#nor do i really think he cares enough to go like reinvent himself or whatever after the fact | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catboymingi · 3 years

Text

reinventing - in this life and the next chap. 2

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 6k

warnings: language, dealing with loss & grieving

a/n: please excuse if this one’s not very good, i’ve had a lot on my mind but i also wanted to continue this :(( also it says angst for the genre near constantly but it’s not all sad, it’s just not cute enough to warrant fluff yet!

memories aren’t all that defines you - the two of you have to learn this in different ways

for a moment, it felt like she was back. mingi’s head jolted up to look in the direction of whoever had called for him, but quickly let it sink again when he saw it wasn’t her. he didn’t think much of you knowing his name, guessing that yunho had told you, but both the blond and you were surprised. you were fairly certain that you hadn’t been told his name, so how did you know it? why were you so happy to see the man you’d never met before? why did the hopeful look in his eyes as he looked up at you make your heart skip a beat? you hadn’t felt like this even about your family, so why did a stranger affect you like this? it was weird, it didn’t make sense, and it caused you to feel a strange mixture of unexplained comfort and much more logical discomfort around the man.

“mingi.” he could barely even stand to look at you when he held out his hand for you to shake it.

“y/n.” and you could barely even stand to shake his hand. you didn’t like the way it felt, big and warm and familiar, as if you’d held it countless of times before. you didn’t like mingi, or the way he made you feel. you didn’t like yourself, because you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about a man who’d just lost the love of his life, when you hadn’t even been able to feel anything towards your family. you didn’t like this entire situation and just wanted to go back home, but you couldn’t, you had to be nice to these people because they were responsible for whether or not you’d end up on the streets.

“this is the main tenant”, yunho tried to end the awkward tension, and you nodded in acknowledgment, hand dropping back to your side. though you couldn’t help your curiosity - did you know this man? you’d accepted not getting any memories back, but now that you felt even the slightest hint of familiarity with him and his place you wanted to hold on to it, wanted to find out more, wanted to know if maybe there was a way to remember if not who you were, then who he was.

“do i know you?” and first then did he look back up at you, eyeing you up and down to see if he maybe did, and again you felt weird when you saw his eyes.

“not that i remember. do you know me?” his voice was so beautiful, you wanted him to keep talking.

“i wish i knew.”

now you had his curiosity, the weird girl with the bright hair in contrast to the all-black attire that had been so understanding of all the weird fears and rules he had and that now looked at him with such a weird expression. you’d sat down by now, opposite him, nervously fiddling with your hands, and though he maybe shouldn’t try to dig in your past when he’d been so scared you might dig in his you left him wanting to know a little more.

“you wish you knew?” this question left you the option to say as much or as little as you wanted to, something he felt to be a fair compromise.

“i don’t remember. it’s a little embarrassing because i feel like i do know you, but then it could also just be me hoping to.”

he nodded, not much clearer about you, but you continued by yourself since you realised how you might have come across.

“that sounds like bad flirting, sorry, i don’t mean it that way. i just have really bad amnesia. wouldn’t remember my name if it wasn’t on my id, so it’s weird that i knew yours.”

“i thought yunho told you?”

first now did the tall blond say anything.

“i don’t think i did”, and you nodded in confirmation because you were fairly certain that he hadn’t.

“so obviously i got a little excited. sorry if i was staring all weird though.”

“no, i get it. don’t worry about it.” then, though he didn’t know why he even cared, why he even wanted to know, “may i ask what happened?”

“i was really sick, i guess. or, i know i was, but i don’t remember that either. died for four minutes, came back by some miracle. and apparently the price i had to pay for getting rid of whatever autoimmune disease caused this was not remembering anything at all. so here i am.”

mingi recognised the coldness in your voice, the complete lack of emotion. it was the same voice he used when he tried to convince himself that he was fine, that things didn’t affect him even though he wanted nothing more than to cry. and because he knew that voice he put his hand on your forearm instinctively in an attempt to offer some comfort.

“i’m sorry to hear that.”

and he recognised your reaction, too, when you told him it wasn’t a big deal, that it could be worse, because it was what he tried telling himself day after day as well.

“but does it have to be?”

you looked at the man surprised, because he was the first one that had ever said something like this ever since you woke up. everyone else told you it could be worse, tried to cheer you up by saying it could be worse instead of acknowledging the hurt the current situation was causing you. and now someone that did have it worse was telling you that it didn’t have to be worse to deserve his compassion.

“i guess not.” you nearly caused yunho a heart attack when you smiled at mingi, a shy, somewhat awkward smile, and the corners of his mouth moved upwards as well. it barely even counted as a smile, in all honesty, but it was the closest to a smile that the blond had seen from his friend in months.

it wasn’t something you noticed, though, because your eyes were trained on his hand on your forearm and you were trying to sort out the weird feelings of familiarity you had despite him telling you he didn’t know you. none of it made any sense, and you really weren’t sure whether this was even good. whether you should be sitting here with him, feeling weird, feeling, when that wasn’t something you’d done for weeks now. you were torn between leaving because it was the more sensible choice and what you really wanted to do because the thought of getting any memory back scared you, in some way, left you afraid of not liking what you remembered, and staying because it was polite and because they might kick you out if you acted weird, and you’d neither fount a flat nor a job yet. you had to stay.

both your and mingi’s smiles had faded just a moment after first appearing, each of you stuck in their own thoughts, and yunho felt a little like a third wheel in a really bizarre kind of relationship based on the trauma of losing an integral part of yourself. the two of you had suffered more than he could even imagine, so a tense atmosphere was understandable, but he felt weird, slightly uncomfortable, so he forcibly brought you back to reality when he asked if you wanted to drink something.

“just a water.”

the tall blond was relieved when he could go and fetch you a water, glad to be able to at least momentarily leave the situation. he had no idea what weird thing was going on, but he had a very clear feeling that he wasn’t part of it. and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be, either.

mingi felt weird, too. it seemed like there was no one at this table that wasn’t able to feel that something wasn’t quite how it should be, but none of you knew what it was.

he was strangely intrigued by you, though, the girl that seemed to know him, in some way, without remembering him. the girl that seemed to have a story not even she could remember. he felt sorry for you, of course he did, but there was also something else. a genuine interest in you, or at least something close to it. a curiosity. and he didn’t know whether this was because he wanted to talk to someone that he felt could relate, at least partly, to losing someone - or something - so dear to them, or if it was about you as a person. it was confusing and left him slightly uneasy, though not to the same degree that you felt. for him, the curiosity was stronger, while you just wanted to run.

“how old are you?”

it was a horribly awkward attempt at small talk, and it was made even more awkward when you didn’t even seem to know, getting out your wallet to check on your id. it hadn’t come up in conversation before, and while it was easy to tell that you were a young adult “somewhere between 18 and 23, i guess” wasn’t exactly the answer you’d expect for this question.

“seems like i’m almost twenty. you?”

“twenty-one. i’m sorry if i’m prying into things that are none of my business, but is there anything you remember?”

he knew how hurtful talking about things like these could be, so he wanted to be one hundred percent sure you knew you didn’t have to talk about this if you didn’t want to. but you didn’t know if you wanted to - part of you did, but another part wanted to bury the anxiety and the feeling of loss deep down and pretend it wasn’t there. there wasn’t really anything else to talk about, though, so this would have to do.

“i remember a lot, actually, but only common knowledge. i know about hanja, history, current politics, things like that, but i don’t know about myself. it kind of feels like my personality got rebooted.”

you let out a bitter mixture of a scoff and a laugh at that, and while you seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal to you, tried to joke about it, he could tell that you were trying to distance yourself from the pain that would take over otherwise. he knew, and he understood. so he decided to just nod in acknowledgment, not wanting to upset you further.

lucky for both of you yunho returned with your water, and he was better at making small talk than both you and mingi combined. he asked how you liked the flat, what you did during your days, if there was anything that needed touching up on, a lot of questions that could lead to deeper conversation if you wanted them to but could also be answered shortly and shallowly. it was thanks to him that you weren’t just sitting in awkward silence after five minutes.

“i wanted to say thanks”, the other man suddenly spoke up, and when you looked all surprised - what did he have to thank you for? he was the one letting you live in his home - he elaborated.

“yunho told me that you barely seem to touch anything.”

it hadn’t occurred to you that this was something to warrant thanking, but to him it very much was. it probably meant more to him than you not stealing (if you’d be stealing something that didn’t hold any memories), because physical things could be replaced, but all these memories, all these reminders, couldn’t be.

“of course. i’m glad i have a place to stay at all.”

again, your reply left him curious - did you not have a family that would take you in when you were obviously, objectively in a vulnerable position? but it wasn’t his place to ask.

the entire afternoon felt awkward, and you were glad when it was over. they hadn’t been rude, quite the opposite, but it hadn’t been comfortable because you could so clearly tell that they wanted to ask more and that they weren’t sure how far they could go in their prying, because you felt out of place, because you wished you could make small talk about hobbies or similar but you weren’t able to remember anything so you didn’t have anything to talk about. it had made you feel both weirdly in focus and left out at the same time, so when yunho said they should probably leave soon you almost sighed in relief. they were nice, objectively, so it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around them, just… in a different set up, maybe. and for less time. this had felt forced, and you hadn’t been a fan of forced communication for as long as you could remember. ha ha.

you went home immediately after saying goodbye, feeling like you needed to recharge. you had no idea why it had left you so drained, but it was most likely both the tense atmosphere and the reminder of how little you knew about yourself even now. the fact that you’d had to check your id for your age had left you more shaken up than you’d like to admit, and you wanted a shower.

the hot water managed to relax you at least physically, but you found yourself disappointed by the fact that you didn’t own any soft pyjamas, because right now they would have been nicer than an old t-shirt and sweatpants. but this would have to do, especially since you were planning on taking a nap, anyway, and once you were asleep it wouldn’t exactly matter what you wore. before you entered the land of dreams you decided to check your phone, however, and saw that yunho had tried to call you several times. you guessed you should probably call him back, just to find out what was up.

“hey”, you heard yunho’s voice from the other end, though he sounded somewhat different, voice coloured by an emotion you couldn’t place because you hadn’t heard anyone sound like that in so long. you didn’t recognise the sound of happiness anymore.

“hi.”

“you got home safely?”

“yeah, thank you. i took a shower, sorry for not picking up.” the several attempts to reach you had made you a little anxious, so you weren’t sure what more to say, but lucky for you the man quickly told you the reason for his call.

“i’ve just been wondering how you felt about meeting mingi?”

that explained it; of course he was curious, you’d be too if you were him. and this gave you the perfect opportunity to say what you wanted to say, what conclusion you’d come to pretty much immediately after leaving the little café, because the way you felt wasn’t a way you wanted to keep feeling, and you knew you would if you found yourself in a situation awkward like that again.

“it wasn’t bad, but i don’t think i want to repeat that.”

mingi knew you didn’t know he was listening, so that explained why you weren’t at all hesitant to say this, but he couldn’t help but feel a little worried, a little disappointed. it did sound a lot like you didn’t want to meet him again at all, and he could tell that his friend was looking at him with a slight nervousness, because even though he didn’t know what the deal was with him now today had been the first time in months that the tall brunette seemed… alive, for lack of a better word. a secret part of the blond had hoped that you’d maybe manage to pull mingi out of his slump, but that wouldn’t happen if you’d never even want to meet him again.

“oh. yeah, that’s fair. i can continue sorting things, it’s worked so far?” even that was a question, because it hadn’t seemed like meeting the other man had gone bad either, but here you were.

“you sound like that’s a question?” now all three of you were confused, because you hadn’t realised that you sounded like you wanted your newest acquaintance to stay as far out of your life as possible - you’d just wanted to say that meeting up with both of them had you feeling weird, because they knew what to talk about and you felt a little out of place. much like yunho had felt earlier, except you didn’t know that.

“i’m just wondering if you’d rather i didn’t come over anymore either, when you’re there, at least.”

“oh! oh, no that wasn’t what i meant. it was just the… atmosphere today. i felt a little odd, like i didn’t have anything to talk about while you and mingi had dozens of topics, kind of. very third grade of me but i felt like i wasn’t supposed to be there, but it’s not that i have anything against him, or you.”

both men were pleasantly surprised by how straight-forward you were about this. it wouldn’t have been odd if you’d chosen to make excuses or beat around the bush, but you’d just said it as it was, something that was very appreciated because it made working with you (if you could call renting an apartment that) a lot easier.

“i’m sorry it felt that way, it definitely wasn’t how we meant it. it’s probably just hard when you and mingi haven’t met before, i guess?”

you hummed in confirmation on the other end, and yunho continued: “he said if you want he could message you, so if something’s wrong and you can’t reach me maybe he can help.”

“sure.”

why mingi felt relieved by that and by you not having a problem with him personally might forever remain a mystery, but for now he simply pushed it to the back of his head as he listened to the last little bit of small talk yunho made with you, deciding to take a shower himself before he’d message you later.

you decided to take a nap right after the call, the much desired nap you’d meant to take as soon as you got out of the shower, knocking out immediately after your head hit the pillow. your dreams were odd, flashes of images and colours and feelings that you couldn’t remember as soon as you woke up, but they left you about as exhausted mentally as you’d been before. at least your body felt rested, though.

as you went to grab some water you casually checked your phone for the time (22:32 - your nap had turned into a deep several-hour sleep) and found that mingi had already messaged you more than three hours ago. it didn’t seem urgent, though, so you didn’t feel too bad when you opened the chat first now, when you couldn’t even be sure if he was still awake.

[unknown]: hi, it’s mingi.

[unknown]: yunho gave me your number - hopefully that was okay.

his way of typing was so serious that you felt somewhat unsure about what the appropriate style would be as you replied - you didn’t like full stops, something you had quickly noticed as you’d re-entered the human realm, but you didn’t want to be too casual. before now you hadn’t even known that it was possible to be insecure about your typing style.

[y/n]: don’t worry, it’s fine

[y/n]: sorry, i was asleep

he obviously knew that this was your number, so you didn’t repeat your name again seeing how there very much was no need to and it would be somewhat awkward. instead you locked your phone, taking your assigned glass and emptying it in one go before refilling it and doing the same, and a third time, before you felt somewhat nauseous from drinking so much so fast. the water was nice and cold and managed to calm whatever nerves you’d got from the weird dreams, so you refilled the glass only to hold on to it. the room was dark, you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but you liked this, liked the calm atmosphere that was created by the room being illuminated by the moon and the stars only. and your phone screen, as it lit up with a new message.

[mingi]: it’s no problem. did you sleep well?

you set down the glass in order to reply, unsure whether or not to be surprised that he was still awake. then again, he had his own demons that probably kept him up at night, and insomnia was no stranger to you.

[y/n]: not exactly, but i slept

that was your standard by now; you’d given up on expecting to sleep well, but if you managed to get more than an hour per night that was already a success in your book. and while this hadn’t exactly been night it still counted. you couldn’t be too picky, or your sleeping habits would sound even more pathetic than they already did.

[mingi]: fair. yunho told me about the call.

he didn’t have to tell you that he’d been there eavesdropping on you, though it probably wasn’t eavesdropping exactly since his friend had put you on speaker.

[mingi]: i’m sorry for making you feel excluded. i didn’t realise we did that.

[y/n]: it’s no issue, really, don’t worry about it

[mingi]: i hope so.

silence - or the texting equivalent of it - for about a minute, before another message popped up, one that took you by surprise.

[mingi]: i was wondering if you’d like to meet again, in a less third-wheel setting?

you grinned - this was the first time his texting had seemed even somewhat like you’d expect someone his age to text.

as soon as the message was sent mingi was inclined to delete it again, because there was a somewhat high chance that you’d think it was awkward, weird or uncomfortable. the motivation to ask had come from yunho, who had managed to convince his friend that meeting up with people would be good for him, and since you were quite literally living in his apartment it might be good to get to know you a little. he hadn’t said it, but he was still thinking about the smile-adjacent expression he’d seen on the brunette’s face earlier, and if you managed to bring forth a real smile the blond might just have to marry you. he hoped you would. mingi deserved it, deserved to find at least some joy in life again, though it would never be the same; he knew it would never be the same.

waiting for your reply felt quite bad; he had no idea what to expect, whether you would be entirely opposed or not, and it made him nervous. he had no reason to be, though, he realised when your reply finally appeared.

[y/n (tenant)]: if you have a place in mind? it might be nice

there was only one problem: he didn’t. he had no idea what you liked to do (and neither did you), and he’d stopped liking to do things months ago, so it didn’t exactly leave a lot of options that he could guarantee were less awkward than today had been. he rummaged through his brain for ideas, but the only ones he got were things he’d done on dates with her, and those were most definitely out of the question.

[mingi]: i’ll try to think of something.

rather, yunho would. or at least he’d probably be the one to come up with something decent, as opposed to mingi, whose brain was trained on a café or maybe the movies, neither of which were any less awkward than today’s predicaments.

“yunho?”

the tall blond appeared almost immediately, still constantly scared that his friend was on the verge of another breakdown when he heard him call for him. he was relieved, though, when the other man didn’t seem like he was going to cry anytime soon, steps slowing down when he was sure hurry wasn’t needed.

“what’s up?”

now the brunette just had to figure out how to ask for advice without making a fool of himself. he knew the other had been the one to suggest meeting up with you in the first place, but he still felt like he was cheating on her, in a way. moving on too fast, even though he was far from. he was scared that coming out of his shell, even if only a little bit, would give people the wrong impression. he felt guilty for even having the chance to continue and to get over it when she never ever would be given a chance like that.

“what’s a non-awkward non-date place to meet up with y/n?”

yunho was most definitely surprised, but he tried not to show it. he didn’t want to make mingi feel like he was judging, because it was the opposite; he was happily surprised, glad that his friend seemed willing to resume life that was neither work nor the apartment he’d moved into now. so he tried to come up with something, because it probably was easier for him to do when he hadn’t had the girlfriend attachment to her and was more objectively able to tell what could be misunderstood as a date.

“do you know what y/n does in her free time?” he guessed that would be a good starting point.

“she said she doesn’t have any hobbies. that’s what makes this so hard.”

nods in acknowledgment, humming while trying to think of anything the two of you could do. then, the figurative lightbulb lit up above his head.

“you could find a hobby together? i’d guess she needs one, and i think it’d be good for you, too.”

the slightly shorter male had half expected the idea to be bad, but was surprised when it seemed like an actually good one. it would be a way to have something to do not just once, but also if you decided to meet up more than this once, and even if not you’d have some use from it.

“i guess that would work. thanks, yunho.” and though he couldn’t expect a smile from his friend yunho knew that if the situation had been any more like even just six months ago mingi would’ve beamed at him.

you hadn’t expected your somewhat-landlord to message you today again, but since you weren’t able to sleep anyway you might as well reply already.

[mingi]: i found some things we could try. tell me what you think?

[mingi]: //link// //link// //link// //link//

the first link took you to a dancing studio’s prices page, stating at the top that the first lesson would be free if you decided to see if this was for you. the second was the volunteer page of an animal shelter, the third a book club which had its meetings every friday (it was tuesday, you noted when you checked the date on your phone), and the fourth was a pottery class, which made a small smile appear on your face. it was obvious he’d just looked for whatever options that you’d be able to start relatively soon, and you found it nice of him that he’d put in the effort to look for these things.

[y/n]: dancing or animals seems best to me, what do you think?

[mingi]: glad you picked those

and though he hadn’t used any indicator of his mood other than the absence of the full stops that had been taunting you you were glad, because it seemed like he’d warmed up even a little.

[y/n]: i should sleep now i guess, just tell me where and when? it’s not like i’d have big plans to cancel

it was a bad attempt at joking, but at least you’d tried. it was all you were capable of in your sorry tired state - it was closer to one than it was to midnight now, and your body was complaining. that meant it was most definitely time to go to sleep.

you hadn’t missed much, either, you saw the next morning, because the only message mingi had sent after that was him saying he’d call the next day (so, today) and ask when you were free to come, and sending a goodnight. you didn’t bother to reply, seeing how it was six in the morning and he most likely wasn’t up yet and, even if he was, how he wouldn’t be able to call any place before a few hours had passed. you decided to spend those listening to music and overthinking your life, your greatest (and only) hobby.

mingi woke up around nine and once more asked yunho for advice as he tried to decide whether or not meeting you today already would be too soon, and his friend gave him the quite obvious advice to just ask about several days at the places he’d call and offer you the option to choose. the brunette did feel somewhat socially inept, but who could blame him, really? he’d near exclusively talked to either his current flatmate or the people at work for months now, hadn’t tried to form any new contacts in who even knew how long. he had the right to be socially inept.

both the dancing studio and the pet shelter seemed like they were glad he’d called, and while he was free to come to the shelter whenever the dancing place offered him a time on this day and the next two, and told him to just call again if none of those fit. he thanked the man on the other end of the line and hung up, messaging you as long as he still remembered the times given.

[mingi]: dancing is today at 3, tomorrow at 2 or thursday at 3 again. the shelter said we can come whenever

[mingi]: what fits best?

his friend forced him to get breakfast while he waited for your reply, claiming that he wouldn’t let him leave if he didn’t at least try to get some nutrition. that threat hadn’t been very effective for ages now, but he still tried day after day, and today it actually worked. though mingi wasn’t pleased he did eat a single piece of toast, frowning all the while, but what counted was that he did it. the blond didn’t know how you’d done it, but you’d dragged mingi back to the realm of the living. yunho most definitely would have to marry you.

[y/n (tenant)]: all are fine, we could do today? you pick

[mingi]: okay, so today at 3? you got the address, it’s on their website

and when you confirmed the plans mingi genuinely did feel alive again, even if just for a moment. you hadn’t been the only one completely gone since the day both of your fates had changed so drastically, but now it seemed like at least he was returning.

the time passed somewhat fast, because you realised you didn’t have food left at home, so you showered, got dressed, picked out your dancing outfit - the only pair of sweatpants you had that wasn’t your pyjamas plus one of your tighter shirts because you knew you’d hate the fabric flapping around you -, and then left to get some cheap lunch at the first place you’d see on your way to the dancing studio. you didn’t mind waiting, so it wouldn’t matter if you were early - which you inevitably were.

“hey”, mingi greeted you when he arrived, and then, because you didn’t seem like you’d arrived just a few minutes before him, “have you been waiting for long?”

“it’s fine”, you told him, “not much difference between listening to music here and listening to music on the couch.” and you smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes because you once more realised how fucking sad your life had become. not even just since you moved out (an euphemism for ‘ran away’, but same thing) but ever since you woke up the way you were now. you had no hobbies, you had no friends, you had no personality.

“let’s go.” you didn’t want to think about this, certain that the man would be able to read your expression if you didn’t get distracted, and soon.

the atmosphere in the studio was nice and sweaty, a weird combination of attributes, but true nonetheless. people were either dancing or smiling, and you felt comfortable. you’d probably like it here. the brunette sorted whatever there was to sort for your practice lesson and then a friendly-looking guy showed you some stretches, basic moves, things to warm you up and get you some feeling for how this worked without overwhelming you. you couldn’t speak for mingi, but you definitely enjoyed this. maybe you’d finally have a hobby soon, a real one.

“how’d you like it?”, he asked you after the lesson was over, and you furrowed your brows. it was a hard question to answer - you had liked it, no question, but you were constantly wondering if your actual you, the you you were supposed to be, would have liked it, and if you were right in liking it or if it was out of character for you. it made your head spin.

your silence didn’t go unnoticed, making the tall man worry a little.

“what’s wrong?” maybe he shouldn’t pry, but if it was a problem with him he’d rather know right away.

“i’m just kind of worried i’m being out of character. what if i actually hate dancing? what if i’m acting wrong? or, completely odd, i guess. not like myself. whoever that is.”

he nodded, seeming to understand your concerns, and because it was him you felt like he maybe actually could understand, on some level.

“tell me if i’m crossing a line”, he started, “but if you don’t know who you are, what you’re like… why don’t you just invent a new one? reinvent yourself? so being out of character is an active choice. i don’t know.”

that was a surprisingly good idea. there probably was no way you’d remember who you used to be, but that didn’t mean you had to be stuck being an empty form. you’d already feared you wouldn’t even like your past you, so just becoming a whole new one might possibly, hopefully, solve this problem. solve your ongoing identity crisis.

“maybe i should.”

“maybe.” and there it was again, the almost-smile, the one neither of you consciously noticed but that had both of you feeling some kind of way. it wasn’t anything romantic, neither of you were in the place for that, but it was… comfort. the feeling of not being as alone in the world as you thought you were.

you parted ways soon after, though now you were left with a purpose that drove you to yet another new place with your phone in your hand. he’d told you you needed to reinvent yourself if you didn’t want to wait to get the old you back, and he’d been right. you had subconsciously already done that when you went from looking like a neat schoolgirl to looking like a punk that hasn’t yet figured out how this works, wardrobe being reformed to be near-exclusively black or other dark colours, hair a contrastingly bright colour, and you figured now it was time for the next step. the next step being an appointment at a piercing studio that had offered you the option to come over right away and a decent price, kind of like a bulk discount because you’d called and told them you wanted five helix and two nostril piercings (go big or go home), something that had surprised them a little, but they weren’t complaining. they’d told you that if the pain got too bad at any point you could just book a new appointment, and you’d acknowledged that option, though you were rather sure you wouldn’t need that.

and now here you were, in front of the tattoo parlour, about to create a new you. about to reinvent yourself.

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ibijau · 4 years

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Burn it down AU // on AO3

Nie Mingjue’s dead, and everything is ruined.

Warning for heavy alcohol drinking in the later part of the chapter

Still holding his purchases, Lan Wangji hurried to Nie Mingjue’s house and entered without bothering to knock. As Jin Guangyao had told him, he found his brother and husband there, Lan Xichen seated on a low couch with a pale, unmoving Nie Huaisang lying down at his side, his head on his brother-in-law’s lap. His clothes were stained with blood, though Lan Wangji could not have said whose it was.

Lan Xichen raised his head when he saw his brother come in, yet Nie Huaisang did not react in any way, his eyes open but glassy. Images sprung to Lan Wangji’s mind of Wei Wuxian in the cave where he’d hidden him, unreactive and half dead after the massacre at Nightless City. The memories nearly choked him in its intensity, but he managed to push it down and come closer.

"Is he…"

"We had to give him a drug to calm him, he was getting hysterical," Lan Xichen explained, looking down at his brother-in-law. "Da-Ge is dead," he added in a voice that nearly did not tremble. "It happened so suddenly, we couldn't do anything about it."

The shock of that information slowly made its way through Lan Wangji’s comprehension in a way it hadn’t when Jin Guangyao said it. Whatever resentment he held against Nie Mingjue, he would not have wished for his death, not since the initial pain of losing Wei Wuxian had dulled down. And to die by Qi deviation of all things seemed an awful fate, especially after so many people had tried so hard to save Nie Mingjue from this.

He thought back to the blood in the courtyard. Too much to have come from a single person, and yet Lan Wangji dared not ask for details when his brother looked so shaken.

“You realise what this means for the two of you, don’t you?” Lan Xichen asked, looking up from Nie Huaisang to stare at his brother. “He is Nie Mingjue’s only direct relative. There is no one but your husband to rise to the position of sect leader.”

“He married into Gusu Lan,” Lan Wangji protested, seized by dread. “How can he inherit?”

“Marriage between two men in our circles is rare enough that everything is reinvented each time,” Lan Xichen sighed, distractedly carding his fingers through Nie Huaisang’s hair. “The contract was written in a way to ensure that neither of you would relinquish your right to succession. After all, since neither Mingjue nor I were married, we thought it… prudent. But we never imagined that… Da-Ge really was waiting for the situation to stabilise so he could marry. Huaisang was never treated as a serious option, that’s why it was agreed you two should live in Cloud Recesses. I… we thought it would be best, especially with your… circumstances.”

Lan Wangji felt cold wash over him at the thought. If Nie Huaisang became sect leader, then as his husband he would have to follow him, even though he had no wish to live in Qinghe. No matter the way he’d grown to feel about his sect, Cloud Recesses was his home, it was A-Yuan’s home. His son was still recovering from being torn away from several places he’d lived in, his friends were there, his entire life. A-Yuan would be devastated to be once more taken away from everything he knew.

“I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen said. “I wish I could protect all three of you from what is to come. But at least you can support each other. It is a relief that he will not face this alone.”

He looked down at Nie Huaisang, frowning slightly at the sight of his hand in the other man’s hair, as if he had not realised what he was doing.

“I’ll leave him to your care,” Lan Xichen said in a tense voice. “Now that you’re back, I should go help A-Yao.”

He tried to lift his brother-in-law from his lap so he could get up. That movement was enough to break through Nie Huaisang’s drug induced torpor; he whined weakly, clinging to Lan Xichen’s robe like a terrified child. Lan Xichen appeared torn for a brief moment, but still freed himself from the other man’s grasp with great gentleness.

“He shouldn’t start regaining consciousness for a while,” Lan Xichen said, carefully placing a pillow under Nie Huaisang’s head. “I’ll try to come check on the two of you before that. Still, if he wakes and is too agitated, I’m leaving that potion to you.”

“Jin Guangyao said Huaisang was wounded,” Lan Wangji remarked, looking at the large stains on his husband’s robes.

“Da-Ge slashed at his leg and arm,” Lan Xichen confirmed, his voice wavering. “I’ve healed him to the best of my capacity, he should be fine. Still, if he tries to move or appears unstable when he comes back to himself, use that potion. I don’t want him to… it would be regrettable if he reopened his wounds.”

"Hm. I will."

After one last glance at Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen exited the house. Left alone with a drugged man and an uncertain future, Lan Wangji turned to the only tool he had and sat near the sofa to meditate.

It brought him no peace.

He had not expected it to.

A few hours passed before Nie Huaisang came back to himself. He did not move at first, and Lan Wangji only knew something had changed because his husband’s breathing became faster. He decided against breaking the silence, so Nie Huaisang could have time to come to terms with what had happened at his own pace. A long while passed before at last his husband spoke.

“Last night I told him I wished A-Yao was my brother instead of him,” Nie Huaisang said in a hollow voice. “And he replied that he wished he didn’t have a brother. That’s the last thing we said to each other.”

Lan Wangji couldn’t help but wince, and looked for words of comfort that would not feel utterly empty. He could find none.

“I’m going to be sect leader now, aren’t I?” Nie Huaisang muttered. “What a joke. Put a dog in charge and you’ll get better results.”

“Huaisang understands politics,” Lan Wangji countered.

“What good is it to understand? Who’ll listen to me outside of Qinghe Nie? Who’ll listen to me inside Qinghe Nie? I’m not made for this. How dare Da-Ge die and leave me in charge? How dare he… why did he have to die?”

“I will help you. I will make them listen.”

An odd sound escaped Nie Huaisang’s throat, something between laughter and a sob, while tears spilled on his cheeks.

“You and A-Yuan are staying in Gusu. I can’t let him cultivate the Nie way. After what happened to my brother, you think I could let my… that child be taught in a way that’s so likely to kill him?”

“The alliance between our sects…”

“That mattered when Qinghe Nie had a real leader!” Nie Huaisang spat, trying to sit up, only to wince in pain and flop down again. “You think I can stand up to Jin Guangshan? Don’t you see? Qinghe Nie doesn’t matter anymore! Without Da-Ge we’re… It doesn’t matter! Nothing matters! All I can do is pick up the pieces and…”

He started sobbing, his entire body shaking from the strength of it. Worried for his wounds, Lan Wangji tried to give him some of the potion his brother had left, but Nie Huaisang refused it.

“Don’t, I’ll need my wits,” he sniffled. “I should… there’s going to be so much to do, I don’t even know where to start. I’ll need… I’m not ready for this. Wangji, I’m not ready for this!”

With some hesitation, Lan Wangji knelt by the sofa’s side. Since words were failing him, he carefully grasped Nie Huaisang’s wrist, hoping this at least would provide some comfort.

“A-Yuan will be so cross,” Nie Huaisang whispered, trying to force a smile and failing to produce anything but a distressed grimace. “We said we’d be back soon, and now… you can’t leave until after the funeral, and I’m not coming back, and… I’m going to miss him so much.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened on his wrist. “We will come live here.”

He had been relieved to hear Nie Huaisang say he wanted A-Yuan and Lan Wangji to remain in Gusu, because that would spare his son from one sort of heartbreak… but only at the cost of another. A-Yuan loved his Nie-Ge and would be devastated to be separated from him.

“How many Qi deviations have you seen happen?” Nie Huaisang whispered, closing his eyes. “One? Two, if you’re unlucky? I’ve seen dozens. Few of them deadly, and none as violent as… but I’ve seen this too many times. When I was little, after my father’s death, I had nightmares for months. I… I don’t want that for A-Yuan. I don’t want that for anyone. I hate this sect. I was so happy to leave for Cloud Recesses and now I’m back and… it’ll happen again. I’ll see people die again, just because some stupid butcher decided four hundred years ago that he wanted to try cultivation! I can’t protect myself, and I can’t protect my disciples, and I can’t protect anyone except A-Yuan, so I will.”

“Hm.”

It would be preferable to keep A-Yuan out of a sect with such a risky cultivation method, but Lan Wangji knew better than to give too much weight to that decision. Even if Nie Huaisang wanted this at the moment, he might feel differently once the raw pain of what had happened dulled out and he was able to think about politics with a clear head. Or else, Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren might insist that Lan Wangji continue living with his husband, because they would still count on that alliance even if Nie Huaisang wanted to give up the fight.

No matter what happened, Lan Wangji would be grateful that his husband had at least tried to protect the child they were raising together.

A month after Nie Mingjue's death, Lan Wangji was finally able to think of going home. It had been a gruelling few weeks, and with each passing day he had missed A-Yuan a little more. And yet, he was glad that the little boy hadn't come with them. It would have shocked him to see Nie Huaisang so broken.

It certainly shocked Lan Wangji every time his husband burst into tears the first few days, entirely unable to control his emotions no matter how hard he tried. He was used to Nie Huaisang smiling through anything and deflecting pain with a foolish remark, even though the other man was more open with him than with others. Now, in private, Lan Wangji would catch Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao exchanging worried looks as Nie Huaisang sometimes cried so hard he could hardly breathe.

In public though, Nie Huaisang managed to pull through. He conducted the rituals for his brother’s funeral with a calm to be envied, perfectly polite to the sect leaders who had come to pay respect to Nie Mingjue. Then he would retire to his brother’s house, and cry either until he fell asleep, dead to the world until morning came and his act had to resume.

The night before Lan Wangji and his brother were set to depart for Gusu, they had an informal meeting Jin Guangyao, to discuss the situation. No matter how well Nie Huaisang could pretend in front of people he did not trust, the three of them were worried about him. Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao agreed with Lan Wangji that it would be unwise for Nie Huaisang to stay alone too long, but Jin Guangyao pointed out that if he wanted to send away his husband and friends, they could not stop him.

“It is his sect now,” he argued, “and Huaisang has always been a little stubborn, especially when he’s wrong. If he wants space, we should let him have it for now. Lanling is not so far, I can visit easily when he realises he needs it. My father will understand. He knows grief.”

Of all the people that could be at Nie Huaisang’s side, Jin Guangyao was Lan Wangji’s least favourite option. He had been greatly helpful and supportive, yes, but Lan Wangji could not forget Nie Huaisang's long rant against Jin Guangshan’s ambitions, the defeated way he’d cried that their marriage was pointless now because unlike Nie Mingjue, he did not have what it took to stand up to the Chief Cultivator.

Jin Guangyao was Nie Huaisang’s friend, but before all else he was his father’s servant.

“I hope I can visit as well,” Lan Xichen sighed. “Uncle might be unhappy if I try to leave again too soon and for too long, but I will try to convince him. At worst, Wangji…”

He turned to his brother in a silent question.

“A-Yuan and I will visit, even if Huaisang does not want us here permanently,” he promised. “He is family.”

Lan Xichen appeared relieved by that declaration, though there was an edge to his smile that Lan Wangji could not explain. Surely his brother could not have expected him to fight harder to stay in Qinghe, could he? Nie Huaisang had made it very clear he would not allow it, and he was missing his son too much to not go home.

The matter, anyway, was soon dropped. Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao started talking instead of the sort of scrolls and books they might send Nie Huaisang to help him learn his new role. Since he could not contribute to that, Lan Wangji quickly excused himself.

After leaving those two to their business, Lan Wangji hesitated on how to proceed. He wanted to go see Nie Huaisang and offer his company for a while, but feared that it would bring his husband little comfort. Nie Huaisang would cry before them, but it was obvious he did not like having witnesses to his weakness. It seemed better to go and finish preparing for the return trip to Gusu.

Lan Wangji had brought few things with him, since their stay in Qinghe had been intended to remain short. Still, while packing, he found two boxes he could not remember taking with him. When he opened them, he found inside the two porcelain figurines he had bought weeks earlier, on what he had expected to be their last day in the Unclean Realm. After leaving A-Yuan for so long, that little rabbit, however pretty, felt like a rather poor peace offering. Hopefully, his son would still accept it, and forgive being abandoned once again.

But it was the bird he’d wanted to give his husband that really caught his attention. It would be several more weeks before Nie Huaisang’s possessions were returned to him from Cloud Recesses. Until then he would be alone in this austere place that did not suit his tastes, without anyone at his side but elders and disciples who would be constantly comparing him to his brother.

That porcelain bird was a small thing, a silly trinket.

Lan Wangji carefully put it back in its box, and left the room with it, heading for Nie Mingjue’s house where he was sure to find his husband. Hopefully, he would accept that present and keep it close in the months to come, as a reminder that he was not, in fact, alone.

Entering the house, Lan Wangji was instantly hit by an odd smell he could not quite recognise at the moment. He gave it little thought. Between his wounds and his fragile mental state, Nie Huaisang had been given a number of potions and incenses and it was hard to keep track of everything. Besides, his attention was caught instead by Nie Huaisang himself, haphazardly sitting at the table in the center of his brother’s house. He was not crying at the moment, but his reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks made it obvious he had done so not long ago.

“Come to say goodbye, husband?” he called toward Lan Wangji in an odd voice, not making the effort to rise. “There’s no need, I’ll be there in the morning to bid you good travel.”

“Hm. I have something for you,” Lan Wangji replied, coming to sit on the side of the table and offering the little box he had brought to his husband.

“I hope it’s liquor,” Nie Huaisang snickered, even when it obviously couldn’t be.

His hands trembling slightly, Nie Huaisang opened the box. He gasped when the little porcelain bird came into view, and took it out as carefully as if it were made of the most precious jade.

“It’s so pretty,” Nie Huaisang said, feverishly staring at the small present. “A magpie… they’re clever, you know? Mate for life, or so it’s said. Don’t know why anyone would do that, but they do.”

At last, Lan Wangji recognised the smell that had upset him since he arrived. Wine. Having realised that, he spotted a few jars at Nie Huaisang’s side. Most appeared to be already empty.

“I’ll put it away for now,” Nie Huaisang muttered, placing the bird back into its box. “Wouldn’t want to break it. I’ve messed up enough already, and I’m not done yet.”

He carefully pushed aside the small box, and placed one of his few unopened jars of wine and a small bowl on the table. Lan Wangji glared at those.

"Alcohol is forbidden."

"Only in Cloud Recesses," Nie Huaisang retorted with a wry smile. "Where I’ll never return as anything but a guest. And trust me, even there you couldn't stop me from drinking, not today. I deserve to be drunk."

After everything, perhaps Nie Huaisang had earned that right. Still, Lan Wangji did not enjoy the company of drunk people. He rose to leave, but Nie Huaisang grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Stay. Please. I… I don’t want to be alone."

It would have been easy to break free. Nie Huaisang was nowhere near strong enough to hold Lan Wangji in place.

Nie Huaisang had also always understood that Lan Wangji did not like to be touched by anyone but his son. He had always respected that. And he had never been one to make demands of his husband. Besides, it had been a truly awful few weeks.

Lan Wangji sat down again. Nie Huaisang let go of his wrist, and opened the jar before carefully serving himself some wine.

"To the life I'll never have," Nie Huaisang said, raising his bowl with a grimace, "to wasted chances and all we've lost."

He downed the wine quickly and immediately refilled the bowl.

"I still can't believe he's gone," he noted. "How can someone like him die? I mean, it's not that I didn't know there was a risk… Heavens know I was aware of that. But still… Funny, isn't it? How you can know that someone's way of life is putting them at risk, but they're so extraordinary that you can't believe anything would actually happen to them. He survived everything else! Why couldn't he survive this too?"

Lan Wangji's hands clenched on his knees. He still wondered that about Wei Wuxian, untouchable by death until one day, he no longer was.

"I'm not ready to replace him," Nie Huaisang sighed, drinking another bowl. "I knew I might have to someday, since that idiot couldn't seem to get around to get married, but… I thought I had time. He was so young, I thought I had time! And I was… I was just getting used to life with you. We were getting along! You were the best friend I’d had since… since last time I had a chance to make friends!"

He paused. Refilled his bowl. Emptied it.

"It wasn't what I wanted, but it wasn't bad, living with you. We got along fine, right? And A-Yuan is such a good little boy, I love him so much. It was almost like we were a family. It was almost like… it wasn't, but it was so close to what I wanted. It felt like what I could have had with him."

"Him?"

Nie Huaisang grinned manically, and drank some more.

"Oh. I've never told you, have I?” he said in a flighty voice, waving around his empty bowl. “I'm in love with someone else. Already was when we married. Been for years. That's why it was so easy to take a political match with you, right? Since I knew about Wei Wuxian, I was sure you wouldn't have expectations about marital duties and such nonsense."

It explained a few things indeed, but also brought many questions.

"Why not marry that person?"

"Ah, now wouldn't you like to know?" Nie Huaisang chuckled, staring at his bowl with a grimace that could only vaguely pass as a smile.

Lan Wangji was curious indeed, more than he might have expected. He did not want to pry though. The fact that Nie Huaisang would share even that much was odd, and to be blamed on the wine. To use his weakened state against him would have been…

"We kissed once," Nie Huaisang sighed, half a sob. "During the war… There had been an ambush, the Wen had killed so many people, I was stuck in Cloud Recesses, without news… When he returned and came to see me, when I saw him alive… And we were alone, and I was stupid and I kept thinking he could have died. He could have died! I was hiding, and he was taking risks, and I loved him, and he could have died, so I kissed him."

He smiled at his cup, a foolish, desperately fond grin.

"He kissed me back," Nie Huaisang whispered with awe. "We… I loved him and he was holding me close and kissing me back and… I think I could have fought Wen Ruohan and won in that moment. Nothing could have touched me. He kissed me back, he had to feel something too, right?"

Unsure what to answer, Lan Wangji remained silent. The one and only time he had kissed Wei Wuxian had been… The circumstances had been different. Being kissed back by someone who did not know who they were kissing, that could not have meant much.

"We didn’t stop kissing until night fell, and then he had to report for duty," Nie Huaisang murmured. "When I saw him again the next morning, he pretended nothing had happened. Wouldn't even look at me. Didn't look at me again for years. Didn’t speak either. Even at that stupid wedding of ours he ignored me…"

So that person, that man, had been present at their wedding. That offered many possibilities. Someone who had fought during the Sunshot Campaign… Jiang Cheng perhaps, since they were friends? But that did not fit with Nie Huaisang’s tale. As far as Lan Wangji knew, Jiang Cheng had never come to Cloud Recesses during the conflict.

Good.

Lan Wangji did not like the idea of anyone in his family liking Jiang Cheng.

"I can't believe he pushed for that match," Nie Huaisang grumbled, emptying his cup only to quickly refill it. "He knew. He knows! And I swear sometimes I do catch him looking, and I almost think he…"

"He pushed for the match?" Lan Wangji repeated, stunned by the news and quickly trying to remember who'd had a part in that.

On the Lan side, only the elders had been involved. Most were married, and would never have allowed themselves to be kissed. Even the unmarried ones he could not imagine Nie Huaisang being attracted to. The image of Nie Huaisang swooning over someone like Lan Qiren, while rather amusing, seemed an unlikely scenario. Someone from Qinghe Nie, then. But why would a Nie disciple have come to Cloud Recesses during the war? Nie Mingjue had not had a single man to spare, and he had never sent anyone to check on his brother, trusting he was safe in Gusu.

"Yes, of course he did," Nie Huaisang laughed bitterly, before trying to drink and half missing his mouth. "That's why I agreed. If it mattered to him that much… And I thought to myself, won't it be nice to at least see him every day? I can live without being loved by him, but I told myself it’d be a chance to become friends. I'd give anything to be his friend at least. Stupid. Who'd want to be friends with me when you're on equal footing with my brother and Meng Yao? Stupid, I'm so stupid… "

"You love…"

Suddenly realising just how much he had revealed, Nie Huaisang belatedly pressed a hand against his mouth and threw Lan Wangji a panicked look.

It was a shock. Of course Lan Xichen had had admirers in the past, both male and female. And since he had always been supportive of him, Lan Wangji knew that the idea of two men together did not disgust him as it did some people. Still he had never shown that sort of interest in anyone. If Lan Wangji had been told his brother was attracted to another man, he would have guessed it to be Nie Mingjue or Jin Guangyao, not…

“Hey, that’s rude,” Nie Huaisang slurred, as if guessing his thoughts. “Just because I’m not your type doesn’t mean I can’t be someone else’s!”

He reached for the jar of alcohol again, only to find it empty. He sighed at that, and slumped on the table.

“Pah. Like I’m his type either. Maybe I’m deluding myself. How pathetic is it that I’m still hung up on a single kiss? He probably just wanted to try that out on someone inconsequential. Who better than me? Even if I had said something, nobody would believe me… and he must have guessed how I felt, he must have known I’d never betray him, he must… heavens, he must find me so pathetic for not letting go.”

Lan Wangji hesitated. His brother was not someone who made impulsive decisions, least of all where other people's feelings were at play. Lan Xichen was cautious and tried to be kind to everyone. He also wasn't someone impulsive, and had never given the impression he was to sort to toy with other's feelings. Lan Wangji had always assumed that their parents’ relationship had left more of an impact on his brother than on him, if only because when their mother passed away, Lan Xichen had been just old enough to start guessing something wasn’t right with that marriage. He had thought that was the reason why his brother never showed interest in finding a cultivation partner, never hurried to take a wife and have an heir.

After what Nie Huaisang had shared, Lan Wangji no longer knew what to think of the situation.

“Well, that was my tale of woe,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “I’ve run out of wine, and I don’t want you to run out of patience. Thanks for listening to me.”

“Huaisang…”

“Yes, yes, I’m very pathetic, and you’re welcome to pity or despise me as much as you like. Doesn’t matter. Whatever you have to say on this matter, I’ve already told myself something worse.”

“Sympathy is not pity. You feel nothing I have not felt as well.”

“Oh dear, that might be worse than pity,” Nie Huaisang snickered. “I am in no state to handle kindness tonight. You’re leaving in the morning, aren’t you? You should go rest, dear husband, and hopefully forget this conversation. I’m sure I will, after another jar or two.”

He waved his hand distractedly to dismiss Lan Wangji. Then, as if he were already alone, Nie Huaisang started digging through the jars around him, muttering every time he picked up an empty one. Lan Wangji did not insist and rose, quickly leaving the house in search of Jin Guangyao. Someone had to make sure Nie Huaisang did not kill himself through alcohol poisoning, and asking for Lan Xichen’s help in that matter simply wasn’t an option at the moment

#lan xichen #nie huaisang #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #xisang #at last the xisang tag becomes kind of justified yay!#jau writes #burn it down au #I will now probably go back to sleep for a little bit

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deadanddeactivated · 4 years

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So @figurative-siren-song posted a thing today and uhh apparently i was really in the mood to write some heavy angst. This was before i was having a really shitty day (tbh when i wasnt having a shitty day it had a happy ending).

Anyway no fancy post editing because tumblr mobile sucks, please enjoy

AO3

The sides weren't like real people. They couldn't just… reinvent themselves or change the way a real person could. When the sides wanted to change, they had to break apart. Become a fragment of their old selves, and let the other fragments fade.

Virgil knew a thing or two about changing.

Not like De, who was still self-preservation no matter what he called himself. Or like the twins, who couldn't even remember King tearing himself in two.

Forgetting didn't work so well for Virgil. Instinct wouldn't have made the mistakes Fear and Anxiety had.

Then again, Instinct was the one that started the whole mess.

(It's not like the memories had stayed away anyway. Not like with the twins. Virgil supposed he should have expected that. It just wasn't in his nature to forget, even if he couldn't remember what he wasn't forgetting.)

The point is, Virgil knew a thing or two about changing.

So the pit in his stomach didn't really come as a surprise. He knew the risks. Lifetimes ago Instinct and King had talked about them at length.

"Hey Roman." Virgil greeted that morning, hoping Roman didn't notice how tense his smile was. "You want to spar or something today?"

"Don't distract me!" Roman declared, yanking a snack from the cupboard and turning back towards his room. "I have to get this project done! Thomas is depending on me!"

"Oh." Virgil breathed, even though Roman was already gone. Patton walked in next, offering a smile as he prepared a quick breakfast of sugary cereals.

"Good morning Virgil!" He greeted.

"Morning Pat." Virgil returned the smile, even if it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, do you maybe want to bake today? I think we're running low on cookies."

"Oh that sounds swell!" Patton said. "But Thomas is feeling a bit disheartened at the moment, I need to spend the day lifting his spirits!"

"Right, of course." Virgil mumbled.

"Thanks for understanding kiddo, we'll bake tomorrow." Patton assured, planting a kiss atop Virgil's head as he passed.

"Tomorrow, right." Virgil agreed, looking down at his hand. Tomorrow.

Logan was already at work when Virgil knocked at his door.

"Yes?" He asked, sounding a little annoyed at being interrupted. Virgil hesitated, biting his lip a moment before pushing on.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go stargazing, maybe." Virgil suggested. "The sky in Remus' side of the mindscape always does cool things when you're around."

"My apologies Virgil but I am busy preparing next week's schedule. Perhaps we can go some other time." Logan refused and immediately turned back to his work, assuming the conversation to be over. Virgil just sighed, stepping from the room and wondering what now.

As he was turning to his own room, thinking of maybe writing a letter, the rundown door at the end of the hall caught his eye.

Trying in person couldn't do any harm, right?

Stepping through to the other side of Thomas' mind, Virgil was a little surprised to find he remembered exactly how to get to the living room. He even remembered which of the floorboards creaked and which would break if he stood on them. It was actually a little bit of fun and by the time he found De, reading on the couch, he was smiling.

"He De!" He greeted. "Wanna hang out?"

"Why?" De hissed, destroying Virgil's good mood. "I'm sure the others didn't send you here to spy on me."

"What? No, I just wanted to-"

"Don't save it." De spat, standing. "You didn't choose your side, don't live with it." Without another word, De walked off.

That…

That didn't go the way Virgil was hoping.

But it's alright, he told himself. There was still Remus. Hopes high, Virgil eventually found the green side in his side of the imagination.

"Remus!" He called, waving. The glare Remus shot his way made Virgil stagger back.

"Fuck off." The duke growled.

"Wait, Remus-" But before Virgil could speak, throned vines rose from the ground to separate them.

"I said fuck off." Remus repeated.

Oh.

Right.

Okay.

That's…

That's fine.

It's fine.

Virgil will just try again tomorrow, right?

But even as he thought it, Virgil knew he wouldn't last that long. He didn't have the drive to fight against the growing pit in his chest.

Wiping his eyes, Virgil knew there was really only one thing left to do. It still took him another moment to sink out.

"Virgil!" Thomas startled as Virgil appeared, jumping back from his computer. "Uh, not that I'm complaining but what are you doing here? I'm not anxious."

"I know." Virgil said, leaning against the back of the couch and looking off to the side. "I just, wanted you to know that I'm proud of you. You're doing a great job."

"Thanks?" Thomas frowned, sounding unsure. "Is everything alright man?"

"Yeah." Virgil lied. "It's nothing I wasn't prepared for." He took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Thomas. "Bye Thomas." He said.

Then, in a blink, he was gone.

Instinct sat with King a lifetime ago.

"If you break apart you might fade." Instinct warned.

"I'm going to tear myself apart no matter what." King argued. "Maybe this way I'll survive it."

"It's too dangerous." Instinct argued.

"It's my only choice." King shrugged. "I'm going to forget this. I don't want the mini mes to know about this, just in case they keep breaking. In case they become something so small, Thomas doesn't need them anymore."

"Thomas is always going to need his creativity." Instinct claimed.

"Not this one he doesn't. I don't make sense to him anymore." King sighed. "Look after them, won't you?"

"...I will." When King broke he tried for two perfect halves and yet Virgil's pretty sure there were pieces missing. Things so very King that went to neither Roman nor Remus.

Years later Instinct sat alone.

Thomas wasn't listening to him, the sides weren't listening to him. He couldn't be sure if it was Morality turning Patton, and therefore all of Thomas, against him. Or was it Thomas' new ideas of instincts being somehow lesser than normal thoughts. Maybe it was Instinct himself athat had pushed them away.

Whatever the cause, the problem remained. Thomas wasn't listening to him. The sides weren't listening to him. He couldn't do his job like this.

What was the solution?

King. King was.

That night, something in Instinct broke and he ceased to be.

Fear arrived in the mindscape a few days later.

Fear had long since broken into Anxiety when the memories started flooding back. Spurred on by desperate attempts to remember a name he wasn't sure he had.

And with those memories came a realization.

Anxiety was a fragment of a fragment. He was too small a side. Instinct could handle a change in Thomas. But Anxiety? One wrong change and he'd cease to be.

That night Anxiety tried to leave first, hoping it might hurt less.

Now, fading into Thomas' subconscious, Virgil was glad he stuck around. He just wished he had longer, to fix the things he broke.

But Anxiety wasn't like Emotions or Logic or Creativity. Next to them he was just a small part of Thomas. A part Thomas could manage himself now. He didn't need Virgil.

Would the others notice, Virgil wondered. Would they realize what he'd been asking for all day?

Would they care?

Virgil didn't have long left to ponder that.

None of the sides were particularly happy to be called for an unscheduled meeting, all rather busy. However they couldn't just ignore a summons from Thomas. Patton, Logan, and Roman appeared together and yet Thomas looked around desperately, like he was looking for something.

"Is everything alright kiddo?" Patton frowned.

"You threw off my groove!" Roman claimed.

"Where's Virgil?!" Thomas asked, panicked.

"Why he's right-" Logan cut himself off, turning to see Virgil's regular spot empty. "That's odd." He frowned.

"Did something happen?" Patton asked.

"I don't know! He just, he popped in and he said he was proud of me and then he was just, gone!" Thomas explained.

"But you clearly still have your anxiety." Logan noted. "You acted rather different when you didn't."

"Then it can only be one thing!" Roman declared. "Rise, you fiends!" At his shout, Deceit and Remus find themselves appearing.

"Oh yes, this is exactly what I wanted to do today." Deceit claimed, rolling his eyes.

"What did you do to him?!" Roman demanded.

"Who? Jeffery Dahmer?" Remus asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

"I believe he's asking if you've seen Virgil." Logan clarified.

"Not at all." Deceit huffed. "He certainly didn't try to trick me into 'hanging out' with him."

"Me too!" Remus gasped. "So I skewered him with thorns!"

"Remus!" Patton exclaimed.

"Okay so I didn't skewer him." Remus grumbled. "But I tried! And that's what counts!"

"Virgil must have been real desperate if he went to you two for company." Roman muttered.

"He did ask if I could spend time with him, unfortunately I was busy with the schedule." Logan said.

"He asked me too." Patton realized.

"Geez, what would make our local loner desperate for company all of a sudden?" Roman asked.

"His room." Patton whispered. He sunk out quickly.

"Patton?" Thomas called, concerned.

"What about Virgil's room?" Remus questioned. "Is it dirty?" He smirked.

When Patton rose up a moment later, his face was seldom enough to put them all on edge. He opened his mouth to say something but instead found tears filling his eyes.

"Patton?" Logan pressed.

"It's, it's gone!" Patton managed through tears.

"Guess you lot weren't good enough for perfect ol Virgy either." Remus smirked.

"No." Logan said, understanding washing over him. "If his room is gone that means… Virgil faded."

"What? No, that's impossible! Thomas still has anxiety!" Roman argued.

"Thomas will always have anxiety. However, he no longer needs Virgil to manage it." Logan explained, shaking his head and trying to pretend his hands weren't shaking.

"I still need Virgil!" Thomas argued. "We have to bring him back!"

"I'm sorry Thomas, you don't need him. Subconsciously, you know that." Logan said.

"But we can bring him back, can't we?" Roman asked.

"No." Patton sobbed. "We can't." A thunk cut into the sense of grief falling over the sides. Turning, they saw Remus had fallen to his knees.

"I…" Remus' voice was a whisper, quieter than any side had heard it. "I didn't let him talk. He tried to talk to me."

"He wasn't lying." De said. "He was trying to say goodbye."

"He isn't gone!" Remus screamed. "Maybe he's just, he just moved back, yeah? Let's go check De, I bet he's picking a movie for movie night!" He decided.

"Remus." Deceit tried but Remus was already gone, racing through the mindscape for a room that wasn't there anymore. Patton sobbed louder to the side but Deceit barely heard him.

Virgil tried to say goodbye.

Deceit never let him.

He's not going to get a second chance.

Another thunk rang through the room.

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, RO!

You have been accepted to play the role of NICHOLAS MERCER with the faceclaim of DOUGLAS BOOTH. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. I am well aware of your first choice, but trust me when I say that I would have done you a great injustice not giving you the role of Nick. The twists you have picked for him, the paragraph sample you have masterfully done, every tweak and change and elaboration convinced me that you are the perfect player for him. You understand a character that I have always found tricky and have captured him to the last detail. A simple compliment regarding the twist on his relationship with Lucas wouldn’t suffice, for it is a detail that deserves endless praise. You are an incredibly good writer and, it seems, one of the friendliest people on this site — and I cannot wait to see more of both you and Nicholas. Thank you for your cooperation and dedication, and know that they did not go unnoticed.

Name and pronouns: Ro - He/Him

Age: 26

Time-zone: PST

Activity level: I am a film student in third year, about to head into the summer. I tend to be very busy, but I’ve also been committed to RP as a part of my regular life and creative outlet for upwards of ten years. I should always make activity (and I’ll always contact you if I run into any issues) and I’d likely be doing replies a couple times a week. I try to lurk on the daily, but if I work in the industry again this summer, the hours are insane so I tend to be on the most on the weekends!

Triggers: removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Nicholas Mercer - Nick is a very enthralling character to me. I’m drawn to the way he is at war with himself - the distaste and discomfort he feels when he looks in the mirror and can hardly meet his own gaze. I’m drawn to the compulsion he has to keep up this act and web of lies, despite the growing shame he feels at his own actions, because the shame he feels by his own roots is worse. I love that he’s a charmer, and has always been praised for his looks and brains and potential, and yet his smiles and confidence are in many ways an act carefully designed to hide the deep seeded insecurity and uncertainty underneath.

Gender and pronouns of the character: Male, He/Him

Changes: FCs: Man, this is hard to choose. Douglas Booth (I didn’t know he was in the film actually, haha, I’d never seen it) he’s a good fit with appropriate charm in his gifs, Daniel Sharman, who would maybe be my first pick, were it easier to find smiley-charmy gifs of him, and Zayn Malik - a less stereotyped approach, but I kind of like that and he’s got great gifs for it. If i get this role you may have to help me choose LOL. I’m unsure who’s best. I keep flip-flopping. At first I thought Douglas was the best bet but now I’m not sure.

Traits: Nicholas grew up believing that his value lied in how unlike the rest of the world he was. He was praised for his looks and his sharp, surprising mind. His teachers, classmates and parents spoke of little other than what a spectacle he was; how he stood out from the crowd, how his shine would make so many envy him. He was taught that these were the things that mattered because these were the things those who were meant to care for him seemed to value most about him. These were the things they were proud of.

And so growing up he developed followers and admirers, but not friends. He grew up having to protect these material and shallow things about himself because they were the only things his parents seemed truly invested in. Money and admiration were what he needed to be somebody. To matter and to make a mark, to not disappear into irrelevance. In short, he is deeply insecure and has a skewed sense of self worth. He only values in himself what he believes others have valued in him, and has become obsessed with protecting that ‘It-boy’ image in order to maintain his reason to be seen.

Headcanons/plot ideas:

Nick is a hard one to pinpoint, and I could go a few different ways for what he’s studying. Currently I’m thinking Law or Social Anthropology.

Nick is gay. I think it says something remarkable (and remarkably sad) about his determination to marry for money and status, and it speaks loads about his self-image. It makes me absolutely ache, how trapped he feels, how desperate and how self-loathing, and that’s the real reason he can’t look himself in the eye when he looks in a mirror. He’s ashamed on one level, for being ‘poor’ and not good enough, and ashamed on a whole other level, for being fraudulent, a liar, a deceiver and a coward. His levels of self-loathing and pain are bone deep and twisted around his ribs in a way that truly inspires me as a character driven writer. I could explore him endlessly. He has so much potential and I love him so much!

I’m interested in looking at his relationship with Lucas. I don’t want to rush any decisions until I get my feet wet and explore him a little and let the character show me how he feels, but I could see his relationship with Lucas as being one potentially unrequited of feelings Nick may be keeping tucked under his tongue. With everything else he’s feeling and hiding, and the fact that Lucas is one of the few people he feels really connected to at school, I could see that as being something he struggles with or something that develops. Either way, however, it’s a complicated and precious dynamic I’m excited about.

PARA SAMPLE

Scholarship.

The word felt filthy on the edges of his tongue. Before it even left his throat, stuck there at the wall of his too-white teeth. It felt like a betrayal. It felt like a confession that would tumble him apart. It felt like a truth so ugly it made all his lies feel like beautiful, caressing companions.

Scholarship. He lived in fear of the way the word exposed him, and as he stood in the men’s room, palms gripping the edge of the damp, marble counters, he hoped to God it never came up with his date sitting across the table from him. Hoped she hadn’t heard, somehow, through a furiously whispered rumour that he sometimes felt certain was ghosting at his tailcoat as he strutted through the corridors of Oxford. He was haunted by any remnants of his past still surface enough to peer through the veil of glass and sand he’d tried to bury it with.

He’s spent years perfecting his walk, his talk, his privileged smile and he’s so good at it now that he at times can even convince himself. Some days, he’s almost reinvented the truth. Has become so familiar with the lies that they’ve made him a nest in a safe, new reality.

But the rest of the time he lived in constant fear of that other shoe dropping.

The back splash tiles of the bathroom sink were pitch black and so shiny he could see himself in them. It was like even the room was laughing at him, and his reluctancy to look himself in the mirror with any kind of conviction. Too cowardly to face the twisted boy that Oxford had mangled him into. It was easier to blame the school. Easier to say that the pressure of the Riot Club and the prestige he was so constantly cloaked in, was responsible for his poorly justified choices, for his backburner-ing of integrity. His pride was forged in the cold grey slate of his artifice, and if you looked too closely you could see the places it was chipped.

The echoing sound of the door opening, of cutlery and chatter swooping into the space before the door slid shut again, shook him from his reverie and he twisted ornate taps with hurried fingers, running his palms under the flow as the sound of fine-Italian soles clacked behind his back and stopped at a urinal.

He breathed. Exhaled the breath he’d been holding, actually, and cupped cool water into his hands to splash it over his face. He didn’t always lose his cool. In fact, in company, he rarely did. The fact that he’d gotten so God damn good at this was half the reason guilt feasted on him as savagely as it did. He didn’t crack with an audience, but the pressure to perform so consistently made his solitude more of a place of unwanted reflection than of refuge. The silence gave him time to stop and think and hate and regret; all things he neither needed nor had the energy for. What he needed was to be kept busy. Moving constantly, his performance uninterrupted, so that in doing so he might forget everything it was he was running from. Everything he was covering up.

It was all Lana’s fault. He’d been holding the door open for his date (a pretty blonde thing with jewels around her neck worth the same dollar value as the tits sitting too-high and too-solid on her narrow ribcage to be natural) when Lana Chambers had strolled passed clutching her handbag and ducking under the umbrella of whatever current company she was in. And he’d seen it in her eyes—the nugget of truth she wielded, a weapon that could so easily destroy him. He’d seen the shadow of knowledge flick across her raven’s wings eyes as she’d glanced at him, then at his date.

He hated the way she looked at him—regardless of what she was thinking, he could’t shake the feeling she knew what he was up to. Knew all his darkest secrets, all the workings of his seduction on these women who would stabilize his status as top-tier. Couldn’t help but fear she would find a way to air his dirty laundry for the world to see—even if she hadn’t been privy to much of it. There was no way she could know the things he’d never told a soul. No way she could know how deeply his seduction of these women was a lie. No way she could know the way he looked at Lucas.

She couldn’t know. But his best friend was the only thing in his world among the elite that felt genuine and he couldn’t help but fear she’d find a way to take that from him. She was the only one with the power to.

So fragile, he was, for such a God among mortals. So tenuous was his falsified confidence, his calculated swagger. He could be taken apart so easily by a woman who knew too much. One thread was all it would take to unravel his web of lies. How long until he cracked under the heavy choke of his sacrifices? What he was giving up in order to obtain the one thing that he could count on making him memorable? Maintaining his significance.

And there was nothing worse he could think of, in this world of material, power and prestige, than being rendered insignificant.

#accepted #nicholas mercer

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