several piled up stones that almost look like small monuments.
I wonder how this place was like several hundred years ago...
While taking in the scenery from the top while taking pictures and maneuvering away from other tourists, we saw some Cambodians wearing traditional attire for souvenir photos. Of course, since it is a business after all, they would cover up their faces and hide themselves whenever other tourists (such as myself) try to take a picture of them for free.
Native Cambodians in traditional garb.
A perfect shot of smiling statues.
A statue with red lips and green shade.
After exhausting a good number of hours in this place, we decided to proceed to the next destination: Ta Prohm.
Before leaving the tuktuk, we gave Met 1 USD so he can buy himself some lunch while waiting for us.
We then went inside the premises, where unique melodic sounds of Cambodian musicians playing could be heard.
TA PROHM
Aside from being a famous spot due to the Tomb Raider movie using it as a filming location, this Buddhist-temple-turned-jungle has been reclaimed by Mother Nature, with several large tree roots of fig, banyan and kapok trees hugging the walls of this ethereal structure.
This place reminds me of temple run, don’t you think?
Nearing the entrance... I think. *Follows the other tourists*
TREEEEESSSS, OMG OMG!
MOAARRR TREEESSSS
A comparative photo of how puny a human is next to the tree’s roots.
Look how majestic it is! X3
The iconic hidden statue, embraced by nature’s roots.
Looks like a crocodile of sorts, don’t you think?
Columns near the exit.
After touring the area, we went outside and bought a fresh cold coconut drink at a nearby shack. I remember Denise making a blunder here when she said "buko" instead of coconut when she bought hers, lol. The seller got all confused at Denise's request and she quickly realized her mistake and corrected it to coconut. We had a good laugh from it afterwards.
I swear, drinking cold buko while sitting after a day's long walk under the heat of the sun is the best feeling ever!
I wish I could say the same thing for our ears, because a moment later, a group of female foreigners came by and tried playing this string intsrument being sold in the shack... which made our ears bleed. Sadly, after all the disturbance they brought to us and the seller, they didn't bought the damn instrument in the end.
Those wretched bitches. DX
BANTEAY KDEI
We took a short break here from all the walking we’ve been doing since morning. While relaxing, Denise took the time to take some pictures of us three. After we’ve rested, we went back to exploring the area.
What’s nice about this place compared to the ones we’ve been to is that there weren’t much tourists here to ruin the view. We almost had all the place to ourselves, which is a luxury.
According to my research, Baneay Kdei, also known as "A Citadel of Chambers" and "Citadel of Cells", is a rather mysterious temple due to the fact that there are no records found as to why this place was built. Despite name’s meaning, the temple didn’t necessarily functioned as an actual cell.
The monks appeared just as I took this shot, making their colorful robes the perfect accent in the photo. *_*
I wonder what the center structure’s for...
Are these what they call Asparas (heavenly nymphs) perhaps?
Our next destination was suppose to be the Citadel of Women, but unfortunately there was a misunderstanding with our tuktuk driver Met. Apparently, the trip there does not cover the initial fee he had offered during our transaction so if we wanted to push through, we would pay an extra sum of money. And since it was a bit far from where we currently are, it was of course expensive. We understand where he's getting at, but we felt kinda cheated because it wasn't explained from the beginning. It certainly left a bad taste fos us.
So instead, we went to Prasat Kravan, so as not to waste our time here.
PRASAT KRAVAN
The last destination on our small circuit tour. This temple was dedicated to Vishnu, with Bas-reliefs of her image adorning its brick walls.
The back.
The actual front. That’s me near the entrance steps btw, lol.
The goddess Vishnu.
When it was almost dusk, we went back and had our last tuktuk ride with Met back to the hotel,where we paid him in full amount.
At night, we went for another trip again back to Pub Street for dinner. On the way, we were egging and teasing Arlyn to try the happy pizza near our hotel, Lol. BTW, happy pizza is famous in this area for having marijuana as part of the food's ingredients or toppings.
Rejected multiple times with regards to the happy pizza idea, we ended up at one of the restaurants in Pub street and had a 12USD (4USD each) worth of dinner.
We then went back to our place and made preparations again for our next stop: Phnom Penh.
I say, our trip her to Siem Reap has been my favorite so far, with all the architectural ruins and whatnot. There had been some minor issues with regards to miscommunication with our tuktuk driver and other locations we haven’t explored, but ultimately, this experience has made me want to return to this place in the future. Hopefully this time, with Ian, and with more days to spare.
Also, another thing I’ve learned from this trip is that next time, I’ll bring a sunblock and my own water bottle for drinking.
*looks at Arlyn’s collection of empty water bottles*
Yep. :/
#travel#personal#indochina#cambodia#siem reap#angkor wat#temples#bayon#prasat kravan#banteay kdei#ta prohm
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