#on the one hand i want regina to have grown enough to not fall for this and retain her progress
Note
Hi! For the ask game. For your delightful Shadow Queen fic, Breakfast, how do you think Regina's relationship with Facilier developed over time from the point where your fanfiction diverged from canon to the story itself?
Edit: OH, MY FUCKING GOD! I just noticed this was in the queue. I thought I posted it. So sorry for that! I definitely was not ignoring this ask! I've had it written since August 30th. I don't know what happened.
Hi! Glad you like the fic!
To be fair, I don't really have anything deep about him (obviously) deciding to abandon his quest for power in favor of his relationship with Regina. I was kind of riding on the proof in the show that he would put Regina and her feelings over everything else. His interest in the dagger was completely unmotivated and I think they just had it as a built-in setup for killing him off. I imagine the idea was that he was somehow tempting Regina into her old patterns of wanting everything and reverting to villainy (much the same as Rumple manipulating her for the better part of her life, especially since Facilier was practically Rumple 2.0) except that that went nowhere because he was just So. Good! for her. I'm really not sure what happened in the writers' room but anyway, my idea with the story was just "axe the moment of Facilier's death because it was stupid (and more than questionable) and from there it will all happen naturally since the dagger is also gone once Rumple dies". Those were pretty much the only obstacles between them and with them removed, I really think that the two of them would have been a couple.
I wish I could give a more detailed answer but, truly, Facilier had so little screen time and development that we are completely in the dark on his story or his motives. Instead, I just rolled with him being written as total husband material. You know, I am willing to entertain the idea that there might have been some need to process emotions and heal from Robin's death on Regina's side simply for the realization that the universe sent her Facilier after Daniel's death and then returned him to her after Robin's death. Almost as if they were meant to be together (btw, I have a sort of meta/kinda rewrite about the whole soulmate story with Robin that would bridge canon and this nicely but I'll have to work on it some other time) and help her find herself again when she feels like she's lost in grief.
#once upon a time#ouat#shadow queen#regina mills#facilier#meta#sort of?#ask#intothewickedwood#regal shadows#what i also got from trying to answer this was the idea of an au where facilier is sort of actually trying to tempt regina to the dark side#telling her that they could easily end gothel's plans if she teamed up with him in the full glory of the evil queen#meaning not being restricted by the label of hero and resorting to murder#i mean is it really a bad thing to end a genocidal maniac? is it truly wrong to seek power if you ultimately use it to protect loved ones?#on the one hand i want regina to have grown enough to not fall for this and retain her progress#(and relationship with henry but hey! he's cursed rn and there's no need to bring him into this; he need never learn about it)#but on the other hand i just want her to go apeshit and kill a bitch#they knew evil queen + witch doctor team-up would be too powerful and stylish; it would overshadow everything else
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
He Loves me, She Loves me Not
A/n -This is a college AU where curses don’t exist nor do sorcerers. Warning: Strong language, bullying, pain
“Why are you staring? Is there something on my face?” The sound of fingers snapping in your ear brought you out of your trance. “What?” The word came out quieter than anticipated. Maki scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“You’re staring into space again, what’s going on up there?” She asks as her hand forms a fist and knocks against your head. Pushing her hand away, you take a step back. “Instead of talking about me. We should talk about you!” You say putting on a smile as the words fall from your lips.
Maki being Maki shuts it down immediately “No”. She says blankly, you sigh and wave her off. “Do you have any other classes today?” You’d ask curious as you pull out your phone to check if you had any remaining classes after 5 p.m.
“No, I'm free the rest of the day. I'm planning on hanging out with Panda today. Wanna join?” she peers at you questioningly awaiting an answer. You frown slightly, “Can’t… I have another class to get to at 5:56” It was a very specific number, but I didn’t make the rules.
It was currently 5:24 p.m. “Bummer” You roll your eyes at her “Whatever…I should get going if I want to be able to pick a good seat.” You give Maki a quick hug then wave goodbye as you descend the hall. It was a Saturday afternoon and not many students were here. Students liked having classes in the morning, so the rest of the day was theirs.
You passed several lecture halls and classes on your way to your lecture. Figuring it would be a good idea to use the bathroom before you were stuck in an hour-and-a-half lecture having no way to pee. Making a right at the end of the hall instead of a left.
After making a few more turns you’d finally made it to the restroom. Sighing in relief at the sight of the bathroom entrance, you walk closer and see a male figure leaning up against the girl's bathroom wall. The boy had his head down so you couldn’t see his face.
As if he read your mind, the boy lifted his head then it hit you. It was Yuta Okkotsu…The boy who made your high school year a living hell. The memories of your second year in high school flooded your brain.
A large hand gripped my hair carelessly and roughly, forcing my head up. My eyes seal shut in sudden pain at the top of my head. I wince in pain, my head pounding from the harsh grip. I could make out the sounds of giggling, picture taking, recordings, and familiar voices of my peers. “Open your eyes Bitch”..Bitch… A word I’d grown all too familiar with during my second year of high school.
When my eyes didn’t open immediately, a cruel hand met the left side of my face, it left a stinging sensation. My eyes opened just enough to see the girl in front of me. Rika…. Rika was the girlfriend of Yuta. They were titled the Power Couple. Yuta was someone you’d call a bad boy. One whom you couldn’t get close to. Rika was a Regina George. God, I hated her… No one would understand how much I wanted her ending to end up like Regina's. Unfortunately, life isn't a movie.
Soft slim fingers grip my cheeks and pull my head up forcing eye contact. “Pathetic” The word was followed by the spray of saliva. I tried to turn my head away but the hand on my face wouldn’t let me. I was fighting everything in me to not cry, not willing to give her such satisfaction. “I’d think twice before talking to my man again before you go and talk to him trying to hoe yourself around…remember this”.
All this happened because she caught me and her boyfriend in an empty class together. He had dragged you in there after class to continue his previous harassment. Her fingers pushed my head away, and the grip on my hair loosened and I fell to the floor. I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’d never hoe myself around, especially not to your garbage of a boyfriend.”
my eyes met hers as the words fell from my mouth. A large foot pressed down on my back forcing me closer to the ground. Causing me to gasp. Rika giggled and left the room.
Soft slim fingers grip my cheeks and pull my head up forcing eye contact. “Pathetic” The word was followed by the spray of saliva. I tried to turn my head away but the hand on my face wouldn’t let me. I was fighting everything in me to not cry, not willing to give her such satisfaction. “I’d think twice before talking to my man again before you go and talk to him trying to hoe yourself around…remember this”.
All this happened because she caught me and her boyfriend in an empty class together. He had dragged you in there after class to continue his previous harassment. Her fingers pushed my head away, and the grip on my hair loosened and I fell to the floor. I let out a long breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’d never hoe myself around, especially not to your garbage of a boyfriend.”
my eyes met hers as the words fell from my mouth. A large foot pressed down on my back forcing me closer to the ground. Causing me to gasp. Rika giggled and left the room.
Dangerous blue eyes stared at you directly, as if staring into your soul. Your breathing was shagged and heavy. Heart pounding. Praying he couldn’t hear you. You couldn’t bring yourself to blink…. scared that if you did he’d end you. Your throat felt tight and your mouth went dry. The grip on your phone was so tight your knuckles were turning white.
His mouth parted to speak but someone had interrupted him before he could. The two of you broke eye contact to look at the person. Rika…” Of course they’re still together,” you think to yourself. Rika was speaking but you didn’t care to listen, you learned to drown her out years ago. Yuta’s attention was on Rika, so you took the opportunity to quickly slip away. When his eyes went back to the stop you were last. You were gone.
You sprinted down the university halls, forgetting all about the upcoming lecture. You burst through the entrance finally stopping and catching your breath. “No, no, NO! Please don’t let this be real...” Tears threaten to fall, and your throat tightens. “Please. Please” the words come out shallow.
Quickly unlocking your phone with trembling hands, you texted Miwa asking if you two could meet at a local coffee shop. “Please don’t be busy. Please,” you say while biting your nails in anticipation.
‘…’ the bubbled dots on the screen of your phone were jumping as if to taunt you. You try to calm yourself down and steady your breath by taking deep breaths and slowly count to 10. You unlock your phone once more and see Miwa texted you back.
“Of course, I’m 5 minutes out so now should be fine. See you soon! :)” You let out a short breath. Thanking whoever answered your prayer. Not wasting another second, you rush down the stairs of the building and begin your journey to the coffee shop.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving off campus to the small city by the campus you make your way to the coffee shop. Pushing the doors open rather quickly, eyes scan the area for the blue-haired girl. Miwa spotting you first waves a hand and calls you over. You smile and make your way over to her. You pulled her into a hug and nearly broke down in her arms. Miwa being the sweetheart of me sensed something was wrong.
That and you were hugging her extremely tight. “What's wrong y/n?” she says pulling back from the hug and guiding you to the other open seat at the table. “He…He’s back” Words coming out quietly. She looks at you confused. “Who…Who’s back?” You look her square in the eyes “Yuta is back, and he’s attending the same college as me” Miwa's mouth drops, and her hand quickly covers it.
Concern is written all over her face and sympathy is evident in her eyes. Just as you were about to say something a waiter interrupted you. He slid a piece of paper onto the table, and it read “Hello, what can I get you, ladies, today”. you looked at the paper confused then you looked up.
Horror was written on your face now, confused long discarded. The eyes that were staring down at you were a beautiful purple, like that of a wisteria tree. Those were the same purple eyes that stared at you empathetically at your bruised body all those years ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/n- I’m thinking of making this into a series, should I? Please do give constructive criticism. I'm always looking for ways to improve. Do leave feedback, thank you for reading.
#writers on tumblr#yuta okkotsu#rika#jjk#inumaki toge#toge#maki zenin#panda#jjk miwa#jujutsu kaisen#inumaki x reader#jjk x reader
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
I cut his hair myself one night / a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light / and he told me that I'd done alright / and kissed me 'til the morning light.
samson — regina spektor
pairing: consul valerius x reader
no warnings / 2k words / posted on ao3
-x-
You begin to notice the small details about him: like how he likes his coffee with sugar—more sugar than you would’ve wagered. Or how he doesn’t believe in sleeping in past sunrise unless it’s an emergency; not only because it’s a waste of time to him, but because he genuinely enjoys watching the sun rise. He hums whenever there’s long stretches of time when no one says anything else, and, normally this would be enough to drive you insane but—
you begin to notice that it doesn’t. There’s something about how, when he does it, you don’t mind.
Maybe it’s the way you sometimes feel the reverberations soft on your skin when you’re close enough, when he’s close enough. Maybe it’s because it isn’t lost on you how otherwise noisy his mind must be. Maybe it’s because it always sneaks into your mind to ask what song he’s thinking of.
Tonight, it’s because you’re both caught in a moment of complete solitude: the meetings that you’re both required for are over for the day. The shop is closed for the day. You have both unwound for the day and have wrapped up in each other. Your fingers curl into his hair, and his hands press you securely against a resting place on his chest; both new habits that you have recently allowed each other. Valerius, true to his nature, is humming a tune that you can’t quite name, and you feel as though you are on the brink of closing your eyes to rest.
Almost.
The shift is barely noticeable, the quietness shifting into the air as subtly as the noise did. You adjust, waiting for the words you guess are holding in Valerius’s mouth.
“I think it’s time,” he finally says.
“For what?”
“I think it’s time—I think I want to cut my hair.”
You wonder whose breath catches longer.
You think that, certainly, it’s you who goes the stillest as you consider what he’s saying to you. Normally, you would think this is talk of too much wine; of a night that’s run too long in it’s course, and that you’re both tired past the point of clarity. That he’d feel differently when you both woke up the next morning.
But you know better.
You know that this, of all things, would be a very precise thought on his part. That this thought has been a heavy weight he’s placed on the scales that work in his mind, that he’s turned over the calculations until it made sense that the only thing that would make them balance out was to carry out his thought. That he meant it. That he wanted to share it with you.
So you still yourself.
Take a moment, take a breath, before your eyes focus back on him.
“Really?”
He nods once.
“Okay then.”
“Okay.”
The line between his brows smooths, and you feel as though your breath as returned to it’s normal pace.
Perhaps the ripples his words have caused have settled down, and that is that.
It’s another night where your only responsibility is yourselves. The candles have dimmed in the room you share, and you were almost sure that the quietness in the room would lull one of you to sleep before you’d made it to the bed. Your feet are tucked beneath you as your fingers flex in a concentrated attempt to create muscle memory of a spell you were new to; he sat with a book abandoned in his lap, gaze drifting to a corner of the room.
“I didn’t mean to lose myself,” he says quietly.
It’s almost a whisper. He’s almost scared.
You look at him. Really look at him, gaze leveling with his own golden stare that he’s turned your direction. After all this time, it’s still almost hard to choose how you could react. It’s still so tender, it is all so tender, the intimacy that he’s grown into.
You fall back into the thing you’re most comfortable with, the need to be close, as you bridge the gap between the two of you on the small lounger you share, your hand lightly brushing across his skin.
“Oh, honey,” you say. “I know.”
You’ve often wondered how far grace could be extended. You’d never said it outloud before, not to Valerius, but sometimes it’s the thought that kept your mind working late into night. You were there just the same as he was, had been resurrected, had seen so much torn apart because of things his own hands, the hands you chose to hold, had meddled in—
All this and you could still feel your own heart tug in sympathy.
It sometimes bothered you.
More than anything else, it sometimes bothered you the perhaps irrational way you could forgive the sins of all those who had gotten caught up in the web the Devil had spun around you all. It sometimes made you angry that you could even find yourself sympathize at all.
But then the rationale catches up with you.
You’re reminded that it was all just that: just a web.
You had all been trapped.
The realization almost breaks your heart all over again, and it makes it easier for you to let go of the more complicated emotions you feel. The anger, the hurt. It makes you feel better to forgive, even if it’s maddening at times. Even if it’s irrational, you feel as though the soothing balm you feel when you’re with Valerius is enough to start soothing everything else over.
You want to wrap him up. You want to shield him from his own thoughts, from the thoughts that others offer to him so freely.
But that’s not how it works.
And it’s not what he needs.
And you both know this.
“It can all be healed with time,” you offer.
The look Valerius gives you in return lets you know that he doesn’t believe you. You can hardly blame him. The hope you want to give him is far stretched, at best. You’ve heard him voice enough of his own inner monologue to know how much he could doubt the statement. You know yourself how much you could doubt the statement.
Rebuilding after all that had happened seemed like such a tall order; the physical things coming back much easier than the mental things. You had seen how everyone had lost pieces of themselves, had seen how everyone had come back. You had all smiled and said it was fine, you had all been thankful for the cause you had all sacrificed for.
You would doubt yourself, too.
He meets you one night, the moment you walk through the door of the apartment above your shop, a pair of scissors in his hand and a look in his eyes, and you know exactly what he’s asking of you.
The weight of understanding falls heavy on your chest, doubling when you take the scissors from his hands. You had imagined this all differently somehow, even though every scenario had left a taste in your mouth that wasn’t quite right.
His fingers slide between those of your unoccupied hand, and he directs you to the small kitchen. There are extra candles lit, a foresight on his part to give you more lighting to the act that was about to happen.
The words are you sure? Are you certain about this? ball up in the back of your throat. His hold on you is steady. You feel as though this is the most certain he’s been since he began rebuilding himself.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
Your brows furrow until you realize he’s asking about where he’s standing, if you can see everything that you need to see.
“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “But maybe sit down?”
“Okay.”
His fingers slip away from yours, and you’re grateful that you’re not the one that has to break contact. In the same motion, he pulls out a chair from the table, turning his back to you. His hair is still in a loose braid, falling over the back of the chair. You move closer, fingers touching at the hairline at his temples, softly trailing across the length.
“I’m going to take the braid out.” It only feels right that you narrate what’s going to happen before it does. He nods.
Your fingers undo the tie at the end of his hair, taking the braid out of with intention. You smooth out the hair that’s been kept tame all day.
You need a moment to pause.
You gather his hair in your hands, pushing it to fall over a shoulder. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck.
His skin is warm, but you can still feel the shiver that runs down his spine.
The selfishness you feel isn’t lost on you; this is his moment, of course, his transformation, his metaphorical shedding of one skin to grow into the next.
But you need a moment.
How often had you associated his hair with who he was?
You certainly hadn’t picked him because of his looks, or because of the meticulous way he had kept his hair. Even if he weren’t handsome by any standards, you would’ve still found a way to love him.
This superficial feeling—it was silly, you knew. It was old fashioned, traditional, and silly—but, it was so wholly and so comfortably what Valerius was.
Old fashioned. Traditional.
Steady. Someone you knew.
You bite your lip. Take another breath.
If he was ready, there was no reason for you to not be.
You pull his hair gently back into your grasp. The scissors raise, hovering at a length just at his shoulders.
“Is this length okay?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. Here goes.”
The snip of the scissors is enough sound to flood your apartment. It continues, you continue, until you hold a considerable amount of hair in your non-cutting hand. Unsure, you place the bundle on the table next to Valerius. His head tilts, barely glancing at it, before he returns to his straight-on gaze.
“It looks good,” you reassure, brushing your fingers through the new style. “But I’m just going to make sure its all evened out. Okay?”
“Okay.”
And so you do.
You take great care, even though the only experience you’d ever had was in cutting your own hair, to make sure it still looks like a style that Valerius would want. You take a step back occasionally, squinting to make sure of the evenness, stalling to make sure you could still carry through the act.
“I’m done.” You set the scissors on the table, place a hand on his shoulder after brushing off a few strands of stray hair.
“Thank you.” Valerius lifts a hand to cover yours, lightly squeezing your fingers.
“Let’s go have a look, hm?”
He stands then, so effortlessly, and you don’t know what else you expected from him. Turning, he cups your face between his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then down to the tip of your nose. Your eyes close as he continues, a kiss to either of your cheeks.
“Thank you,” he repeats. His lips ghost against your own.
“You’re welcome,” you say, leaning into where he touches.
That night, the windows are left open in the bedroom of your apartment.
The weather is the nicest it’s been in weeks, and the moon filtering through the curtains is just enough to give the room a wholesome glow.
You are tucked into Valerius’s side, and he looks more peaceful than you have ever seen him before: face relaxed, rolling with soft curves instead of the harsh face he was so well-known for wearing. His hair, now fully brunette, is splayed out across his pillow in a way that he normally hated, reminding you of every way he tried to tie his shorter hair back, just to ultimately fail.
The neighborhood outside your window is finally asleep, rounding out the feeling of peace in the atmosphere, of the contentedness in your chest.
You aren’t sure if Valerius is asleep yet or not, but you’re not willing to test—you’ll be there, soon enough anyway. Instead, you continue to take it all in: this moment; this man, still steady and traditional, whose warmth underneath your fingertips had never changed.
You think it was all worth it, after all.
#consul valerius#the arcana#valerius x reader#reader insert#consul valerius x reader#the arcana game#ellie writes fanfic
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
OUATtober2023 Day 9: OC -> Her Royal Highness, Diana Regina Hattie Isabella of Locksley, Crown Princess of Mist Haven from my Outlaw Queen fanfic Reunited at Last
Also known as Diana Eva Nolan in Storybrooke, where she has found the storybook and realized they are all cursed and so she is trying to get her real parents back together so they can break the curse.
Excerpt:
Dark gray clouds rolled across the water surrounding the palace, looking like a fast-moving storm. Light flashed inside the clouds every so often and a rumble that sounded like thunder echoed in the distance, growing louder as they approached. The young girl standing in a large window, though, knew it was not a storm that approached the palace but a powerful force that threatened everyone and everything she loved.
Princess Diana stepped away from her window, hugging herself as she did so. She looked down at the beautiful white gown she had been so excited to receive that morning. It was an exact replica of her mother’s dress and it made her feel so grown up to wear it, to celebrate her special day. Now her birthday was in ruins and she no longer cared what she wore as their doom approached.
The doors to her bedroom were thrown open and she turned, relieved to see her mother striding into the room. Her pale blue skirts billowed around her as she walked quickly, her dark curls falling loose from the bun she had worn earlier. While she held her head high, there was a haunted look in her brown eyes, though, and it made Diana’s stomach do flip flops.
“Mama?” she asked, stepping forward. “Is it really coming?”
Queen Regina nodded as she knelt before her daughter, running her hands over Diana’s arms. “I’m afraid there’s no stopping it.”
“Where’s Papa?” Diana asked, wanting both of her parents there. Even if they couldn’t stop it, she knew being in their arms would make her feel a little less scared.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” her father said, closing the door behind him. He hurried over to where Diana and Regina were huddled together, falling to his knees as he wrapped his arms around them. Prince Robin kissed his daughter’s forehead before pressing another one to his wife’s head.
Diana clung to her parents as she glanced out the window again, noticing the clouds now engulfing the palace. Her heart beat faster and her stomach churned as she asked in a shaky voice: “What’s going to happen?”
Regina pulled away, gently cupping her face as she looked her daughter in the eyes. “The curse is going to take us to another land that is far, far away from here.”
Diana glanced around the bedroom that had been hers since she was a baby. It had given her more than enough room to grow and she couldn’t imagine not seeing it again. How would she sleep in any other bed but her big four poster one with curtains she could close to create a little world of her own? Or watch the butterflies painted on her wall flit around as her mother had enchanted them to do? What about all her toys--from her beloved stuff horse she named Rocinante after her mother’s stallion to all the dolls she had in the large dollhouse Geppetto had made for her? Did she have to leave behind the bookcase filled with her favorite books? And all her beautiful outfits too?
“What will this other place be like?” she asked her mother.
“I don’t know,” Regina replied, her voice shaking a bit.
Those were three words Diana had never heard her mother say--she always knew everything. She felt like she was going to throw up as she once again clung to her parents. “But we’ll be together, right?”
Her parents shared a look and Diana knew in her heart that the answer was no. Wherever the curse was taking them, they wouldn’t be together and that scared her even more. She started to cry as she curled against her mother’s chest. “I don’t want to be away from you, Mama. Or from Papa.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Prince Robin said, running his fingers through the dark curls she had inherited from her mother. “We don’t want to be away from you either.”
Regina caressed Diana’s cheek and spoke adamantly. “No matter what happens, I want you to remember that the love we share as a family is stronger than any Dark Curse. It will lead us to each other wherever we end up and we will be together again.”
The door to the bedroom blew open, hitting the wall with such force it sprayed splinters about the room. Regina tightened her hold on Diana as the gray smoke filled the room. Glass shattered around them and the room began to shake, the sound like nothing Diana had ever heard. Tears filled her eyes as an overwhelming sadness filled her. She didn’t want to go to a new place nor did she want to forget her family. Who would love her in the new world, take care of her cuts and bruises, make her feel better when she was sick, teach her new things, play with her and just listen to her as well as them?
Diana looked up at her parents as strong winds whipped her hair around her face and made it difficult to see. Her father mouthed something to her mother, who nodded in response. She then kissed him before he pressed his forehead to hers, his hand coming to cup Diana’s head.
She laid her head on her mother’s shoulder before closing her eyes. Everything stopped--no more wind, no more noise--and the nothingness swallowed her.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I was feeling anxious about the election and thus decided to polish up an older, previously unposted fluff fic of mine. There’s a second, angstier part to it, which I’ll post later, but for now, I hope that the fluff can help calm some of your anxiety the way it helped calm mine. I call this piece falling (from cloud nine and back). Happy reading!
It all started out so innocently.
Emma had just moved in. It was Regina's idea to rent out one of the many rooms in her mansion to the saviour, so Henry could have a stable home environment. Emma agreed pretty quickly, tired of the tiny loft Snow lived in. She insisted upon paying rent, although Regina had made clear several times that she didn't need the money anyway.
"You aren't so snobby that you decline cash when it's offered to you, just take it."
They sat at the breakfast table one morning, Emma trying desperately to keep her eyes open as she shoved spoons of cereal into her mouth, Regina herself already on the verge of leaving for work, shouting for Henry to hurry with his packing.
"I don't understand how you can be so awake when it's barely... what time?" Emma mumbled, her mouth full of cheerios (Regina had no idea where they came from, Emma must have somehow managed to sneak them in), and when one of her long blonde strands of hair fell out of the sloppy bun on the top of her head, Regina moved forward to stroke it back behind her ear.
The action was automatic, her mind probably so focused on Henry that it was maternal instinct.
However, the second her finger touched Emma's cheek, the saviour drew a sharp breath and looked at Regina, suddenly wide awake.
The expression in those green eyes unreadable, Regina recoiled immediately, fearing to have crossed a line. She cursed herself for acting unconsciously, and with Emma of all people – Emma who'd been wary of physical contact ever since Regina had known her. Before she could rush to apologize however, a smile spread on Emma's face, warm and bright and making the words get stuck in Regina's throat. Feeling inexplicably uncertain, she returned the smile and then rushed to work.
That evening, she came home late, and Emma had already gone to sleep. In the fridge she found leftover takeaway from Granny's though, and a note: "Hope you enjoy the kale salad and goodnight. X, Emma".
It all started out so innocently.
Things only escalated later.
The coming weeks were busy ones, Regina spending the large part of her days at the office, Emma only dropping by at lunch time to make sure she took a break. They made light conversation while eating, Emma occasionally reaching over to cover Regina's hand with her own, a simple gesture that made the brunette feel calmer instantly. She didn't read anything into the touches; Emma and she were growing closer as friends and co-parents, nothing strange with that.
Sometimes, she would find herself wanting to comfort Emma in return, so whenever the blonde ranted about the latest petty crime that left her with loads of paperwork and nothing gained, she reached out to pat the her shoulder or arm, as if saying "I understand you. People are stupid sometimes."
She started cupping Emma's cheek in the mornings, gently stroking her thumb over her cheekbones, instead of just saying goodbye. Emma would lean into the caresses, a content smile on her face rather than the frown she’d used to reserve for early rises before.
Then came the hugs.
One evening, when Regina returned from a particularly exhausting day at work, Emma embraced her the second she had stepped through the door. "You work too hard," she whispered and Regina allowed herself to get lost in the warm strong arms of the saviour for a while, before Henry interrupted them to ask what's for dinner.
Later that night, Emma pulled Regina closer on the couch while watching TV and gave her a massage. Luckily Henry was in his room to catch up on some homework because the moans Emma drew from Regina would have been rated mature for sure.
It took some time for them to take the next step after that. The cuddle sessions became more frequent and Regina more often than not found herself sitting in her office and counting down the hours till she could embrace Emma Swan again. Lunch visits had long since become a daily occurrence and they would spend it sitting on opposite sides of Regina's desk, their knees bumping together constantly. Then the afternoon would be dedicated to waiting for the evening, and the evening would consist of cuddle sessions on the couch.
Henry had gotten used to his affectionate mums, though he would sometimes shoot them pondering looks when Regina once again couldn't keep her hands from stroking through Emma's hair.
"Ma," he asked Emma one morning, not knowing that Regina was within earshot, ready to say goodbye and leave for work, "Don't you think it's unusual for you and Mum not to date?"
"Henry!" Emma exclaimed, then immediately hushed herself, and Regina had to move closer in order to make out her next words, "Your mum and I, we aren't together!"
"Except you kind of are," Henry mumbled almost inaudibly, "I mean, you live together, you spend your day together, you cuddle a lot..."
"Of course we do," Emma answered, "We're friends and share custody of you. We're close. See, your mum, she is a very strong woman, and I admire that. But she is also human and needs rest. I just want to make sure she gets that rest. She is always the one who takes care of everything, and I want to take care of her in return. She deserves that."
Regina decided to intervene then, stepping into the kitchen to find Henry and his mother clearing the table. Her heart swelled with affection for them both, and when Emma leaned in for a hug after she had kissed Henry goodbye, Regina, without further ado, pressed her lips against the blonde's cheek as well. Emma's skin was soft and warm, and she found it difficult to pull back after a second. Emma smiled blindingly at her, and Henry rolled his eyes in a manner he had picked up from both of his mums.
The next stage was introduced only days after that first kiss. It was a Friday night, and Henry was over at a friend’s, leaving Emma and Regina all by themselves to binge Disney films. (Emma loved the stuff and Regina was content with hearing her giggle hysterically whenever a character they knew in real life showed up.) They watched Snow White on Regina's request ("Just because you enjoy seeing my mum being hopelessly idiotic" – "I do not have to watch the film for that. It suffices to pay the loft a visit"), then Beauty and the Beast ("I can’t believe this is supposed to be Gold"), and barely finished Mulan, because Emma had dozed off and needed to rewind.
"We should go to bed," Regina said when the credits finally rolled, at the same time snuggling deeper into Emma's arms.
"But I don't want to let you go. You're so warm and comfy..." Emma pressed a kiss to Regina's hair and Regina, too, had to admit that she didn't really want Emma to let go of her.
"It is really late though," she tried to be The Responsible One, only to have Emma respond with an immature "I don't care," which was interrupted by a yawn.
"Emma," Regina sighed, "We cannot stay on the couch all night."
"Yes, we can. It's more comfortable than my bed anyway."
"Nothing compared to my bed though," Regina smirked and sure enough Emma perked up.
"Really? Let's sleep there then."
"Did you just invite yourself into my bed?" Regina failed to suppress a smile, and Emma grinned back: "And what if I have?"
House-intern sleepovers occurred more often than not after that, and Regina found that waking up next to Emma was something she could get used to. Although Henry eyed them suspiciously, Regina didn't think twice about the developments: How sleeping next to Emma became sleeping entwined with Emma, how kissing Emma's cheek became giving Emma pecks on her lips, how wanting Emma's touch became craving Emma's touch.
She didn't think about any of those things and it took that evening when a kiss turned into a full-grown make-out session for her to realize that something deeper than just friendship was going on between Emma and her.
---
Regina came home early that evening. Work had been less busy than usual and so, when she received the message from Emma that she had prepared a surprise for her, she managed to shut down fairly quickly.
The second she stepped through the front door, Emma ran up to her, one of Regina's aprons tied around her waist, flour in her hair.
"Regina!" she said, smiling one of the dazzling smiles that always made Regina want to kiss her. Fortunately, Emma had the same idea, quickly pulling the mayor in to press their lips together in a kiss that, as usual, lasted too short and left Regina wanting more.
"Today is Regina-feel-good day," Emma said cheerily, her hand still resting on Regina's waist, "You go take a bath, I prepare dinner."
"Today is what?" Regina asked, though she had understood the blonde very well and already felt her body go warm with affection.
"Regina-feel-good day," Emma repeated and grinned, "I figured you work so much, you should have a day where everyone appreciates what you do. Kind of like mother's day, except you're not my mother."
"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard," Regina rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. And then she leaned in for just one more kiss, before she finally took off coat and boots.
Emma watched her with a taunting smile, "And here I thought you'd be glad."
"I am glad over dinner, as long as it is not burnt..." Regina teased, loving the way Emma's eyes went wide and she sprinted back to the kitchen.
"Bath, upstairs," she called back over her shoulder and Regina shook her head, smiling, then made her way upstairs.
Emma had bought a new bubble bath, and Regina sighed contently as she let herself sink into the hot water that smelled deliciously of apples. She hadn't even realized how long it had been since she'd had a bath and now that she was in the tub, she felt she didn't want to leave it ever again. It was only when a new smell reached her nose, and Emma called for dinner, that she reluctantly pulled the plug.
She walked down the stairs in sweatpants and a loose shirt (wellness day was wellness day, after all), and was delighted to see the dinner table set professionally with several plates, sets of cutlery, and wine glasses for the three of them, even though Henry’s was filled with water.
"Voilà," Emma said, leading her to her chair. She too had changed into comfortable clothes, and there was still flour in her hair, which Regina couldn't resist reaching up to gently brush it out.
As soon as she was sat, Henry appeared with the first course - a giant salad bowl.
"I wanted to make soup first, but we kind of have stew for the main course, so I figured salad would do," Emma explained quickly, but Regina was already smiling, and she reached for Emma's hand to squeeze it slightly.
"It's perfect, thank you," she whispered and Henry and Emma exchanged a victorious grin.
The main course was indeed stew. Emma had actually got around to chop loads of vegetables, even though she had always claimed she hated chopping.
"I tried to do Ratatouille, but it ended up being more of a vegetable stew than anything," she smiled sheepishly, and Regina just had to kiss her, in front of Henry and everything.
"Not dating, huh?" the boy murmured, and still it didn't register with Regina.
No, it took until after dessert (cinnamon rolls, because Emma admitted that she would never dare make something apple-related for Regina), until after the massage Emma gave Regina while they were watching a political documentary, until after Henry had gone to bed around eleven, wishing them a good night with a wink; it took until they were in bed, Emma spooning Regina from behind like usual.
"Emma?" Regina whispered, unsure whether the blonde was still awake. She had, after all, had a long day full of kitchen work that she wasn't used to doing.
"Hmm?" came the answer though, and the sound vibrated through Regina's body like encouragement.
"Thank you for today. That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done to me," she murmured, nevertheless grateful for the darkness providing a cover that allowed her to open up.
"No problem," Emma said and pulled her closer into the embrace, "I enjoyed cosseting you, actually."
Regina wriggled a bit to turn around, now facing Emma. The saviour's face was slightly illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the shades, and she could make out the delicate shape of her lips, her cheekbones, her forehead.
And then, before she could think twice about it, Regina closed the space between them and kissed Emma. First her collarbones, because they were closest, then up her neck to her ear, and then she covered her face in light short kisses.
Emma's eyes opened after a while, and she chuckled: "If that's how you thank me, I might turn every day into a Regina-feel-good day."
Regina barely found the time to respond "Do that" between her kisses, and suddenly the desire took over and the instincts she had held back ever since she’d first cupped Emma’s cheek kicked in. In the darkness, she found her way to Emma's mouth, the mouth she could never get enough of, the mouth she’d been seeing in her dreams. Her lips moving fervently against Emma's equally hungry ones, she finally realized that this attraction she felt to the blonde was something different than friendship entirely. The deep craving she had for Emma's touch, for her presence, the urge she felt every time she was near her, the urge to touch her, the urge to hug her and never let go, it could all have only one explanation.
She is totally and irrevocably in love with Emma Swan.
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤. ♡
𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑱𝒐𝒋𝒐. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆? 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚.
Pairing: OC X Barista!Jungkook
Contains: humor, mutual pining, fluff, cuddles, vine references, hurt and comfort, sexual tension.
Warnings: swear words, angst, dark themes, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, starvation, binge eating.
Word count: 30k+ (don’t ask)
A/N: I spent almost a year working on this, during which time I went on and off from writing. It’s finally here and my excitement is through the roof. Special thanks to @keopitae for sharing her thoughts on the fic and for her continuous support. Eli out.
____________________________
"My name is Jojo and I suffer from an eating disorder."
The words echo across the small bathroom walls, crashing against the mirror I so passionately detested. Punching the mirror as hard as I can, blossoming cracks scatter in every direction. The pain in my right knuckle screams, blood already oozing out of the peeled skin.
Fucking cringe. What was all this for? Was there a camera up my ass for acting all dramatic and shit?
"Good job, Jojo, you just ruined another one." I sigh and let the running water wash the blood off my hand. This was the third time this month and honestly, I think I deserved a slap across the face for the amount of money I was spending on fucking mirrors.
Heh.
That made it sound like mirror prostitution.
I grab a bandage from the stack I kept on the drawers and wrap it around my injury. Talking to your reflection first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way to start off the day, but it had been a mere attempt at self-therapy. Well, since I can't go to a real one, anyway. Too bad it didn't work.
I sigh one more time for good measure and pull a hoodie over my head.
Ah yes, a hoodie. The ultimate piece of clothing.
Feeling cold? Wear a hoodie. Your bra is cutting your blood circulation and you can't keep it on anymore? Wear a hoodie. You feel self-conscious of your body and try to hide every curve and shape? Hoodie is your best friend.
I put on a pair of sweats to complete the look because let's be real; everyone loves a baggy outfit. Not even sparing a glance at the mirror anymore, I unplug the charger from my phone's ass and sit down for a second to scroll through some memes.
Yup.
That's exactly what a person does after losing their job.But come on, I mean who fires someone just because they went to take a piss? Yes, it took fifteen minutes and yes, I was in the middle of working, but my dude, I drink three bottles of water a day. I need to let it out somewhere.
I take a deep breath as if to clear the disarrayed thoughts in my head. As much as I tried to make it sound funny, it wouldn't work because, at the end of the month, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Living on your own had its pros and cons and up till now, if I was completely honest, I had only seen the bad side of it.
Supporting my hands on the sofa, I try to stand on my feet but almost flop back down. Every time I get up, black spots dance across my vision. I can even see whole galaxies and not in the pretty sense of the word. One time I think I witnessed the glory of the Milky Way itself.
The pills that are strewn across the floor remind me of the impulsive decision I'd decided to make last night so I collect them one by one and put them back in the bottle.
Maybe some other time, I think to myself. Another day.
I'm perfectly fine, after all. I did lose my job yesterday and now I'm hanging on a thread for dear life but it's fine. I can make this work. A small green apple on the counter is the only promise of a so-called decent breakfast.
"Well hello there, little guy," I say before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh of the innocent fruit.The apple doesn't respond.I take my phone out of my pocket and tap on the Notes app.
52 calories are way too fucking much for an apple, I think to myself as I aggressively type the number down.This was about the only positive side of this disease. I was more educated on the nutritional values of food than a real dietitian.
This was how it all had started in the first place — from wanting to make healthier choices to cutting on particular groups of food. Just a slight change. Nothing too alarming. But then, I had to know what I was eating, right? So I start counting.
And that's how it all went to shit.
After I finish eating the apple and throw its core into the almost empty trash can, I wash it down with a tall glass of water. At last, my animalistic hunger was sedated and I could finally move on with my life. Indeed.
I grab my keys and shut the door behind me, wanting to go out for a while, maybe clear my head a little bit. It's not like I had to feed my kids or anything. There was nothing holding me back. So, I exit the apartment building, my keys clinking in my right pocket, and I hop on my beloved bike, parked right on the corner of the street. Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was that going to stop me from strolling around like I didn't have a pile of shit waiting to be dealt with? Hell no.
I start pedaling like crazy from the moment I put some distance between my apartment and the main street. Maybe it was because I needed to let off some steam, maybe the amount of calories I would burn excited me. Either way, that doesn't justify the high pitched scream coming from a girl that I almost run over.
I skid to a stop, the hands on the brakes stopping me from a fatal mistake. The girl's face has gone pale and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, terrified.I notice the way her flawless make-up matches her porcelain foundation, the fitted jeans hugging her slim legs like a second skin, and I feel sick.Sick for the fact that I'd almost killed this girl and all I could think about was how skinnier than me she actually was.
"Watch where you're going, fatass!"
Scratch that.
The Regina George flashback turns it all around.This bitch was going down.
I throw the bike aside in the middle of heavy traffic and shoot daggers from my eyes at her ridiculously perfect form. Any shred of remorse I'd felt up till now dissipates like a wisp of smoke on the wind."The fuck did you just say?"
She flinches from the humorless tone of my voice and I can see from the way her eyes widen that she's starting to regret her poor choice of words.
"I–"
Before I can blink, she's out of my sight, scurrying away like a frightened little mouse and I can't help but huff an incredulous laugh right there in the middle of the street. A car honks loudly behind my back and I don't hesitate to flip the guy off, the hint of a smile still lingering on my lips.
I wasn't taking any shits from people today.
So I hop on the bike once more and round a corner in search of a place to cool down a little bit. My eyes roam over the long line of stores and shops decorating both sides of the road in a flourished aesthetic and pause on the frame of a particular coffee shop, the strong flavorful smell inviting to my senses. I don't have to think twice before leaving my bike on the sidewalk and entering the shop with curious steps, scanning the interiors in a quick once-over. I sit by the window since it faces the street and make myself comfortable enough to attract a few pair of judging eyes.
A woman seated on a table close-by looks at me disapprovingly, staring at my clothes for a little longer than needed. She was probably wondering why was a tomboy wannabe man-spreading with an arm thrown across the chair like she owned the place.
Look, ma'am. It's the twenty-first century. No one gives a shit about girl mannerisms anymore.
"Didn't anyone tell you staring is rude?" I say, not bothering to make myself look somewhat presentable. She looks appalled by the bluntness of my words, probably not used to being called out so straight-forwardly but it seemed to have worked as she just turns her head on the other side, pretending to not have heard anything.
That's what I thought.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll down mindlessly. A distraction more than anything. But I don't even get the luxury of having a moment's peace when a pair of black stomper shoes slow down to a stop down my line of vision. I raise my eyes deliberately, following the two long legs protruding from them that connect with a bulky chest till I finally reach the top.
A boy.
No, a man.
Well, a mix of both.
His well-built figure screams "I've never skipped a day at the gym", the veiny muscles tight against the black shirt he's wearing. A swirling black tattoo makes an appearance on the side of his neck, disappearing inside the collar of his shirt, peeking again at his biceps and then snaking its way down his arm. There are multiple piercings on both of his ears, the silvery dangling pieces curtained by a mass of black messy hair reaching past his cheekbones and falling in front of his eyes carelessly.
Those eyes...
His whole physique resembled that of a fully grown man but his eyes were the ones who gave him away. Big and round and boyish.
I wasn't sure why I had spent more than a minute ogling at a stranger coming up to my table. Maybe it was the dark, mysterious aura radiating off of him or the way he was looking at me expectantly. Still, this motherfucker was too handsome for his own good. And he still stays right in front of me, unmoving, waiting for something.
"Are you lost, child?" I ask, looking at him dead in the eye.
He scoffs, clearly offended. "Child?"
"Your fly's down." I deadpan.
Unfortunately for him, his eyes slightly dip down to the front of his pants.
"Ha! I made you look!" I proclaim, a spark of amusement making the corners of my lips upturn.
He, on the other hand, doesn't look so happy, his curled up fists shaking by his sides, trying to keep himself in control."Can I take your order?" he grits the polite words through his teeth, even though he looks like he's about to strangle me from any second now.
"You're the waiter? Where's your uniform?"
"I don't have it with me." The boy's expression has turned angry, irritated even by the consistency of my questions.I decide to take it down a notch or two for the sake of the bulging vein on his throat, threatening to pop off. "Kay, chill. I was just asking."I lean closer and put my elbow on the table. " Soo...You come here often?"
It's his turn to deadpan. "I work here."
"Whoops. Silly me, I forgot."
"Are you gonna order or not?" He can't help the slight raise of his voice, more than enough proof that his patience was wearing thin.
Uh oh. Hoe's mad.
I throw a leg across my knee in the most arrogant way possible and lean back on the chair. "Aren't you gonna write it down somewhere?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.
"I can remember it." he simply answers.
Fine then, pretty boy. Let's see how you remember this.
"I'll have a quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla."
Oh, I've definitely made him mad now.
With a look of pure hatred on his face, he clenches his jaws together and stomps off in the opposite direction with God knows how much memory of the order in his head but before he can go further, I shout for him to stop. I was starting to feel bad for the boy with the long hair flying behind him dramatically. Not to mention, there was no way in hell I'd let that much sugar enter my body.
"Wait!"
He pauses and slowly turns around."I changed my mind. Just a cup of dark coffee will do. No sugar."
Surprisingly, a subtle smirk creeps its way on his lips, throwing a whole new light to his features. "Aren't you gonna tell me to make sure it's darker than your soul?"
Hmph. The little puppy can bite back, after all.
"Nah, that's overused," I say. His eyes scan me from head to toe and then he pivots on his heel, disappearing behind the multiple tools of the counter, probably communicating the order to someone else. It doesn't take long for him to come back once again, his long elegant hand gently picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and putting it on the table.
In that fleeting moment I can make out a messy layout of tattoos; a smiley emoji on his middle finger, four small crosses in the spaces between and a bunch of other symbols I don't recognize. All that, gracefully completed by a gorgeous black flower and a bunch of other patterns wrapped around his forearm.
How contrasting it was, the way his appearance clashed with his personality. Did I actually know him? I think so.The guy was obviously kind enough not to spill the thing all over my clothes in an act of rebellion and I had to say it was an admirable thing to do considering how far I was pushing his limits. I am almost ready to hold out the olive branch to him.
Almost.
"I thought I said no sugar," I say, noticing the small white pack by the side of the cup."I guessed you would probably change your mind again." he teases, but the displeasure is still quite evident on his face.
Interesting.
"Next time, just make sure to do what I say." I retort, very much aware that I was prolonging the situation more than needed, but I just couldn't help it. I was really enjoying the reactions I got from him every time I pushed his buttons.
He's practically fuming with anger but still doesn't fall prey to my relentless attacks, instead choosing to walk away like a civilian.
Pity. I wish he'd stayed a little longer.
The coffee is absolutely disgusting. Its bitter aftertaste almost makes me gag.
This is what happens when you refuse to add sugar to any kind of drink, Jojo. It basically tastes like shit.
I forcefully down the last gulps and rise from my table, leaving a tip for the emo kid even though I'm running low on money. He deserved it after putting up with my bullshit for that long.
The woman staring at me earlier goes wide-eyed when I lift two fingers to the side of my brow, offering her a salute before making my way out of the coffee shop.
I don't eat lunch that day. Not even dinner. I just stare at the black screen of the turned-off TV, sipping water from my mug like it's the most flavorful thing in the universe and not having the energy to even cry myself to sleep anymore. I do that every night. Cry and cry and cry like there's no tomorrow. It feels relieving somehow— like I've let something off my chest, even though momentarily.
I grab my phone and type down the stupid number anyway.
2 calories. I write 2 calories for a fucking cup of coffee like it's gonna make a shit ton of difference.
Fucking ridiculous.
I want to sink deeper into this misery, let it consume me whole till there's nothing left, but like a beacon of light, the image of that boy's face emerges into the surface.
"That guy was cute." I voice the words that have been on my mind all day before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
~ JUNGKOOK ~
There she was. That girl again.
In all my three years of working here, I'd never encountered someone so rude, shameless and utterly irritating. She's sitting on the same spot from yesterday, looking out the window and throwing casual glances at her phone. She also has the same baggy hoodie and sweats, probably too lazy to even bother change into something else.
However, what attracts my attention is the bandage wrapped around her hand, a pink hue visible where her knuckles should be. I'd noticed it the first day too, wondering where in the world would she get that kind of wound. She did seem like the type of girl who would get into fights actually, judging from her boyish clothes and brash personality but I wasn't sure if–
Whatever.
It was none of my business and I had work to do, anyway. I couldn't be bothered with the antics of a rebellious teenage girl. The glass I'm wiping almost slips out of my hands. Bold of her to call me a child when she couldn't be more than five feet tall. I wondered if her feet even reached the pedals of her bike.
"Hey Jungkook, you got a customer." Kwan's voice shakes me out of my thoughtful state as he flicks his chin towards the girl.
"Can't you get this one for me?" I grimace."Why? Are you afraid she's gonna bite?"
"Seems like it."
His eyes narrow into slits as he glares at me suspiciously.
"Come on man, just do what I say for once," I insist, not really wanting to deal with her shit for a second time. Kwan raises his palms up in surrender and goes to take the girl's order, but not without mumbling a "kids these days" on his way out.
The girl looks up from her phone upon Kwan's arrival but then her eyes quickly roam around as if searching for something. They exchange a few words too quietly for me to hear amid the general bustle of the shop, and then my coworker is by my side before I can blink.
"Nothing to be scared of, Jeon. She just asked for a green tea," Kwan says and grabs a number of items from the counter.
"So, she didn't say anything rude?"
"Nope."
"Not even an insult?"
Kwan tsks with his tongue.
Hmph.
Maybe she just hadn't been in the mood yesterday because there's definitely something different about the way she's just sitting there–
Barbecue sauce on her ti—
A snort accidentally escapes from my lips and I lower my head further to hide the embarrassment of the uninvited thought.
"Something funny?" Kwan asks, looking up from the tea he was brewing. I click my tongue just as he'd done.
It takes about a minute or so until the order's ready and I note the way the girl's face contorts with each sip of her tea as if someone had actually put a gun to her head to drink that horrendous beverage. She still drains the cup to its dregs, though.
Gets up.
Sways a little.
The hand wrapped in bandages holds onto the table for support and she finally pushes herself up to her feet. A little light-headed, if you ask me.
That confident image I'd created of her yesterday, crumbles into pieces when I observe the vulnerable state she's currently in. I wasn't sure why I was paying much attention to a complete stranger who I would probably never meet again, but I just couldn't stop myself. It was like being pulled into a black hole and finding yourself secretly enjoying it even though your gut tells you that it's wrong.
It was weird but true.I'd experienced it before.
The brief moment of realization had been enough to make me get lost in my thoughts so I snap my eyes back to the girl's table only to notice that the seat was empty.
She'd left.
~JOJO ~
Discipline. I need to practice discip–
Fuck. Is that a hamburger?
The delicious treat from the glass showcase of a fast-food restaurant winks at me and my mouth waters just by looking at it. When was the last time I ate anything decent? I rack my brains out, calculating the number of calories I'd consumed for the last two days and the only results are an apple, a cup of black coffee, green tea and maybe a tank of water.
Wait!
I did lick that spoon of peanut butter this morning, so in total, 144 calories. Might as well call it a fast for all I care.
My breath quickens with every push of the pedal, thighs burning with the strain. It's been almost three hours since I left the coffee shop and I'm pretty sure the tires of my bike must be deflated from going through every damn corner of the city.
Why would I do that? Because I'm a stupid ass bitch who likes to push herself to her limits and who doesn't know what rest means.
I know I'm going too far. I know it won't be long before all of this comes crashing down on me, sending my progress back to the starting point, but I can't seem to stop. Not when the ecstasy is so overwhelming, filling me up with a fake sense of achievement. This was probably the reason why this disorder was addicting. It made you feel like you had the reins in your hands, not it.
Not her.
Oh, Ana. How much I wanna fucking kill you right now.
It was all her fault, after all.
No. It wasn't her fault. It was the people's fault.They were the ones that said things. Things that hurt me. And their words didn't affect me directly but they fed my insecurities.
It was confusing, actually.They said I was fat. I tried and built some muscle by working out.They said I looked too manly with my muscles now. It didn't suit me.I dropped ten pounds starving myself.
What did they want?
What was the right body?
I didn't know anymore.There would always be something not right, not good enough.
I grip the handlebar tighter when the flood of old memories engulfs me without warning, making its appearance like an uninvited guest. I'm not even sure how it all started in the first place because believe it or not, I was the biggest body-positivity enthusiast.
And then suddenly I wasn't.
And then I find out that there's a whole community out there with people just like me but so radical, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. At first, I was outraged, disgusted even, by the naive statements of young girls saying they wanted the thinnest body possible, fantasizing about skin and bones, but as time went by and as I delved deeper and deeper into the swirling vortex of these intoxicating thoughts, I started succumbing to them. They suddenly seemed appealing.
I let out a sigh between heavy breaths.
Did it matter now? Besides, that guy didn't even show up today. Maybe it's his day off or something.
The brilliant rays of the afternoon sun make the glass panes of the cars passing by gleam like a swarm of fireflies.It would've looked pretty if it weren't for the way it made me shield my eyes. I was already having a hard time trying to keep them open as my strength started to run out, the view in front of me doing half–circles and then turning back to its optimal position. My legs feel like lead and I stop pedaling altogether, letting my bike guide me instead.
Tired.
So, so...tired.
A familiar face swims into my line of vision. It's the emo kid.
And he's....falling?
The handlebar spirals out of my control and my knee hits hard concrete. That face is the last thing I see before a black cloak of darkness swallows me whole
~JUNGKOOK~
Never in a million years would I have thought I'd have to carry a random person to the nearest hospital on my way home. Yet here I am, sitting on a chair for the past hour, staring at the girl's chest rise and fall with slow, rhythmic breaths.
There are fresh bandages wrapped around her scraped knee and multiple bruises all over her body. I'd seen the slightest look of surprise cross her face before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell off the bike, hitting her head in the process. It had been a chaotic situation, that one. People had kept gathering around, trying to sneak a peek at the accident but still not doing anything to actually help. So I'd taken things to my own hands, done my duty as a normal person would.
Then why are you still here, Jungkook? my logic reasons with me. The doctor said she would be fine so why are you still sitting over here, waiting for her to wake up?
That's right. I should be going.I lean my palms on my knees but before I can fully rise from the chair, the girl's eyes crack open. She takes a look around the room, analyzing her surroundings, and then her eyes stop on my face.
"Who the fuck are you?" she croaks.
Here we go again... I internally sigh."We met at the coffee shop. Or don't you remember?" I answer, praying for her life not to get my anger rise so fast.
"Right," she says, even though something tells me she had known exactly who I was in the first place. "The fuck are you doing here?"
"I saved your life."
"Why bother?"
"You should be grateful, you know."
"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?"
I had to admit I was slightly taken aback. The girl swore and cursed worse than a sailor. As if on cue, a jumble of profanities spill from her lips as she struggles to sit up, suddenly finding herself tangled in tubes and needles trickling colorless liquid into her veins.
"Get this shit off of me, " she says and rips the said piece from the inside of her forearm.
"You should keep that for a little longer." I protest, hands already reaching for the needle laying on the sheets but she flinches from my touch and throws a leg across the bed, attempting to get up.
"Sit down!" I say a little harsher than I intended but it was impossible not to.
Unbelievable.
Her nonchalance and irresponsible behavior made me want to punch her in the face, regardless of her being a girl. At last, she has the dignity to actually do what she's told. "Someone's cranky, " she mumbles as she leans back on the pillow.
This girl must have a split personality disorder because only two seconds later her legs are crossed comfortably despite the nasty injury on her knee and she's leaning forward with her cheek on her palm, staring intently at me with a curious smile hanging on her lips.
"You never told me your name, " she says.
"You never asked, " I reply.
She scowls. "Stop trying to play the smartass with me, child and just tell me your fucking name."
"It's Jungkook."
Her eyebrows lift in surprise.
"I know, it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" I tease.
"Actually, it sounds like a chicken dying, but okay."
My lips twitch in amusement, trying to suppress the silly smile demanding to make an appearance.
"To be honest, I'm kinda disappointed, " she continues. "I was expecting something more special, like Sebastian or Gabriel or something." She scratches her chin while her eyes still stay rooted on my face. "You know what, imma call you Juan. Yeah, Juan's better. Got that Latino vibe to it."
Her never-ending shenanigans were pure torture so I decide to turn the tables for a change. "And what is your name?" I ask.
For once, she doesn't try to make fun of me. "Jojo."
Cute.
"It fits you."
Her eyebrows scrunch themselves together as she carefully observes me. "Hmmm....Anyway–" She crawls to the side of the bed and grimaces when her left foot leans on the floor. "Thanks for spending your precious time with me, Juan but now I gotta blast."
"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down, please," another voice is heard and the doctor I'd talked to earlier steps into the room. He stares the girl, Jojo I remind myself, down but she doesn't relent, staring right back with the same intensity.
"I'm perfectly fine—"
"Your blood sugar levels are at their lowest point, that wound on your knee needs to be changed continuously or else you'll get an infection and you might have a concussion from the way you hit your head. I'm surprised you're still even talking."
There's a slight tremor in her pupils, which I 'm pretty sure is caused by the panicked state she's trying to hide. She plasters a smile on her face. "Come on now, Doc. I'm sure you can let me off this one time. The fact that I'm still talking proves I'm better, right?"
"Miss—"
"I'll accompany her, " I blurt without thinking and both of them snap their heads in my direction. No turning back now. "I'll make sure she gets home safely," I assure him.
"I don't need your—" Jojo starts, but her words falter when she meets the doctor's glare. "I mean... sure, why not?"
The doctor seems satisfied enough as he turns on his heel without a moment's hesitation. However, he hasn't even made it past the threshold when he pauses, turns halfway around and looks at her dead in the eye. "And by the way, miss. You should eat something. Your heart's gonna fail at this rate."
I could have sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes but she doesn't show it, choosing to keep that sad smile on her face like an anchor linking her to sanity.
"Son of a bitch." I hear her mumble under her breath.
~JOJO~
Son of a bitch I repeat in my head over and over again till the words start to sound foreign to my ears, suddenly losing their meaning.
That damn doctor just had to point out the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for the last couple of days. He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from mentally sending a series of curses his way.
I have never felt so shitty in my life. Both physically and mentally. My head feels like it's going to split in half, the stinging of the wound on my knee is crying like a bitch and there's not an ounce of strength left in me.
Powerless.
And if that wasn't enough, Juan's endless questions only add to my misery.
"For the last time, no, I don't live with my parents," I say for what felt like the gazillionth time, still refusing the hand he kept offering my way. I might be on the verge of collapsing but under no circumstances was I to let myself be held like a damsel in distress.
Nuh-uh.That's a line you can't cross, mister.
"That sounds kinda hard to believe," Juan says and sticks his rejected hand back in his pocket, probably to get rid of the awkwardness.
"Bitch, I don't need your approval to say something. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Suit yourself. "
His shiny black hair glints in the darkness, catching the beams of moonlight as he flicks it away from his face. "How can I be a bitch? I'm a male." he retorts.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Man whore." I reply, putting a clear emphasis on the last syllable.
He scowls, seeming genuinely offended by my words, especially when he says " Swearing is rude, you know."
"You know what else is rude? Asking people too many questions."
"But can you blame me, though? I mean you pretty much look like a high-schooler who ran away from home."
I stop dead in my tracks. "You have a strong sense of guessing."
He blinks. "Wait. You're really a high-schooler who ran away from home?"
I resume my walking, using the concrete wall on the side of the road for support. "For your information, I did finish high-school so suck on that."
"But you still ran away from home, right?" he insists.
"Oh for fuck's sake— yes, I did run away from home. Are you happy now?"
The blank look on his face, combined with the slight shrug of his shoulders almost causes me to snort. "Cool, " he says, unbothered."Aren't you gonna ask why I did it?"
"Not interested, " he states and looks straight ahead, completely ignoring my presence."Liar. I can see that you're one of those assholes who are dead-curious about everything."
"Am not!" he whirls on me.
I scrunch my nose and sniff the air around me like a wild dog hunting on its prey. "You smell that?" I ask him.
"What?"
"Smells like bullshit to me."
Even in the darkness, I can see the dramatic roll of his eyes, causing their whites to stand out. He had pretty big eyes, this guy. They softened that edgy aura he gave off, all muscles, tattoos, and black clothes. And the fact that he tolerated my irritating behavior, which I was deeply aware of, made him look even more appealing to my eyes.
"Why did you volunteer to take me home, Juan?" I quietly ask, glancing at him through the corner of my vision.
He seems to mull the question over in his head for a moment, eyes staring his shoes down. "I don't know. You seemed like you needed some help." He throws a look at me. "Which by the way, is still valid. You look like hell."
For some reason, that makes me retract my hands from the wall and I try to keep myself stable on my own two feet, limping heavily on the process.
"What exactly happened with your bike?" he continues, unaware of my recent action.
"I was busy stalking hot guys all day, so my bike got tired. Guess she just couldn't handle it anymore."
The boy doesn't seem to fall for any of my lies, narrowing his eyes till their nothing but slits. "Do you tend to not eat when you stalk hot guys?"
This little shit...
"Nah, it's just that I'm so fucking forgetful." I immediately reply. "I forget to eat all the time.
"He doesn't relent, still boring holes into my eyes.
"Hey, what's with all the questions, anyway? I thought you said you were not interested?" I repeat his own words.
"Right, " he admits.
My apartment building comes into view, the looming structure now as familiar as the back of my hand. "We're here, " I announce. My eyebrows raise in wonder as his legs keep heading for the entrance of the building instead of pausing.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"To your apartment, obviously."
"What the fuck makes you think you can come to my apartment, boy?" I did not want him to see anything personal of mine, yet for some strange reason, I found myself hoping he would stick around a little longer. A little controversial, considering the fact that my words proved otherwise, but I couldn't just say that to him, could I? Like, hey, kid you're nice. Let's have a little chat before you go.
Ridiculous.
"I'll just escort you to the door, " he assures.
"No need for that."
"But what if you fall down the stairs?" he insists.
"You got me there." I punch in the code at the main entrance and hurry up the stairs as much as my limp would let me, Jungkook's eyes never leaving me for a second. After what felt like an eternity, I grunt heavily and lean on the doorstep of my humble apartment. "Okay, you've done your service, soldier. You're free to go now."
Jungkook throws a quick glance at my mustard-colored door, probably weirded out by it but then his eyes flick to my empty hands. "Where's your keys?" he wonders.
My mouth gapes open and my eyes go the size of tennis balls as I frantically pat my pockets. When I notice the way Jungkook's lips part slightly, I burst into hysterical laughter, jiggling the retrieved keys in front of his face. "You should've seen your face!" I laugh. "Hilarious."
He exhales, relieved. "I thought you'd lost them."
"Nah, Juan. I forget a lot of things but not my keys. Besides, these bitches stick up my ass like fucking glue."
The door's lock clicks with a flick of my wrist but I resist the usual temptation of kicking it wide open, in fear of letting emo-kid sneak a peek. It's not like I was embarrassed of the mess in my apartment or anything like that but it felt weirdly intimate to let someone else get a glimpse of my domestic life. In fact, I hadn't invited anyone over since...
Yes, it had been that long.
Jungkook notices my reluctance and clears his throat. "So...um...you're all good now, so I better leave. You should–you should take care of your wound."
How weird to see an overgrown, muscular dude stutter and not know what to do with his hands. I usually didn't have the tendency of stereotyping but this definitely struck me as odd.
I smirk. "Getting shy, Juan?"
He almost flinches at my words. " What? No!"
"Are you waiting for a thanks then?"
A stray hair falls in front of his eyes but he doesn't move it away from his face. "That's not something you ask from people."
I bite my tongue and try not to let the pain on my leg get to me as I squeeze into the room through a thin sliver of space. Still, his words bring a smile to my face and as much as I try to suppress it, it just keeps floating on the surface again. "I'm not an asshole, Juan. So thanks."
"Actually, you refused to say thanks from the start—"
"Okay, now you ruined it," I interrupt. "Get outta here."
He slowly starts to back off and his lips stretch into a barely contained smile. "Good night, Jojo." And then just like that, he's climbing down the stairs with his long legs taking two or three steps at a time.
I shut the door and lean on it for a moment, sighing deeply through my nose.
"Little shit, " I whisper.
Rise and shine.
That's exactly what my alarm tune doesn't say. Even after so much time hearing it pierce my ears every single morning with its shrill screech, I can never stop myself from wanting to smash the damn thing into pieces. However, that's the only thing that can actually get my ass up from the bed. All the other gentle-sounding melodies had proven to be absolute failures, dragging me even further into the sweet crevices of sleep.
The numerous late arrivals to work had made me suffer more shouts and scoldings than I could remember from my boss. The guy was a total dick. Good thing I don't work there anymore.
My room is still coated in patches of darkness here and there, the bright rays of the morning sun nowhere to be seen. It is about 5:30, an unholy time to wake up, but since I was now unemployed, I had made an oath to force myself every day into going for a run outside.
There was no overwhelming hustle and bustle, no moving crowds of people. The city had yet to rise from its slumber and the only activity on sight included slow, quiet movements of passers-by.
I finally kick the blanket off and swing my legs over the bed. The cold surface of the floor awakens my senses as I prepare to go over the usual ritual: Stretch, pee, step on the scale.
The number has slightly changed from yesterday but not to the point where I want it to. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It happens every day yet I can never get used to it.
I decide to go easy on the breakfast. A cold glass of water, an apple, and a boiled egg.
I probably should've thought about putting some pants on first, I say to myself as a crumb of egg yolk smears my bare thigh. I use the pad of my finger to wipe it off and cringe intensely. These thick bitches turned three sizes wider when sitting down and it only spurred on my body dysmorphia.
Disgusting.
Not forgetting about my daily dose of green tea, I hurry up before the sun rises and put some sports clothes on, which wasn't really that hard since they were the only thing in my closet. I shut the door behind me but it feels like something is nagging the back of my mind, demanding my attention.
Did I forget anything?
I rack my brains out in search of a clue but nothing makes it into the surface.
This stupid obsession...
Making sure my shoelaces are tightly secured and my earphones plugged in, I climb down the stairs and burst out of the entrance of the building. I welcome the sharp sting of fresh air that fills my lungs with a deep breath and waste no time to sprint into a run, the loud music already blasting my ears in full force.The wound on my knee does not approve of this but I don't give two shits. It can cry like a bitch for all I care.
It's easy at first, obviously. Your body is rested and unspent so you relish those twenty minutes with pure adrenaline flowing through your veins. But then, the run takes its toll on you. It's unavoidable.
The sky switches from dark blue to a pastel pink, announcing the official start of the day and reminding me of my tiresome condition. I'm panting like an asthmatic by now and my clothes stick uncomfortably with sweat so I slow into a light jog. The sting on my knee grows stronger and stronger til I can barely stand it. The clean sidewalk grows hard under my feet and it's all I can do not to faint from exhaustion. Running tires you out? Try running with not enough food in your system.
I scan my surroundings in an attempt to distract myself from the fatigue. A few trees lining up the street, a grey car hurrying to God knows where, hair—
Wait, what?
I redirect my eyes to the spot I was staring at and notice a mop of dark hair swinging wildly. The body they belong to is in fast-motion, arms shifting from side to side as the legs make long, speeding strides.
No fucking way. I guess it's not such a bad day after all.
I smirk as I gain speed, now heading straight towards the boy with newfound strength. As I maneuver from side to side with a few random strangers, I can't help but stare at the way his sweatpants hug every curve of his butt. He had a nice butt, this guy. I'm kinda jealous. And as if that wasn't enough, the material of his loose T-shirt turns darker from the collar down to his back, marking a trail of sweat. He'd ran just as hard from what I could see.
The music in my earphones dies out as I quickly catch up to him and slip by his side, matching his constant rhythm. He doesn't notice at first, but after the numerous glances I throw from the corner of my eye, he finally flinches and stops abruptly. "Jojo?"
His hair is completely drenched in sweat. The dark strands form wet tendrils on his forehead and numerous trails that drip from his temples and down to his chin. He almost rips his earbuds off and I have to say I feel slightly endeared. As a person who preferred not to be disturbed while listening to music, I could appreciate the fact that he removed them in the blink of an eye. If a person does that, he respects you. Simple as that.
He gives me a look of mild curiosity, which for a surprise makes him look ten times hotter. I also slow down to a stop as a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. "Oh, hey Juan! Didn't see you there."
He looks behind his back for good measure and turns to stare at me. "Are you stalking me?"
I scoff in feigned annoyance. "What the fuck? Am I not allowed to go for a run now? Do you own these streets or something?"
"No, but—"
"Hey, hey, " I quickly interrupt him. "Less chatting, more running."
I will my feet to start moving again and he immediately catches up. "So...how are you feeling?"
"Tired, " I reply.
"I meant from last night."
Well that's a surprise. I didn't think he would remember it, let alone be worried about my condition. "Oh. I'm fine. It's nothing, really, " I wave a dismissive hand.
He stares at me for a moment too long before turning his head straight. "That's good."
After that, neither me nor him try to elaborate on the topic. For some moments, the only thing heard is our combined panting and heavy breathing and it doesn't do much to tame my wild brain from going places. I push the dirty thoughts aside for later reference and give my head a slight tilt to peek at him."Tell me more about yourself, Juan."
"What do you wanna know?" he asks without looking.
"Everything."
He laughs delightedly. "Ok but you're gonna have to ask me questions, though. I don't know where to start."
"Perfect. Where do you live?"
His neck does a ninety-degree turn with such a lightning speed that I'm scared he broke a bone or two. "I knew you were stalking me!" he exclaims as if he had made a scientific discovery.
I smack my lips impatiently. "Just answer the damn question!"
"Two blocks from here."
"That means the coffee shop is close to your house, right?"
"I live in an apartment, " he adds and gives a curt nod before his attention is back to me. "Okay, my turn now. Did you ever go to college?"
Not this shit again. If I hadn't been attracted to his ridiculously good looks, he would be rubbing at a sore spot in between his eyeballs. "Goodness, child. You really are stubborn."
"Hey, it's only fair if you keep asking me questions, " he protests and instead of angering me, the harmless expression turns my insides into jelly. I was finding it hard to keep up with the constant appearances of his duality. It was weird. I barely knew this guy and I still told him things so strictly personal that I'd never thought I'd say out loud.
" I dropped out of college after the first year. Couldn't afford it."
And just like that, the jolly, playful countenance disappears to be replaced by a darker one. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I dropped too, " he continues. " Guess studies weren't exactly my thing."
"Oh wow. We have so much in common."
A pause.
"Where's your family?"
I was starting to think this kid was more interested in my personal life than me as a person. "Back home."
He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to explain further and unfortunately, I fall prey to his puppy eyes staring at me intently. An uncomfortable ball of imaginary yarn settles at the base of my throat. I try to gulp it down while fighting to keep the slight tremble in my voice from showing. " They...did some things to me. Bad things. I'm never going back."
He notices my discomfort, bless his soul, and decides to drop it. "My parents live far from here and I don't visit them as much. So yeah, that sucks."
His poor attempt at sympathizing with me makes my lips crack into a subtle grin. "Are all parents bad or are we just awful teenagers?"
"Both, I guess, " he chuckles.
Just when I assume the twenty-one question game has finally come to an end, he proves me wrong for the bazillionth time. "Is there anyone you hang out, at least?"
"You, " I answer.
His eyes widen twice their original size and I laugh through my nose. "Just kidding. I have a friend called Anna. Such a nice, caring and sweet girl." My lips twitch on the side to impersonate a somber smile but I had the feeling it looked like I was having a nervous tick. "She's to die for."
Time is cruel to us, swallowing up each patch of daylight until the sky has turned into the purest baby blue and let the rays of sunlight fall astray into our poor backs. The heat and the exhaustion makes us slow our pace. Then, suddenly a sharp pain stabs me across my knee and I wince discreetly.
"Do you go to work?" Juan asks, oblivious to my current torture.
"No, I quit, " I say, refusing to admit that the reason for that hadn't really been my choice. "Why'd you ask?"
"Well, it's just that—" He abruptly stops and his eyes shift their attention to my legs, staring hard at them.
"What?"
"You're bleeding, " he states, matter of factly.
I snap my head down and take note of the way my knee is soaked in a dark red stain, slowly webbing its tendrils along the fabric."Aw shit, " I curse under my breath.
"You need to go to the hospital, " Jungkook quickly intervenes before a long string of profanities can spill over my lips.
"No. No more hospitals. I'll just go home and put some fresh bandages on it."
"Okay, well let me come with you."
I take a step back and shake my head from side to side. "For the last time, I don't need your help, Juan. Here are my key—" I frantically fish my pockets but they're completely empty, save for that stupid paper towel that I had somehow forgotten there. "Fuck no! Fuck no!"
Juan's brow bunches up in distress as his judging eyes give me a hard stare. "You already made that joke once."
"I'm not joking around, you idiot!" I snap, probably a bit too harsh but the panic seems to have gotten under my skin for me to care at this point. "I forgot my keys!"
So, that's what kept nagging me in the morning. I mentally slap myself for being such a careless mess and vow to not make the same mistake again.
"Let's go to the hospital, " Juan calmly repeats, seemingly unaffected by my sudden burst of anger. I wonder if he was hiding his hurt on the inside. If that was true, I'd have to give him a round of applause because he was sure doing a hell of a good job.
"No."
"Do you want to bleed to death?" This time he can't help the hint of anger from seeping into his voice.
I say nothing.
"If you don't want to go to the hospital then come with me back at my place. I have some bandages too."
"Absolutely not!" I protest, outraged. If this kept going on, we would end up at each other's throats.
"Look, it's either that or the hospital. You pick."
Shit. He had me cornered. Well, what was I to say? I liked hanging out with him but I also didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state and make me feel indebted to him. It had already happened once and I hadn't liked it not even one bit.
"I can't just come at your place, " I say with a lilt of playfulness in my voice. My figure was already frayed at the edges and he was quick to catch sight of it. "What if you're a murdering psychopath in disguise?"
He smiles in earnest, as if I'd just told him he was the nicest guy on the planet. "Then you can always stab me with a kitchen knife."
This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn't just go to his house, dammit. I was letting my guard down way too much. No way I was doing this.
"Fine, " I finally surrender and wish I'd bitten my tongue in time before the word made it past my lips.
~ JUNGKOOK ~
By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.
I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.
I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.
"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.
I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.
"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.
I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?
I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.
I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?
"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.
"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.
At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."
"I—"
"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.
I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.
I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."
She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.
"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.
"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.
"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"
I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.
After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.
"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."
"But it looks really ba-"
"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."
I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...
After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.
"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.
"Okay, what do you have?"
"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?"
"I don't do drugs, " she yells back.
"As in the drink, Jojo."
"Oh. What kind?"
"The regular one."
"No diet coke?"
"No. Sorry."
"Okay, just get me a glass of water."
I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.
"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."
A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."
"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.
"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.
"My place or my personality?"
"Both."
She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."
She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.
"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?
She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."
Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."
I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.
"Wait!"
She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.
"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.
She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."
"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."
She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."
"Hey, I'm serious."
"Forget it, " she says without turning around.
"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"
For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."
"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."
She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"
"I like helping people, " I simply reply.
"Some people don't like to be helped."
"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.
She raises an eyebrow.
"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."
Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.
She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."
The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.
~ JOJO ~
There's no way I'm doing this, I say to myself as I take a hot shower. No fucking way, I repeat as I get dressed and tighten my shoelaces. I felt like a mere sheep heading to meet the butcher's axe. But the sheep was making this choice herself. She was willing.
I was afraid the boy had put a spell on me. I'd never been so weak-hearted and obedient to someone's requests. Here I was, going to that cursed coffee shop even after all the fights with Anna last night. She kept persuading me to stay inside, lock myself up in my room and not talk to anyone for the next week or so. She'd never been the social type, the bitch.
Most people said it was like a voice in your head urging you to do whatever it wanted, but that was not the case at all. If the concept of Ana was that unrealistic it wouldn't be so hard to label it as just another link into the shackles of mental disturbances but the thing was, there was that doubt that made you hesitate on whether these were actually your thoughts that made you behave this way or something actually real and tangible. The feeling of something not claiming its existence but still lingering like a shadow on your every step.Is it me or her?Who said that?
I shake my head violently to clear my thoughts as I find myself in front of the shop's entrance.The floor seems to wobble beneath my feet and I doubted whether it was just because of the fact that my stomach had crumpled in itself like a sheet of paper.
I clear my throat loudly to capture the attention of the man hunched on the counter.He slowly lifts his head as an automatic smile appears on his face. “Yes?"
I steady my posture. "I'm looking for someone named Jungkook. He works here."
His eyebrows almost touch his hairline but he's quick to recollect himself. "Oh, sure. He's in the back fixing some stuff. I'll go get him for you."
He disappears behind a door and comes back two seconds later with the reason of my sleepless nights by his side.
"You're here!" Jungkook exclaims, a little too loud for my liking. He seemed slightly surprised, as if he hadn't thought I would actually come. Couldn't blame the guy. There were times when traces of bipolarism would make it hard for people to understand what I actually meant.
Jungkook's open-lipped smile is almost contagious. He tramples his way forward and stops just an inch further, towering over me.The all-black outfit was present even today but this time an apron adorns his slim waist.
"I am, " I simply add.
"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Kwan, " he says as he gestures toward the smiley man. "We've been working together since I can remember."
I flick my eyes to the latter and nod a salute at him. "You should've called this place 'Juan and Kwan'. Quite catchy, if you ask me."
The man named Kwan chuckles. "She's funny. Where did you find her, Jungkook?"
"Oh, I'm the one who found him, " I intervene. "Besides, we've met before. I'm the green tea girl."
His eyes slightly widen with a sense of realization as he nods along.
Ironically enough, my stomach whines so loudly to the point where even Jungkook hears it. He points a finger at it. "You really need to shut that thing up."
I look down to my stomach and talk to it as if it were a real person. "Hey thing, shut up. Juan doesn't like the way you sound."
"Did you even eat anything on the way here? There are some cupcakes if you want, " Jungkook insists with the tone of a concerned mother.
"I'm not hungry, Juan. Must be uhh... my seven month-old baby."
Jungkook shakes his head in surrender and asks for me to follow him behind the same room he came from. My nervousness raises tenfold as a bunch of unpleasant thoughts immediately rush into my brain. If I didn't get this job, I could say goodbye to normalcy. I would fall down the hole dug by my own hands and never come back out. All the hard work of these past months out in the trash.
"Don't worry, " Jungkook reassures. "You'll do great."
~ JUNGKOOK ~
She was bursting with joy. It was like her face had been washed in the late afternoon sunlight, illuminating its every corner. She wasn't ridiculously beautiful or anything like that but there was something so captivating about watching that smile brighten up her features like a glorious sunrise, I could barely keep myself from staring.
However, one thing I learned about her was that she really knew how to celebrate. Her hands are struggling to hold all the groceries she'd gotten at the supermarket. Well...if you could call them groceries. All I could see were tons of candies and deserts and all sorts of sugary stuff able to furnish a dozen sweet-toothed five year-olds.
But the thing that baffled me the most is that she'd invited me at her place to thank me for the new job. I thought after all the fights she'd put up to keep me far and away she wouldn't give in so easily. Guess I'd been wrong.
"I thought you said you weren't hungry. " I watch her chew on a chocolate-covered donut that gave me diabetes just by looking at it.
"If there's one thing you need to know about me, Juan, is that I change my mind way too often, " she mumbles in between mouthfuls.
"Yeah I can see that, " I add.
"Hey, shut up now, will you? We need to celebrate!"
"By eating trash?"
"They say you are what you eat, " she replies.
I angrily grab the grocery bags from her hands and let her lead the way to her apartment. "Don't call yourself that. "
The jokes she constantly jabbed could be hilarious to someone else but they just did not sit well with me. I only found them as extremely self-deprecating and dark. It was the go-to type of thing for the depressed and people were so used to normalizing them, it was hard to point it out from time to time.
Her mouth pauses chewing as she gives me a hard but harmless stare. "Fuck, don't do that to me."
"Do what?"
The deep sigh she lets out through her nose tickles my eyelashes. She stops in front of the door and leans her back on it. "You keep being nice even when I annoy you."
"You don't annoy me, " I say quietly.
"Yes I do. I annoy everyone." Another sigh. "You know, Juan, all my life I've been treated like a joke. Yeah, I joke around a lot so I'll get joked at. Understandable. But like, no one has treated me the way you do before. You listen to what I have to say and give me honest answers and most importantly, you are serious when you need to be."
"Isn't that how everyone is supposed to be?"
"No. If I told someone I'm feeling sad they'll laugh at my face 'cause they think I don't have the right to feel anything."
"Well, fuck them, " I snap.
Her jaw almost drops to the floor. "Woah! I've never heard you swear before. That was low-key hot. Do it again."
I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and fumble with the edge of my T-shirt. Out of all the things she could've said..."Um...shit?"
The disappointment washes over her face as she scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Fucking rookie".
It is quiet for a few moments, save for the slight creak of the yellow door opening wide enough to finally offer me a front seat view of her apartment. I'd been strangely curious about what it would look like, eager to get to know more about where she lived, where she slept, what things the was interested in and no matter the weird turn my thoughts had taken I couldn't help but crave for more.
She lets me pass the threshold and takes the grocery bags from me to put them on the kitchen counter. The place reeked of lemons, their acrid stench filling the air to the point where it made my nose itch. I spot a few loose skins and other remnants by the table.Except for that, everything looked pretty much normal. Plain and bare of excessive decorations but I could see that she'd made efforts into putting her own preferences out in the open, littering the walls and ceiling. She liked minimalism, I could see.
"Did you throw a lemonade party last night?" I ask with the tiniest bit of chuckle tumbling from my mouth.
Her eyes flick to the evidence and I sense something I'd never witnessed so boldly in them before. Panic. "Oh, t-that..." she nervously stutters but it's gone in a blink as she quickly gains her composure. "Just an experiment. I love science."
I hum in agreement and eye the couch on my right. "Can I sit?"
"Yeah, yeah sure. Make yourself at home. But I have to warn you there's nothing on the fridge so you're left with these, " she says, giving the sweet goodies a single heave.
"Oreos, please." I stretch my hand across and a huge grin pulls at the edges of her lips.
We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, munching cavities away like they were our last meal. It was surprising to say that it did not for a moment feel weird nor awkward. We barely knew each other and yet we seemed like two old pals seeking comfort into each other's presence.
"My place sucks, doesn't it?" she suddenly asks.
"Not really, " I reply. "I think it's pretty."
A confused frown appears on her face as she keeps munching on a chocolate bar. "How come?"
"Well, beauty is subjective, Jojo. What looks pretty in my eyes may not be the same for you."
"Deep words for a teenager, " she mumbles.
"Look who's talking."
"Yeah, yeah..." She waves her hand dismissively but I don't miss the tiny smirk hidden in her cheeks.
The grocery bags start to slowly empty. I was worried she was gonna make herself sick with all the sugar already flowing in her body.
She suddenly gets up and stretches, reaching with the tips of her fingertips up to the ceiling. Her hoodie rides up and I almost gasp in surprise. There are several marks littering the thin stripe of exposed skin, some dark, some purple and some turning yellowish. They made such a stark contrast with the pale white complexion that didn't exactly match the tone of her face. She'd obviously never worn anything too revealing, the sun rays far from tanning the skin. Before I can gawk my eyes out, it's gone in an instant when the hoodie falls back in place.
"This shit's addicting, " she says pointing at the leftovers on the table.
I could only wonder if she really had more problems than she let on. From what I'd gathered, she'd subtly admitted to being a victim of domestic abuse but that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Why were there still fresh scars on her body? As if to add on to my assumption I take notice of her bandaged hand.
"Where's that friend you mentioned?" I ask. "Was it Annie...Ann?"
Her eyes flick back to mine. "You mean Anna? She's always here for some reason. I consider more like family, to be honest. Never leaves my side. Just not today."
There was something fishy about the way Jojo's eyes turned glassy and distant every time she mentioned her friend. It kept rubbing me the wrong way.
I ask her to use the restroom and she shows me the way in a few curt gestures. As soon as I get inside, I am met with my distorted reflection on the mirror. A huge web blossomed into the side. Someone had cracked it, that part was fairly obvious.
What the hell was wrong this girl?
I wash my hands mindlessly and return to the living room. Jojo sits on the couch, man-spreading like a fourty-year old man on his second divorce. She winces once or twice and exhales through her nose. " I think I ate too much, " she whines.
"You think?"
"It's all your fault. You're the one who convinced me to eat, " she accuses.
"Well, I certainly didn't tell you to eat junk." I join her on the couch from a fair distance as she sulks away the nausea.
"What happened to your mirror?" I softly ask.
"I punched it, " she answers without looking.
"Why?"
"There was a fly on it and it kept buzzing while I was taking a shit."
I didn't believe that for a second but I nod my head nonetheless. From that moment on, she only adds to the dark jokes and I pretend to fall for them. All until the moment I require permission to leave with the excuse of having to work again tomorrow.
I can't deny the sick, empty feeling at the pit of my stomach when I watch her follow me with her sad stare as I leave the apartment .
~ JUNGKOOK ~
The days go by smoothly. It took a while for Jojo to get the hand of it, but soon enough, the orders look like mere tools in her hands, bending to her will. Thank goodness, she had the conscience not to lash out at rude customers even though I could see how hard she strained the muscles of her forearms by her sides. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave the coffee shop. All that and she still kept to her strict schedule, running every day at the crack of dawn. Every single day. Even I didn't work out that much.
I had to admit that my interest for her kept increasing more and more with every new detail I noticed. I was intrigued to find out more about her and I strangely found myself being pulled to her presence like a magnet. We'd continued our shared runs and conversations on each other's apartments more often than I remembered but there was still no progress on our status. Well, I once called her my friend and she didn't object to it so that must be a start.
"Well, someone's got a new crush."
I rip my eyes off Jojo's figure and come face to face with Kwan's amused stare. "What?"
"You like her, don't you?" Kwan teases further.
I sigh deeply and put my apron on the counter, ready for my lunch break. "I don't know, honestly, " I admit. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly."
"Listen, I know a crush when I see one and yours definitely is . Why don't you ask her out?"
"It's complicated."
Before Kwan can torture me with his long string of questions, Jojo stomps her way toward us with closed fists. "I swear to God if that bitch asks for a menu one more time..."
"Hey, hey we talked about this, " Kwan interferes. "Deep breaths. In and out."
She does what she's told a couple of turns and then rests her hand on her hip. "Nope. I'm still angry. I have to punch something."
"No violence in our workplace, Jojo."
She pouts in distaste and then suddenly her eyes land on mine. Her hand reaches out and points at my chin. "You got a little something.."
I dip my vision down only to be met with her index and middle finger giving my head a hard flick. She erupts in teasing giggles, soon joined by Kwan's booming laughter.
"Gotcha! Bro, I feel better already, " she says and gives Kwan a manly fist bump. I shake my head in surrender, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips and head for the room on the back. I hear the swish of Jojo's apron on the counter as she soon falls into my steps. We had a ten minute break everyday and Jojo was never one to miss it, always deciding to share that precious time with me. She kinda ruined it with the jokes sometimes but I didn't really mind.
She offers me a slice of cucumber trapped on the sharp edge of her knife and I politely decline. She always did that, sharing food left and right even though most of the times it wasn't even that much to begin with.
"Wanna hangout after work?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't planned this at the slightest. It was like the words jumped right out of my throat. Sure, we'd hung out before but only on days off and certainly not on evenings.
She hesitates for a moment before chewing on the cucumbers. "Sure, why not? It's Sunday tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, " I admit.
"Cool."
I try not to let the excitement show on my face as I finish the last bits of my lunch. The late afternoon takes longer than usual to arrive. By the end of the shift, I'd been itching to get the apron off. Jojo, on the other hand seems unbothered. For her it was probably just another day with the bane of her existence.
She nudges her elbow into my side as we exit the doors together, throwing a glance at the bike by the side of the road. She would ride that thing here everyday even though the memories of the accident were still fresh. "I'll just leave it here tonight, " she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't wanna make your sorry ass struggle to keep up with me."
I give her a teasing light push and pull at a string on her hair. "Fuck off."
We go for a series of playful kicks and thrashes that turn milder and milder with every inch we come closer to my apartment. By the point we've reached the door, my poor hair is being twisted like a rope in her cruel hands. She really liked touching my hair. She kept saying she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail at least once before she died. Me on the other hand had scolded her for mentioning death in the first place.
"Ok, but you have to let me style it for you, " she insists, never dropping the issue.
"No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is, " I reply in feigned smugness.
"Asshole, " she mumbles under her breath.
"What?"
"I said Casserole. I'm craving some."
My eye creases soften on their own. "I can make it for you if you want."
"You know how?"
"No, but I can look it up online."
At that, a shy smile brushes her features.
"Nah, it's alright. I think about all sorts of food all the time. I'd probably change my mind after five minutes."
She plops down on the couch comfortably and groans when the bones of her back click to let her unwind. The way she'd grown more and more comfortable around me gave me this weird sense of satisfaction, as if I'd been seeking for that validation from the start. In fact, our whole situation was weird. I enjoyed her company and hopefully the feeling was mutual but there was still something missing. I didn't know exactly what but I certainly knew that deep down she was hiding a whole different personality.
My apartment had become so familiar to her, she doesn't hesitate to let me know without much further ado that she'd be using the restroom. But just before fully rising, she types something down on her phone with the utmost concentration. The only reason why it attracted my attention was the excessive amount of times she'd done that for today. And yesterday. And days before that. It would take one bite of her food and she'd immediately reach for her phone.
Did she use a calorie tracker?
I curse myself enough to damn my soul to hell for the rest of eternity but it still doesn't stop my hand from shakily grasping the phone lying on the couch. I draw the pattern I'd memorized from watching her unlock it all those times and just like that, the Notes app lights back into life. My eyes widen with every single line I read.
Day 35
I fucked up today.
I had three donuts for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The cravings are fucking horrible.
Total : 1560 cals
I scroll down to some days back.
Day 34
I wouldn't say it's bad. I went for a run and had an apple afterwards. Take that Anna, you whiny bitch!
Total: 78 cals
There's a visible pattern in the notes; wins, losses,relapses. My eyes scan the screen speedily, fleeting through each letter and word.
Guess what? I fucked up again—
I hate myself—
I did not eat anything today! Nothing, I tell you! Haven't felt this empty since—
I so wanna die right now—
Please make it stop—
Day 71
No comment
Day 72
No comment
No comment
No comment
No comment—
"That's my phone, you know."
I raise my head to level my blown-out pupils with her calm ones. Unperturbed. Smooth like waves in a gentle breeze. She doesn't look angry to witness my shameless snooping, just disappointed. She knows that I know. It all makes sense now. The scars, the small meals, the excessive workouts...I feel a pang in my chest for being such a fool all this time.
I muster whatever courage left within me and rasp out the words. "Who exactly is Anna?"
~ JOJO ~
"She's a bitch."
"An imaginary bitch, " Jungkook emphasizes.
"Doesn't make her less of a bitch, " I mumble.
He has been giving me a cold yet sympathizing stare for the last five minutes but I knew that deep inside he was bashing himself for not knowing.
"It's short for Anorexia, " I clarify.
"How long has this been going on?" Jungkook continues. He didn't seem like giving up on the detective role anytime soon. Little did I know that he would fully embrace the title.
"Three years."
His head drops in his hands. He gives his pretty face a hard rub before turning it back towards me, eyes now laced with something similar to compassion.
"Why aren't you looking at me like that?" I ask him.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm some sort of freak."
"You're not a freak, " he grits between his teeth.
"But that's what everyone would say if I told them. I know they'll look at me differently."
"I'm not everyone."
He was right. He wasn't everyone. That's why I kept dropping hints on him with every chance I could get. I wanted him to know but then again I didn't want him to know. It was hard to explain.
Jungkook keeps his piercing stare on me, hoping to get a reaction. Then he pats the spot next to him on the couch as a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It made him look so adorable, I decided right there and then I would do whatever he said. Just asking would be enough.
"What's it like?" he asks as soon as I make myself comfortable.
"My disorder?"
He nods.
I think for a few moments before answering. How was I supposed to to explain it? It had been by my side for such a long time, I didn't know how to tell my disease and myself apart.
"Well, to begin with, I'm fat."
Come on. Say it. Come on.
His eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. "No, you're not."
There you go.
"You look pretty normal to me, " he continues.
"Normal is just another word for "you're fat but I don't wanna say it in your face, " I spit and it only makes him look more confused. "Oh, come on. I bet the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about anorexia was a skinny pale girl looking at a mirror. See? I knew it. In people's eyes anorexia and non-skinny people do not correlate."
Jungkook looks embarrassed to say the least. I know he's trying his best to find a gentle way around me but the deep crimson of his cheeks doesn't make it any easier for him. "I—"
"Look, Juan. I don't wanna overwhelm you with my bullshit. I'm sick in the head, okay? The things I do are not cool and I don't want you to be part of it."
"I thought we were friends..." he whispers in a low voice.
"We are but—"
"Just explain it to me, please. I'll help you get rid of it."
He really had no idea. His gullible self couldn't understand that this was not just a disorder. It was a lifestyle and the only way I knew how to survive. I release a sigh of defeat and try to muster the most joyful tone. "Fine. You wanna know what it's like? I'll tell you what it's like. Every day, I get up from that bed with the sole purpose of starving. I don't want to eat. It's that simple. Now you're probably thinking: ' why the fuck aren't you dead yet?' That's because I can't starve correctly, Juan. I can't do shit."
Jungkook keeps his unwavering stare directed towards my face and hands that passionately make weird gestures from time to time. I notice something sparking within me, a small flare of anger and pent up frustration finally getting some release. Saying the words out loud was unnerving. I'd never imagined them anywhere but on the interiors of my head.
"Numbers are important. I can't tell the difference even if I lost some weight. That's why I use the scale everyday."
"What do you usually eat?" Jungkook carefully asks.
"Anything that has low calories in it. But it doesn't last long and I'll immediately eat junk food three times the amount. Starve. Binge. Starve. Binge. It's a vicious cycle."
"Why don't you try a healthy diet?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're richer than I thought."
He blinks. "What? Why?"
"Healthy diets are expensive, dumbass. Ever wondered how rich people have those avocado diets and that type of shit? But that's just an excuse. The real reason is that I lack will."
"If you lacked will, you'd be dead by now."
"That's where I'm heading."
His head falls in his hands again and those pretty smooth lips mumble under his fingers. "You're not satisfied with your body?"
"Not satisfied is an understatement. I hate my body. It's hard to explain actually. I don't want to be sick to the point where I can't even stand but I don't want to be curvy either , you know what I mean? Its like I want a thin body but then I see a muscular one and I'm like ooh I want that one too and I don't know..."
Jungkook's eyes seem to sparkle on that. "So, you want a lean muscular body?
"Yes."
"That's not so hard to achieve."
I put up my best fake surprised-expression. "No shit, sherlock. Why didn't you just say so? You would've saved me from a lot of trouble."
"Fuck you, " he grumbles.
"I'm already fucked for life my man."
His deep sigh tickles my face. "You're impossible. How can you joke about this?"
"Then what am I supposed to do? Cry about it? Trust me, I've tried that a lot of times. It won't do shit. If I laugh about it, it won't be as shitty, " I add. "But jokes aside, it's not just about being thin. Its also about being in control, being aware of your own body. I feel so angry and frustrated every time I lose my streak."
To my surprise, he smirks in such an inappropriate way, it paints his face in a whole new canvas . "Don't worry. There are some situations where control just isn't needed."
I almost choke on my spit. Jungkook, being audacious? Well that was new. "Feeling bold, Juan?" I tease.
"Maybe, " he admits but now it had turned into what seemed like a shy smile. I try to latch onto that glimpse of humor and normalcy in hopes of taming the wild turns and takes of our conversation. But just when I thought I'd taken hold of it, Jungkook jumps into a new question. "What else can you tell me?"
I highly doubted I would be able to spill the contents of my soul in such a short time but if he was so hellbent on knowing more, knowing he would get." I can tell you a lot of things but I can also guarantee they're not pleasant."
He doesn't even blink.
"Fine. You asked for it." I pause. " I've been like this for three years now and it has only gotten worse as time passed. I already know what you've seen online and what you think eating disorders are. Trust me, it's bullshit. Don't believe the shit they give you. Do you know how many overweight people are anorexic? A whole bunch of them but if they tell anyone about it they'll get laughed at 'cause apparently anorexia exist only for skinny white girls. A lot of guys have it too. But they call it cutting back some pounds when they hit the gym. No way that's unhealthy, right? Totally justified. It's all just a big pile of shit. There's nothing cute or romantic about it. You know what's funny? I can go for days without taking a shit but I'll pee every two hours. I drink so much water to the point where it makes me sick. I never get warm. I take every single bite counting numbers in my head and wondering how I'll burn it off later, I spin in circles to make myself sick just so I won't be able to eat, I measure my waist three times a day and I feel like fainting every time I get up. I hurt myself 'cause I don't like what I see."
I feel that familiar ball of imaginary yarn settle to the base of my throat but I push it back down just as fast. Not now. Anytime but now.
Jungkook's eyes glint with sadness. He gulps once before lowering his vision and choosing to stare at the hands resting on his lap. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, " I reply. " It's not your fau—"
His hand shoots out to capture my own. A thousand tiny electric sparkles tingle up my arm. Maybe it's the lack of contact or just the knowledge that it's him but the way his warm palm fits into mine feels so right and I can't move it away for the life of me. His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. "I'm not pitying you, okay?" he says in a gentle voice. "I would never pity you. I just don't want to see you like this."
I lift my eyes to his own and stare at him like he was a glass statue, pouring some of his brightness on me. I didn't understand why he hadn't kicked me off yet. And to think that I was enjoying it...
Jungkook observes the slight tremor of my hand in his, which I'm desperately trying to hide and a subtle smile graces his lips.
"You're touch starved, " he murmurs. Not in a malicious way. Not mocking me for it. Just stating things out in the open. It was the quality I liked the most about him.
"Physical contact is a luxury to me," I admit.
"It shouldn't be. You're human."
"I'm not even sure about that anymore."
The smile stretches wider as his nimble fingers intertwine with my trembling ones in a gentle, yet firm grip.
"Is this okay?" he questions, eyes set on the motion.
"No, but carry on."
It all felt like a guilty pleasure, like those sweet candies your mother keeps hiding from you and when you do find them, the taste is but absolute bliss. A forbidden fruit. I knew I shouldn't be leading him anywhere and spoil his peaceful life with my problems but I couldn't make myself pull back either. I was all of a sudden caught up between two fires that would scorch me and themselves in the end. Pushing people away or letting them in the confines of my chaos. I would lose either way.
I put on my best unperturbed mask to make it known I wasn't affected at the very least but just like that, his other hand slides up to my elbow and locks it in place. His deep look burns with something I can't quite decipher. "Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asks.
I freeze for a split second but try to shake it off with an intentional raise of my eyebrow. "Why?"
"I want to, " he breathes.
I was torn between slapping some sense into him and laughing my ass off but I do neither. My posture stays unmoving, waiting. "Do you really want to?" I ask again.
"Yeah, " he confesses and I catch his eyes glancing down to my lips.
I shrug. "Okay."
I've barely gotten the word out when he closes the small distance in a matter of seconds. A hand latches onto my jaw to angle it better and that's where I feel the soft, plushy texture of his lips come into contact with mine. They're so delicate and move so gently, I feel like I've ascended into time and space. I let his bangs tickle my cheekbones because it obscured his eyes from view and I didn't want to witness the reality of it.
Before I can dwell longer on them, he pulls back, forming the smallest of distances. His pupils are blown out, dark eyes staring with something more than just interest. I take notice of my fist bunching up the T-shirt he's wearing. Apparently, I hadn't been able to block out all my reactions. I release the material immediately and rise to my feet. A quick glance at the window showed that it was already dark.
"Good night, " I chirp and grab my phone resting on the table, heading speedily for the door.
Jungkook panicks and stands up just as fast.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Home," I reply.
His eyebrows bunch up in confusion yet again. "You can't just go like that after I kissed you."
"Watch me."
In less than four strides I've crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me with a thump. People were right when they said you couldn't see yourself blush but you could feel it. My whole face felt like it was on fire, an uncomfortable warmth spreading equally up to the tips of my ears.
Who the fuck even blushes anymore?
I smack my lips in annoyance as I make my way down the stairs in a newfound rush. I cant deny it. I liked the kiss. Maybe a little too much. In fact I wanna go back there and steal the breath out of his lips. But I can't. It was a one time thing. And it will remain that way. Or at least I hoped so.
~ JUNGKOOK ~
Anorexia nervosa, often referred to simply as anorexia, is an eating disorder characterized by low weight, food restriction, fear of gaining weight, and a strong desire to be thin. Many people with anorexia see themselves as overweight even though they are, in fact, underweight.
Sleep is far from reach as I keep scrolling down page after page of the same generic description. Countless of pics of young girls with ribs and bones sticking out of their pale skin had been more than enough to make my own skin crawl, the after-images blazed forever behind my eyelids. She was right— they all said the same thing but I'd always known that no matter what what was said, you couldn't really understand something without experiencing it yourself first hand.
I put my laptop aside and lay down on the warm comfort of my bed. Even though I'd willed my eyes shut, sleep just wouldn't come. She kept busying my head with all kinds of thoughts— thoughts of her disorder, thoughts of what she was doing right now and the memory of her soft lips on mine. I keep replaying that exact moment like a loop, feeding off my imagination like a middle-schooler. She'd acted like she barely gave a shit but there was no mistakening the furious blush that had fallen across her nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. It looked surprisingly adorable on her, different from any type of reaction I'd gotten in exchange.
I roll over the other side of the bed and smash the back of my head on the pillow. I'm such an asshole. And she's no better either. How can you just leave after someone kisses you?
I leave my mind pondering to these thoughts as my eyelids slowly start to weigh down on me. But just when I'm about to pass out cold, a dark figure intrudes the corner of my eye, causing my body to turn upright.
Jojo's standing by the threshold, dressed up in what looked like loose see-through sleeping clothes. The material fell in graceful waves from the hems and pooled around her ankles. It felt weird not seeing her dressed up in her usual tomboy look but I was enjoying the view
nonetheless. Her hair drapes over her shoulder and hides a part of her face, the rest of it, illuminated by the moonlight seeping from the drawn-back curtains. It looked like she'd just awoken, eyes mussed up with sleep but still focused on my form. She stares deeply at me, as if waiting for something.
All traces of exhaustion now wiped clean, I push myself up on my elbows and return the stare. How had she gotten here this late? Did she know my password?
She saunters over to the bed in such a seductively delicate manner but yet it was so subtle, I doubted whether she did it on purpose or not. Her left knee touches the duvet first, making the bed dip slightly under her weight. Then she leans her palm facing down and proceeds to come closer and closer on all fours like a
predator targeting its prey. I was like a deer caught in the headlights in the most cliché sense of the word. I kept observing her movements with
silent adoration and the more I tried to look away, the harder my eyes seemed to fixate on her approaching form. At some point she's sitting so close to me that I can feel her soft breath fluttering my eyelashes. She slowly tilts her head and gives me a look of mild curiosity, as if puzzled by my existence there altogether.
"Can I touch you?" she softly asks. Her dark orbs bore into mine, waiting for my answer. Such a sheer persuasion is held inside of them that I find myself gulping audibly before nodding without a moment's notice. She comes impossibly closer, almost attaching her body into mine and then raises a hand up to my hair, the small fingers playfully twirling the dark locks. I then notice her own hair falling in curtains in front of her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from view. It makes her look even more mysterious and alluring, I can barely resist the urge to tuck a string back behind her ear.
"Can I do more than just touch you?" she asks again and this time the movement of her hand slows into a halt. The edges of her lips pull slightly in a teasing manner and seem to merge into a coy smile.
My heart starts beating like crazy. I can feel it accelerate into a manic pace as it pulses with an unfaltering heat underneath my fingertips.
I muster whatever air left in my lungs and whisper the words in a breeze. "Whatever you'd like."
That's all the approval she needs. She tilts her head on the side and lets the tip of her nose brush my earlobe. The breath she lets go draws from me an involuntary shudder that washes over my body; from the top of my head and down to my toes.
I fist the sheets to the point where it hurts. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her and to breathe her in. But I don't. I decide to let her be the one in control, to let her know that just a word tumbling from her lips would be enough to give her all of me. All that I had.
She drags those sinful lips along the side of my neck painfully slow and then puts her legs on each side of my hips, straddling them. And then she kisses me. Even though barely a peck, it burns scolding hot and causes my lips to burst into a heap of tingles.
My hands find their way into her waist, digging through the material but she stops me with her own and gives my chest a light push. I try to relax and let my back lower till it finally makes contact with the sheets. She hovers above me, graceful strings of hair tickling my neck as she attacks my lips again with bruising strength.
That's when I feel it. My shirt being lifted.
Her cold fingertips, in stark contrast with my ridiculously hot skin, leave goosebumps in their wake. I try to reach with my hands and help her get it off but she grabs them and puts them back down. "Don't. I'll do it for you."
She resumes her previous action and sweeps my shirt completely off but not before making sure those nimble fingers slide along my skin with an added pressure. I let her. I let her do whatever she wants with me. She can have me.
I pray silently with my eyes for her to kiss me again and surprisingly, she understands. But this time I can't help the small whine coming deep from the back of my throat as she dips her head down and lets her tongue swipe a sensitive stripe on my neck. I'm scared the sheets will rip into shreds from how hard I'm twisting them.
She doesn't stop. Only goes lower and lower with open-mouthed kisses, down my chest, through the ridges of my abs, all the way to my navel. She stops there and the hard muscle of her tongue moves in a way that makes me gasp out loud. I shut my eyes tight.
When I open them again, the pressure on my tummy slowly dissipates. I drag my eyes to my front but there's no one there. Just the open window swaying the curtains and the entirety of my room swallowed by semi-darkness.
She's not here. It was just a dream.
I sit up on my bed and drag a hand to my face, rubbing it hard to pull myself together. What the hell just happened? I hate myself even more for the fact that I wish it wasn't a dream. I let my head fall back with a thump into the pillows and notice the uncomfortable heat at the bottom of my stomach. "Holy shit, " I whisper.
~ JOJO ~
Sometimes even the most colorful butterflies in your stomach cannot stop the tears from falling. Me, like the miserable human being I was, had cried myself to sleep last night instead of hopping cheerfully around my room. Jungkook's shut eyes and the serene expression on his face when he'd put his lips on mine had only made me wallow into self-doubt even more than usual. Did he actually mean it or had it just been a reflex, something to pass the time? I felt as if I didn't deserve any of the things he offered me, regardless of his intentions. But fuck, did I want to have him. Fuck. I'd never met a more perfect person with all of those tiny imperfections that actually made him real and whole.
That perfect smile that puts all of his pearly white teeth on display shines bright even know as he notices me entering the shop but I don't fail to detect the eyes that shy away in embarrassment. How cute.
"Hey, " he tries to hold the grin from spreading across his face as he scratches his neck awkwardly.
"Hey yourself, " I reply with forced nonchalance. It doesn't work. I fall under the scrutiny of his eyes as he can tell something's off.
"Your eyes are red, " he states matter of factly.
"Last time I checked they were brown."
His face falls. "Don't give me that shit."
Wow. That kiss had definitely given him some confidence. As far as I remembered, swearing was something he found hard to do unless absolutely necessary. Was I getting to him already?
Preparing to start the work, I click my tongue and move into an arc around his back. I let the silence fill the empty slots, too tired to come up with some lame excuse when suddenly, the presence of warm fingers greets the skin of my elbow. I look down to see Jungkook's hand on it, eyes brimmed with genuine worry, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "Is everything alright?" he questions and the words alone make the butterflies in my stomach almost turn into pigeons. "You left all of a sudden last night."
The angle on which he bends his neck to level his eyes with mine makes them stand out so adorably, so bright and full of life, I can barely hold a squeal from ripping out of my throat. He was just standing there in all his glory and looking at me like I was the thing he cared about the most. Maybe I was. Did it sound too far-fetched?
I slowly reach up and twirl one of his dark locks on my forefinger, letting it drag to the side of his cheek as I give it a small poke. I hear the breath that hitches on his throat and it only spurs me on even more. "Why? Did you miss me?"
He doesn't back down, eyes boring into mine with an intensity that deserved some recognition. They occasionally flicker down to my lips and I already know what passes through his mind at this moment.
Someone clears their throat.
I immediately put some distance, eyes dragging to the new intruder only to find Kwan staring at us both with a shit-eating grin. He was gonna use this to blackmail us, I was sure about that but I couldn't care less. Not when Jungkook's eyes follow me without failing as I backtrack a few steps.
"He had something in his hair, " I explain with a faint gesture. Kwan's grin grows impossibly larger but he doesn't say anything, deciding instead to grab one of the glasses and wipe it raw, a habit more than out of intention.
I ignore his teasing remarks for the rest of the day and watch Jungkook's prying eyes from the corner of my vision. He'd throw a glance my way with every chance he got and without even being subtle about it. When it's time for our lunch break, his stare becomes so bashful, I can't help but stare back with an offended glare.
"You're doing it again, " he says before I can part my lips.
"Doing what? " I ask.
"Putting a mask on your face. It's funny but it's bullshit."
More swearing. Was it really possible to change someone for the worst with a few words? The last thing I wanted was for him to follow into my steps.
"There's no need to act cool all the time. If you're not okay, you can just say so." His hands fumble with the edges of his lunch box, fingers scraping at it out of nervousness. "You can say it to me, " he adds more softly. " I'll listen."
"Hey, its not that big of a deal, " I wave him off.
"Not that big of a deal?" he mimicks. "You can die."
"So? What's it to you?"
Jungkook sighs deeply. "Jojo—"
"Are you gonna feed me the classic love yourself bullshit?" I interrupt him before he has the
chance to say the words I've heard being trumpeted so
many times. "Cause there's no need for that. I already love myself. I mean, sure I would jump off a cliff if I could but I love living. I love life to death."
I'm pretty sure that so called mask he mentioned was glowing with pride right now. Even though deep down I knew it felt wrong, I still—
"You do this on purpose, don't you?" I turn my eyes to him only to see a smug expression that looked so foreign and uncharacteristic on his face. "I know what you're doing. You act rude and sassy and uncaring to fend people off so they won't get attached to you because you think your presence alone harms them." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face floats mere inches from mine. "Isn't that right?"
When I don't answer back, his hands cup my knees as he leans so impossibly close that I can count all the dark brown flecks in his eyes. "Hate to break it to you but you can try as much as you want. You're not getting rid of me so easily."
His husky voice brings a smile on my face and I still make no move to put his hands away. "Oh, I can get rid of you. I just don't want to."
~ JUNGKOOK ~
"What do you mean you don't want to? I thought you liked hanging around with me?"
"It's late, Juan."
Jojo grabs the handles of her bike and turns it around in a semi-circle but before she can hop on the seat, I give her hoodie a pull and take over. From the moment I start pedaling, she sighs in exasperation. "Dude, come on, give it back."
"I'm not taking no for an answer, " I quickly reply. "I'm making chicken breasts tonight. Low calorie. You have to come over."
Jojo slowly catches up and we move like that for a while; her walking and me on the bike. It felt strangely relieving to have a moment of peace after a long and exhausting workday. I close my eyes and let the sun rays bask on my face with their warm texture. From the silence that follows, I suppose she's left with no other choice but to give in.
"Watcha thinking about?" I hear her ask after a few moments.
I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "You."
She snorts. "You've stepped up your game, my man. Glad to see some progress."
"I learned from the best."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were already popular with the ladies way before you met me."
The soles of my feet touch the concrete and I force the bike into a halt. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, " Jojo grins, "there's a girl behind us staring at your asscheeks–"
I choke on my spit.
"–and I mean like I can't exactly blame her because your ass is really looking pretty puffed up in that seat–"
"Anywaaaays, " I drag the word long enough to make her stop and proceed to flick my chin on the side. "Let me give you a ride."
Jojo's whole face dismorphs as her lips twist into a barely contained smile. It takes me a while to get the dirty reference. "Oh come on, " I yell out of frustration. "A ride. On a bike. Here on the street. Out in the ope–"
"Yeah, yeah. Just scoot over."
I do as I'm told and not a moment longer, Jojo tries to get comfortable on the back seat. However, I had a better idea. "Hey, why don't you pass to the front?"
Jojo peeks over my shoulder. "No. We'll fall if I do that."
"No, we won't, " I insist. "Just trust me. I'll keep you safe."
I don't know if those words struck a cord within her because she looks genuinely caught off guard with those big sparkly eyes staring at me in earnest. That's where I understood.
Words have power.
I could help her turn things around for the better. I could help her get back to normal. I could do all of these things and more if only she would crack the door of her soul open just an inch to let me in.
"Okay, " she finally answers in a tone much softer than usual. I scoot back and let her sit on the bike's supporting rod.
"Ugh, my ass is gonna be bruised like hell by the time we get there, " Jojo whines and squirms in discomfort.
Chuckling, I give the pedals a push and soon fall into a constant rhythm. Unfortunately for Jojo, it is hard to keep the balance so she is forced to hold onto my shirt. She barely touches it though. "Oh God."
"What?"
"Don't tell me this is one of those cliché supposedly romantic moments where the girl almost falls and they look into each other's eyes and shit like that."
I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, it's not so dramatic to begin with. We're just chilling. And for the record, we did kiss so I don't see how just looking at each other can be such a big deal."
"Can't believe you pulled that card on me."
"You deserved it, " I reply in a smug tone.
After another moment of comfortable silence, Jojo's arms snake around my waist and the side of her head leans back on my chest. It feels like holding a baby, warming my body up with the presence of blood and life flowing underneath the skin.
For fear of scaring her away, I decide not to add any teasing remarks on why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds, despite how tempting it was. If that loneliness she constantly felt was reduced even by a fraction, my job was done.
"Are you sleepy?" I carefully ask.
Her arms squeeze me even tighter. When she rubs her cheek affectionately on the front of my shirt, I fight the urge to erupt into giggles. "No, " she answers. "Just tired."
It would only take some time. Just a little bit more time and all her exhaustion would ripple away with no traces in her body or mind. This was my job from now on.
~ JOJO ~
It wasn't exactly his job to nurture me like a newborn baby but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked this new attention. I'd always tried not to feed my narcisstic side too much but it was a pleasant surprise to find out that someone other than Ana acknowledged my existence. These are the thoughts spinning round my head as I stare at the tiny bow of Jungkook's apron tied up at the small of his back. Or at least that's what I was supposed to be looking at because for the past fifteen minutes, my eyes had been trying not to drag down on the voluptuous planes of his ass that stuck painfully tight to the black jeans he was wearing. It's like the sucker was doing it on purpose, keeping his back to me the whole time.
"I really can't blame that girl for staring at you earlier, " I wonder out loud after the uncomfortable silence becomes unbearable. "With jeans that tight, you're asking for it, my man."
Upon hearing the words, Jungkook turns around with a spatula on one hand and a look of confusion on his face. "Isn't that what men usually say to women?"
"Exactly. But there are way less chances for a man to be sexually harassed by a woman, now isn't there? So don't come at me with that equality bullshit."
A small, understanding smile creeps up on the side of Jungkook's lips and in contrast to my words, it really seems genuine. "True. But that still doesn't make it okay." He turns back to flipping the chicken breasts on the pan.
I sigh. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for complimenting your ridiculously gorgeous butt—"
A snort.
"— but I won't hesitate to slap that shit if you piss me off, Juan. And I won't do it in a kinky way."
At that, Jungkook fully turns around, places the fresh meal onto the table and hurriedly takes a seat. "You're into that sort of thing?"
"Nah, man. I like being normal."
"Normal? You?" Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the emphasis on the word clearly intentional. I understood that something like that was to be expected from people but it didn't mean it didn't secretly hurt my feelings. Being always ousted as the weird one took a mental toll on you and if you ever tried to blend in, it would only make you stand out more.
I let out a noise of impatience. "Listen, here Juan. I might be sick as fuck but my life doesn't revolve around my disorder.
I have favorite hobbies and colors and that kind of shit."
"Is it black?" Jungkook jumps in, suddenly curious.
"Navy blue, but that's not the point."
"I know it isn't." He sighs wistfully. "Sorry, Jojo. The only reason I said that is because every five seconds you try to assert your dominance so I assumed your preferences on that particular side were a bit...freakish." His expression is halfway between apologetic and entertained and he seems torn between the two.
Curse my dumbass brain for ever acting on impulse.
I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and avert his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I jumped too fast to conclusions–" I lean my elbow on the table, "–but that's because I'm very athletic."
Jungkook deadpans.
After another uncomfortable silence settles in and after Jungkook realizes he's not getting another word from me, he absentmindedly taps the table with his fingertips. " By the way, same for me, " he mumbles.
"Huh? " I logically reply.
"I have the same preferences as you." He raises his head and looks at me dead in the eye. "Normal."
At this point, I had no idea why we'd decided to reveal our sexual preferences for absolutely no reason but it had come to that. Crazy, right? Me and emo-boy pouring our hearts out to each other...
"So, " Jungkook interrupts my train of thought as he starts chewing on the fresh chicken pieces. "You seem like a competitive person."
"I guess you could say that, " I hum in agreement.
"Well, I have another proposal."
"Like I said, it's too early for me to get married."
The expression he makes as he tries to keep the food from spilling almost causes me to burst out laughing. Even after he's successfully managed to breathe in some air, the faint traces of a phantom smile are still visible.
"I meant a challenge. For you. A bet, to be more exact. Do you like bets?"
"I do, actually."
"Well then. We'll play a game of tic-tac-toe. The rules are simple. If you win, I'll do everything you want for the rest of the day. Now....if I win....." A devilish grin stretches on one side of his face. "You'll practically do whatever I ask you to. It's the same for both cases."
"What's the catch?"
Jungkook leans back in his chair and links his hands on the back of his head. " There's no catch. I like games, that's all."
The satisfied, confident expression he was wearing made it clear that this was not just a simple game. I was sure as hell he had something up his sleeve but that didn't turn me off nor made me back down. Why not let the guy have his own fair share of fun? However, that didn't mean I couldn't at least give things a little twist.
"Okay, then. Take your shirt off."
This time Jungkook really can't help but choke on his chicken breasts, sputtering pieces of food everywhere. One of them barely misses my face.
"What the fuck! Why?" he screeches, hands wildly attempting to clean the mess.
I slowly drift into a smile. "Relax, pretty boy. We're playing the game on your abs.
~ JOJO ~
"This is stupid."
"You're stupid. Now shut up."
Jungkook gives me one last incredulous look before pulling the shirt completely over his head. In all honesty, the sight was to drool for. That swirling tattoo I'd always caught a glimpse of, is now clearly displayed on one part of his chest and on his left side, reaching up to his neck and down to his hipbone. I try to keep my composure as best as I can but some of my facial expressions must have been on point because Jungkook seems to start feeling uneasy. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. I almost feel bad for lightly snorting but then I think better of it. After all, I was allowed to have some harmless fun, right? No biggie.
The ridges of Jungkook's magnificent abdominal muscles come into view as he slowly approaches. His posture is a bit stiff, however. The guy was trying his best to suck his stomach in, in hopes of flaunting his slim waist in the most perfect angle.
"Stop flexing, Juan." I say in a monotonous voice. "I already know you're ripped. "
Caught in the act, he shyly smiles and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."
The smile only grows further when I use a marker to draw the lines for the game on his stomach. He squirms and twitches with every flick of my wrist. Apparently, ticklish was another adjective to add onto the dictionary of my names for him.
After a rough sketch is drawn on his tummy, Jungkook gestures for me to make the first move. "Ladies first, " he says with a grin that almost looked pained. His eyes follow my hand that had been finishing the last touches.
I draw an X.
He draws an O.
We move back and forth, exchanging the marker every time, until I realize.
I'm fucked.
He had me cornered in both rows. Wherever I put my next mark, I would still lose. It was an old technique that everyone had used at some point but my dumb ass had fallen right into the trap. But was I really to blame with him looking at me like that?
Jungkook chuckles. "I win."
Fuck. I'm screwed.
"Looks like you're gonna be my servant for the rest of the day. " He throws a careless glance at the windows, pitch dark background already behind them. "Or should I say, night?"
I sit back down on the chair and man-spread in defeat. "Fine. You won. Congratulations. Now what do you want me to do?"
He doesn't even hesitate, his voice as clear as glass. "Kiss me."
I stare at him in disbelief but it didn't seem like there had been a slip of the tongue. He was dead serious with those hooded eyes and the fact that he hadn't even put his shirt back on was for some reason unnerving.
A scoff escapes from me. "Out of all the things you could've asked.... I thought you were gonna make me clean your kitchen or something."
"Oh ,we have plenty of time for that, " Jungkook replies with a newfound smugness.
I mull it over in my head for a second before slowly rising from the chair. He leans forward in anticipation and it's as if his every fiber feels ready to pounce in action.
I honestly found it hard to comprehend the concept behind all of this. Out of all the nice looking girls out there, he found a dirty looking rag called me? Me?!
I give my head a slight shake and reach up with the tips of my toes. I listen to Jungkook's breathing stagger for a moment, only to be released with disappointment when I touch my lips to the side of his cheek, furthest from his two plumps of pink rosy flesh. Jungkook's expression looks slightly annoyed as I pull back, observing the ruins left in my wake.
"That's not exactly what I was thinking, " he laughs to himself, half out of disappointment half out of disbelief.
"You never specified where to kiss you, " I explain.
There had been nothing forcing me to act the way I did. Absolutely no one but myself yet I still felt like something was missing. Like I wasn't enough for him or any other person. My mind kept lying to itself, in the hopes that if I could avoid being too touchy, he probably would forget about me altogether.
Jungkook, bless his soul, gets rid of the awkwardness in a moments's notice, his cheeks puffed up in what resembled a pout. "You played me good, huh?" he huffs and I hold the urge to laugh like a little girl. It felt weirdly cute to see him so worked up over a small rejection when he could make any girl fall in his arms with just a snap of his fingers.
I lower my voice in a mockingly deep baritone. "What are your next orders, my lord?"
Jungkook smiles.
* * *
After that, it's hell hours for me.
It's like he had been waiting for this chance all this time and now that the flood gates were open, he couldn't afford to waste any buckets of water. From cleaning to organizing to heaps and heaps of orders, Jungkook had been vastly generous. And the worst part was that I had to eat my next meal with him and not even dare think about counting calories. He would purposefully mess up the portions and make it impossible for me to calculate. As if I didn't already have a hard time doing that on the daily...
At one point I was even scolded for counting in my head because apparently, the genius had noticed my eyes moving upwards in circular motions as the food lay down in front of me.
In other words I was utterly fucked. The anxiety of not knowing what I was putting inside my body, of having no perception of numbers or weight scared the shit out of me and if it hadn't been for Jungkook's appreciative glances or encouraging words, I would've said goodbye a long time ago. With him it felt a little less guilty, less of a sacrilege.
"Just don't think about it, " he'd said to me and even though it was one of the most conventional phrases you could think of, coming from him felt different. As if there was an actual purpose behind the words.
"What's next?" I ask in a dead-sounding voice after finishing the rest of the dishes. " A hand-job?"
Jungkook raises his eyebrows in sudden amusement, his expression shamelessly entertained. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll settle for a massage for now."
I drag my eyes to his still bare torso and motion for him to lay down on the couch. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't give you a hand-job even if you threatened to throw me off the balcony."
Jungkook's laugh is muffled by the pillows as he turns his sculpted back to me. "I like how you have no shame."
"Shame is for the weak, " I add.
My fingers work tirelessly on the smooth planes of his skin, pushing and pressing on specific points which I knew would grant him relief. The way he tries to hide satisfied grunts makes me feel light-headed but I bite my tongue and will my creative mind to take it down a notch, focusing on the task at hand. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had so much physical contact in a long time. Who knew? It was still an enjoyable sight, what with all the tattoos gracing his beautiful bronze skin in long shapes and lines.
"You're really good at this, " Jungkook grunts after a particularly hard press of my hands on the small of his back, even though to me it sounded more like a moan. He folds his arms at his front and leans his head sideways.
"I am?" I question as a smile already pulls at the corners of my lips.
"Yeah, " he agrees.
"Well, to return the compliment, I really like your tattoos."
Jungkook turns around and lays on his back, staring at me under his long eyelashes. He doesn't utter a single word, just keeps looking at me like he would a statue in a museum, his fringe falling between his eyes but leaving enough space for him to see. My hand is left to linger on the velvety skin of his stomach.
"Most people say they look scary, " he says in a low, raspy voice.
"They're not, " I add and trace a curved black line with the tips of my fingers in reassurance.
Jungkook gently grabs the said hand, still not losing eye contact. "Are you scared of me, Jojo?"
"No. I'm not."
A silence falls in the room, its echo almost deafening but this time there's no discomfort, no weird looks, just the consoling presence of each other that hangs in the air like a halo of light. Then–
"Juan, I think I'm starting to catch feelings for you."
He stops himself from smiling, but it's useless. The smug grin had already made it past his lips. "Yeah, me too."
"Hmmm, " I mutter. "How do we make it stop?"
Jungkook slowly rises in a sitting position, that damned expression still visible on his face. "I don't– I don't think it's something you can stop."
" Aw shit man, " I scoff.
"Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow."
I'm positive there's a subtle irritated look on my face, which to Jungkook apparently looked hilarious. This had never happened before and I didn't know what exactly to expect. Was it normal? Was I going to be hurt again? What the fuck was I supposed to do?
"You're overthinking it. There's no need to put a name on your feelings." Jungkook cuts like a knife through my jumbled thoughts. "Besides, I thought we were talking about my tattoos."
"Right, " I confirm. " Is there a meaning behind them?"
"No. They're just for aesthetic purposes." The hooded eyes and dark expression is back on his face. "But–" he takes one of my hands and guides it on the side of his torso, "– this one does." He slides it a little further, on the underside of his forearm, tracing what I recognized as a tiger lily. "This one too. I'll tell you about it someday."
His stance is crouched. Even though he's a good feet taller than me, I somehow look towering over him. This position is suggestive enough in itself but it becomes even more so when Jungkook's knees cage around mine. Our eyes now levelling, I drag the line of my vision upwards, refusing to break the eye contact. And then, my eyes focus onto his lips and specifically the tiny little mole under them. It had caught my eye dozens of times before but for some strange reason, right now it looks like it's inviting me. By impulse, I gently meet his lips with mine and surprisingly he doesn't pull back, peppering me back with pouty kisses that are interrupted only by quick pauses for breath. I take the chance and discreetly lick that very mole with the flat of my tongue, feeling his lips' softness with a quick swiping motion.
It's like his gears are put into action. The sweet, gentle Jungkook is utterly forgotten from the moment he slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, wrestling his own tongue in full force. But then his hands reach up and slip under my sweater to feel the skin underneath and that's all it takes for me to flinch and push him off.
He immediately stops himself from going further and lowers his hands down by his sides. His hooded eyes turn back to alertness as he tries to comprehend what just happened. I feel bad for a moment.
"J—Jojo?" His eyebrows raise in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, I just—" A deep sigh leaves my lips as I try to keep myself from panicking.
He was about to touch my tummy. My fat, squishy tummy. Just the idea of him touching me there gives me chills.
"I remembered something I have to deal with."
I rip myself off from the couch and drag a hand through my hair in distress, about to turn on my heel and get the hell out of here.
"Wait!" Jungkook yells after me and he grabs my forearm. Not harshly, just strong enough not to let me go. "Did I upset you?"
"No. I–"
Calm down. Deep breaths. One, two. One, two.
"I just have to–" I rush with my words, but Jungkook's hands are made of steel, such a stark contrast with his pleading eyes.
"Stay. I'll take care of you. " He's begging me now. " Please."
I give in–
~ JUNGKOOK ~
–but at what cost? She's been acting distant ever since the panicky incident and I don't know what else to do to get her back the way she was. She barely touches me, barely comes close and I wonder if it's a shame to admit that I miss her kisses too. However, the jokester in her has never left. She'll crack dark jokes from time to time, acting like nothing ever happened and I'll pretend to play along for fear of not making her leave.
It pained me to see her like this, to see her crumbling apart day by day while my hands were frozen in place. A soldier stuck on quicksand. Someone had to tell her this was toxic, that she was poisoning herself and was fully conscious of it.
Weeks and weeks under her presence had trained me to notice all the changes, all the little shifts in her demeanor. Today was no exception. At least not with the incident that had made me do things I'd never imagine doing.
It had all started when a new employee had joined us on the coffee shop, courtesy of my boss, whose relationship with him was rather close. It was one of those cases where you had to make favors for the sake of family relations, et cetera, et cetera. So far, so good. But was one really to imagine that the guy had the audacity to act like he owned the place? I tried to ignore his antics up until the moment he fucked with the wrong girl. My girl.
Despite my disapproving glances, Jojo had been making comments on her weight, constantly seeking Kwan's opinions on the matter.
"But I'm fat!" she had exclaimed, exasperated. In Kwan's eyes, this was just another one of her lame jokes but I knew the sting behind the words.
Then, completely out of line, the new employee had chirped. "You're not fat, you're just thick."
I'd whipped my head in his direction and jumped off the table I'd been sitting, my hands suddenly itching but Jojo had been quick to secretly wave me off. "Well then, you're not stupid, you're just dumb, " she 'd snarked, earning a whole-hearted guffaw from Kwan.
The joke had been let at that, or at least that's what Jojo thought. My fists hadn't stopped til the itching sensation was satisfied.
"You okay, Jo?" I'd asked at lunch break, the new nickname making her lips barely twitch. She was upset. I could tell.
"Yeah, why?" she'd replied, eyes trained on my face. For once, she'd given me that warm, old look that went beyond friendship. I'd tried to cherish it for a few seconds before adding, "That asshole was rude to you."
I'd unconsciously rubbed my knuckles and that hadn't skipped past Jojo's eyes. "Nah, he's just– wait a second! Did you do something to him?"
I'd adverted her eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly. "I kinda beat the shit out of him."
The image of the guy's swollen face and broken nose flashes into my memory.
She'd gasped but there'd been a mix of amazement and incredulousness in the tone of her voice. "That's my job!"
I'd smiled. "No one messes with my Jo."
She'd smiled back but her eyes had still been sad.
Now I ring the bell on her door, impatiently carding my fingers through my hair as it remains shut. Where the fuck is she? She hasn't been answering my calls for a while and I'm worried sick.
I torture the bell button again and slam my palms on the door. "Jojo, are you there? Come on, it's me! Open up!"
What if something had happened to her? What if–
I slam my shoulder repeatedly on it and the lock busts open with a loud clang. Rubbing the sore spot, I quickly scan the room and finally, my eyes find her crouched form on the floor.
There's a pile of junk around her, chocolate wrappers, plastic bags, food splayed apart chaotically and vomit on the floor as well as traces of it on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are fixed in space, staring at nothing. Dried tears have left moist streaks on her cheeks. She looks lifeless until the moment she takes notice of me and does a double take.
"Jungkook? What– what are you doing here?"
I fall down on my knees next to her, worry written all over my face, but she immediately closes in on herself, her body language radiating fear and protectiveness. "No! Go away, please!"
I don't listen, scooting further till my hands are on her arms, trying to find a way in but she only keeps resisting. "No! Please, don't look at me! Not like this!" Her body shakes with convulsions and quiet sobs rip through her throat.
This was the first time I'd seen her cry.
I grab a towel from the kitchen and dip it in the streaming water. Jojo tries to keep me at bay but I set my mouth on a straight line and force it to her lips. Cleaning her eyes, her face as if I wanted to exfoliate her from any traces of sadness. "Please, " she's begging me now. "Please, go."
I keep my hands on a steady pace, gently rubbing the towel where needed. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just some spilled food. You're okay."
She quiets down at the words and it only goades me further. "Shhhh. You're my baby. My baby, " I lift her up and clean the rest of her, whispering other sweet nothings in her ear until at last the storm passes.
~ JOJO ~
There were two options left when someone made comments on my weight. I either starved myself for two full days or binged on everything I could see like a fucking cow because hey, I'm still gonna be fat, right?
Unfortunately for me , I'd picked the easier way out and emptied the contents of my kitchen in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things I hated the most; stuffing myself till I couldn't breathe. However, what I hated even more was people seeing me in my own misery. Even if that person was none other than the dreamy-eyed boy who had cared for me more than anyone ever had.
I stay silent as Jungkook cleans me thoroughly, making sure to also get rid of the mess on the ground and give me enough privacy to slip out of my nasty clothes and brush my teeth. I just keep staring at him and wonder to myself if I had done any good deeds in this life to deserve him. It pissed me off.
"Do you need another pillow?" Jungkook asks under his dark curly fringe, his back crouched as he stands on the side of my bed.
"No, I'm good, " I rasp, my voice strained from bawling for a good couple of hours. I avert his eyes once more. The guilt and the anger keeps bubbling up on the surface.
Jungkook abandons his chair and sits on the bed, his outer thigh barely touching my forearm. The springs creak and whine under his weight. He takes my hand in his, rubbing comforting circles with the tip of his thumb.
"You okay, baby?"
I lash out in a second, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt and pulling it inches from my face. "Call me baby one more time and I'll rip your throat out."
To my surprise, he's not even fazed. A dark chuckle falls under his lips as he grins widely for me to see. Then, as if it couldn't get any more intense than this, he lets himself fall backwards on the bed, taking me along with him. My legs escape the cover of the sheets and straddle his waist, trying not to fall over and crush him. In that particular order. What a typical movie-like moment. I'm wearing pajama shorts and the pale skin of my thighs is completely exposed. As if on cue, Jungkook's eyes flick towards them, drinking in the view. Had he ever seen this much of my body?
"Do it, " he says in a low voice.
I slide one of my hands upward and gently wrap it around his throat. "You really want me to choke you, Juan?"
The bastard doesn't even say anything. He raises the hands laying by his sides and traces the outline of my thighs higher and higher till they settle on each side of my hips. Goosebumps chill my skin like flowers after rain. I'm torn between punching him and kissing him senseless.
"Who knows, I might actually like it, " he says. He hasn't even tried to wriggle out of my caging body, going as far as even baring his throat at me.
I smirk. "Are you always this submissive?"
Uh oh. Wrong move.
In a matter of seconds, I'm pushed backwards, the soft texture of the sheets smoothing the land on my back. Just like that, the positions are completely switched. Jungkook's grin never leaves his face as he's on top of me, his curly locks swinging like a crown on his head. He takes both of my curled fists and pins them on each side of my head.
"I was actually letting you in charge but now that I think about it ; I also deserve to have some fun right?" he states with a smug expression.
For a moment, I'm left speechless. My limbs too, have nothing to say. At least not with the way they're frozen in place, too caught on the spot to dare move.
Jungkook takes the chance and nuzzles his nose on the gap between my neck and jawline. On another situation I would have felt ticklish but not right now. A heavy weight on the pit of my stomach is proof enough for that. He starts leaving small pecks on the skin of my throat, making a beeline for the collarbones.
I honestly don't know what to do with myself. We've been playing around for a long time now but things have never gotten so serious. Not at this point. Only recently had I pushed him off and now here I was, the one turned into full submission.
"Do you plan on ruining yourself every time someone upsets you?" he mumbles, smooth lips barely grazing against my skin.
The image of that new guy flashes behind my eyes and my face sours, all those butterflies in my stomach crushed to dust, just like that. "Can we talk about something else?"
Jungkook pauses his administrations and pulls back just an inch, his eyes staring at mine in full concentration. "No."
I huff in frustration. "You're on top of me."
"So?" he raises one eyebrow.
"So, get the hell off!"
My wrists are suddenly pinned harder against the sheets, Jungkook's hands forcing them further down until they form little dips.
"No, " he repeats, almost mechanically.
I'm about to protest again when his tongue swipes at the vulnerable skin of my throat and that's all it takes to throw all caution to the wind. My back arches off the bed without my permission and I think I must've let out a sound because Jungkook is laughing that quiet laugh of his that makes his shoulders shake.
His lips are on mine, silencing whatever literate thought that tries to make it out. My hips are now straddled by his own knees and oh- my wrists are free because he lets them go gently and puts his hands on my cheeks, kissing me even more deeply, threading them through my hair and its suddenly too much, too much for me to handle.
I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet off the ground and buried under layers and layers of earth at the same time. My breath shudders violently when his lips drag across the side of my face and nudge the sweet spot below my ear.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper but it comes out so broken, so desperate. I'm practically begging at this point and I don't even know why.
Jungkook's hands settle on my clothed waist. His fingertips twitch in hesitation as he bunches the fabric and just like that–
"I'm sorry, "
–and lets go.
I feel relieved and disappointed.
His body peels off my own with reluctance that rips me apart in a million different ways and I feel my skin grow cold from his absence. He leans back on the heels of his hands, staring me down with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, " he repeats and rises from the bed, disappearing into the living room.
* * *
I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. My body has not even moved an inch, too shocked, too frozen. My legs feel like lead, two slabs of heavy stone that pin me into place.
If it weren't for Jungkook's presence snapping me out of my empty reverie, I would've probably stood there like a dead body for days. He comes back (from the bathroom, apparently) his wet hair still trickling droplets of water on his shirt, eyebrows shining, and stands on the middle of the room.
"It's midnight, " he says, as if in a trance.
My eyes flick to the window. Pitch black.
Indeed.
"Can I stay here tonight?" he continues, and I can swear the tips of his ears go spicy red. My heart melts into a hot buttery mass. He's blushing like crazy. I can see it! A guy, blushing in front of me. I suddenly can't contain my smile, all things forgotten in a blur.
"Yeah. I would like that, " I breathe.
He locks eyes with me and breaks the contact almost immediately, looking anywhere but in my direction. "I can take the couch–"
"No. Sleep here, " I say and my eyes close of their own accord. "With me, " I slowly add.
"Are you sur–"
My eyes fly open. "We just made out five seconds ago. Why is that such a problem now?" I lift my neck just an inch, to glare at him but there's no real malice in it.
His lips crack into a smile and I'm glad for the tension that dissipates like cigarette smoke. "I sleep without a shirt on, " he confesses.
"Okay."
He slips it off his torso in a swift motion but it's too dark me for me to make out any details expect for his dark silhouette and the wide planes of his shoulders.
"You can take off anything you want. I won't touch you, " I say and roll over on my side of the bed.
"I wouldn't mind it, " I hear him mumble but he complies, the sound of his belt unbuckling echoing against the room.
The bed dips under his weight as he occupies its other side and I feel more than hear the fall and rise of his chest, the labored breathing coming to a steady rhythm.
Two strong hands clasp around my waist and I'm pulled backwards into his chest. I don't push him off. I let him hold me to himself, caged by his body, by the feeling of him; his bare chest, his bare legs, his long hair tickling the back of my neck.
Everything is going to be okay.
I'm okay.
"Jojo?"
"Hm?"
"Do you care about me?"
I smile. " More than I'd like to admit."
He kisses the nape of my neck and pulls me harder against himself. It's not long before sweet, calm sleep sneaks its way into into our bodies.
~ JUNGKOOK ~
It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.
I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.
I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.
Oh God.
I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.
"Good morning."
Shit.
Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.
"Morning, " I manage.
She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.
I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.
At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."
I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.
She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."
I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.
She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."
This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.
I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.
"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."
I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."
The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.
"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."
I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."
She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."
It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.
"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."
"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"
"This is killing you!"
"I don't care!"
I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."
Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.
"You're right, " she says. "I don't."
Silence.
"Maybe you should go now."
I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.
I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.
I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.
What an ugly mustard -yellow door.
" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."
No answer.
The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.
"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"
"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.
The door never opens.
~ JOJO ~
The door opens easily with just a push of my fingertips. I try to look uninterested but my restless eyeballs betray me in an instant, scanning the coffee shop in all four directions within seconds. I'd spent the whole night spacing out while sitting at the foot of my bed on the floor. I'd never felt so much regret, so much of it that it had felt like I was drowning–
"He's not here." A voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around to find Kwan looking at me with something that looks similar to pity.
I blink. "What?"
"Jungkook, " he explains. " He's gone."
My heart falls into the bottom of my feet and I suddenly can't keep the panic from tainting my voice. I grip Kwan's shoulders. "Where?"
"Woah, calm down! I think he's gone to his parents or something. Boss already gave him permission."
My grip loosens. "Oh."
Kwan blanches but soon a look of genuine concern flashes behind his eyes. "What's the matter? Did you two get into a fight?"
"No, " I deny.
I can faintly make out Kwan's rambling but it sounds so, so far away because soon my ears are thundering.
he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–
"Jojo."
I'm shook awake, courtesy of my man-handler.
He looks truly worried but I just can't seem to care. All I know is that I need to get out, distract myself, do something–
The indecisive old bitch lady steps foot into the shop and I curse her existence and mine altogether. This is so not the time to be arguing over extra menus.
She takes her usual seat with an excessive amount of unnecessary grace and looks at me pointedly, waiting to be tended to.
I smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Park."
* * *
Everything feels empty, blurred around the edges.
Meaningless.
I finally realize how important purpose is and how everything we do is driven by it.
Lately I've been walking in circles, wandering like a fly trapped inside a jar, not knowing where I am or what I'm doing.
I'm just there.
I never eat anymore. I never drink. I savor my body like an untouched temple and hope against hope that I'll get better.
It's okay if I'm not. I can't make the difference anymore, anyway. I've spiraled into the bottomless pit of oblivion and the process is slow. It makes me feel numb.
I stare at the rumpled apron laying on the floor along with the rest of the garbage and Ms. Park comes into mind. She hadn't really appreciated my spilling hot tea right onto her chest. The dumb bitch had gotten me fired but it doesn't really feel like a great loss. I'd only worked there because of him, anyway. Him and only him. I never cared about anyone else. But he's not here. He'll never be here anymore.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and make use of the sudden memory to type down his number. I have it memorized by now. The line beeps.
"Hey."
My heartbeat spikes in excitement. "Hey yourself," I reply hastily but my voice cords haven't been used for days, so it sounds more like a rasp. I clear my throat.
"How's it going?" he asks. Casually. Like he would a friend. I missed hearing his voice.
"Good. You?"
"Same."
I bite my lower lip anxiously. I don't like his answers. I don't like how short and clipped they are. Clipped. Nipped. Chipped. Ripped. Zipped–
"So, the guys have been wondering when you'll be back, " I lie.
I hear him release a subtle sigh. "Oh. I don't really know, honestly. I've been hanging out with my parents and they plan on keeping me here for a while longer."
I nod my head slowly then remind myself he can't see me. "Right. Right, you must've missed them."
White noise.
Hmmm.
What else rhymes with noise?
Choice.
Boys
Toys
Turqoise–
"Well, have fun."
"Thanks......um, are you oka–"
I end the call.
he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–
i told you he doesn't give a shit
"I never said I did, " I reply without looking.
you hoped, though
"Shut up."
laughter
you do realize you're pathetic, right?
I turn my head to the mirror. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch! Shut it!"
I spit and throw whatever I can get my hands on it but there's a smile there that I just can't see.
what rhymes with smile?
aisle
bile
rile
guile
worthwhile–
I scream and yell. I rip the sheets of the bed, swipe off the contents of my desk, punch and punch the mirror till my hands are raw and bleeding a waterfall. I kick and thrash with every ounce of strength left in me but there's no use.
She's still smiling at me.
* * *
I'm sitting down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of my own insanity. I can't tell how many days have passed and my cheeks feel surprisingly moist. Have I been crying?
There's no one else around here.
It doesn't matter. I like being alone.
It feels nice to just be with your own thoughts, not having to fear being overheard when you scream ideas and screenplays in your room. You can just be yourself and enjoy doing the things you like the most. But still, sometimes it gets really lonely and not just in the literal sense. I'll always check the dark corners to see if someone's there, I'll always feel like someone's whispering, saying bad things about me, that coat hanged on the rack will always look like a person and then I'll even start getting scared of my own shadow, my head will always shake uncontrollably when I'm crying because there won't be anyone to hold it for me, anyone to assure me that things are gonna be okay.
I don't like being alone. It's not nice.
I glance at the broken mirror, bloody cracks and lines making up the whole of it. There's only one spot in the corner that remains clean and untouched. A smile attached to it.
I realize now. Why she wouldn't go away. The reason why I could never win this war was because the enemy I was fighting against was none other than myself. She was no stranger. She was me. No matter how much we tried, me and my own resemblance would still be standing at the end of the day.
If i was alive, she was alive.
It was like a symbiotic relationship, a Yin to the Yang. We kept each other afloat and neither could exist without the other.
he's happy.
"I know, "
without you
"I know, " I repeat.
is that enough proof for you?
"It is."
then do it
"yes."
I rise from the floor and blindly look for my phone in the midst of all the trash. It's nowhere to be found. I then turn around and grab hold of the old telephone hanging on the wall. It stands out, an ancient relic hard to be found these days. I roll the numbers by memory. The line crackles for a couple of seconds before a familiar voice breathes into it. My chest constricts as I let out a pathetic whimper. "J– Jungkook... I'm sorry."
I don't give him time to answer, slamming the phone down with a loud ring.
it's over it's over it's over it's over i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry
Big, fat tears trickle down my cheeks and chin and I do nothing to stop them. I whimper and whine as I head for the bathroom, reaching up with my toes to get the pills I'd hidden all these weeks. They're still here.
Waiting for me.
~ JUNGKOOK ~
I'm running as hard as my legs can take me but it's not really me doing it. It's my impulses being triggered with full force, struggling for survival. I'm completely detached from my body, my mind going through only one simple rule : I have to make it on time.
I don't even notice the heavy torrents of rain blurring my vision, making my feet trudge with difficulty. I don't even notice the people I push harshly out of my way or the red stoplights blinking past me. My eyes are focused inwardly like a camera, set on breaking through the sea of umbrellas.
please please please please
I repeat the word like a mantra in my head, praying against whatever odds that she will be okay when I get there, that she won't do what I think she intends to do.
please please please just not that anything but that please make her be alright
If only I could've hurried earlier, she wouldn't have had the chance to say those things. To say my name.
It was the first time she'd said my name. My actual name. Those few seconds hearing the syllables tumbling from her lips had been pure bliss to my ears, only to be ripped apart with the realization that she was pleading.
She doesn't answer the phone.
I curse myself to hell and back. I should've told her I was coming today. I should've told her I was only two blocks away from her apartment and that all this time far from her had been nothing but torture. There hadn't been a moment when I didn't feel her absence or when I didn't wonder what she was doing. I should've told her I regretted every single word I'd sa-
Something slams against my arm. I fall onto the rough asphalt but I'm on my feet in seconds. The man I'd run into stares at me in anger but I can't deal with his shit right now, so I push him blindly, my feet already finding their footing. "Out of my fucking way!" I yell at him without looking.
I run and run and run until I can't feel my calves and my jacket is soaked through.
Drip
Drip
Drip
please don't die
drip
Her apartment building zooms into view. I punch buttons and take the stairs by four.
please
stay alive
please
Mustard yellow door.
I don't wait to check if it's open, kicking the lock open immediately.
Things happen in a blur, straight out of a dream. I kneel to the ground, forcing her mouth open. Her tear-stained face spits the pills reluctantly and then she tries to push me off as hard as she can. I knew she'd do this. I just knew it. I had seen the pills standing on the drawer for days, weeks. I knew how she gave those bruises to her body, how she tortured herself by her own will.
"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I hold her hands down and bend them behind her back but she keeps screaming and it's like all hell has broken loose. "FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"
I squeeze her hands tighter and I can suddenly hear myself crying, fully sobbing my heart out and then she's crying too and we're both sitting on the floor like two poor beggars with our limbs awkwardly splayed out.
"That's my decision, Jungkook. You can't take that away from me, " her muffled whimpers are heard as I lean her head on the crook of my neck.
I release her hands, which soon find their way around my neck, hugging my body till we fit perfectly together.
"Jojo."
I pull back just a few inches, capture her face with my palms and kiss her like there's no tomorrow.
~ JOJO ~
Do you know that feeling of finally getting home after a long trip, of how your body relaxes upon finding its lost familiarity? That's exactly what courses through my body right now, except that it's multiplied tenfold, to the point of numbness. I'd missed sensing his body beside mine. I'd missed his dark locks tickling my neck, his soft lips, but more than everything, I'd missed having him here. With me.
It's hard to believe the number of things that have happened today. It feels like I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me like a spectator and wonder if it's just a figment of my imagination. And the way he is kissing me..... It feels brand new. Desperate in more ways than one. He morphs our lips together as if they are made of clay and his hands start feeling around my body, begging for some purchase.
I don't realize the fact that I have started crying. Silent tears tumble down my cheeks, wetting his own face with their saltiness. I can't control them. I can't stop them. And Jungkook understands that. He pulls roughly at my bottom lip and suddenly lets go, creating a gap between our bodies. I can't help but feel that I must look like a little child in his eyes right now; grubby, disheveled, teary-eyed...
And then he's looking at me dead in the eye, beyond my appearance, beyond my outer core, cutting through weeds and vines growing inside my soul. "I know none of the things I say will ever convince you. So, I won't be using any words."
He slips my left sleeve from my shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. His head lowers down to it and gives it a feather-light kiss.
I stare at him in confusion but he chooses to keep silent. His eyes never leave my face, even when he starts repeating the action with my other sleeve, rolling my whole shirt up and off my body. He discards each piece with surprising gentleness and that's what makes my tears fall even more violently.
He's so kind.
So good to me.
And he's taking off my pants.
I instinctively tense and Jungkook makes an obvious pause, letting me make my choice. The rigidity dwindles away and a flash of relief passes behind his eyes. I close my eyes and then he moves on with his graceful touches. I'm lain down into the bed, my hair fanned out behind me like a halo, and he slowly crawls on top, observing his work of art with a look of genuine satisfaction. His clothes are gone before I can blink and he slowly dives in for the sensitive part of my neck, breathing it in.
"Beautiful," he mumbles against my throat. My body convulses with whimpers. He nuzzles his way up until his lips are meshed against mine. "Touch me, " he whispers.
My breath hitches but I raise my hands that had so far lain on my sides and put them on each side of his face. "Jungkook."
He smiles and my heart bursts into a million fireflies. "I like it when you say my name."
"Jungkook," I repeat.
He drags those sinful lips down through valleys and crevices, leaving soft kisses in their wake, tracing every inch of my skin, tracing every bruise, every wound, every trace of self-harm. I am nothing more than a hot pool of lava. I do not own a body anymore. Or rather, I feel each sensation being magnified into infinity and I can no longer tell where my body starts nor where it ends. I feel too much. I feel everything. And I am not ashamed of this mundane mass of flesh and bones and blood.
I kiss back.
That's all it takes for him to finally let himself go freely. No obstacles. No barriers. I am free of the voices in my head, free of my fears and judgment. It's like we want to devour each other, drain every single drop until it is the only thing our tongues can taste. I don't really care about anything else right now. I wanna forget about it all and just focus on the soft texture of his lips ghosting the skin on my neck and then going stronger and wilder and swallowing it up till I can feel the delicious sting of pain. We fight. We love. We pour our hearts out like a warm waterfall. And as our bodies tangle restlessly with each other, sticky with sweat, I go through an indescribable ecstasy. Something I've never experienced before.
Acceptance.
_____________________
EPILOGUE
I'd never imagine the storm would go on all night but it somehow did. As I lay in my bed, feet tangled up with someone else's, I hear the distant rumble of faraway clouds first thing in the morning. If it weren't for my daily habit of waking up early, I wouldn't have even bothered cracking my eyes open. The sun remains hidden in some corner as the dark gray sky salutes me instead.
I like it. This mood. It's cozy and warm and safe .
I turn my head on the side and almost melt. He's sleeping like a baby. Eyelids relaxed, lips slightly open, an angelic expression on his face. Pretty.
"That's bold, coming from you, " his lips spell.
I lightly gasp as I realize I've said the word out loud. "I thought you were asleep." As if by instinct, my hand slides up into his face, gently caressing it.
Jungkook grabs my whole arm and pulls me towards him, giving the edge of my jaw a kiss. "I was kinda faking it."
I kick his butt with the sole of my foot. "You prick! Stop playing!"
The whole bed shakes from his laughter as he massages his poor backside. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.
I smile. "Mhmm."
Jungkook mirrors my expression, but it somehow looks more devilish on him. "I'm sure you did."
"Shut up, Jungkook."
He smiles again, genuinely this time and turns, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. "I really like it when you say my name."
"Jungkook," I whisper. A pause. "Jeon Jungkook."
His eyes open. "Yes?"
"You know, the night before I met you, I was about to kill myself."
His body goes rigid, but I continue. " I don't know why I didn't do it. Then, the next day I met you and it was like it just slipped my mind. The thought was no longer there. So I came at that coffee shop every day, hoping I could see you. You weren't some kind of prince charming or anything. It's not like I looked at you and knew we were meant for each other or that kind of bullshit. I just liked looking at you. One glimpse was enough. It made me feel better somehow. It felt.... nice. But the moment we stopped looking at each other it all came flooding back. That longing to die. I turned back to my starting point."
Jungkook's arms envelop me and I feel my bones shatter. "I'm sorry," I whisper, barely a breath.
He caresses my bare shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay now. I'm here. It's over."
I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Don't leave."
"I won't."
We stay like that for a while, holding each other in our arms and relishing the sweet silence of early morning. Until-
"Hey Jungkook, you know how you're hot and cute at the same time?"
"Don't do it, Jojo. I'm telling you, don't-"
"Hute."
My obnoxious laughter annoys the hell out of him, but he eventually joins me. I smile to myself.
The old back me is me but more different than ever. I want to go through a deep cleansing. I want to throw away all the trash that has been accumulating in my house and my very soul.
A new person.
A new life.
A new me.
I can't promise I' ll make it in the end but I can promise I'll try.
"You know, " Jungkook says, "you turned out to be much more different than I thought you'd be."
I turn his face to him. "Did I meet your expectations?"
He smiles. "No. You exceeded them."
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts fluff#bts fanfic#jeon jeongguk#kookie#kook#jk#bts#btsfanfiction#bangtanfic#bangtan#btsimagines#bts scenarios#bts story#jungkook story#bangtan imagines#bangtan scenarios#bangtan fluff#bangtanff#bangtan sonyeondan#bangtan ff#jungkook ff#jungkook fanfiction#bts ff#jimin
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
🦇 13 Days of Halloween: Day 2
🦇 << With appearance from Gary. (if you know, you know)
Prompts: “I think that scarecrow just moved” and “I’m not a witch”
Requested by: ‘Jay’
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader + Dean, Platonic
Gender: Neutral Words: 2,823
Triggers: Mentions of death, victims, fighting, injuries, choking (not the kinky kind), etc, typical Spn stuff.
Supernatural Tag list: @kaashi ; if you’d like to added let me know!
Notes: Ranking of Halloween theme = 6/10; takes place during Halloween, but not necessarily Halloween specific. Just kind of spooky lol.
If you’d like to check out 2019 and 2018′s 13 Days of Halloween, as well as my 2017 general Halloween/Fall stuff here are the links: x2017x, x2018x & x2019x
“Why are there always so many more cases during Halloween?” Dean asked, annoyance in his voice as he looked at the news report of the most recent case you took up “I mean, this is like the fourth one this month”
“I’m assuming it’s because monsters can blend in more during this time” you said casually as you looked over a case-file.
“Y/n’s right” Sam agreed
“Yeah, well it’s annoying as hell, we need a break” Dean sighed as he stood up, walking to the kitchen “We’ll leave in an hour” he stopped at the kitchen turning back “Lets hope this one doesn’t involve any clowns huh Sammy?” he asked, smirk evident.
You looked at Sam just in time to see him try and hide the fear that crossed his face as he cleared his throat, trying to ignore Deans comment. You smiled, reaching out your foot and tapping his, gaining his attention “You know he’s just teasing you”. He just nodded, trying to smile at you.
-
As you arrived at the most recent crime scene, you looked around as Sam and Dean talked to the police. Looking at the area where the most recent victim was found, you frowned as you noticed an unusual amount of straw littering the parking lot. You noted it in the back of your mind, though you knew it could be nothing, possibly just where a hay truck could have stopped.
“Hey” You turned seeing your boyfriend approaching you “Anything?”
“Not really, an unusual amount of straw, but it could be nothing. You?”
Sam glanced at the straw littering the lot “Hmm. Uh, not much unfortunately, the security cameras blanked just before the crime and came back on afterwards.”
“Seems like a bit more than a coincidence” Sam hummed in agreement.
-
After a long day of interviews and research, you found out there had been a similar string of deaths the previous two years during the same time, twelve deaths each year, the final taking place on Halloween night. On your current case there were five known deaths, and one missing person.
The three of you had also found out that all of the recent victims had all visited the same farm over the last week and a half. Which you were now on your way to visit.
“The connection to the farm might explain the straw at the crime scene” you thought out loud at you pulled off the side of the road, near the farm.
“So, crazy farmer?” Dean suggested as he and Sam got out of the car.
“Might not be a monster at all” Sam said as he opened the door for you.
“Human or monster, they still killed four people” you said.
Approaching the farm, the sun was getting lower in the sky as it reached early evening, the farm house was old and falling apart. Around the property you saw various pinned up old scarecrows in each field, as well as old Halloween decorations littering the pathways.
All three of you carefully scanned the area, the overgrown fields baring no vegetables, a tall overgrown wheat field that clearly had not been harvested in a long time. “Not much of a farm. No vegetables, no animals. Why would anyone visit it?” you observed.
“Good question, let’s ask her” Dean commented, gaining both yours and Sam’s attention. Following Deans gaze you see a middle-aged woman with curly hair sitting on the porch. She’s already staring at you as she rocks back and fourth in her wooden rocking chair.
“Welcome!” she called out as you approached.
“Ma’am” Sam greeted as you walked up the porch steps, all three of you taking out your fake badges “We hope we’re not disturbing you but we are investigating the recent deaths in town, as well as the most recent missing persons case, and we found out that all of the victims had visited this farm and we thought you might have some information for us”
“Oh is that so?” she asked, surprise in her voice “Well, I get a lot of visitors but I do remember faces fairly well, so if you have photos?”
“What exactly do your...visitors come here for if not the farm?” you asked, gesturing to the barren fields.
“Oh, no, that farm hasn’t grown profit since my husband died last year. I’m an apothecary” she smiled.
“Like a witch?” Dean blurted out, making you and Sam give him the side-eye “Uh, I mean no offense in that, I just mean, don’t apothecaries sell...potions?”
She laughed “No no, not potions, just...herbs, soups, and medicine that some might see as potions, or ingredients for medicines and other uses, but -” she laughed before her eyes locked with Deans “I’m not a witch” she smiled, though, there was something behind her eyes you could quite place. You just knew it gave all of you an uneasy feeling.
“Right, of course not ma’am” Sam recovered before taking photos out of his pockets “These are the victims, do you recognize them?”
She looked at the photos for a few moments humming to herself “Yes, I recognize all of these people, he, I believe” she pointed at one of the victims “Bought medicinal herbs for tea, I believe he said he had a bad cough, and the others just bought various teas and herbs, if I am remembering correctly that is” she smiled before leaning back in her chair.
“And what about this woman?” you asked showing her a photo of the most recent person who went missing.
“No, no I don’t know her” she shrugged looking back up at you “I’m sorry I cannot be of more help”
“Thank you ma’am, if you have anymore information or questions please contact us” Dean said, handing her a card, which she took with a smile.
“Have a lovely day you three” she said with a smile as you left.
When you got closer to the car Dean glanced back at the farm, the woman was now gone “I don’t know about you two but she gave me the creeps. We should come back this evening, check out the farm” You and Sam agreed as you drove off to kill some time.
-
As the sun set and it got dark, you, Sam, and Dean snuck back on the farm, wanting to check out the nearby stables and work sheds. After having done more research on the farms owner, whose name you found out was Regina Stormson, you grew more suspicious, for two reasons. One, her husband died like she said, but his death turned out to be quite similar to the recent deaths, and occurred at the same time as the deaths the previous year. And two, she was apparently eighty-seven years old, which was unusual seeing as she looked no older than forty.
As you got prepared by the Impala, sticking a spare knife in your belt Sam stepped over to you “Are you warm enough?” he asked eyeing your thin jacket.
You smiled at him “I’m fine Sam”
He nodded “Remember to be careful and call out for me if anything happens”
You chuckled quietly “You know I have been a hunter for a few years now Sam”
He smiled at his own protectiveness “Yeah, yeah I know, I just worry”
“Yes, you do, and it’s sweet” you smiled before pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you all headed toward the farm.
-
Sneaking past the main house, you made your way into the first barn. Looking around, the barn was full of hanging herbs, flowers, and small fabric bags, that looked remarkably like hex bags.
Dean fiddled with one in his hand “Not a witch my ass” he scoffed. “So what are we thinking? Twelve sacrifices around Halloween every year to stay young?”
“Sounds logical enough, and definitely like something an evil witch would do” you muttered as you looked at a small bladed tool on a table “And it might be thirteen deaths if her husband counts as a sacrifice”
“Maybe he got in the way, or found out what she was doing” Sam suggested.
You walked over to the doorway, your eyes scanning the outside fields, your eyes double taking to movement from the corner of your eye. Eyeing a scarecrow on its post and seeing no more movement, you turned away, thinking it must have been a bird that moved.
Making your way to the stables, it was no surprise when you found the body of the most recent missing person. Dean sighed as he finished checking their pulse, they were dead.
“Okay, lets get to the farmhouse and finish this”
Standing in the doorway, you hear a sound behind you. Turning quickly you see the same scarecrow from before, only this time, it was now facing you, rather than facing the farm as it had been before.
“Guys” you said, your heart pounding. There was fear evident in your voice as the boys turned to you, seeing you staring out at the field “I think that scarecrow just moved”
Sam and Dean shared a confused and somewhat frightened look as they appeared at your side, eyeing the scarecrow “How do you know?”
“It wasn’t facing us before” you said “I know it wasn’t”
Sam’s hand found it’s way to your back “Lets head back to the house now”
You and Dean nodded as you left the barn, all of you keeping an eye on the scarecrow. You took your eyes away as you scanned the rest of the farm before stopping suddenly when you notice something.
“What is it Y/n?” Sam asked as his hand found it’s way back to your back like before.
“When we were here earlier, I noticed that there was a scarecrow in every field. Now there isn’t” you observed.
The boys looked around, there eyes grazing over each field. Four fields in front of you, two scarecrows missing. Hearing rusting and a snapping sound the three of you spun around, finding the previous scarecrow now missing. Five fields total, three scarecrows missing.
“Go” Dean said as he pushed you and Sam towards the house.
You all took out your weapons, as you quickly made your way towards the farmhouse. Looking at the distant house, you could see a shadow in the window, a figure watching you from the window. She knows you’re here.
Hearing more rustling and snapping, you turn just in time to see the final two scarecrows dropping from their posts with thuds. Turning past a barn you all stop in your tracks, two tall slumped over scarecrows blocking your path. You raise your guns, all of you knowing they probably wouldn’t do anything.
“We need to get to the witch” you spoke quietly, just as you did, both you and Sam felt something grab your shoulders as something pulled you back, both of you being thrown to the ground roughly by two more scarecrows.
Dean fired his guns at them, the bullets having no effect as they passed through the straw bodies. The two scarecrows from before grabbed onto Dean. Fighting the scarecrows, you and Sam pulled away from the two that attacked you.
Turning, you see that Dean managed to push away the two scarecrows that attacked him “Go!” you yelled at Dean as the scarecrows blocked yours and Sams path.
Dean hesitated for a moment before he turned, and running for the farmhouse, knowing he had to get to the witch. Before the two scarecrows could chase after him, you shot at them, to gain their attention.
Turning towards you, the four scarecrows now surrounded you and Sam as you tried to fight back, your knives and guns doing nothing to wound them. Instead, you reached into the exposed straw body of one of the scarecrows, deciding if anything, to tear it apart.
But the witches spell made them strong. Which you found out as a scratchy wood and straw hand wrapped around your throat lifting you off the ground.
“Y/n!” Sam called as he struggled to get to you, three of the scarecrows attempting to pin him to the ground.
You scratched at the figure, knowing you couldn’t hurt it, as you struggled to breath you remembered you had a lighter in your pocket. Reaching into your pocket, choking for air, you managed to pull the lighter out, shoving your hand inside of the scarecrows body, you lit the lighter, failing the first few times.
The grip around your throat lightened when a bright light grew from inside of the scarecrow as you managed to light it on fire. As the fire grew the scarecrow lost strength, letting you go. You gasped for air as you rose, running over to Sam. Jumping on one of the scarecrows back as the continued to punch and hit Sam, you lit it’s cloth casing on fire as it began to burn.
As it quickly burned, losing whatever strength it had in it, Sam, understanding, took a lighter out of his pocket. The scarecrows however, seemed to have some form of consciousness, as they grabbed his arms, stopping him from lighting them on fire.
Just as you were about to help him, you felt something grab your arm, flinging you into the barn, throwing you through the barn doors and inside. You heard Sam yell our for you between grunts as the two scarecrows left continued to attack him.
Looking up, you see it’s the first scarecrow you noticed, it was also bigger than the others. You cursed yourself, knowing you had dropped your lighter when you were thrown. You looked around, standing and grabbing a pitchfork, lunging it into the scarecrows body to hold it back.
The scarecrow continued to step forward, the metal forks going through it’s body along with the rest of the pitchfork. You let go before kicking it back with your foot and running toward the doorway.
The scarecrow was fast as it reached out grabbing your shirt and pulling you back towards it. Flinging you into the wall again, various metal tools fell off the wall and onto you. Looking back at the scarecrow you see it lifting the pitchfork, ready to stab you.
Rolling out of the way as the pitchfork is stabbed into the ground, you move to run, but instead the scarecrow grabs your foot, dragging you back. You grunted in frustration as you turned and kicked at it again, grabbing a nearby wrench and throwing it, knowing it would do nothing.
The scarecrow began lifting you off the ground by your ankle as you struggled against it’s grip. You could hear Sam calling from outside as he still struggled with the other two scarecrows.
Your body turned enough so that you were now facing the scarecrow. You looked into it’s blank face just in time to see it raise it’s other hand, inside of it’s grip was a small hand scythe. Your eyes widened knowing it was going to plunge it into your body.
As it rose it’s hand you closed you eyes, calling out desperately “Sam!”
Just then, Sam burst through the barn doors, seeing the scarecrow holding you up by your leg, ready to plunge the blade into your body.
“No!” he yelled as he moved forward, knowing he wasn’t going to make it, as the scarecrow finished raising his hand.
Just as the scarecrow was about to bring down it’s hand, you heard the sound of distant gunshots, coming from the farmhouse. The scarecrows hand froze, and suddenly it’s whole body went limp, both you and the scarecrow falling to the ground.
You grunted at the impact as Sam made it to you, quickly pulling you away from the scarecrow and into his lap. As you sat up, you eyed the now lifeless scarecrow. Letting out a sigh you leaned your head back onto Sams chest as he ran his hand over you head, sighing out in relief as well.
A moment passes before you heard Dean calling out as he ran towards the barn. He appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning over the still burning bodies of the scarecrows you and Sam had killed. He walked into the barn, seeing you and Sam, along with the limp scarecrow body in front of you. He looked at Sam before nodding his head in assurance that it was over.
Rising from the ground you groaned in pain from having been thrown around, Sam had some cuts and scratches, both of you would definitely have some bruises later. Dean got some scratches and small bumps from his scuffle with the witch. But you were relieved you were all alright.
As you slowly made your way out of the barn and back towards the impala you sighed “I never liked scarecrows, they’ve always been creepy”
Dean chuckled as Sam wrapped his arm around your waist before commenting “They’re still not as bad as clowns though”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hope you like it! If you would like to be added to my taglist for any character or fandom, let me know!
Also, please consider reblogging! Reblogs are one of the few ways to help spread creators works past their followers! Likes and comments are also highly appreciated! :)
#supernatural#sam winchester#supernatural oneshot#sam winchester oneshot#sam winchester x reader#supernatural x reader#spn#oneshot#one shot#halloween oneshot#supernatural halloween#sam winchester one shot#supernatural one shot#sam winchester imagine#spn imagine#supernatural imagine#sam winchester/reader#spn/reader#supernatural/reader#13 days of halloween#halloween#supernatural halloween fic#reader insert
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes
Chapter 58: Unexpected Outcomes
They waited there at the top of the mountain, right by the well, for what was to come. They had to. This wasn't a sealed barrier, and it wasn't a brick wall over the portal into their world. It was a net. It was meant to catch anyone who came through and shift so much lightning and electricity through their bodies that they'd never survive the arrival. Whoever came through would be dead, but that also meant that there would be bodies. Likely the body of Cora, and this time he wanted to see it for himself instead of leaving it to chance. He wanted to be sure that Cora was dead and gone from this world, a threat no more. If that meant that he had to stay here for the next seven years, then that's what he'd-
Behind him, he heard footsteps over the crash and wind of the storm brewing inside the well. His stomach turned as he heard the faint call of "mom" and felt the wolf's familiar power, probably masked by the power in front of him, far too late. He'd felt Ruby leave the shop just before they'd struck up their trap, leaving the dwarves behind; if he was honest, he expected something like this if Regina was right and she had managed to put it together. But Henry had no magic. He hadn't realized that he'd left with Ruby. Not until now. He couldn't have planned for him being here now. And Regina…
Fuck.
"Mom?" he cried as she turned to realize he was there.
Her face fell, her back straightened. She'd been caught. She'd been caught by the worst person she could possibly be caught by. Regina was trying hard to be better, she'd said that herself and been conflicted with this from the start. Even he knew this was bad.
"You're not helping Emma and Mary Margaret, are you?" Henry asked in an accusatory tone.
Regina swallowed and then stepped closer to her son. "I'm helping you, Henry."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're going to kill them!" Ruby shrieked, glancing at the storm in the well. Ruby, Belle's friend. No matter how this ended now, it would surely be the end of his relationship with Belle. But if Ruby raised the alarm, if she stopped this from happening and Cora came through…
"Sorry, dearie," he raised his hand and flung her backward so that she hit her head and didn't rise. It was easy to do with Ruby after what she'd done to Belle. She wouldn't be hurt badly; she'd wake soon enough with her healing abilities. Fair was fair. But Henry…that was a far more difficult situation.
"Mom, what are you doing?" he begged.
"We can't let Cora come through the portal," she reasoned. "You have no idea what she would do to us."
"Emma and Mary Margaret are going to defeat her," the boy insisted. "They're the ones that are going to come through."
"Henry, your mother's right," he urged, knowing, full well, there was nothing he could ever say to make the boy stop believing or make this easier. He shuddered to think what might happen if Cora came through with Emma and Mary Margaret. He tried not to picture it. "It's going to be Cora."
"No. It won't. Good always defeats evil," he argued before turning back to Regina. "You should know that more than anyone."
"What I know is my mother will destroy everything I love, and that means you. And I can't let that happen," Regina stated.
"NO!" the boy roared. Then he turned his gaze on the well and took off toward it.
But he was a boy, not a knight or a sorcerer. There was nothing he could do to stop the magic inside the well, and there was nothing he could do against a full-grown adult. Regina caught him around the middle before he could make it too far. He wished, desperately, she'd do something to put the boy to sleep so they didn't have to endure the screams and so he didn't have to endure whatever came out of that well. But he fought her every step of the way. He screamed.
"You can't! Stop it! You can't! You're going to kill them! Please! No! They're going to make it through! We have to turn it off! You're going to kill them!"
His heart jumped into his throat when Henry managed to get free for a moment, but Regina pulled him back the moment he got to the well. With strength that only a mother could have, she whipped her boy around as if he were a sack of flowers and leaned down to look him in the eyes.
"Henry! What are you doing?"
"Emma and Mary Margaret are going to come through. I know it," he stated. "You said you wanted to change, to be better. This is how. You want me to have faith in you? Have faith in me."
There was a shift in Regina, a softening in her face that he hadn't seen in years, not since he'd first met her as a frightened little girl who didn't want to be married off so young. She was grown now, all the magic of her mother and the madness of the Evil Queen, but the clarity on her face now, brought about by Henry and his challenge…it scared him.
"Regina," he called as she turned away from Henry and approached the well. He couldn't do anything. The magic in the well was partly her magic. If he harmed her or killed her, there was no telling how the magic would react, if it would hold on long enough to kill Cora when she came through. And yet…he had a terrible feeling he knew exactly what she was planning on doing.
Fuck.
Before he could say or assume anything more, the girl had thrown her arms out over the electrified fishing net. She withdrew her magic from it, which would make it less fatal to her, but their magic was so intertwined there was no way to remove it without absorbing the shock. She was the sorceress, and it would hurt. It did hurt, obviously. Regina went ridged as she called it back into her body and took his own in with hers. It overpowered her. Her muscles went taut with the energy and spread wide as her head flipped back. There was a rumble, a shake in the ground that he recognized as a portal opening.
It was happening! It was now! If the magic held for just another minute, thirty seconds was all he needed, and Cora would be dead!
There was a flair of bluish-white light, and Regina was thrown back, away from the well, where she landed on the ground as if she were a ragdoll. The magic was spent. The Earth was quiet. He held his breath as he watched the well. No one emerged.
"No!" Henry cried, taking a step toward the well, watching it nearly as intently as he was. There was nothing. No one rising, but no splash of water from a body falling hard into the water below either. And then…
A heartbeat.
"I'm sorry, Henry," Regina cried. "I'm sorry."
Panic rushed through him as he realized…there was a heartbeat that wasn't accounted for. He readied his magic. He was going to have to check. He was going to have to-
He startled as a hand suddenly emerged on the side of the well.
Just one.
Female.
White…
His heart raced as a dark leather sleeve followed. Elbows hauled up a torso…
A familiar blonde Savior. And next to her, another set of hands.
A second heartbeat.
Emma reached down to help, and Mary Margaret emerged beside her, climbing to her feet.
"Mom?" Henry screamed.
"Henry!"
"Mom!" The girl launched herself off the well to hold the boy, and Mary Margaret followed. He watched the well. Waiting, trying to distinguish between heartbeats. His skin crawled as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "I missed you!"
"I missed you, too."
"I missed you so much."
He exchanged a glance with Regina and then looked back to the well as if expecting to have been wrong. But he wasn't. No one further came from the well. The women appeared unworried. If they'd shared the portal with Cora, then they would know. They'd be looking back over for her. But there was no one and not a single sign that there ever had been. The boy appeared to have been right.
He was shocked. Too shocked to participate in the reunion happening. He turned away and walked back to his car as Ruby woke.
#Rumbelle#Rumple#Rumpelstiltskin#Dark one#mr. Gold#Regina Mills#Evil Queen#Henry Mills#Emma Swan#mary margaret blanchard#snow white#Cora#Queen of Hearts#ouat#ouat fanfic#fanfiction
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ugly Duckling | Chapter 2
Part 1 | Part 3
We were running to catch Greg and Tamara, when they opened a portal to God knows where, and jumped in, taking Henry with them.
"No! No!" Emma shouted while David, her father, stopped her from jumping into what was only ocean now. "We have to follow them! There has to be a way!"
"Not only do we not know where they went, but Hook stole the last bean!" Regina growled
"I don't care!"
"Without it, there's no way to follow"
"There has to be," I argued. "We can't just let the, take Henry!"
"They've taken Henry?" Gold asked as he and Belle showed up.
"Yeah. You're the Dark One. Do something." David threatened.
"Gold, help us." Emma all but begged.
"There's no way." he shook his head, 'I spent a lifetime trying to cross worlds to find my son. There's no way in this world without a portal."
"So that's it? He's gone forever?" I asked, defeated.
"I refuse to believe that." Regina looked ready to kill.
"What is that?" Belle looked past us, into the harbor.
"Hook."
~~~~~
"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma asked as Hook stepped off his boat.
"Helping."
"Well, you're too late." Regina hissed.
"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction.
"I thought you didn't care about anyone but yourself."
"Maybe I just needed reminding that I could."
"Enough waiting around," Regina urged, stepping towards the Jolly Roger, "let's go."
"Go? Where? I thought we were saving the town." Hook asked, confused.
"We already did." David scoffed.
"We need to get Henry." I explained, "Greg and Tamara took him through a portal."
"Well, I offer my ship and my services to help follow them."
"Well that's great, Hook, but how do we track them?" Regina asked.
"Leave that to me." Gold interjected, "I can get us to where we need to go."
"Well, let's do it." Mary Margaret gave a curt nod and we followed her onto the ship.
~~~~~
"So, are you done trying to kill me?" Gold looked at Hook.
"I believe so."
"Excellent. Then you can live." He magic-ed as weird globe into his hand and pricked his finger, his blood dripped onto its surface and showed him an image.
"Where is that? Where did they take Henry?" Regina pushed.
"Neverland."
Emma gave Hook the bean and he chucked it into the water. Pulling the strap of my Jessenger bag close, I gripped part of the rigging, something told me this want going to be a smooth ride.
~~~~~
Not long after we arrived in the Never-sea, Gold fricked off on his own. Told us to stay where we were and he'd get Henry and get back.
It'd been almost an hour when there was a thud against the side of the ship. The ship began to rock as Snow and David tried to keep it steady.
"What is it a shark?" Emma asked.
"A Kraken?" David added.
"Worse," Killian corrected, taking the helm, "Mermaids!"
"Mermaids?!" Emma shouted.
"Yes, and they're quite unpleasant."
"You think? snapped as one of the mermaids hit the boat.
"I'll try and outrun them."
"How many of them are there?!" Emma looked over the rail and the screeching increased.
Regina managed to catch one and throw a fireball at the water where the rest of them were, effectively scaring them off.
As the rest of them bickered about what to do, the mermaid blew into a shell, summoning a storm. As the heroes fought, the storm got worse until Emma realized what was happening. The fighting was making the storm worse and to stop them and get their attention, she jumped off the side of the ship.
Everyone stopped what they were doing to save her since she nearly drowned. Once she was back on the boat the storm had stopped altogether, but the Jolly Roger was too damaged to keep going. So we got it close enough to shore that it wouldn't capsize and waded our way to shore.
Cold and wet, we clambered onto the beach, and they started going at each other... again.
Emma gave a small speech and we were off to find Henry.
We started a trek to a high peak where we would be able to see where Pan's camp was.
"Jesus, it's hot." I huffed, pulling off my hoodie and tying it around my waist.
"You alright?" Mary-Margaret asked, falling back to walk next to me.
"Just a little floored, it's been an exciting couple of hours." I laughed.
~~~~~
Well, the ridge turned out to be a bust since, in the past thirty years, it'd grown a bit. We backtracked a bit and made camp.
It was when you tried to sleep on Neverland that you realized it was impossible. The thick air was filled with the sobs and cries of lost boys. Only, the adults couldn't seem to hear it. I pressed my head against the rock I was leaning against and pushed my headphones against my ears.
I watched Emma get up, and I gave her a questioning look.
"Going for a quick walk," She mouthed and I nodded, leaning my head back against the rock and shutting my eyes.
She was gone for a moment when I felt eyes on me. I glanced around and didn't see anything, then Emma stormed back into camp with a paper in her hand.
Somewhere on the paper, there was a map that would reveal itself when Emma accepted 'who she really was.'
She and the rest of the group worked on that while I kept an eye around the camp.
Maybe I wandered a bit further from the group than I should have, but this was the last thing I expected.
A sharp yelp bubbled out of my throat in surprise. It was until a few seconds after that I cried out a pained "Shit!"
A spear was pinning me to a tree THROUGH my left shoulder, and blood was beginning to drip from where it stabbed me. A lost boy stepped out from behind a tree, a dark smirk on his lips.
"What the actual Fuc-... Ah!" Yelling hurt worse than I thought it would.
The fucker started laughing, "Poor little girl! Did I hit you?"
"Little gi- Bitch you fucking IMPALED ME!"
"Well, that's what you get coming to Neverland." He got up in my face and before I could slap the smile off his face he grabbed the spear and pressed up.
A scream ripped through me and I instinctively kneed him in the crotch. He let go and dropped to the ground.
"You little bitch!" He pulled out a knife and went to stab my thigh when someone caught his arm.
"What do you think you're doing?!" An unfamiliar voice hissed. They pulled the boy to his feet, turning their back to me as they reprimanded him. "You know Pan wants them alive!"
"Yea but she-"
"You wanna piss off Pan?" They, who I assumed was another Lost boy, grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting him off the ground. "Now get out of here, I'll clean up your mess."
He threw the boy into the dirt and the shorter one scurried away.
With an annoyed sigh, the new lost boy turned back to me. He was pale, had light blonde hair, and had a club by his side. He studied me for a moment before pressing his hand into my right shoulder.
"This is gonna hurt." He muttered before gripping the spear and harshly pulling it out of my shoulder.
"FUCK!" I fell into his chest and the hand that held me still wrapped around my waist.
The moment his skin touched mine we both went rigged and goosebumps erupted across my body. The world froze.
He was so much taller than me, I felt so small this close to him. The clunk of the spear against the ground pulled me back to reality.
I hissed in pain as I pressed my hand to the hole in my shoulder that was now gushing blood. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" My mind was racing, tears falling from my eyes, as I tried to figure out what to do since at this rate I was gonna bleed out, and fast.
I could barely come up with a coherent thought when I suddenly lifted into someone's arms. I looked up, wide-eyed, to see the face of the same lost boy, his hood falling back. His eyes were such a pretty shade of gray, they flickered to me.
"What?" He snapped, and I realized I was staring.
I looked away as it began to pour.
He cursed and made a sharp turn, heading into a cave in a nearby cliffside.
He all but dropped me on the cold ground and went to make a fire, muttering about how this was going to be a while. My eyes wandered my surroundings until everything started to become fuzzy and my head started to spin. I looked down at my blood-soaked clothes and my eyelids began to feel really heavy.
"Hey!" I felt someone shake me and I struggled to look at them. "Open your eyes damn it!"
I groaned and went to push them away, but my arms felt like lead.
They grabbed my face and growled, "Wake up!"
I managed to open my eyes and met the face of the blonde lost boy, frustration filling his beautifully stormy eyes. I was light-headed and the word 'Pretty' slipped out without a second thought. His eyebrows scrunched and his hand let go of my face, moving to my injured shoulder.
*3rd Person P.O.V.*
He pulled his knife from its sheath and cut her sweatshirt up the middle. He watched as confusion grew in her glassy eyes, the bloodless would kill her if he didn't work fast. He peeled the sweater off her, leaving her in just her sports bra, and tore the, mostly, clean sleeve into a makeshift bandage.
After efficiently wrapping the wound, he pulled her to rest against him as he tied the bandage off in the back. He went to move away but froze when she made a small noise and nuzzled into his neck. That when he realized the position he put himself in. It'd been a very long time since he's been this close to a girl, let alone one this cute, and half-naked.
As carefully as he could, he took off his cloak and spread it on the ground before gently laying her on it.
He sat across the fire from her and watched her breathing as thunder cracked over Neverland. Something inside him hurt like he was missing something he'd never noticed missing before.
*Bradey's P.O.V.*
I woke up on the cold floor of the cave, the events leading up to me getting there a little fuzzy. I noticed my favorite sweatshirt torn up and bloody on the floor, and there was a shirt draped over me. I sighed and sat up, pain shooting through my left should. I winced as I pulled the shirt on, it smelled like campfire, pine, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I liked it. Snatching up the remains of my hoodie, I started back for camp.
"And where did you wander off too, love?" Hook asked as I trudged back into camp. "And what in the Hell are you wearing?"
"Long story," I huffed, leaning against a tree to catch my breath.
"There you are!" Mary-Margret fussed, coming over to check on me. She gasped when she saw the tattered shirt in my hands. "What happened? Where's all this blood come from?!"
I pushed down the shoulder of the shirt I was wearing to show her the bloodied bandages, "Must've wandered into target practice," I smirked before my knees gave out.
"Bloody Hell," Hook caught me and sat me on the ground, while Mary-Margret quickly got Regina who started healing.
"You'll still have a scar, but you'll live," She explained and I thanked her. "How did you already not die? This wound is hours old."
"I think one of the Lost Boys helped me." I said, "I'm not sure, the details kind of got lost on the blood loss."
"And that's his shirt?" Hook motioned to what I was wearing.
"I guess so. It's actually pretty comfy." I admitted.
*3rd Person P.O.V."
"So how was your little adventure, playing nurse?" Pan asked, appearing next to Felix, not far from camp.
"You said you wanted them alive."
"You're not wearing a shirt." Pan pointed out. "I want them alive for now. Don't go getting attached, Felix."
The taller boy's eyes narrowed, "I'm not."
"Keep it that way."
#ugly duckling#chapter 2#felix ouat#ouat felix x reader#felix ouat x oc#Prisma-the-Pretend-Avenger#prisma the pretend avenger#Prisma Writes
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Two Birds on a Wire (Hawks x Reader)
Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞
Based off “two birds on a wire” by Regina Spektor
I wrote this to see how Hawks would react to falling in love with a criminal while being a double agent, and how he would fair with eventually having to betray her and become her downfall.
It ended up being really long so I decided to chop it up into three little pieces-- a trilogy.
HnM💕
Part 1:
Hawks figured that it was just about time to visit the “liberated” city of Deika to see exactly how large the League’s influence had grown. It took a little more effort than usual to convince Dabi that he was no threat, but eventually, he could visit inside of their operational quarters.
You were just completing a visit of your own as Hawks entered the building. You payed no attention to the winged man as your eyes shifted quickly from the scorched villain that accompanied him, back to the ground in front of you. You desperately attempted to avoid making eye contact with Dabi as it usually ended with some sort of “favor.”
A “favor” usually meant that your petty errands that you would typically complete for the league would upgrade to a full-on mission that usually ended up with you getting injured or almost arrested. You tried to walk past the two men, but a burnt hand extended itself in front of you, “Dovely! Just the girl I wanted to see!” he evenly called out.
You groaned to the ceiling in annoyance as your shoulders rolled themselves back.
Hawks slightly raised an eyebrow at you as he took in your appearance, the feathery protrusions on your cheekbones and wings were dark in color, “Dove? you didn’t think Raven or Crow might fit a little better?” he joked with a light-hearted smile.
You immediately snapped you head toward him, acknowledging his presence for the first time, “Oh, I’m sorry. I have never seen a “Hawk” with tomato-red wings before,” you heatedly barked at him; however, he could only laugh at your quit witted remark,
“Touché,” he smiled.
You dramatically leaned over to your fiery co-worker, “Uh, Dabi? The fuck is this guy doing here?” You whispered loudly so that Hawks could hear. The number two hero most certainly wouldn’t hang out with the most wanted criminal organization in the country for booze and laughs.
“He’s working for me,” Dabi coolly explained, “Shigaraki hasn't met up with him and doesn't plan on it, so I need you to keep an eye on him for second while I handle some business upstairs.” Oop. And there it was. The dreaded favor.
Your mouth instantly flew open to protest, “Are you kidding me?! Look at him! Everything about this man is screaming narc,” you wildly gestured to the Hawks, who simply threw a small wave in reply.
Dabi, leaned closely into you, his height towering above you. You immediately felt his feverish radiation coat the surface of your skin as he began to lowly speak to you, “Sounds like you don’t trust me,” he said very flatly. You knew that this was meant to be a threat of sorts. Normally, you would blow his threats off since your wind tearing screeches could have any man on their ass’s within seconds, but you were defenseless right now since your vocal chords were still healing from his last favor, and he knew it. You certainly didn’t have the physical capabilities to fight with him. You snapped your mouth shut, sending a resentful glare to Hawks.
“Okay,” you huffed, looking back up to Dabi, who still hadn't backed away from you yet. You used the proximity to your advantage as you replied quietly, “Remember this cute face, because as soon as he betrays y’all, I’m outta here.”
Dabi leaned back, not surprised at all by your cooperativeness, “Fair enough. You two play nice,” he called out as he walked away, “No Cock fights,” he dryly joked.
“Ha. Ha. Bird jokes,” you rolled your eyes, “Is that why you asked me to babysit?” you called out.
“Birds of a feather and all that?” you saw his retreating figure shrug.
“That’s racist. I’d like to talk to HR,” you huffed as Dabi turned a corner of the building, disappearing from your view. You watched where he had just been for a few moments before the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your trance.
You whipped around toward the smug looking Hawks, causing you to instantly harden your face into a glare as you snarled at his presence. You threw your back against a nearby wall and silently glared at him, fulfilling your babysitting duty.
Hawks took the hint and put little resistance up to changing the silence, however, after almost an hour passed, there was still no sign of Dabi. You found yourself dying from boredom.
Your body hardly had time to react as words naturally flew out of your mouth toward the man in front of you, “Dove was... a childhood name,” Hawks, who had found himself sitting down on the floor next to you snapped his head up, his eyebrows slightly raising at your sudden speech as you continued, “My feathers used to be white. I actually dyed them,” you further explained.
You expected some sort of witty or corny remark out of the man but found none. He could only stare at you with complete disbelief written on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?” Don’t give me that look! People dye their hair all the time. It’s basically the same thing,” you tried to defend yourself.
Hawks wet his lips as he found himself biting down on them to hold himself from laughing, “I guess you’re right,” he smiled.
“Stick around and you’ll find I am hardly wrong,” you joked with a quickly fading smile, “assuming you don’t stab poor, crusty Shigaraki in the back,” you deadpanned, alerting Hawks.
Without missing a beat, he replied, “You know, I’d like to call myself a pretty perceptive person,” he prefaced before shifting the conversation away from him, “Sorry if I am over stepping here, but you don’t seem to enjoy your job very much.”
You gave a short chortle, “No matter how perceptive you think you are, I promise you I am more,” you glared at him as if looks could kill, “Just a heads up: I can end your weaselly life with just a single scream,” you smirked at the thought, “so whatever show you’re acting in better not end with me getting fucked over or I will literally scramble your brain so hard that your last thoughts will be dripping out of your ears,” you deadpanned, all traces of a smile gone from your expression.
Hawks knew that you were being completely serious, but he could still barely fight the smile attempting to take over his expression as he observed how adorable you were when you were angry. He looked down toward the ground in front of him, hardly trying to get his face under control again.
The two of you remained in silence until Dabi returned, however, the man couldn’t help but steal glances at you every now and then.
He honestly stole more glances than he needed, because he would actually encounter you again not much longer after your first clash.
The rapid firing of gunshots within the bank was almost instantly ended as a barrage of red feathers zipped through the building, knocking the guns away from the assailants, “Fuck!” one of the four robbers who had been holding up the banks exclaimed, before angrily whipping his head around toward you, “I thought that you said this district was hero free right now, you bitch!”
“There wasn’t supposed to be any heroes right now!!” You screamed as the you and your three accomplices sprinted past the back door into an alley, the sound of sirens becoming louder. God dammit! This entire block was supposed to be free from any heroes on patrol for a whole forty-two minutes exactly! You had made sure of it!
“Dovely! Nice to see you, again!” You winced at the familiar voice. You snapped your gaze up to see that damn idiot narc hovering right above you all. One of the criminals you were with instantly snatched you slammed you into a building by the throat,
“You know Hawks!? Y-you set us up, you bitch!”
You screamed as you felt a burning object enter your body through your left shoulder. The man had impaled you all the way into the building with his “spear hands” quirk.
Hawks instantly took control of the situation, sending his feathers to knock out the men that you were with. All three easily fell to the ground with a thud, but the spear that he had used to attack you with was still wedged into your flesh, pinning you against the building.
You loudly moaned in pain as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. Hawks flew down and walked up to you as you cursed at the excruciating fire in your shoulder,
“Can they tie you back to back to the League?”
Words could barely even make their way out of your mouth as your brain struggled to focus on anything else but the pain, “I.. ungh.. fuck. you.”
“I’m not the one who did this,” Hawks looked very seriously at you. The sight of you in such agony caused an unexpected anger within him. He quickly snapped the spear into smaller sections and effectively freed you from the wall, “You’re the little birdie who got her wings stuck in the middle of a bank heist.”
You wish that you had the energy to beat his ass, but there was no way you could defend yourself like this. Your screeching voice hadn’t even healed yet.
Fuck.
Your overwhelmed body failed to support you as you slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood down the brick.
This was... so pathetic. After all the bullshit you had been through, this measly bank heist was gonna be your end? You gave a sharp cry in frustration, before forcing yourself to look up at the hero. However, Hawks only nodded his head away from the alley.
Was he telling you to… leave?
“Y-your not gonna bust me?” the sight of you struggling to stand to your feet made his heart ache in a way that it shouldn’t have. Nevertheless, he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms and fly you to safety himself.
But that couldn’t happen.
He would have to suck his emotions up and pretend like they never existed in the first place-- like he always did, “Just go.”
You could only slightly nod with widened eyes before turning away from him and scurrying away, contemplating on what dream you must be having. There was no way that just happened.
He was a hard fucking man to read. What the hell is his deal?
#my hero academia hawks#hawks#mha imagines#takami keigo#keigo takami x reader#hawks x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha imagines#mha
189 notes
·
View notes
Photo
in the woods, somewhere;
He doesn’t want to tell her that he is tired of haunting her, that years have passed and the world is creaking with the weight of them, and that he loves, he loves, he loves her—
written for @klaroline-events’ june kc bingo + ghost
2021 words, canon-divergence, romance
+
++
+
In another city in another country in another world, almost, a dead girl scrubs her dead lover from her skin in bubbles that smell of lavender and bergamot, eucalyptus and lemon oil. She wants new skin, a skin that has been taught to forget all things skins were sometimes sentimental about: silly things like the learned touches on her knees, the feeling of lips in the hollows of her, the cold of whispers in the swoop of her ribs.
She mourns the loss of her body, her heart, how they yearn to be covered by a man so burdened with age he should be ugly from it, but he is beautiful, beautiful, and she mourns him, too. Mourns the love she had planted in his chest like a garden grown from twigs and other broken things. Mourns his churlish grins, the quick of his fingers winding in her hair, mourns the ache in her teeth whenever he shows her his wrist like a quiet, quiet secret.
She mourns him, she buries him, and then she sinks lower into the water to drown in her pretty petal ocean.
+
++
+
As all fights go, Caroline could hurl a vicious one, with fists and kicks and screams and bloodshed, but Klaus can deflect and duck and appear and vanish. When he comes back she is always curled in a corner, throat hoarse and nails bleeding, and he is always sorry.
“I love you,” she’ll say.
“I want you to die,” she’ll say.
And he always says, “No you don’t. No you don’t.”
+
++
+
Somewhere dark and green, Klaus kisses her, a suffocating she has not felt since Katherine had pushed her last breath out of her. He holds her to a tree and curls his fists into her hair and fits himself against her so well, and there is an unravelling inside her.
She stumbles out of her stupor, dazed and blinking, and he looks back at her like he doesn’t quite know what’s happened either.
“That was a really stupid promise you just made,” she says breathlessly, for want of something to say—her lips are trembling, her knees.
“I know,” Klaus says, so brilliantly rueful. “Gods, do I know.
+
++
+
A story needs a beginning, a middle and an end, but the story of Caroline and Klaus, the dead girl and her dead lover, start in the moments in between. He already knows her name when he meets her on her second deathbed, and the sound of him already puts pinpricks in her heart.
“I know you,” she says.
“I’ll heal you,” he says.
“And then I’ll be yours, and then my friends will die, and then the world will end.” She’s stubborn, once-golden curls a flaccid yellow on coiled around cracked lips. “Leave the poison in me. I’m dead anyway.”
He sends her a gaze so intent and curious one could forget that he is the one who put her in this bed to begin with, who put fangs in her and veins around her best friend’s eyes and a knife in Elena’s chest. He hovers over her like a ghost, flicks the bell on her charm bracelet like he expects choirs to erupt. He looks at her fondly, like they’ve known each other for years.
“Stop that,” she snaps. “You don’t get to sit on my bedside on my freakin’ birthday and harp at me about roses and cities I’ll never see, about music I’ll never learn the names of, about food I can’t even enjoy because all I crave now is blood.” She coughs, probably spittles over him some, but whatever, she’s dying.
It resounds in her like a gong, and she claws desperately at her sheets, wants to call for her mother, doesn’t want Klaus’ face to be the last one she sees before she bites the dust, kicks the bucket. She wants the sooth of her mother’s fingers in her hair; instead she gets the apple-white of Klaus’s brandished wrist.
“Go ahead,” Klaus says invitingly. “It tastes just like wine, I’ll bet.”
“I hate you,” she says, she cries. She’s so close she can taste it festering in the gaping maw in her neck, the one that’s bubbling with the scent of poison and wolf. “I want to die.”
“No you don’t.” He props her up against him, cradled almost gently in his arms, and she feels his hands in her hair massaging, she smells his wrist like her last supper laid out before her, and her mouth waters. She parts her lips, her fangs push out, she’s so miserable and she’s so hungry. “No you don’t.”
+
++
+
In the woods, somewhere:
Klaus had told her about cities greater than God and cathedrals that swallowed you whole. She supposes one day she’ll see them with her own eyes, not in his mouth, always wondering which ones were made up truths and which ones were lies meant to lure her out of this town.
She looks at him, and she’s been told that it isn’t good to look at Klaus Mikaelson the wrong way, or the right way, or in any sort of way, but when Caroline looks she pierces, she wants, and she takes. She takes his heart and his teeth and his blood, collected in little vials in the grooves of rotten roots, and he tries not to look pleased.
It is a strange sort of understanding that they have, that the trees listen to. She is older now, but still young enough to know that nothing lasts forever, not really, and Klaus – Klaus just wants her to remember him when she leaves.
“Absconds,” he corrects himself after a fashion. “Like a lady in the night, gone forever.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” and it’s a promise as much as it is a confession to misery, “because somebody needs to keep Elena from you.”
Klaus looks thoughtful. “What if Elena doesn’t need keeping?”
“You mean: what if you killed her.”
And Klaus grins then, his eyes crinkling, his hair curling around his perked ears. “You are an absolute delight.”
“Flattery isn’t a ticket to massacre, buddy.” Caroline picks her way expertly through the dead roots in the forest floor, the muck of flattened leaves and jagged little stones. “She’s almost eighty, her birthday’s next week, and you are not writing her into your twisted little recipe book of Easy Make Hybrids, Holiday Edition.”
In this page of the book they are friends, somehow, and I’m sure you’re wondering how they end up the way they do—but as all good romances go, there is never a clear distinction when one crosses that threshold, is there? Caroline will wonder this herself, one day, in her perfumed tub in her smarting, raw skin.
“I do like you,” Klaus says, and Caroline wonders, too, if this is a step up from I fancy you. It’s a boyish admission, shy, almost – she peers at him sidelong, and scoffs.
“Flattery!” she announces to the woods. It rustles in agreement.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Klaus says reproachfully. “Why won’t you consider my offer?”
Caroline stops in her tracks, suddenly, and he almost bumps into her if not for the isms that make up the vampire parts of him. She turns now to properly look at him. Klaus looks at her the way he always does, like there is something stirring just underneath the stillness of him, the slow beat of his undead heart. And she asks, honestly, “Aren’t you tired of haunting me?”
“Not for a minute.” Klaus tilts his head. “What if I promised to stay away from Elena?”
“You’ve made this promise before.”
“What if I promised to stay away from you?”
And this, this catches Caroline’s attention. He looks like he means it, and there troubles the part of her that is always trying to catch him in a lie, the part that longs to just try him, to call his bluff. She is older now, she’s no longer a prey to disillusionment, but Klaus—he is older now, too, but the world no longer marvels at it. Everyone’s older now.
“What do you want?” Her eyes narrow. Her heart races.
Klaus hums, Klaus smiles, and Klaus says: “A kiss.”
+
++
+
When Caroline says Klaus is terrible at keeping promises, what she really means is that he keeps them.
She counts the vials of his blood, counts the different ways they catch sunlight.
She counts how many days have passed.
How many years.
Some twenty years later Elena dies, and she moves to a different city in another country in another world, almost, where the cathedrals swallowed you whole. Whether the sketch of rooftops around her were greater than God she doesn’t know, but one day Klaus finds her in a little café in the oldest part of the city and he sweeps her up and he kisses her the way he had in those woods so long ago, and this, if she had payed attention to anything other than the part of his teeth and the taste of his tongue, this is the beginning of their undoing.
+
++
+
“I love you,” she says, vicious like her temper, spiteful, because these are words that aren’t true and Klaus knows that.
“No you don’t,” he says, and he tries to shush her, tries to cover her mouth, but the words keep coming, and he pushes away.
He doesn’t want to tell her that he is tired of haunting her, that years have passed and the world is creaking with the weight of them, and that he loves, he loves, he loves her—
“And if you’ll stop being stubborn you would shut that pretty mouth of yours and just listen—” His hands shake and he stills them with a quick flex, “I did not kill Regina, I did not order anything on her—”
“I did not spend a hundred years in Mystic Falls to watch Elena’s great-granddaughter fall prey to the kind of shit she went through,” Caroline hisses through her teeth. “You knew. You knew about Regina and you didn’t tell me—”
“Because you would have gone back,” Klaus says, furious and miserable, and – and just listen, love, listen—
“And if I had, she wouldn’t be DEAD!” She roars, and these are words that Klaus doesn’t understand, tears she’s shedding not because she’s seen the face of her friend die for the umpteenth time, but this. This is proof that Klaus, no matter what he says, no matter what he does, he will always be the monster she’d met on her second deathbed, will always put pinpricks in her heart.
Klaus reaches for her but she slaps his hands away, the room spinning around her with names Klaus finally sheds: Tristan, Genevieve, Marcel, an old curse, a new prophecy, the weight of the full moon, Regina. Regina, the final doppelganger, the last of the Petrova legacy.
“You couldn’t just let it go,” she whispers.
“We’re the same, Caroline,” he whispers back, and her heart breaks.
+
++
+
This is not the ending, nor is this the beginning, but this is Klaus and Caroline sitting in the same room they had sat in so long ago, her second deathbed and his first lie. Only this time, she is holding a match.
Everyone they know is dead, after all.
“This way, we can start again.” She does not shake when she exhales.
Klaus says nothing, just breathes her in, eyes bright and wet and disbelieving - he loves her. The dead girl and her dead lover dance slowly in the middle of the room, the flame flickers between them, wavers, but never goes out. She could drop it any time, and the idea torments him as much as it tickles.
And then everything is on fire.
Caroline holds her hand out and he takes it, and she leads him out of there, tears drying on her face, the tail of his coat simmering and singed. She has new skin, she tells him, and he has new blood in his veins, and she’ll bet that it will not taste like wine.
#kcbingo2020#klaroline#klaus x caroline#klarolineedit#loving klaroline#hannah writes things#hannah does kc bingo#anyway this is a breathless pieec of something because i've been majorly angsting over kc recently and needed some poetic clarity#but fret not it is not /that/ angsty - it's got an ending; a happy one - a hopeful one
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Hopes Went Up In Smoke.
It was the perfect distraction, setting the car on firing to throw Regina off track, she wouldn’t suspect the demise of the animal shelter at first. Setting the car on fire was just fun and games, to test Regina’s loyalty to them. But of course no matter her loyalist or how trustworthy she may seem to them, they knew, they knew she cared too much for the redhead, and the redhead probably knew too much of their plans. So the animal shelter was the perfect target for their message.
Regina drove to the crime scene of the burning car, of course the Charming clan would be there, no matter how hung over she felt she knew how to keep her cool even though her head was bounding with a raging migraine.
“I’m sorry.....” she said quietly, if she talked in a normal tone her head felt like it was going to explode and it was written all over her face. no matter how “put together she looked” in terms of clothing and makeup, you could tell how drained she really felt. “This was their idea of fun.”
“Seriously? Setting a car on fire?” Emma asked with annoyance laced in her tone. Regina shrugged “I had to play along, believe me this was NOT my idea of....fun,” Regina shot back.
“I’m just worried.....how long can you keep this up Regina?” Emma was sincere in the question, she was worried about Regina and how long she could up this villain façade, because that was just it. Regina was no longer a villain, she was a hero. Emma had a hunch that , Cruella, Maleficent and Ursula knew that, they were just testing Regina’s limits. As long as Regina kept up her little game the people she loved were safe. Henry, Abigail, they would be safe......Abigail didn’t like this, Regina playing undercover with these three especially with Cruella involved she couldn’t trust them as far as she could throw them. And she hated to say it even Maleficent. Abigail and Mal did always have an understanding, she even became fond of the dragon at one time, but right now she knew Maleficent was desperate. And desperate people can do dangerous and hurtful things.
......
There it was, the place that was meant to protect these mongrels'? It disgusted Cruella. A smirk fell on her face the moment they stepped out of her car to investigate the building. It seemed empty enough, the annoying little brat didn’t seem to be working at this time perfect timing, they had no means to kill the brat, no that wasn’t what they were for. Cruella rolled her eyes as she felt Maleficent hesitate. “Well...get on with darling, we don’t have all day,” she huffed.
Maleficent side eyed. the woman in fur as she stared at the shelter, the redhead was harmless, she knew this much. She was sweet, albeit a tad bit annoying at times, but Maleficent knew this would crush Abigail, she poured her heart and soul into place, into protecting these animals, they relied on her. This didn’t feel right. Maleficent swallowed a lump in her throat she was actually feeling....guilty?
“Must we do this? Is the shelter really that important?” she asked, nearly forgetting herself, wishing she could take the question back. this was pathetic, her caring for a mortal? She should want to do this, a message for the Charmings, to get her daughter back. That was the only thing she cared about. Abigail should be the last thing on her mind.
“Awww has Maleficent grown feelings for the redheaded little snippet?” Ursula cooed mockingly.
“She’s my friend.....” Maleficent barely whispered. The only person she would dare call a friend. Even before Regina, Abigail would never betray Maleficent the way Regina has, the way she herself is about to betray Abigail.
“Then maybe you should go ahead and join the band of heroes if you care so much. And us as we get our happy endings while yours hangs in the balance.........” Cruella taunted in her ear. Maleficent stared hard at the shelter and swallowed one more time before willing a fire ball in her palm. It was nothing personal........it her was life.
........
Ashes, the smell of smoke, ashes flying and twirling in the air. Hopes and dreams, crushed, demolished betrayed. They relied on her they were her everything, besides Henry. Everyday she put her heart and soul in this place, in the animals that lived here, that felt comforted, protected. All of it, it was all gone, gone up in flames, because someone decided to give people a chance. Abigail was no fool, despite what some may think. She knew who did this. She knew who was responsible for the death of her animals. She didn’t even hear the cars pull up behind her as she stood, blankly in front of the burnt building. Her name being called sounded like muffles, as if she were underwater. That’s what she felt like now, as if she were being pulled under water, not able to shake the pressure.
Abigail!
Regina.....it was her fault.......she betrayed you. She let those monsters in town. If it weren’t for her your animals would still be here.
Abigail....!
Please go away.......
Abigail......
Abby...
“Meow......” one squeak was not lost on her. Her mind slowly came back to focus, her head turned to the sound. A small terrified kitten, hiding and shaking behind the still standing door frame. Without a second thought Abigail rushed to the terrified kitten, not caring if something could fall on top of her and crush her. “Meow!” Abigail followed the sound in the burnt building.
“Abigail! Abigail what are you doing?!” Regina shouted from her car and rushed after the redhead. Regina stopped when she saw Abigail bend down and pick up the tiny animal. She winced at the sight as her heart ached for her best friend. Regina vowed that the next time she saw Cruella she would rip her heart out and crush it without hesitation. Or give it to Abigail so she could do it her self. but Regina sighed and shook her head, that wasn’t Abigail.....she wouldn’t sucome to revenge, her sweet kind, caring Abigail. So full of love, hope, she always gave others the benefit of a doubt, sometimes to a fault and that’s when Regina was afraid Abigail’s heart would get stomped on.
Abigail came out of the burnt building, some parts were still standing, but everything was black, charcoal. The kitten in Abigail’s arms meowed again, and looked up at her, as if she knew she were safe in this human’s arms. the kitten was dirty, covered in black soot. Abigail wrapped the shaking kitten into her sweater and stood back in front of the shelter once more, to truly look at the damage, as if to will it away. as if to go back in time when it was still here.
Abigail swallowed a lump in her throat, a lone tear fell from her eye on her cheek. She didn’t care what Regina said, she was bringing this kitten home and keeping her. This kitten looked at her with so much hope as did Abigail, perhaps that what they were to each other......perhaps that’s why this one kitten survived. “Hope....” she whispered to the kitten. “That’s what you are.....my Hope.”
Regina waked up behind her friend and gently placed her hand on her shoulder so as not to startle her. “Abigail.....” she whispered, what could she say? Abigail’s life just went up in smoke. “I am.......there’s nothing I could say to make things better,” she tried
“Then don’t....” Abigail hissed harshly, turning to Regina, her eyes red with tears, letting all of them flow. Regina let out a small gasp at the sight of her friend. She looked angry, she had every right to be.....but at her? “You brought them here...you invited them in,” she said angrily with no flinching or stuttering, holding on tightly to Hope.
“Abigail...I was just. I was trying to give them a chance......like you did for me. I thought they wanted to change. I had no idea they would this....I swear to you,” Regina vowed, her voice laced with venom, but towards Abigail, no all this was towards the monsters who did this.
“No but you played into their games! You were a pawn in all this....and you led them here, you led them here Regina so fix it. Until then.........I can’t trust you,” she whispered, not believing the words she was uttering. A part of her wanted to see the hurt on Regina’s face, the hurt in her eyes. she wanted someone to feel her pain. Oh she wanted them to feel it sure. But she wanted Regina to know she wasn’t off the hook. Abigail scuffed and started walking away. The Charmings stood behind Regina stunned at Abigail’s reaction towards Regina.
“Abigail!?” she called out with hurt and confusing in her voice. “Don’t follow me!” Abigail called over her shoulder as she opened the passenger side to the car and safely placed Hope on the seat next to her and went to the drivers side, buckled herself up and drove. She didn’t know where she was driving but anywhere was better then here.
#Well hello there. I know it's a little rusty. But this is a drabble#I've had in this in my head forawhile now.#Took some things from Xena Gaberielle's Hope.#and some from Aphrodite to Athena#I always felt like Abigail had a friendship with Maleficent#There might be a chapter two to this unless any Regina's want to rp with me again and make this into a thread?
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
so i have a theory about two movies i watched.
now im sure we’re all familiar with this iconic trio. Regina George, Gretchen Wieners, and Karen Smith are the three most popular girls in school, and very obsessed with their looks. they have intense rules about what they can and cannot wear, they constantly have a full face of make up, and they judge other people looks in their burn book. nearing the end of their movie, Cady Herring has completely obliterated their group. Karen and Gretchen both find their own groups, and I don’t quite remember what happens to Regina. (i have not seen mean girls two so keep in mind the following predictions could be inaccurate.) however, i feel as though Regina could easily bring them back together if she really wanted to. Karen would go along with what Regina said, especially if Gretchen is also involved. i think Gretchen would rejoin with Regina, initially thinking she could rise to power and be Caesar while Regina could be Brutus, instead of how she had previously described herself as being the Brutus to Regina’s Caesar. however Regina is too much of a calculating slytherin bitch to allow that to happen. Gretchen would find herself suffocating in the same situation as before. after they graduate though, they would realize that their high school popularity wasn’t worth much, and decide to stay together and help each other navigate their new lives. They realize now, that they are aging. unacceptable. In an effort to find a way to preserve their youth, Gretchen does some research, looking into diy face masks. she researches different plants and the effect they have on kin and hair. getting more and more invested in using natural beauty hacks, she finds books on different uses for plants, and some of them include other things such as crystals and meditation. she explains to Karen and Regina which crystals can be used with which plants to manipulate your energy, and make you more beautiful. thats right fuckers, Gretchen is getting into witchcraft. Regina has fallen into despair at the thought of becoming old, and is ready to try anything she can get her hands on. Karen trusts Gretchen and Regina, and helps them in their newest endeavor, a glamour ritual. The three meet under a full moon, the night before they were to go pick up their diplomas. Karen brings crystals like amethyst and rose quartz, Regina brings a jar of water and some pink candles, and Gretchen brings her books and rose hips. she arranges the candles and crystals around the jar of water, which she added the rose hips to. Opening her book, she shows Karen and Regina a chant she found on one of the pages. Regina, in her increasingly frantic manner, begins to argue with Gretchen because the spell hadn’t had any immediate results. She quickly becomes angry and recklessly drinks the jar of enchanted water. in her rage and the darkness of the night, she hadn’t noticed that the spell had begun to work, and she had just ruined it by drinking the water. She noticed Gretchen’s hair stand up in one slightly bent spike, and Karen’s hair become curly. not approving of these changes, she said “oh thank god I didn't change at all.” Gretchen and Karen however, didn’t answer, as they were too busy staring at Regina’s hair, that had just turned bright orange. scared to tell Regina what had happened to her hair, they said the spell must have backfired, but that Regina had been safe since she drank the water. Regina was shocked when she looked in the mirror after waking up the next day. Not only had her hair changed, but also her face and body were completely different. she ran to get Gretchen and Karen, just to find they looked completely different too. Gretchen explained that Regina had hexed them by drinking the lunar water, and the changes were irreversible. fearing that anybody would recognize them when they went to pick up their diplomas later, they formed a plan. They would each adopt a fake name and pose as their own aunt or family friend. Karen wanted another simple name, so she chose Sarah. Gretchen thought this was a good idea, so she chose Mary. Regina, always trying to stand our among the three, chose Winifred. Everything went according to plan that day. Gretchen chose that afternoon to inform her friends that she would be attending Harvard that fall, and therefore moving to Massachusetts. Regina and Karen, who didn't have plans, knew that if they wanted even the slightest chance of becoming themselves again, they needed Gretchen. Together, the three of them were able to buy a small, rundown house in Salem, close enough for Gretchen to be able to commute to Harvard. they fixed up the house, but Gretchen took over most of it with her witch supplies. they quite liked the older style of their new home, and figured they should find a new style, instead of pink everything. They soon learned that their new aesthetic wasn’t all that original, because most of Salem was familiar with it, it was the witchy vibe that the entire town gave off. As they settled into their new lives, they decided to keep their new names, so as not to taint their old identities. They also said they were sisters. They did everything in their power to protect those old identities, and made sure nobody ever found out who they were. In her spare time, Gretchen, who was now Mary, researched spells to restore their old appearances. One of these required the blood of a young girl. Regina/Winifred found out about this spell that Mary had tried to hide from her, as it was too immoral, and forced Mary and Karen/Sarah to perform it with her. It wouldn’t have been too difficult, as Mary had grown quite talented with magic, if the girls brother hadn’t come to help her. The brother had entered their house in an attempt to save his younger sister, and seen far too much. He could find out who they were. Mary and Sarah refused to let Winifred kill this boy, so they instead turned him into a cat. In this act of harming someone so greatly, Regina, Gretchen, and Karen had unknowingly become permanently stuck in these bodies, and would forever remain Winifred, Mary, and Sarah Sanderson; the Sanderson sisters.
I’m well aware that none of this matches up with either of the real stories, but thank you for reading my late night, self hatred induced, caffeine fueled extravaganza.
#help i need to stop this#mean girls#hocus pocus#theories#i spent an embarrassing amount of time on this#ffs i shouldve just written a wattpad fanfic or something#:(
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Once & Future Queen Pt.4
Camelot. Present. Night.
(The guards light fires in grates all over the city. A Dorocha sweeps past some candles in the Physician’s Chambers and blows out some of them. Knights patrol the streets with torches. Sir Bedivere lags behind when he sees/hears something. He walks over to some barrels and finds three small children
huddling behind them.)
Sir Bedivere: “Hey, hey, hey. It’s all right. It’s all right, you’re safe now. (Bedivere hears the Dorocha and checks to see the knights walking in the distance. He leaves the torch and runs through the street with the children in his arms. A Dorocha streaks right for them and Xena jumps out with a torch just in time. Gabrielle takes one of the kids and they bring them to their parents inside a house. To Xena:) Thanks.”
Xena: “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”
(They grin at each other.)
Storybrooke. Library.
(Will and Alice play chess while Robin and Belle read through several books.)
Alice: (Taking Will's knight:) "Check. Do you know after all those games we played while I was in the tower, you never once beat me?"
Will: (Making his move:) "Did you know I never tried?"
Alice: (Indignant:) "Come on!"
Will: "Well, I might’ve tried a little."
Alice: "Uh huh."
Will: "Just set the board up again. (Will rises out of his chair and walks over to Robin:) She's really something, all right. If Wicked Witches are your type, which I get. You're still together, then?”
Robin: “That is not relevant.”
Will: “Hey, no judgments here, mate. It’s not like she made a fool out of you, just that other version of you.”
Robin: (Sighs:) “I just want Zelena to be happy, even if she thinks... Wait!”
(Robin pulls out a book, hopeful of finding something.)
Will: (Pulling out a book of his own, surprised by the pop-up pictures when he opens it:) “Whoa!”
Robin: “1988 Mercedes-Benz 560SL repair manual. (Puts the book back, deflated:) All due respect, I'm beginning to think your magic-library theory
might be a tad off. Any book we want is hardly gonna be stacked beside... (Takes out another book:) ‘The Cat in the Hat.’ Why would a cat want a hat?”
Will: “I've seen stranger.”
(Robin walks over to Belle who has several books stacked high.)
Robin: “What are you working on, Belle?”
Belle: (Looking up from a book:) "What? Oh, I just received a message not long ago from Camelot. Apparently there were spirit sightings from one of their villages and in the lower town. According to this text, last night was Samhain’s Eve."
Robin: "So?"
Belle: “So, it is said that on the stroke of midnight of Samhain’s Eve, is when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. The appearance of those spirits cannot be a coincidence.”
Robin: “You think the barrier between our world and the spirit world has been broken? How can that be?”
Belle: “I’m not sure. But if someone has torn the veil between the worlds, then God help us all.”
Swan-Mills House.
(Regina is sitting in the garden staring at family photos when Henry joins her.)
Henry: “Hey. Well, you will be happy to know that things with Ella went pretty well.” (Regina smiles, putting the photos aside.)
Regina: “I guess we'll just have to see where that goes, won't we? Keep me in the loop, I'm pretty good with advice.”
Henry: (Joining her on the bench:) “And how are you with precocious little girls?”
Regina: “Your sister went down about an hour ago.”
Henry: “Good. So, uh, what are you looking at?”
Regina: “Oh, just some photographs your grandmother dropped off. They’re from Emma’s birthday.” (Hands them to Henry.)
Henry: “Oh, great. (Looking through them:) This reminds me that I have to convince either Snow or David to buy a smartphone.”
Regina: “Don’t you dare. Pearl’s Presto Photo Shop is barely still in business as it is.”
Henry: “Hm. I’m glad Emma was here with us for her birthday.”
Regina: (Nods:) “She’s spent far too many of them alone.”
Henry: “You know, I don’t thank you enough for my childhood. Being born in prison, if you hadn’t adopted me, I would’ve grown up in the same system as Emma. Thank you, Mom.”
Regina: (Smiles:) “You’re welcome. I just hope wherever your mother is, she finds her way back to us before her next birthday.”
Enchanted Forest. Past.
(Sitting by the campfire, Emma is lost in her thoughts while Mulan and Tiger Lily discuss Tinker Bell and their chances of returning home.)
Tiger Lily: "Tink's progress is encouraging. She's come such a long way in a short amount of time."
Mulan: "Won't that be a little suspicious if she's advancing quicker than the other fairies?"
Tiger Lily: "I've thought of that. I've told Tinker Bell not to be tempted to show off her skills. Blue is already down on her for rule breaking so Tink must be careful."
Emma: "No."
(Mulan and Tiger Lily turn to Emma.)
Tiger Lily: "I'm sorry?"
Emma: "Being careful never lead anyone in history to greatness."
Mulan: "So what are you saying?"
Emma: "I'm saying that I miss my family and I want to go home. (Turns to look at them with a glint in her eye:) But before that, I see no problem with testing Tink's skills fully and at the same time giving Regina a birthday she's not soon to forget."
Camelot. Present. Council Chambers. Morning.
(Villagers crowd into Camelot with the belongings they can carry. Guinevere discusses the refugee villagers with Lancelot, Belle and Agravaine.)
Lancelot: “They’re coming from across the kingdom. They’re looking to Camelot for protection.”
Guinevere: “And we will give it to them.”
Agravaine: “We cannot house them all.”
Guinevere: “We have to try.”
Agravaine: “How? We cannot live like this forever, Your Majesty. We must find a way to vanquish these creatures. We’ve suffered fifty dead, maybe more. Mainly in the Lower Town.”
Guinevere: “And there’s no way of fighting them?”
Lancelot: “No, our only weapons are torches. And the light doesn’t kill them, it only repels them.”
Guinevere: “What are they?”
Belle: “They’re Dorocha, Your Majesty. The spirits of the dead. On Samhain’s Eve in the time of the Old Religion, the High Priestesses would perform a blood sacrifice and release them.”
Agravaine: “But who’d do such a thing now?”
Lancelot: “Morgana.”
Guinevere: “You see her hand in this?”
Lancelot: (Shrugs:) “We know she was travelling to the Isle of the Blessed.”
Guinevere: (To Belle:) “How do we defeat these creatures?”
Belle: “I don’t know, Your Majesty. No mortal has ever survived their touch.”
Lancelot: “Somewhere in all your books, Belle, there must be something. All I’m asking for is a way to fight them.”
Belle: “I fear the Dorocha cannot be defeated by swords and arrows. If I’m right, and the veil between the worlds is torn, then there’s only one path open to us. To travel to the Isle of the Blessed and repair it.”
Lancelot: “And how do I do that?”
Belle: “I’m not sure. But for the tear to be created would’ve required a blood sacrifice. To seal will require another.”
Lancelot: (Nods:) “We ride before nightfall.”
(The others are surprised.)
Agravaine: “And who will be the sacrifice?”
Lancelot: “If laying down my life will spare the people of Camelot, then that is what I must do.”
Forest.
(Agravaine rides through the woods. Arriving at a hovel, he dismounts his horse and enters without knocking.)
Hovel.
(Looking around he sees no one, but the place is clearly being occupied. Suddenly a dagger is held to his back.)
Agravaine: “My lady?”
Morgana: “My lord. (Agravaine sighs, relieved:) I trust you bring me good news. (She lowers the dagger and walks further into her home:) Tell me.”
Agravaine: “The kingdom is on its knees.”
Morgana: “How terrible.”
Agravaine: (Chuckles:) “Indeed.”
Morgana: “What of the poor people?”
Agravaine: “More fall every night.”
Morgana: “Such a shame.”
Agravaine: “You should know that Lancelot intends to vanquish these creatures.”
Morgana: (Scoffs:) “Impossible.”
Agravaine: “He makes ready to go to the Isle of the Blessed as we speak. If the Dorocha don’t kill him on the way, our brave little lamb intends to sacrifice himself to repair the veil. (Morgana thinks it over and turns away:) Something’s troubling you. Morgana?”
Morgana: “Something the Cailleach said. She spoke of someone called Merlin. Called him my doom.”
Agravaine: “Your doom? What did she mean?”
Morgana: “I don’t know.”
Agravaine: “Morgana, we should be celebrating. Lancelot will be dead within the week, Guinevere will be inconsolable, leaving the throne open for Camelot’s rightful heir.” (Morgana smirks.)
Enchanted Forest. Past. Palace.
(The courtiers are gathered to celebrate Queen Regina's birthday. Notably absent from his wife's big day, King Leopold's throne is occupied by his daughter, Snow White. As was the case for her previous birthday, Regina is disappointed to learn that most of the gifts on the large table are not addressed to her, but rather the King's daughter.)
Snow White: (Beaming to a courtier:) "Thank you, so much. (To the room at large:) And thank you all for making this day, so special."
(Snow basks in the applause while Regina remains seated, barely able to keep her forced smile upon her face. As the applause dies down however, the sound of drums can be heard from the streets below. At the blare of trumpets, Snow, Regina and several courtiers make their way over to the large balcony. Marching to the beat and clad in green and gold tunics, the drummers are followed by dozens of women dressed in beautiful violet dresses. Glancing at her step-mother, Snow White gauges the genuine surprise upon Regina’s face then returns her attention to the parade.)
(It's an explosion of colour, music and excitement as the parade continues. There's dancing, singing and exotic animals on display, all gathered to celebrate the Queen's birthday. Regina begins moving to the beat while Snow looks on aghast. The menagerie of animals draws several audible gasps as well as 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of wonderment. Mirroring the ostriches stampeding through the streets, Snow White turns and runs from the room, unnoticed by all but Regina, causing a genuine smile to cross her lips for the first time that day. After the monkeys, lions and elephants raise the crowd's enthusiasm into a frenzy, numerous explosions cause a shower of gold and glitter to flutter down onto the people below. Finally, a large scroll unfurls with huge lettering to deliver one unmistakable message...)
Happy Birthday, Regina.
(Standing amongst the applauding crowd, Emma stares up at Regina, having not taken her eyes off the Queen since she emerged onto the balcony, to watch her brilliant smile.)
Emma: (As Regina wipes a tear from her eye:) "Happy Birthday, Babe."
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
journeys end in lovers’ meeting
Dark || Aleksander Tiedemann/Regina Tiedemann Boris Niewald/Regina Doppler || post-canon
ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus
There hasn’t been such a heavy thunderstorm in a long time – even the power went out for a while. As they raise their glasses to the world without Winden, the rain outside is beating down in slant lashes, and the black silhouettes of trees are bending menacingly against the evening sky. Regina doesn’t have the heart to let the guests out into the storm; driving in such weather and with such state of local roads is a suicide, and Peter and Bernadette even came by feet. So she offers everyone to stay over. No one is really discontented with such turn of events – everyone’s cracking jokes as they share out the places available for sleeping. It feels like they’re all kids again, and this is an adventure.
Peter and Bernadette get the couch in the living room, and some armchairs put together make a quite comfortable improvised bed for Katharina. Wishing for her pregnant friend to have the most comfort for the night, Regina gives her own bedroom to Hannah and Torben, takes all the necessary things, and moves to her mother’s room. Claudia has retired early, having told “the young” that she’s going to bed, but when Regina steps quietly into her room with a heap of bedclothes in her arms, the light there is on, and her mother is working on her laptop – no doubt writing another post for her blog on the history of Winden or taking part in a meeting of the members of Anonymous or whatever else the seniors who are more tech-savvy than most twenty-somethings might do on their computers.
“There’s a raincoat on the chair in the living room. A yellow one,” Regina says, settling her pillow on her mother’s wide bed. “Where did it come from?”
“A yellow one, you say?” Claudia echoes, her eyes glued to the screen. “I found it in the attic. I put it aside to think which neighbourhood kid to give it to, and forgot about it.”
“How come we have it? I don’t recall myself or Peter wearing it.”
“My dear, how long have we been living in this house? Do you remember thoroughly all the junk we have? Because I don’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if your father bought that raincoat forever ago to give it to you, then stuffed it somewhere and forgot.”
“Maybe,” Regina muses. For some reason she’s dying to know where the raincoat came from. Or it might rather be the wine she has drunk that’s dying to know that.
Later, when her mother is already asleep, when everyone in the house must already be asleep, Regina is standing by the window, listening to the cacophony of rain, staring at the pool of light that keeps dancing under the swinging lantern. It’s weird, about that raincoat, and she feels weird, too. Hannah’s words about the end of the world come to her mind, but that’s not it, not really – it is more like something is about to start, but there is no knowing what.
When she’s already in bed, it suddenly dawns on her what this is reminding her of: she used to feel something of the kind in her youth when she sensed she was about to dream about that boy again.
***
The first time it happens, she’s fifteen, and the boy is not a boy at all – more like a young man, two or three years older than she in appearance. It’s her classmates that are boys, but this one looks almost an adult, almost a bad guy from a movie, wearing a leather jacket, dark hair falling on his face. That is what Regina thinks when she sees him in the woods that night. Not “What am I doing in the woods, actually?” of something like that, because you don’t ask yourself that kind of questions in a dream. If you are in the woods, then you are meant to be in the woods.
“Hey,” Regina says gingerly. The young man, who was looking around, gives a start, turns around, and finally notices her.
“Hey,” he says. Anyone would expect such a guy to have a haughty smirk and a contemptuous look, but he just smiles at her when he sees her, calmly and friendly. “Where on earth am I?”
“In Winden,” Regina approaches him. Again, it does not occur to her in a dream that talking to a stranger in the woods might be a bad idea. “Are you lost?”
He shrugs. “I guess. I, uh, came here from the highway? Can’t remember clearly. I just left home and came here somehow.”
“Sounds like you’ve hit your head,” Regina remarks, which is yet another proof that she’s dreaming: in waking life she would never get smart like that with a strange guy who looks older and stronger than she. It doesn’t look, however, like the strange guy in question has taken any offence, because he just grins in response.
“Perhaps I have. And what are you doing here, robbing the lone travellers?”
“Perhaps I am,” Regina fires back, and smiles hastily to make it clear she actually isn’t. Heavens, she doesn’t know how to talk to boys at all. If Hannah and Katharina saw her now, they’d die on the spot – if not of shame, then of laughter. “If you don’t remember how you got here, then maybe you should go to the hospital? I can lead you there.”
“What about taking a walk first, since I’m already here, and then hospital or whatever? It’s nice here. Back where I’m from they’ve chopped all the woods down.”
The latest in the series of proofs that this is a dream: in real life such words would only have persuaded Regina further that he has to go to the hospital.
But all of this is not real, so she says, “Then let’s go, I’ll show you the caves.”
And they head for the caves, and Regina tells her new acquaintance about Winden – how dreary and dull it is, with mostly nothing to do and nowhere to go, but at least the air is fresh and the trees are tall and ancient. Then they talk about school and music and some other nonsense, until Regina finally realizes that she forgot to ask a very important question.
“Wait,” she stops at the very entrance to the cave and grabs the young man’s hand, and blushes at once, but doesn’t let go. “What is your name?”
He opens his mouth to reply – and she wakes up.
***
The feeling is so similar that the next morning she is even a little disappointed that the night had passed without any dreams. That’s silly, of course – she hasn’t dreamed about him for what, thirty years? And there have been enough men of flesh and blood in her life for her not to worry about the one who never really existed.
But the slight disappointment doesn’t disappear, and the feeling that something important is about to begin doesn’t go away either, and that Monday Regina brings them along to work.
Waldhotel Winden is facing hard times – frankly speaking, Regina cannot remember if there have ever been any other times. Father converted his estate into a hotel when his young new wife, Regina’s mother, refused to live there. Claudia has never elaborated why she rejected that elegant old building, but the older Regina gets, the more often it crosses her mind that deep down her mother didn’t want to live under the same roof with ghosts – not just Bernd Doppler’s late first wife, but also the memory of herself as a child coming there to tutor little Helge. Sweet shy Helge who, according to age, should have rather been Regina’s uncle not her half-brother; who also refused to live in that mansion that smelled of ancientness and dignity with his equally sweet shy wife. Memories had driven the former residents out of the house, leaving it fit only for the strangers who come and go without any trace other than the payment for the room. Unfortunately, there have always been few such strangers: the comparatively pristine nature and the caves steeped in legend are not enough to turn an otherwise ordinary underdeveloped small town like Winden into a popular tourist destination. Presently, for instance, the only guests at the hotel are an elderly couple who checked in three days ago.
It makes no sense to keep a lot of personnel in such situation, so it is Regina herself who is at the reception, while looking through the depressing financial statement for the last half-year. The only guests have gone out, the maid is cleaning upstairs, and when the bell rings above the front door, Regina looks up in involuntary annoyance – she has grown so unaccustomed to visitors that she has almost forgotten their arrival is supposed to make her glad.
“Hello,” she says, having quickly collected herself.
“Good afternoon,” says the newcomer, a man about her age, broad-shouldered and imposing, in an unbuttoned black coat. “I’d like a single room, please. Surely there are any available at the moment?”
“Oh, more than enough,” Regina can’t help commenting, smiling unhappily. “Your name?”
“Boris Niewald.”
Regina cannot explain why, upon hearing this, she immediately thinks there must be some sort of mistake. It is a name like any other – why couldn’t he be called that? And it is not that she was expecting him to have some other particular name – yet still she cannot fight the feeling that he was supposed to be called differently. That would have been explainable if she had met this man before, but she is sure it is the first time she sees him.
…almost sure. Something in his features seems vaguely familiar. But that must be just déjà vu – nothing unusual for her and most of the people she knows. She remembers being extremely surprised back in the day that her friends from the university could not recall ever experiencing it. Maybe Winden has some special aura. Ley lines, geopathogenic zones, that sort of thing.
Maybe it’s just some collective mental health issues.
“I can offer you several rooms to choose from,” she tells him. “You may leave your suitcase in the luggage room for now, so as not to carry it with you.”
***
“You know what I think?” Hannah begins in a sing-song voice. “I think,” she glances at Regina over the history notebook, while wearing her signature sly smile, “that our Regina has a crush.”
“What?!” Regina frowns in confusion. That’s so unrelated to what they were just discussing, where did this even come from? “I think you’re thinking wrong.”
“And I think Hannah’s right,” Katharina declares. Great, now it’s two against one. It would have been an option to stand up pointedly and go to the kitchen to grab more cookies, but, firstly, then the girls would definitely decide they’re on the right track, and secondly, Katharina is currently painting Regina’s nails vibrant dark red – how would she leave with her nails not dried yet, and just with three of them to boot? “Spit it out, girl. Who is he?”
Sometimes Regina cannot believe she’s really friends with these girls. They couldn’t be more different from her in their nature: the rebellious Katharina, quick-tempered and defiant, with bruises under the layers of face powder and sharp words for everyone who dares to look at her the wrong way; the elfin Hannah with her fox face, ambitious and perceptive, prone to imitating the older and more badass Katharina. And then there’s she – so… ordinary. The only remarkable thing about Regina is her good marks, but no one ever likes exemplary students, not even when in need of their help – especially when in need of their help. If it was not for her friends who are more adjusted for survival at school, it would have probably been tough for her, particularly in her childhood and early teenage years, when she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses.
Regina loves her friends, but there are some things she prefers not to tell them.
“I don’t understand what makes you think I have a crush,” she tries to fight back weakly.
“It’s just that every time I look at you at the lessons lately, you’re always up in the clouds with such cute zoned-out little face,” Katharina says, and tries to demonstrate at once just what kind of little face that is. Hannah giggles. “Come on, it’s not like it’s bad. On the contrary, we’re happy for you. Who is he? Does he know?”
He must know, Regina thinks. We see each other once a month or two, go on walks, talk, hold hands, but all of this doesn’t matter because he disappears every time I try to ask him what his name is or tell him my own. Besides, there’s a tiny problem: I only dream about him, and he doesn’t actually exist.
“There’s no one to know,” she tells them with an apologetic smile. Katharina and Hannah hang out with real guys after school, real guys who buy them ice cream and let them wear their jackets when it gets cold, so they don’t need to know that silly Regina (yes, it’s alright to be silly at sixteen, but not sillier than her peers, after all) is in love with someone who only exists in her head. “And I’m up in the clouds because… I keep thinking that school will be over soon, and I’ll be able to leave. We all will be able to leave. And there’ll be no more Winden for us.”
“No more Winden for us,” Hannah repeats dreamily, and Katharina nods in agreement. It’s a perfect way to change the subject – the next instant they’re already sharing plans for the future, discussing where they’re going to enrol, where they want to go on holidays. Indeed, no crush looks as attractive as the prospect of leaving their native shithole for good.
None of them will ever leave Winden for long, but at the time they do not know it yet.
***
Boris Niewald has come to their town as a representative of the company that is building a new shopping centre in Winden. He stays in Waldhotel Winden for a week, and as he comes back every evening that week, he and Regina spend some time talking before the night porter arrives and she goes home. Regina is not in the habit of making close acquaintance with the guests, but when he returns on the evening of the first day, she cannot help asking what his first impressions of Winden are, and then it all happens as if by itself. On the third day, they switch from Sie to du. On the fourth day, she unlocks the liquor cabinet to take out a bottle of expensive brandy given a few years ago by her father’s friend, and offers him a glass on the house.
On the seventh day, when he was supposed to check out, he asks her if it is possible to extend the reservation.
“I still have some three days free,” he tells Regina. They’re sitting in the armchairs in the lobby; the elderly couple has already checked out, the maid has a day off, and it seems as if they’re not at the hotel at all, but at home. Her home or his; possibly theirs. “With all this construction I never got a chance to see the town.”
“I’m afraid this town hardly has anything to offer you,” Regina laughs, toying with the glass in her hand. “We don’t even have a museum. Except the caves, perhaps.”
“The caves? I’ve heard something about them. The ones where someone is said to disappear every year?”
“Well, not every year, but there have been several cases. Usually these poor things get found after a day or two, however – dirty, hungry. Apparently there’s an entire labyrinth of natural origin, and the walls cave in sometimes. There are some weirdos who believe that there is the way to…”
“The centre of the Earth?”
“More like the other dimensions. About ten years ago, some TV people even came to make a documentary, God. I don’t think it was ever released.”
“That sounds appealing,” Boris chuckles. Regina likes his smile, his silver beard, his striking blue eyes. Perhaps she has a type, and her new acquaintance is the perfect match. Both of her husbands looked similarly – both the one who married her, as it quickly came to light, hoping to make a career at the publishing house of the only Winden newspaper, which was headed by her mother back then, and the one that cheated on her a year and a half after their wedding. In other words, both the one that she still never says hello to and the one she still exchanges birthday and Christmas greetings with. The latter and his wife had some kind of unprecedented abundance of currant in their garden last year, and they gave Regina two jars of currant jam; oh the small towns where everyone knows each other in many different senses.
Perhaps her type was shaped by the fact that at the age of fifteen to approximately twenty she frequently dreamed about a handsome boy with precisely such beautiful blue eyes. What of it.
“You don’t hurry home lately, I see” Claudia observes in the morning while Regina is making breakfast. Her mother is reading a fresh newspaper – undoubtedly thinking that without her being editor-in-chief, that newspaper has gone to shit. “Is he trustworthy?”
“He? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regina replies flatly as she puts oatmeal and dried fruit into the bowls.
“What, a she? Didn’t think you’d take after your grandmother, but it’s never too late to get to know yourself, I guess.”
“There’s no one, Mama,” Regina says determinedly. In two days Boris returns to Marburg. There is no point in starting anything.
There is no point in starting anything – yet when on her day off Boris asks her out for dinner, she says yes.
There is no point in starting anything – yet when he kisses her in the hotel corridor it takes her some time to make herself pull away.
“Forgive me,” Boris says when he sees her face. “I suppose I shouldn’t have done this.”
“That’s right,” Regina says and forces a smile. Tomorrow he’s leaving.
There is no point in starting anything – yet when he closes the door after himself and she takes a few steps down the corridor, she realizes suddenly that she doesn’t care. Then she turns around and goes back before letting herself change her mind and knocks on the door of his room. He opens at once.
That night she feels madly young, young and loving and loved.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Boris promises her when he puts the key to the room in her hand the next morning.
There is no point in starting anything, yet she thinks: come back to me.
And, for some reason: come home.
***
At the high school graduation party, the girls from Regina’s class dance with their boyfriends or with the boys they hope to make their boyfriends, lay their heads on their partners’ shoulders, bodies pressed together, hearts full of excitement. As to Regina, she gets asked to a dance by Peter, her nephew-who-looks-rather-like-her-cousin, which is very nice of him. They keep stepping on each other’s feet and laughing about it, and then Take My Breath Away gives way to lively disco, and Regina dances with Katharina and Hannah and then with Peter again and then with some kids who she hasn’t exchanged a word with throughout the entire school year. There are no more couples, just a single happy crowd, and they spin and throw their hands up in the air, like a record, baby, right round, round round.
Officially alcohol at the graduation party is banned. Unofficially, part of the parents and teachers who are chaperoning them all in the festively decorated gym does not care and another part is sneakily sipping something from thermos bottles and flasks themselves. Regina drinks a couple of glasses of the wine that Katharina brought with her in a juice carton. She doesn’t drink often enough to know much about such things, but two glasses mustn’t be too much. It mustn’t be enough to explain why, when she steps out to the porch to take the air and raises her eyes up to the sky, she sees what she sees and stumbles and almost falls down, taken by surprise.
“You all right?” she hears a voice behind her back. Charlotte Tannhaus approaches her, looking rather curious than worried. “Are you going to be sick?”
“N-no,” Regina tells her, with something that should ideally pass for a reassuring smile. “It just seemed like…”
“Like?”
She and Charlotte Tannhaus have never been close, but now both of them are drunk, and besides, Regina is going to leave for the university soon, and whether anyone in Winden thinks her crazy shall lose all importance.
“Like there were two moons in the sky,” she says. ‘Then they merged into one.”
Charlotte nods pensively, as if Regina has just said something extraordinarily deep.
“Maybe that was a vision,” she points out. “Like… we’re all at the crossroads now, right? School is over, life is beginning? Maybe the two moons are like two different paths.”
“That merge into one because they’re actually one and the same?”
“Possible. Or it might even be the third path, another one. Maybe.”
Yeah, Regina thinks, they’re definitely drunk.
“I thought I’d be just leaning up against the wall for half the evening, but it turned out quite great. I wish you were there,” she tells her stranger in a dream that night.
“Yeah, I’d love to go with you,” he says, and then adds something strange:
“It’s a shame you’re not real.”
***
A month later – a month of phone calls and Skype calls, a month when Regina keeps reminding herself not to hope too much and still hopes more and more with each day – Boris comes back.
“I have to tell you something which will make you think that I’m not quite right in the head,” he tells her on the first evening after his arrival. This time he isn’t staying in Waldhotel – he’s staying at her place. “Or that I am lying and being incredibly bad at it.”
“Try me,” she suggests merrily.
“When I was young, I would often see the same dream. Or rather, different dreams about the same girl,” Boris comes up to her writing desk, picks up a framed photo – Regina with her mother and grandfather – and looks at it thoughtfully. In the picture, Regina is sixteen, she has voluminous curls and bright eye shadow in the true spirit of the eighties, and, in the opinion of adult Regina, she’s very small, funny, and good. Better than she thought herself back then, probably. “I wouldn’t say I used to be lonely at that time – I had friends, I had everything, basically – but every time I woke up hoping I’d see her again. I believe I was a little bit in love with her – as if with a singer or a teacher, you know, without any hope that my feelings might be returned. What kind of return might be there if she didn’t really exist, after all?”
He puts the photo back on the desk, and turns to Regina.
“At least I was sure she didn’t exist. And now we’ve come to the part that will make you think me either a liar or crazy,” he smiles at her, but eyes her earnestly, clearly preparing to say something important, clearly wishing for it to be taken seriously despite all the jokes. “You look like her. Judging by this photo, you’re spitting images of each other.”
“What was her name?” Regina asks with bated breath. Boris frowns; he must have been expecting anything but such question.
“I don’t know. I woke up each time I tried to ask her.”
Regina gets up off the bed and comes up to him.
“I think I also have something to tell you,” she says, “that will make you think me either a liar or crazy.”
Now, as luck would have it, it would be the time for the dream to end – but they are really there, really together, and what has started will not end at the crack of dawn, will not end if they let it go on, will not ever end.
#dark netflix#regina tiedemann#aleksander tiedemann#regina x aleksander#aleksander x regina#uhhh an atempt was made#english is not my first language etc. etc.#the title is from twelfth night but also from the haunting of hill house#my fic#gella talks dark#talk talk talk
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
🔆 + [post] college au
featuring @catherinedaly @evcravens @katarinadvpont
“Grace! Mamma wants a picture to make sure I got here okay and didn’t die en route!”
Catherine’s voice floats from the living room into the kitchen where Grace has her head in the fridge, looking for the bottles of wine Katarina had put in there to chill. She grabs the first one she sees (Kat can come back and get a different bottle herself if she wanted something specific, she thinks, swiping the corkscrew from the counter) before sweeping into the living room and depositing herself onto the couch beside her younger sister. Catia’s face is flushed from the two glasses of wine she’s already consumed, and Grace laughs as she fumbles with her phone for a moment before finally taking a selfie. Grace knows she’ll likely get a scolding voicemail from Simona before the night is out for the wine in her hands and Catia’s clearly buzzed state, but she’s happy, so she doesn’t care.
“Are you going to open that or just let it get warm in your hands?” Mikael asks, slouched in the armchair opposite her, and Grace laughs again, deftly uncorking the bottle and pouring him a glass. “For you, m’sieur,” she says in her snootiest sommelier voice, the one she’d perfected those long nights in college when they used to mix something awful for each other and have a guess at what was in it, an exercise in masochism on both their parts that left them more often than not hating themselves the morning after. They’d grown since then, matured to real cocktails and wine that came in bottles instead of boxes (Thank god, Everett had exclaimed at the sight of real Italian wine, last year when they’d all gathered to christen Mikael’s new apartment in Jersey), and Grace’s liver thanked her for it.
“It’s Italian,” she says before Everett can ask, pouring three more glasses and pushing them across the table to their intended recipients. “Kat put aside her homeland snobbery just for you tonight, so we can indulge in your homeland snobbery to celebrate you finally deigning to grace us with your presence.” Mikael roars with laughter as Kat and Ev make twin faces of affront and Catia sneaks Grace’s glass off the table, taking a big sip before Grace can snatch it back. “That’s the last glass for you, drunky,” Grace says fondly, “You’ve gotta be with it when Papa comes to pick you up later or else Mamma will start thinking Kat and Everett are bad influences.”
The two in question pull faces again, and Grace settles back onto the couch with her new glass of wine, smile so wide it hurts her cheeks.
She loves nights like this, family and friends gathered in the living room, when the house is full of laughter and conversation. The brownstone she shares with Katarina is warm and spacious, always kept tidy (Grace) and packed with art and photographs of their mutual friends (Katarina). They have a spare bedroom that they use to house the rotating cast of characters that come through New York, because despite only being in their mid-twenties, having a six figure salary (Grace) and coming from a long line of successful stock brokers (Katarina) means they can afford to live somewhere that isn’t a shoebox, exorbitant rent be damned. Its most common occupant is Mikael, despite the fact that he lives only a short train ride away, because he always whines about how annoying New Jersey Transit is and how cold it gets in the winter. Grace, who grew up in the City, thinks he’s full of shit; then again, he’d spent his whole life in Southern California before moving east after college, so she supposes he gets a free pass for the first few years of real winter.
Sometimes she wonders how they all ended up like this, living in each other’s pockets. Everett and Katarina had met first at an orientation for international students; then Mikael had crashed in, a fortuitous roommate pairing; Lillian came next, trailing in Katarina’s wake, and the four of them became MikandEvandKatandLil easily in the first months of freshman year. Grace, down the hall in Reiber and two rows back in econ classes, was an outsider to the fearsome four, too snarky to fit right in, raising hackles with her quick anger and the drinks she kept accidentally spilling on Everett. Ironic that that’s what brought them together in the end, she thinks, sleepy and warm, before excusing herself from the room.
It’s strange, she thinks, basking in the glow of their laughter as it follows her down the hall to the bathroom, that they all stayed together, relatively speaking. Lillian was off being beautiful somewhere in Europe (she’s in Paris, Grace knows, but she still instinctively pushes down the knowledge of the kind woman with whom she never quite clicked, a sequelae of having pushed down for years the frustration over whether she wants to kiss her or be her, a crisis she’s become more comfortable with since it first started in sophomore year) but she visits as often as she can; Everett was still in Boston, a godsend for Grace’s mother’s nerves as Catia settled into her first year at Tufts (Simona can’t quite handle being an empty nester - it doesn’t matter that Grace lives an easy ride away on the NQR, with Regina fucked off to Montreal for most of the year and Catia in Boston now, Simona is struggling to adjust to not having them all at family meals again like they had been once Grace came back from UCLA), but he too made the pilgrimage to New York with some regularity. Mikael was practically a third housemate. They’d muddled through important years together, through good ideas (vandalizing USC and using an unassuming Everett as the getaway driver) and bad (Grace’s brief affair with Rafaella, a beautiful but flighty exchange student; Mikael’s everything with Lucrezia, a Kappa a year younger than them all who’d moved back to Chicago after her graduation and summarily dumped Mikael over text when she was introduced to a player for the Cubs). Something expands in Grace’s chest as she looks at herself in the mirror, bright and warm and painful in the best way, and she has to sit for a moment on the tub to catch her breath. She leans against the wall, tired and overwhelmed by all the love she holds, and she doesn’t notice the minutes slipping away until the door opens with a quiet click.
To Everett’s credit, he doesn’t startle when he sees Grace, only makes an appraising noise and moves to the sink. Grace, head fuzzy with wine and sleep, does at the sight of him, and smacks her head hard against the tub. She groans, long and low, and Everett laughs at her, the bastard, before stripping off his shirt. “Not that I’m not enjoying the free show,” Grace says with a joking leer, “but why are you rinsing your shirt off?”
“Catia spilled her wine on me,” Everett says evenly, running the bottom of his shirt under the tap. “Must be genetic,” Grace mutters, and he laughs again.
“I still don’t believe all those times were accidents,” he says, wringing out the shirt as best he can. “I’ve never seen you be clumsy around anyone else.”
“They really were,” she whines, clambering out of the tub to perch on the edge. “It’s not like I was purposefully trying to ruin the godawful number of polos you owned.”
“Really? All of them?” He turns from where he’s hanging his shirt on the towel rack to raise an eyebrow at her pointedly. “Even when an entire bucket of punch somehow went from your hands onto Castora and I all through the second story window senior year?”
“And she never forgave me,” Grace says solemly, and Everett only shakes his head with a bemused smile.
“We thought you all went to sleep without telling us.”
It takes her a moment to process the change in topic, but her mouth has always been quick on the draw, ready to spout nonsense until her brain catches up. “I only disappear mysteriously from parties that I am not hosting,” she says, “and this is, regrettably, my house.” She yawns, listing forward from the rim of the tub with enough force to alarm Everett, who easily catches her and pulls her to her feet. “That begs another question,” he starts, bemused, “of why you’re in the bathtub and not, say, your room, where there’s a real bed?”
“Going to bed while you still have people ‘round is admitting defeat,” Grace says haughtily, though the effect is somewhat ruined when she almost trips going out the door on the hallway runner. She rights herself before Everett can steady her and flashes him a placating smile as she turns pointedly back towards the living room, where the rise and fall of Kat’s voice and Mikael’s laughter can be heard over the humming of whatever music Catherine’s put on the stereo. She’s only made it a few steps before Everett is in front of her, turning her around and shooing her back towards the stairs. “I just found you half-asleep in the bathtub,” he says pointedly, boxing her in as she tries halfheartedly to push past him. “And most of us are sleeping here anyway, so it’s not like you need to make sure we all leave without stealing your things.” She gives in with a frown, too tired to argue, overwhelmed by the nearness of him, the warmth he radiates, the sudden urge she has to latch on and not let go.
“Why do you do that?” He asks as he corrals her up the stairs, interrupting the low grumbling she’s kept up all the way down the hall. “What?” She replies brilliantly, caught up in her false irritation and the effort it takes to not trip up the stairs. “Sleep in the tub,” he continues, to which she stops on the top step and shrugs, full body. “Dunno,” she replies, truly uncertain of where that particular quirk came from but now painfully aware that this is not the first time that Everett has come across her asleep in a tub. Once is an anomaly, twice is a pattern.... She can’t quite figure the rest of the thought and instead flings herself onto her bed, loose-limbed and nearly asleep by the time she’s horizontal.
She looks up to see Everett leaning against the side of the doorframe, soft smile playing over his lips. She smiles in return, warm and open and real, and pats the bed beside her. “C’mere,” she says, rolling over to make space for him beside her. Grace closes her eyes as he closes the door, and she feels rather than sees him settle onto the edge of the bed, perched as if he wants to take up as little space as possible. She cracks her eyes open to level him with a withering look. “It’s okay, Mr. Chivalry. Let your hair down. Relax, take off your shoes and dive in, the water’s fine,” she quips stupidly, too tired and buzzed to filter herself. She’s suddenly aware as she rambles that this is the first time he’s seen her room since their freshman year at UCLA, all three thousand miles and seven years away from where they sit now. He’s been to her house before - to her apartment on Levering after their tentative friendship blossomed into something real; once, notably, to her parent’s Upper East Side apartment the summer after their graduation where he’d charmed her father with his talk of his Harvard MBA courseload and her mother and sisters with his insistence on making dinner to repay them for allowing him to crash on their fancy and entirely uncomfortable couch for a night - but never in those times did he come close to entering her room, a strange and sacred space. He never visited her in the shoebox of a studio she kept for the hell of it in Alphabet City that first year, too busy in Boston to do more than catch the Amtrak up for a weekend once or twice every few months. Grace, who had been pulling hellish hours in the office to prove to herself as much as her superiors that she was worthy of a promotion so soon into the job, saw him for an hour at most when he did make it up, safely tucked away in the dark corners of pubs that Katarina and Mikael kept locating in various parts of the city.
It is strangely intimate now, having him in her space, seeing the emptiness of the pale blue walls, the way each thing had its place and no mess was allowed to exist. This was where her fastidiousness for work was echoed in her personality; there was no room for her trademark wildness here.
“Just lie down,” she says finally, after they’ve sat a moment too long in a silence that’s toeing the line of discomfort. “Or walk down two flights of stairs to the guest bedroom, I don’t care.” With a shrug, she flops onto her back, closing her eyes again. She hears him type something (obvious by the quiet click of his iPhone keyboard because he has his ringer on, the maniac) and set his phone down on the bedside table, feels him settle beside her a moment later. She waits a beat before reaching out to tangle her fingers in his.
“Grazie per aver guidato Catia qui e prendersi cura di lei a Boston,” she mumbles sleepily, feeling him tense lightly at the language change. She likes that he forgets sometimes that she grew up speaking Italian around the house, likes that she can still surprise him by volleying his native tongue back at him. She saves it for moments like these, just the two of them, but tonight it feels different and the aching love in her chest feels different too. Tonight Italian feels like the hushed French she can hear from Katarina’s room every night when she talks to Lillian, devotion bridging the hours and miles that separate them. Tonight, sono contento che tu sia mio amico feels a little like I love you. Everett’s hand in hers is warm.
“È facile. Non c'è niente di cui ringraziarmi. So quanto eri eccitato di vederla.” The bright thing expands in her chest again.
“Sono felice di vederti anche io,” she mumbles.
“Lo so,” he says, smile evident in his voice, and he gives her hand a little squeeze. Grace grins stupidly at the ceiling, warm with pleasure and the gentle weight of Everett beside her, and falls asleep.
#featuring blink and you'll miss it reference to castora and also a complete slaughtering of english grammar#this baby's got two of the longest sentences ive ever written and it's chaos#have some functional adults who love each other#spray our dreams on any surface where the paint will stick | au#one whole life recorded in disappearing ink | drabble#I will walk down to the end with you if you will come all the way down with me | everett [past]#you're the last best thing I've got going | katarina#seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright | mikael#what will i do when i don't have you / when i finally get what i deserve | catherine
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
