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katzuyas · 5 years

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blood drips from the fingers of the hand that suddenly rips through the flesh of the man who was bout to cut yuuri’s head off with one clean swing of his sword, and yuuri can’t exactly say he minds this sudden development. there is a clean hole in the man’s chest when he’s discarded to the side like a piece of insignificant dust, but yuuri’s too busy gazing at the one who saved him to look closer at all the gore.

because before him stands the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

it’s part admiration, part disgust that stirs in yuuri’s belly as he watches the man lift his bloodied hand to his lips and suck his fingers clean. something very disturbing seems to be happening before his very eyes, and yet... and yet, yuuri feels himself bewitched to the point of staying there and watching.

“did I scare you?” the man asks, licking his hand clean much like a cat. a hell cat. one of those feral beasts that feast on rotten flesh and--

“um,” yuuri swallows. “no?”

he’s risking it, he thinks, but when he considers it closer, it’s not really a lie that he gives in reply. he’s only partially scared. everyone would be after someone tried to kill them, and yuuri’s fear stems from that alone, it looks like.

“oh?” the man cocks his head to the side. he looks at yuuri with bright blue eyes, which shine like gems and steal yuuri’s breath altogether. “so you aren’t scared of me?”

“should I be?” yuuri asks back, wondering where he gets the audacity to question a being who can rip through a human with enough ease as he just witnessed.

maybe it’s his close brush with death that’s given him the courage, or maybe it’s another feeling -- one of premonition of what’s to come -- that tells him his adventure into the land of the dead might not yet be far off, but yuuri finds strength in his limbs and lightness in his heart, so he stands.

and he looks the man in the eyes with no fear. “are you going to hurt me?”

the man seems to be as surprised at yuuri’s question as yuuri is at his own daring.

“hurt you? no!” he shakes his head and his silver hair flits about like spiderwebs on a light morning breeze. “why would you even think that? I’d never hurt you.”

“well,” yuuri clears his throat, looking to where the corpse of the man who tried to take his life has yet to chill. “that might have something to do with my question, but... if you aren’t here to hurt me... and you just saved me... then, how-- I mean, who are you? and why did you help me?”

the little breath that escapes from the man’s lips is much more hushed than a gasp. much more... disappointed, yuuri decides when he sees the crestfallen look on the man’s face.

“you don’t know,” comes the reply, and yuuri frowns.

of course he doesn’t? how could he--

“you called for me.”

“what?” yuuri blinks, surprised. “no, I didn’t. I would’ve known if--”

“but you did,” the man insists. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. you called me, or, well, your soul did? when humans come close to death their souls resonate, you see, and some of you have the strength to call one of us.”

humans, yuuri’s mind repeats as it reels. one of us.

“who... who are you?” he repeats through trembling lips.

the man’s smile is a slow thing, and it’s beautiful. it’s beautiful, but all of his handsome face is. it’s in his eyes that the beauty ends, or maybe, maybe that’s where it truly begins, because his blue gaze glows with power that is darker than any yuuri has seen.

he shivers when the man steps up to him, almost jumps in unease when he kneels. yuuri’s hand is taken and brought up to those smiling lips. there’s blood stains on his skin now, too, from the leftovers of his almost-killer, and yuuri’s stomach turns when he feels a kiss pressed to the inner part of his wrist -- right where his pulse flutters like a bird trapped in a cage against its will.

“I am nothing but your loyal dog, my liege,” the man whispers.

his warm breath settles in the palm of yuuri’s hand, distracting, but not distracting enough.

“my what?” yuuri asks. his voice comes out broken, so he clears his throat, and says again: “I don’t understand. how...?”

“you called upon me,” the man explains. “and I answered your call. I am now yours to command until the day you inevitably die.”

“but I didn’t,” yuuri insists, this time harder. he shakes his head. “I couldn’t have.”

“whyever not?”

the man peers up at him. he looks so perfectly poised while he continues to kneel at yuuri’s feet that yuuri trembles within himself from how beautiful it makes him. he knows he shouldn’t, but... he was already set to die tonight and he didn’t. so maybe luck was on his side, after all. maybe... maybe enough of it to let him get away with even more.

he slips his hand away from the light grasp and bows over until he can take the man’s face in his hands and set their foreheads together in faux gentleness. and he knows it instantly when the man realizes the change in the atmosphere around them, for those brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise that is heavily meshed with awe -- the awe that somehow makes yuuri feel powerful, more so than usual.

powerful, and stupid.

it’s that feeling that makes his brown eyes glow red, and it’s that feeling, too, which has him give the silky whisper of truth that only sparse few have ever heard:

“because I have no soul to call you.”

the man’s breath comes fast and hard, but he hears the truth in yuuri’s words, sees it in his inhuman eyes. gently, he turns his head towards the corpse of what must have been his intended master, the one that called him and the one he should’ve served, and yuuri lets him. he lets go.

“oh dear,” the man says, yet his voice does not indicate much upset about the way things have turned out. “I guess... I made a mistake? now that is no fun. I will need to head back to hell then...”

he stands up, but... he doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry. in fact, he looks as if he wishes for a reason to stay. something to keep him here...

“before you go,” yuuri says before he thinks twice about it. “thank you for saving me. I would have died if he succeeded, so whatever trouble you’re in because of that, I feel like I should help you. so if you, well, that is, there is little I can do, but if you need a place to stay or to lie low for a while--”

“really?” the man blinks, and then breaks out into a smile so dazzling that yuuri feels the urge to shield his eyes. “could I stay with you then? I’m in no hurry to return, honestly. it’s so... dreary down there, you know.”

“but won’t you be in trouble if you don’t, I don’t know, report this? at least?”

the man shrugs. “they probably already know. besides, I’m glad I did what I did. I’d rather serve you than that pile of--”

“you don’t even know me,” yuuri tells him, a little amused, but mostly just too surprised at the turn of events to be fearful.

“but I’d like to know you,” the man replies easily. as easily as he slides up to him. as easily as he takes yuuri’s hand again, and as easily as he wraps his arm around yuuri’s waist almost in a parody of a dancing stance. “I’d very much like to know you... all of you.”

blood rushes to yuuri’s cheeks like it never has before, but even though the night is dark, he’s sure that this man can see it. he’s standing so close that he must, and yuuri knows it when he takes in the smile on his lips: a quirked, playful little thing that brings even more heat to yuuri’s face.

“how can I make a decision like that if you refuse to answer any of my questions,” yuuri says, but his protest is a feeble one. he already knows that he will not be able to resist this man’s charms. not now, not ever, most likely.

“then ask again, and I shall give you whatever it is you wish for.”

the man brings yuuri’s hand to his lips again, but this time he chooses to rest a kiss on yuuri’s knuckles instead of his wrist. if possible, it seems even more intimate than before, and yuuri’s heart beats double inside his chest.

“your name first,” he asks, unable to lift his eyes from where the man holds his hand in a grasp that is far gentler than yuuri would imagine. “and, who are you?”

“victor,” the man breathes. “my name is victor. and I’m a hellhound who answers the call of a human soul ready for eternal damnation. but, for you, I will be whoever you wish me to be--”

yuuri shakes his head as he looks up, right into his eyes. “no. you are who you are, and you will be who you decide to be. I have no right to change that, or ask it of you.”

victor’s surprise is clear, surely he hasn’t expected this. something in yuuri softens at the sight and it’s that same something that chooses to rest his trust in this man -- in victor -- whom he only just met, but whom he feels like he was supposed to meet all along.

“I’m yuuri,” yuuri says, and smiles when victor’s eyes meet his again. “yuuri of the katsuki clan. and I’m a vessel of the the squid god of hasetsu bay. my soul has already been claimed, but, with what little of myself there is left, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, victor.”

“oh, I assure you, yuuri,” victor chirps, sweet and playful, “the pleasure is all mine.”

he kisses yuuri’s hand again, yet this time his lips linger on yuuri’s skin just a bit longer while silver eyelashes flutter as victor closes his eyes. he breathes in deep, which makes yuuri flush all over again.

he quickly realizes why victor has done it, though. he’s a hellhound. he must have been familiarizing himself with yuuri’s scent, so that he could recognize it among the many others. and yet, once he figures it out, yuuri’s blush doesn’t go away. it only deepens, and deepens still when victor peers up at him with a gaze that is far more smitten than yuuri could ever hope it to be.

“you... um,” he bites his tongue from how fast he wants to speak, and needs to look away as embarrassment churns in his throat. yet, looking away from victor is harder than anything he’d ever done, and yuuri soon finds himself glancing his way again. “you said,” he tries again, “you said that you’d like to stay here, yes? if you still do, then my parents have an inn not far from here. we all live there, so if you--”

“I’d be honoured,” victor confesses, voice and eyes soft.

and yuuri, as he leads him by the hand which victor refuses to let go of, cannot deny that his heart feels oddly soft as well.

he was meant to die this night, but instead he has found himself with this strange man, who makes him feel strange things, and strangest of all? he has found himself trusting him, caring for him, and... before the cherry blossoms sprout their petals as spring takes her first steps, he finds himself loving him -- a hellhound from hell, who appeared in his life bloody, and who made all the blood in yuuri’s body run that much faster.

a hellhoud, a man, who showed him that even without a soul life has enough to offer to live, to love, and to be loved.

the hellhound, the man, whom yuuri has given what little of his was left to give: his heart.

#yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuri #vikturi #my fic #I'm struggling so bad with writing these days #it took me 3 days to write this #ugh #but I think I will be slowly trying to start writing again #even tho it's painful rn #yrdcyvfhbn #enjoy I guess?

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

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chapter eight / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

“…where would you go?”

Rem’s voice is a stark difference from the mixtape playing through frankensteined speakers from Rem’s Walkman. Nakoa opens his eyes, peers at Rem’s face—calm, pleased. “Hm?”

Rem dozes on his side of the bed, a hand out between them in an aborted attempt at touching Nakoa’s stomach. His words are slurred, though, and there’s a tired, distant look in his eye when he lifts his gaze to Nakoa.

Not a second later, his eyes are closed again. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

Loaded question. Nakoa thinks there are plenty of places he’d like to see, plenty of places he could live, but would any of it matter if Rem weren’t with him? “Dunno. Hawaii. Or… European countryside, maybe.” Or Russia, if it weren’t so fucking cold. That’s the thing about the midwest that Nakoa doesn’t miss—the fucking winters. “Some place warm, probably.”

“Bahamas,” Rem says. “You’re miserable when you’re cold.”

“I have bad circulation,” Nakoa says, staring at the ceiling. “Can’t help it.”

Rem lifts his hand, pinches the skin at Nakoa’s hips gently, and says, “‘Cause you’re so fucking skinny. I bruise you when we fuck.”

“You’re one to talk.” Nakoa draws his fingers across thumb-shaped bruises along his own hips. A gentle stir of desire blooms in his stomach—maybe he can give Rem a matching set later. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He burrows closer, presses his head against Nakoa’s neck. He sighs.

“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere?”

“What’s wrong with right here?” Rem drops an arm around Nakoa’s waist. “Mm. Maybe…” He sighs; his breath tickles Nakoa’s chest. He mumbles a response, but Nakoa doesn’t hear it, doesn’t ask for him to repeat it.

Instead, he hums along to Rem’s mixtape. Rem didn’t say it, and Nakoa’s not sure if it’s on purpose, but Nakoa’s since sussed out that the songs are love songs.

For a guy that can’t verbalize the word, Rem’s really fucking good at saying it.

There are plenty of unanswered questions—if anyone’s chasing them, if it’s Michael or Rem’s bad decisions. If it’s… something else. Some asshole on their tail for being as open. Nakoa knows the attitude, knows whatever this is between them makes other people angry, disgusted.

He also doesn’t give a shit. Anyone’d be hard pressed to find someone Rem wouldn’t fight.

In the room, with Rem wrapped around him, basking in the glow of sex, Nakoa forgets about all that. Forgets that there’s a world outside the motel, a world outside of Rem and himself and the bed they’re lying on, in the dark with The Cure playing softly in the background.

Nakoa tests the words on his lips again; soft, against Rem’s hair. I love you. He mouths along with the lyrics for a verse, then hums. Rem curls closer, a pleased noise escaping his throat.

A whisper when Nakoa says, “I love you,” his voice barely louder than the music. Rem says nothing, his breathing even in sleep.

Nakoa lets him rest.

In the cold, misty morning, they pack up from the hotel overlooking the ocean, and Rem uses the last of his own money on a pack of cigarettes. Nakoa steals one from Rem’s lips, ignores his squawk of disagreement, and says, “Where to?”

Rem sighs, stares down at the map. “Fuck if I know.”

Nakoa remembers his mother—tries not to; the thought of her still at home leaves his chest tight—and how she would always say that the journey means as much as the destination. They don’t have the money to go much farther, and soon, the midwest is going to be covered in snow. Soon enough, anyway.

Nakoa thinks of the Grand Canyon, of Yellowstone, of Niagara Falls. Of ghost towns and abandoned houses, amusement parks and mountains and the Atlantic Coast. He thinks he’d follow Rem to hell—if he asked.

“Might as well hit all the stops,” Rem says. “Right?”

Nakoa watches his brow crease in thought. He doesn’t want to, but he says, “Pretty soon we won’t have money for food. Eating out’s fucking expensive.”

A glint sparkles in Rem’s eyes as he pulls the cigarette from his lips, smoke exhaling with each word, “That’s not true. I eat you out all the time.”

“Mm. Think you’re pretty fucking clever, don’t you?”

Rem shrugs, tugs Nakoa against him by his belt loops. “Sometimes. Hey—about the money thing.” He raises an eyebrow, grin wide across his lips, and says, “We could rob a bank.”

Yeah, right. Nakoa has a difficult time imagining that. “Or scare small children.” He shoves his knuckles against Rem’s ribs. “Give me your lunch money, punk.”

Thoughtfully, Rem asks, “Ever thought about porn?”

Nakoa doesn’t say the only person he wants to fuck is Rem. Instead, he says, “With your jealous streak, yeah fucking right.”

Rem scowls, but there’s a layer of mischief underneath. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Yeah?” Nakoa licks his lips, then says, “All right, cool. I’ll go get dicked down by some big fucker with a selfish attitude to match yours.” He makes a show of peering around the parking lot. “What kind of job do you think I can get around here? Or is that something I need to go to Portland for?”

Rem makes a noise in his throat, tugs Nakoa back against him, grips Nakoa’s wrists in his own. “Fuck no. You’re—” He sighs. “Fine. You win.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d I win?”

“I’d offer myself up as prize, if I was worth anything.” He squints, plucks Nakoa’s sunglasses from atop Nakoa’s head, and puts them on. Nakoa almost days, “Don’t sell yourself short,” but Rem continues with, “Blowjob?”

“Tsk,” Nakoa says. “Like I don’t get those from you on the regular anyway.” He smiles, lopsided and pleased. “What else you got for me?”

But Rem’s attention has shifted, from Nakoa to something across the street. His skin is white, fear-lined, and there’s a Nakoa frowns, tries to turn back to see it, but Rem’s grip is tight and he won’t let Nakoa move.

“Could—” Rem clears his throat, looks back at Nakoa and smiles. “—let’s get on the road, hey?”

He still doesn’t let Nakoa turn back to see what he was looking at, holds Nakoa’s hands together.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Nakoa asks. He shakes out of Rem’s grip, turns, and— “Oh, fuck—”

He can’t get to the van quick enough. Rem, somehow, is already inside when Nakoa finally shuts the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know!” Rem jams the key into the ignition, turns it—the van stalls. “Fuck!”

His heart beats, hard, fast, in his chest. “Rem,” Nakoa says, still staring at the old, beat-up Bronco sitting across the street, at the guy sitting outside of it.

Michael.

“How’d he find us?” Rem mutters. “I didn’t think—”

The van roars to life—for a split second before stalling again. Nakoa’s heart climbs his throat, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

But the van’s not starting, and Michael’s moving forward, now, towards the car. Nakoa moves through the van, out through the back. “I’ll find you,” Nakoa says, “later, okay? Just—I’ll find you. When we lose him—”

And he goes. Out the back door, and he books it, as soon as he hits the asphalt. Rem yells his name, but Nakoa goes anyway, down the parking lot and through the alley towards the boardwalk, where maybe, fucking maybe, he can get away.

He hopes, stupidly, that Michael doesn’t go after Rem instead, that he follows Nakoa. Rem’s already in too deep into Nakoa’s bullshit, and—

Someone stands at the end of the alleyway, blocking his escape, so he turns back around, stumbles over his own feet into one of the buildings. Breath catches in his chest, terror holding him tight as he stares ahead, at Rem, held in his father’s grip.

“You leave a messy trail, Nakoa.” Michael’s voice is quiet, calm, and Nakoa hears footsteps behind him, encroaching on his space, unsurprised when he feels the cold metal of a gun press against his neck. “Nice to see you again.”

“Let him—” Nakoa says, but the gun presses against his neck, harder, cuts him off, and he swallows. Waits.

“Rude to interrupt your father.” Michael, after a beat, does release Rem—only to send him reeling against the brick with a fist to his stomach. “Tell me, Nakoa. Did you think I would let you leave?”

Nakoa says nothing, eyes trained on Rem. Michael sighs, and, as Rem is bent over, coughing, knees him in the stomach. This time, Rem goes down. “Answer me.”

Yes; Nakoa figured, it’s been long enough since he heard about the secrets, since he’s been involved in any of Michael’s work; he should have been safe. He should have been fucking safe. And if it weren’t for Michael knowing someone fucking everywhere, a network of I-know-a-guy, Nakoa would have been.

He should have convinced Rem to fly out of the country. Maybe remote Russia isn’t so bad.

“No,” he lies, because Michael shouldn’t want to waste resources, not time or money, on Nakoa. He steps forward, ignoring Rem behind him, coughing.

Michael’s taller than he is, though not by much; Nakoa slouches. Rem still towers over him.

Rem could take him, if he was smart about it.

“I thought I was clear,” Michael says. “You are to stay with me. This is what we do, Nakoa. I can’t have my only son disappear, after all, can I? Even if he is a miserable excuse for one.”

Rem stumbles to his feet, croaks out a, “Hey, asshole—” before Michael turns, gun still in hand, and Nakoa can’t turn away fast enough, waiting for the sound of a gunshot that doesn’t come.

Instead, Michael winds up and slams the butt of the pistol into Rem’s head, turning back before Rem has even hit the ground. Blood surfaces from A gas on Rem’s forehead immediately, runs down his face, and…

Nakoa watches Rem, tunnel visioned. Is he okay. Is he okay there’s a lot of blood already and his chest is rising and falling but is it too much? Not enough—

“Can someone take that one back to the car,” Michael asks, “handcuff him and put him in the trunk?”

It’s not a request. But Nakoa still says, “He needs help. You—”

“Shut up.”

“He could be—”

“Easier if he is,” Michael says. “I’d rather not have to cut off his attempts at a Disney rescue. You are mine, you know. No other man you throw yourself will change that fact.” Michael pulls Nakoa’s chin up, forces him to look Michael in the eye. “It’s best for you at home. You keep poor company.”

Nakoa keeps poor company. That’s almost laughable. “Pot calling the kettle,” Nakoa says. “I promise I won’t say shit, okay? For fuck’s sake, Rem doesn’t even know.”

He wonders maybe if Michael knows that, or if he doesn’t care. If his sole concern is of Nakoa giving out pieces of Michael’s secrets, or if it’s…

Nakoa swallows. Waits.

Michael stares at him, expression blank, before he says, “You know, Nakoa. You haven’t proven yourself very trustworthy. You ran away from home. What am I meant to think?” He steps forward. “No. I think it’s best for you to stay with me.” He glances back towards Rem, still unconscious on the ground. “Your… friend, too.”

If Michael knows, he doesn’t day anything. Instead, he snaps his fingers, and the gun at Nakoa’s throat disappears. He tries to leave, get away, grab for Rem and shake him awake, but his before he can, his wrists are bound by zip ties.

Michael retreats down the alleyway, lighting a cigarette, and Nakoa opens his mouth—unsure what he’s going to say—but doesn’t get to call after him. Instead, there’s a burst of pain at the back of his skull, and the world goes dark.

#road to nowhere au #my writing

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primadonnatartuffe · 7 years

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RYAN: *after hanging out with orchid, ryan's been feeling a little lighter, and leaving skaia to visit people has become that much easier. so with that feeling of freedom, she decides to stop by odimist again. she drapes on colt for a little while before she devotes her time to finn and his new baby. she's just as gorgeous as in the photos, and during the visit, she's found she's really quite fond of hanging out with tiny babies... they're in the living room at colt and little's place, and ryan has lounging with this bundle in her arms for a while now.*

RYAN: hmm sofia sofia... are there any songs about a girl named sofia? there should be.

FINN: -finn's sitting next to the two of them and it's so cute watching sofia get to know ryan. sofia's looking pretty comfortable and staring up at ryan- no but you can replace any song with shakira with sofia

RYAN: ooooh yeah there you go.

RYAN: lets sing beautiful liar.

RYAN: i can be beyonce and sofia can be shakira.

RYAN: ryonce ryonce sofia sofia.

RYAN: lets not kill the karma. lets not start a fight. its not worth the drama for a beautiful liiiaar.

FINN: -sofia gurgles-

RYAN: yeah girl there you go.

RYAN: *snickers*

FINN: already she's more musically inclined than me

RYAN: stick with me kid and well keep you on the right track. *smiles wide at baby*

FINN: -sofia smiles back for a good two seconds and wiggles her arms-

RYAN: uggh shes so cute.

FINN: -he's laughing a little and smiling because he loves this baby so much- i know

FINN: you'd think i'd be used to it by now

RYAN: pretty sure youre never gonna get used to it though. thats just how these things work.

RYAN: my parents still cant get over how cute i am. ;)

RYAN: well nobody can really.

FINN: -too true- it's a hard life

RYAN: for you. us adorable people got it so good. isnt that right sofia?

FINN: -sofia yawns-

FINN: i'm going to be dead in a week at this rate

FINN: just because of the cute from sofia and you combined

RYAN: cool. then i can steal her. >:)

FINN: you're just going to swoop right in and take her

RYAN: yep. and raise her teaching her to better weaponize her deadly cuteness.

RYAN: well be unstoppable.

FINN: sorry sofia i tried to give you a better life

RYAN: time to live a life of villainy with auntie ryan.

FINN: this escalated quickly

RYAN: *SNRK* i think thats the inevitable path when dealing with baby stealing.

FINN: did i turn out to be a villain

FINN: i guess that depends on your definition of -air quotes- stolen

RYAN: i think the definition of stolen is pretty clear cut... but maybe theres a side of finn i dont know... an evil side.

FINN: maybe there is

RYAN: oh my... ;o

FINN: what is that face

RYAN: its a face thats onto your wild ways.

FINN: someone's a little late

RYAN: pfff. okay lets be real were all onto your wild ways.

FINN: i was going to say

FINN: out of all people you really can't be that surprised

RYAN: i really cant be... not when i was there instigating it half the time. *snickers some more. they have fun.*

FINN: -they had a lot of fun. he's still laughing, shaking his head- see exactly

RYAN: *looks down at the baby for a moment after that. the pause is enough for her mind to wander. it's hard to fill in the space with positive thoughts these days.*

RYAN: hey uh this is out of the blue but...

RYAN: the other day? at the kareoke bar? ive been worried that i like.

RYAN: made things weird?? somehow.

FINN: -sofia's getting sleepy. she might be starting to doze off. finn is caught off guard by the question, not exactly expecting it- oh -he says it like a question-

FINN: why what do you mean

RYAN: i dunno.

RYAN: like... i know i was super transparent with the song choices.

RYAN: the mood just seemed to change after i sang that second time.

RYAN: and then you took off.

RYAN: like maybe you thought you were third wheeling or something.

RYAN: uhh... okay so i dont usually make a habit of addressing things like this but ive been encouraged to talk about the stuff thats nagging at my mind.

RYAN: so it doesnt start festering and i have to turn to booze or something to cope haha.

RYAN: ... yeah.

FINN: oh -he definitely doesn't want to make her feel like she has to cope with anything...not because of him, at least.- no no i get it uh

FINN: i don't know i guess i just

FINN: you know when you feel like you're in the middle of something really intimate that's not explicitly so but it still is

FINN: but you feel like you're in the way of it a little

FINN: that was where i was at i guess but it's not a big deal you guys need your time too

RYAN: *frowns* i dunno... i guess.

RYAN: its not like theres a quote unquote you guys.

FINN: -he looks away and shrugs a little- hasn't there always been though

RYAN: ... not anymore.

FINN: i mean i know not technically but -he sighs- it's still there

RYAN: *brows knit* yeah maybe for me.

FINN: i mean jack is completely different than he was three years ago and it's not like we talked during the time you were gone

FINN: so i guess i can't read him anymore but i mean it really seems like there's still something

FINN: but anyway i just

FINN: had a feeling i shouldn't be there

FINN: and it's good you two are hanging out

FINN: and having moments

FINN: and stuff

FINN: after everything

RYAN: *he says all that, but why does it feel like there's something left unsaid. is she being paranoid?* do you really feel that way?

FINN: which part

FINN: i mean it doesn't matter because i do really feel all of it

RYAN: ... i guess that part where you think its good were hanging out and having moments like you said.

FINN: oh

FINN: yeah

FINN: it's a good thing

RYAN: ugggh.

RYAN: why do i feel like its not?? am i being paranoid?

RYAN: maybe im projecting because im afraid to make any moves and i need an excuse not to.

RYAN: i dont know i suck at reading my feelings and intuitions or whatever.

FINN: -he looks ahead- it's hard to know i guess

FINN: after all that time

FINN: you can only really be certain of how you feel

RYAN: *sighs a little. she does know how she feels, at least when it comes to jack.*

RYAN: okay but... i dont wanna make hanging out with us awkward.

FINN: sometimes i just have to discern whether or not i should be there

FINN: it's a life thing

RYAN: ... i guess so.

RYAN: sorry.

RYAN: im being weird.

FINN: no you're not

FINN: i was probably acting pretty weird

FINN: that raises a lot of questions

RYAN: maybe. i probably shouldnt pry. *it raises questions, but none of the questions she should probably be asking... but it doesn't really occur to her.*

RYAN: *face scrunches a little... she looks upset.* i just dont know what im doing anymore. im a mess and i know im supposed to just let myself be a mess and let people help me but i dont want to.

RYAN: i dont even want to talk about this. but i should?? ugh. im not making sense.

FINN: -his expression softens immediately- no no i

FINN: i get that actually

FINN: -he can relate in different ways...but he can still relate to the general concept-

FINN: it's hard

RYAN: *sniffs and leans against him a little, as much as she can without disturbing the baby.* but im lonely too... i dont wanna bring anybody down or make anybody feel bad but this always seems to happen now and i cant shut it off.

FINN: -lets it happen and leans his head against hers just slightly- well you know you always have me

FINN: whether or not you can shut it off

RYAN: *peeks up at him with big tired glossy eyes* ... thanks finn.

FINN: -dONT LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT- yeah

FINN: of course

FINN: you're pretty much stuck with me whether you like it or not

RYAN: heheh... good to know.

FINN: it thought it would be at least a little comforting -he's quiet suddenly-

RYAN: it helps... trust me. *peers at him again when a silence follows.*

RYAN: whats on your mind?

FINN: -avoids meeting her gaze and looks down at a sleeping sofia instead. he sighs- i should uh

FINN: i mean

FINN: i don't want things to be weird

RYAN: *blinks at him, confused* weird??

FINN: yeah weird uh

FINN: i don't know how to say it

FINN: actually uh

FINN: -holds his hands out for sofia-

RYAN: ... okay. *hands her back to him, getting a weird feeling in her gut.*

FINN: -sofia makes a few fussy noises before going back to sleep like nothing had happened-

FINN: i just don't want you to feel stuck so

FINN: if you need to leave you can

RYAN: *leans away again, not really sure what to make of that.* im not really in a rush unless you need me to go...

FINN: no i just mean you might want to uh

FINN: you might want to

FINN: the thing is i should tell you

FINN: even though it will do nothing

FINN: but make things weird

FINN: and somehow it's the right thing to do supposedly

FINN: i don't know why that is

FINN: it doesn't seem like it's going to help at all

RYAN: help... what?? what is it? *she's TRYING not to act weirded out even though she kind of is. but it's mostly just anxiety.*

FINN: i

FINN: have feelings for you

FINN: but it's dumb and it doesn't matter and it's irrelevant

RYAN: you... *processing... processing... but she fails to.*

RYAN: what?

FINN: -his cheeks grow red and he looks a little embarrassed-

FINN: i know it's

FINN: i know it's been obvious probably

FINN: it started years ago before you left and uh

FINN: surprise

FINN: still here

RYAN: uh... *runs a hand through her hair, reeling a little* no?? i mean no it was never obvious to me.

RYAN: jesus was i always so into my own shit i didnt even notice?

RYAN: thats typical. way to go ryan.

FINN: oh

FINN: no it's not your fault you didn't need to pick up on it i didn't want you to anyway

FINN: so points for me

FINN: i guess

RYAN: i... okay...

RYAN: well uh... im glad you brought that up. to get it off your chest? or...

RYAN: shit. im not sure what to say.

RYAN: like its cliched to be all i really like you too BUT...

RYAN: thats cliched and shitty?? you deserve better than that.

RYAN: hahaha you deserve better than me? come on dude lets be real.

FINN: -he just feels bad about it- no i know you don't feel

FINN: like i know you don't feel the same way and that's fine that's okay

FINN: like i didn't expect that or anything i know it's like

FINN: uh

FINN: i don't want to talk about what i deserve because i don't think i really

FINN: i don't want to measure myself that way because i'm not going to pass the test

FINN: you don't have to like

FINN: try to reason with me i know it's useless

FINN: it's always been you and jack from the beginning

FINN: there was never any other real relationship for either of you when you're together

FINN: you asked what's on my mind that's what's on my mind that's why i've been acting weird you don't need to fix it or feel responsible for anything i just

FINN: maybe if you know i can get over it who knows

FINN: or i wreck our friendship i don't know

FINN: i'm pretty good at that haha

RYAN: no finn thats not... thats not gonna happen. im just...

RYAN: *eyes start to water* it sucks that things are the way they are. that i cant... reciprocate i guess.

RYAN: i dont know why im always... chasing after people that im not good for haha. but hey on the bright side thats the case no matter what isnt it?? im not good for anybody.

RYAN: jacks better off without me. so was nona. so are you.

RYAN: and you should know that because yeah itd be in your best interest to move on from that.

RYAN: i know you werent trying to start anything but i-- just... why...

RYAN: im so fucked up.

-- impenetrableVitality [IV] is now an idle chum! --

FINN: -he doesn't know who the fuck nona is but he decides right now isn't the time to ask. hearing her say these things about herself...it stings.- no no no

FINN: i'm not

FINN: fuck

FINN: it doesn't matter if you reciprocate or not and it's

FINN: you're making me sound like some kind of ideal candidate but that's not the case either

FINN: you don't see how much you're worth because you think you've fucked up beyond redemption or something

FINN: but that isn't true

FINN: we all have our shit

FINN: yours looks different than mine

FINN: jack's looks different than both yours and mine

FINN: but somehow you're still here and jack's still here even if we were all gone for a while

FINN: it's not about being good enough that is -lets out an unamused laugh- that's bullshit because who even meets that standard in the first place

FINN: what i do know is that without you around it felt like there was something irreplaceable missing

FINN: the whole time

FINN: sure maybe i became better at putting that feeling behind work but

FINN: i never stopped feeling it

FINN: because damn it ryan you are and you've always been one of a kind and i'm not just saying that

FINN: people that are like you aren't good enough

FINN: i want the real thing hanging around

FINN: crazy theatrical ryan

FINN: loud always pretty no matter what ryan

FINN: you're just -he looks down at sofia- you're worth more than you could ever realize

FINN: a few turns down some paths you don't like don't take that away from you

FINN: i need you to stick around and stay because if your shit makes it so you don't deserve to have people in your life then i am

FINN: i am right there with you

FINN: i'm not buying it

FINN: -he finally stops and...might be tearing up a little-

RYAN: *well, she's definitely started crying listening to all that, but the tears flow quietly. when he's through, she sniffs, trying to process everything with some difficulty... but the important parts stick and she leans forward to gingerly wrap her arms around his neck (careful not to squish sofia) and hold him gently.*

RYAN: youre really important to me... i hope you know.

FINN: -he closes his eyes a little and the tears just roll down his cheeks as she holds him- yeah

FINN: you are to me too

RYAN: ... jack told me that the worst was over.

RYAN: ive been trying really hard to believe that.

RYAN: it hurts knowing how much i was missed but its a relief too? i dont wanna run from people anymore...

FINN: you don't have to

FINN: maybe it's time to start running to people

RYAN: *sniffs* yeah... im gonna... crash into everyone at high speeds.

RYAN: hope you can handle a whole lot of ryan.

FINN: i'm pretty sure i've been training all my life so i'm good

RYAN: fuckin... right on. hehehe... *giggles softly, but then starts to pull away again.*

RYAN: i should probably get going home now though.

FINN: -smiles and nods at her, taking a deep breath- yeah

FINN: i have to put this one to bed anyway

RYAN: yeah... goodnight baby girl. *exhales once more, letting all the bad feelings pass... it's gonna be okay.*

RYAN: ill see you soon finn. *gets up off the couch and makes her leave.*

FINN: -it is. it's really going to be okay- bye ryan

#impenetrablevitality #in which confessions

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