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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 3 years

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How to Dream About Your Crush

Summary: You’re gonna go into your crush’s dream and that’s not all, you’re going to make him fall madly in love with you, only in seven days.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Banshee! Reader

Words: 9k+

Warnings: No correlation to the wikihow article, wattpad got nothing on me, references to HYYH era and the ‘Save Me’ webtoon, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Pretty PG rated overall except for some suggestive parts

💌 A/N: This is the longest Jungkook ff I have ever written. Also, happy valentine’s day!

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“Who are you?” He asked you as you turned around, your long red dress flowing freely behind you as he ran towards you. “Your future.” You gave him a half smile and everything faded to white, that’s how the dream ended. You woke up with a smile on your face, feeling quite well rested. You weren’t, however, ready to face Jungkook after that little stunt you pulled. Yoongi was glaring at you as you trudged to the kitchen.

“There’s a reason why we don’t use the dream dust on humans, you know?”

“I know, I know. But he’s the cutest boy I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and you know I’m the equivalent of a newborn even at 22.” Your superior lets out a sigh.

“Yes, I suppose I understand why you did it. I just don’t like it, is all. Our kind isn’t known to humans. Even though we blend in well, we cannot mix. Some are just too smart for us to sneak past.” Yoongi finishes whipping up the last batch of his potions for the next week and a half.

“I know you’re salty because once they thought you were a ghost when you went out to go buy a t.v. It doesn’t help that they made a horror movie about it either.” You laugh at the memory, your eyes twinkling with mischief as your older brother glares daggers at you, again.

“We’re the laughing stalk of the 4th dimension, Y/N, how would you feel if a human mistook you for a demon and decided to give you a silly name like, “the crying woman?” or “the girl from the ring?” You just narrowed your eyes at him.

“Those things already exist. Besides, I think it was a good thing that you got caught. Humans fear us so they’ll stay away. Even if they’re wrong about the ghost part, we still have a cool name.” Yoongi buckles his satchel before putting his brown bag over his shoulder and going out for the day.

“For the record, Banshees are cool. Banhees are not.” You rolled your eyes at him as he left, finally locking the door behind him. You loved spending time alone, as you have been for the last quarter of a century. It felt like an eternity, all that time cooped up in your house that you were assigned to stay in with your superior, Yoongi. Over a period of time, he became like a brother to you, that’s why it’s easier to refer to him as your brother, even though you aren’t biologically related to one another.

Your world operates similar to the human world, the only difference is that ghouls don’t get into fights over silly things and there’s no concept of racism because the entire population consists of different types of people and it's not like you deal with the same species. Instead you consider yourselves a single population of just otherlanders. There are others like you, but their existence doesn’t affect yours in any shape or form.

You worked for the factory that you were born at, the same factory that sent you and Yoongi to the human dimension. This way, you could do good deeds without bothering anyone. You were born into a complicated situation. Your entire family was under arrest when you were still in utero, and you were born in a factory jail cell. You were sent to an orphanage as an infant and when you were around 18 years of age, you were sent to work at the factory. That is also where you met your 110 year old superior.

Others didn’t protest, even though it was odd for such a young Banshee to be traveling to the human world and completing tasks meant for elders. Yoongi luckily looked after you, and you became used to the workings of the human world. Your job was easy enough: Look after the souls who you have been assigned to and help them through their dreams.

It was an easy enough task, except for the fact that you couldn’t directly intervene in their lives. You had to go into their dreams and Jungkook Jeon just happened to be one of the lucky humans you had the pleasure of helping, at least that’s what you like to believe. Yoongi got assigned to him instead, but once you got a peek of that bunny-toothed smile, you just couldn’t resist! That boy was just too cute.

To Yoongi’s dismay, you started appearing in his dreams, whether they were dreams or nightmares. You also couldn’t risk him seeing your body, because the lifeless skin with a light blue tint would be a dead giveaway that you weren’t human.

All you needed was a picture of him and some dream dust, the unfortunate part was that Yoongi was the only one who could make it, as he knew the recipe by heart and refused to give it to you until you learned how to be a responsible Banshee and do your job. For your family, who you barely knew.

Later that night, you find yourself in the middle of a road. All you can see is darkness, except for the road with clear yellow lines separating the two lanes. A strange feeling forms in the pit of your belly as you look past your field of vision and you see the road cut off. When you turn around, you see Jungkook, who looks shocked to see you in the middle of his nightmare.

He shuts his eyes and covers himself with his arms, as if he would be shielded from whatever danger just because he can’t see it. Before you can ask him what he was doing, a blinding flash of light stops you, and you feel the impact of the car as glass shards go flying everywhere. It was in slow motion, but you could see Jungkook’s horrified face as you stare back at him with lifeless eyes. He was so startled that he woke up before you did, leaving you alone on the dark road again, only shards of glass and a smashed car to keep you company.

It seems Jungkook’s trauma runs deeper than his memory. When you were flying through the air in slow motion, your vision came back into focus. The blinding light hadn’t reached your eyes yet, so it gave you time to peer into the window. You didn’t see a driver, no face, no body, no hands. It was like the car was driving itself.

You also noticed that the car was driving in the middle of the road, not on either side so it didn’t give Jungkook an opportunity to move out of the way. You getting into an accident was not your fault either, you weren’t meant to be there in the first place. Now that you know, you can avoid this in the future by pulling Jungkook aside or pushing him out of the way. Even though it was a dream, you still felt pain from the incident. This was a downside to being a creature of the night, you remember dreams vividly and never forget pain. That’s why there were a small number of Banshees in your world, because people remembered the pain of giving birth, they stopped reproducing.

It was about 9 in the morning when you awakened from your slumber, after recounting the events in the dream world by yourself after Jungkook woke up, you stayed there alone. Sometimes, a girl just needs to have that peace and quiet.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Yoongi!” You gasp, sitting up on the bed, clutching your blanket with one hand and your dream journal in the other.

“I thought I told you to stop going after that Jungkook boy. He’s my assignment, after all.” You pout as Yoongi shuts you down again.

“Yoongi, how many times do I have to tell you? I can’t let him go. He’s special.” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“How many times have I heard this before? One, two, three? They were all different names, different partners too. Ah, how it feels to be a teenager.”

“I’m not a teenager. Not in our dimension, anyways.” Yoongi doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry at your naive remark. All he can do now is take care of you and get you home in one piece.

“I know that.” He clicks his tongue but you still look more perplexed than ever.

“We’re partners, but this assignment has to be done alone. If you screw this up for me, I can get fired.”

“I understand, sir yes sir,” You salute him before flipping through the pages of your dream diary. “I won’t mess this up. In fact, I think I even found the root of his trauma.” Yoongi shakes his head at your thoughtless comment.

“There is no such thing as a “root” of trauma. Normally, people are mentally scarred during their childhood and they grow up to have problems during their adult life. In Jungkook’s case, he is not a full adult yet, we’re just lucky we got here in time before it started taking over his life.”

“Yoongi, when can I have my first assignment? They said we were partners and sent us here so we can complete missions together but it feels like you just want me to stay out of it altogether.” Yoongi furrows his brows. He puts his fingers to his forehead, pressing down and rubbing his temples for relief. He looks tired and grumpy, like an old man.

“I can’t teach you if you won’t listen to me. When I told you to let me handle this alone, I meant that I wanted to be the one to open the gates to the dream world and let you through so you could observe from a distance.”

“Oh yeah? And how’s that coming for ya?”

“So far? Not so great.” He sighs, plopping onto the green couch with a thwack.

“Tell me what’s the matter.”

“You. You keep messing everything up. I bet you can’t even do your job right even if I assigned you the task.” Your eyes widen at his playful comment, which was a complete 180 from his authoritarian behavior from before.

“I bet I can do that, and make him fall madly in love with me while doing it.” The corners of his lips twitch upwards and into a strange mix between a grimace and a smirk. It takes you a moment to realize that he was trying to smile, something that Yoongi doesn’t do very often.

“In a week?” Yoongi adds. “If you fail, you have to buy me a Maxi size blanket from Max-Mart.” You reach out to shake his hand but withdraw quickly, realizing that you forgot to decide his punishment.

“And if I win, you have to give me the recipe to Dream Dust.” He scoffs. “Deal.” You shake on it.

Day 1

You wipe your sweaty palms on your pajamas as you prepare for another night in Jungkook’s Dream World. The first thing you needed to do was confront him. Unlike Yoongi, you believed in doing things head-on. Much to your company’s dismay, there were no specific rules stating that you can’t do so. You can’t interfere in the waking world, that’s all.

“It’s you.” Jungkook is in the middle of a floating pile of laundry, which piles higher than any mountain you’ve seen before.

“How’d you get up there?” You ask, trying to change that topic since dream logic allowed you to skip over the meaningless greetings and get to the point. Jungkook didn’t notice, giving you what he thought was a sensible answer but instead the letters came out jumbled and he said something about Alpaca parkas.

“That’s a lovely scent. What kind of detergent do you use?” Jungkook shrugs as you help him out of the pile, not minding that you flew up to do so. “Are you an angel?” He asks finally, when you set him down after flying him back down to safety.

“If that’ll help you sleep better at night, then yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ve seen you before, you’re the one that ran away from me the other time...but that was a dream. Oh my god, am I dreaming?” Jungkook’s smile makes your heart melt. You never thought you would meet a human that made you feel this way, much less a boy. If he belonged to your world, he would be an infant, same as you. But he is technically older than you, since you were only 22 and he was 24.

“Can you tell me who was driving the car?” You shift topics easily but Jungkook’s dreamscape looks murky. It’s like he’s having a thousand thoughts at once but you can’t hear any of them, as he’s keeping them to himself, even in his own dream. Technically, the dream plane is a place where people can share dreams if their connection is strong enough, but you forced your way into his dreams, with the dream dust. Another strange rule about the dream plane is that if he didn’t truly want you here, you could be cast out of his dream. Of course, that’s never happened to you before since you only watched Yoongi do this from afar and never interfered with it directly.

“No.” Again, the horn of that very same car warns you from behind as Jungkook watches the light with wide doe eyes, waiting for the impact that never comes.

He looks at you with confusion as you make the car swerve past you into a halt, something that Jungkook himself can never do. He always gets hit in the end, and then wakes up in his bed in a cold sweat. It’s not really a pleasant feeling, as his heart would race and he would have to get up to drink water or go to the bathroom to calm down his nerves.

“How did you do that?” His dreamscape changes again, to something more serene. A golden-orange sunset near the beach. You can feel the sand between your toes as the waves crash onto your feet and swipe it away. The change is drastic to the empty road in the darkness that always ends in a car crash. You can tell Jungkook still has no control over it, the car just hits him every time and instead of moving out of the way, he waits for the collision, like he’s supposed to get hit.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s your dream, after all.” You try twisting the situation around, since in the dreamscape, you can say or do anything and it will make sense to the person dreaming at the time.

“But you’re here. I know I’ve never met you in real life...so why do you keep appearing in my dreams?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you caught a glimpse of me somewhere and now your subconscious is presenting me as the answer to your problem.” Why did you say that? Now you’ve really gone and done it.

“How can you possibly be my “cure?” The car was just a coincidence. Let’s just say I was so taken aback that I stopped it from crushing you. What good does having you by my side do for me? Are you supposed to be my miracle?” You decide to play along, just for now. If Jungkook thinks he needs you, and you give him exactly what he wants (because it’s a dream), then in the waking world when you run into him, you can directly help him heal and overcome his fears. It’s a win-win situation! Although, Yoongi won’t be very proud of you for doing the latter.

He doesn’t believe in doing the work himself, he says making the humans come to a realization is much more satisfying than directly trying to fix the problem. He calls it pushing things into place, you call it laziness.

“Again, it’s all up to you. I’m just here for the ride.” You’re vague on purpose, as Jungkook comes close to you, practically bumping noses as his breath fans on your lips like a cool breeze of air. You don’t know why, but your heart races when he steps even closer to you.

His lips are almost touching yours, when he suddenly pulls away.

“I don’t even know you.”

You wake up in a cold sweat. Yoongi is flipping through a book, smirking as he sips some coffee while watching you struggle after your return from Jungkook’s dreamscape. He doesn’t think you’ll be able to get any further than angering Jungkook for prying into his most personal thoughts through his dreams.

You make yourself some coffee before starting the day, peering out the window to watch Jungkook as he exits his apartment in a rush, with a guitar case in hand. You know exactly where he’s going, too.

You decide to make your first encounter with Jungkook a mere coincidence. A chance-meeting. Two people meeting on the street only to meet later somewhere else. You were playing with destiny.

Your physical body has noticeable differences from a human’s body, which means if Jungkook gets too close, he could discover you’re not like him. You opted to wear a simple brown trench coat and some brown boots, but you keep your face covered until you drop a coin in his guitar case.

His eyes widen when he sees you, and you give him the sweetest smile you think a human girl can possibly muster. Quickly, you turn around and disappear around the corner, leaving Jungkook to busk again by his lonesome. He does it everyday, for two hours. After that, he heads down to his workplace which is by a supermarket.

You don’t go to that supermarket to buy groceries, since it was far away, compared to your local supermarket.

“You know, if you don’t think you can do this, you can give your bag of dream dust to me and I can—” “No!” You interrupt Yoongi, with tearful eyes. “I don’t care about your stupid bet. I just want Jungkook to get at least one night of rest. This may be a game for you, but he’s a real person, you know? He is more than an “assignment.” Yoongi, I’m asking you for a bit of humility.” Yoongi sighs before setting his book down on the table, putting a hand on his chin as he speaks to you.

“And so it begins. Your first mission,” You look at him with bewilderment; Had he meant to piss you off from the very beginning? “The same thing happened to me on mine, and my grandfather’s father. The key to a successful mission is realizing that your assigned humans are human.” You were at a loss for words.

Yoongi helped you? This one is definitely going in the book of reports.

“What difference does it make? Jungkook doesn’t want my help. He doesn’t even know me.”

“But you know him,” Yoongi’s eyes glimmer with flecks of gold, his irises naturally brown with a yellow undertone. You always found his eyes captivating, mirroring the very essence of his soul. He’s wise and monotonous, with a microscopic piece of warmth seeping through the cracks. Rarely does he express any kind of emotion at all. Yet this was one of those rare moments in which he displayed emotion. “So help him.”

Day 2

Jungkook’s dreamscape had taken a turn for the worst. This time, you found yourself in the middle of a crime scene, Jungkook watching himself bleed out as his double sinks into the white-tiled floor, fresh scarlet blood pooling around his head. You stood on the far side of the island, not wanting to be found out.

Jungkook walks past the body suddenly, making a beeline for the back door. You watch the scene around you shift once again, and suddenly, you’re in the middle of a party. Is Jungkook reliving memories? Seeing vivid nightmares because those memories haunt him? You know he was involved in a car accident, and that left him unable to dance. He still can’t exert force on his leg to this day, even though it’s been 5 years.

You follow Jungkook’s mop of dark brown hair, taking in his man-bun for a second before walking behind him as quietly as possible. The party itself isn’t loud, the strange dream logic allows Jungkook to drown out any noise. He probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but that’s how dreams work, subconsciously. You follow him along a dark corridor, your eyes going wide when you realize this is a make-out corner, and then to your horror, you see him kiss someone. You can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman given the crappy lighting, but you can see that whoever it is, they’re really into the kiss.

Jungkook suddenly pushes them away, running towards the bathroom, and when you go to see what’s the matter, someone from his dreamscape runs past you to go help him. You peer in through the door, only opening it half way to find none other than Yoongi himself assisting a half-dead Jungkook on the ground. His labored breaths resound through the room, as you watch him grip the edges of the toilet seat.

“Jungkook-ah, I’m here now. Let’s get you home.” You’re quick to realize that’s not your Yoongi, although the two of them bear a striking resemblance.

“Hyung, do you love me?” You hear Jungkook croak out, the innocence in his voice suggesting that this was one of his early memories from school.

“Of course I do. Do you think I’d come all the way here if I didn’t?”

“I kissed her. Your girlfriend.” Instead of becoming upset, or dropping Jungkook, he just lets out a chuckle. You feel instantly jealous of Jungkook for getting such an expressive Yoongi. Your Yoongi is broken. Not to mention now, he has black hair. The Yoongi that’s helping Jungkook out of the colorful club restroom has mint-green hair.

“That’s fine. You know I’d even share her with you, if you asked.” You gawk at the boys as they walk past you, Jungkook oblivious to even you at that moment. It seems like he is the closest to Yoongi, even though you know for a fact Yoongi has never even gone out to bars in the human world. He’s a stickler when it comes to rules. This man is most definitely not someone you know.

You’re sure about one thing, though. He’s got to be the key to healing Jungkook. Yet, you have no idea where to even begin. For now, you settle on following Jungkook from a distance and approaching him when the time is right. This time, when the scene fades, you’re in the middle of a graveyard. Oh hell no.

You see none other than Yoongi, at least his picture, resting on the tombstone. You were so taken aback, you woke up out of shock, like an amateur.

“What? Can’t sleep?” He mocks as he flips to the next page of his book.

“I just saw you. Your past life, it was you!” Yoongi is quick to put his book away, standing up and walking towards you to check your temperature.

“Tell me what happened.”

“You had mint green hair. Jungkook was a close friend of yours, he even went to your funeral. I think he was reliving a memory.”

“But that’s not possible! Five years ago I wasn’t even in the human realm! How could this happen?”

“I don’t know. But I saw it on your tombstone. Yoongi Min, 1993-2016.” Yoongi mutters a couple curses in latin under his breath before turning back to you. “There was a human version of me living at the same time as a Banhee version of me?”

“It looks like it. I was going to seek him out but it doesn’t look like I can anymore.”

“Maybe the one upstairs willed it.”

“You mean to say God actually made it like that so you can help me out with the current situation?” He nods.

“Precisely. We have the same first names, different surnames, but we are most definitely identical. Here, I found a picture of him online. Don’t we look like twins?” You hate to admit it, but it looks like Yoongi will have to help you with this one.

“Creepy.”

“Let’s put a halt on that bet. It’s not fair to either of us if I help you out by pretending to be this Yoongi person,” Your lips curve upwards into a smirk. “But this Yoongi has mint-green hair.” Yoongi shakes his head, grabbing your hand as you reach up to mess with his hair.

You make a quick trip to a beauty store to collect some things like bleach, hair dye, and some makeup just for you. Yoongi glared at you since he was the one paying for everything but it’s not like he does any “obscure human jobs” as he would call them. You’re paid in human money, but all of your pay is collected by the facility that’s holding your family. You’d have to work for 50 years to free them, so during that time you have to depend on Yoongi for money. He gets an average of $3000 per month, plus the money that he’s been saving since the 1920’s, and luckily since the Great Depression only effected the “stupid humans who don’t know how to handle their money,” Yoongi only made more money in the end, racking up tenfold of his pay. The value of his money went up, and he was a millionaire now so it didn’t matter.

He just hated spending money, is all.

You spent the rest of the night dying Yoongi’s hair, bleaching it first before waiting so you could add the mint green dye. Yoongi reminded you of how much he hated you every second of the way.

By 8 am, he was dyed and ready. His mint green hair looked resplendent. You licked your lips and sent him out, not realizing that it was already the next day.

Day 3

Yoongi bumped into Jungkook, breaking his own rules with the “coincidence.” You made sure that it was just a run-in though, something that will make Jungkook’s subconscious mind think about his Yoongi again. Yoongi was determined to help you now more than ever, since it seemed there was a human double of him born with the same name, but he was only a few years older than Jungkook, as opposed to being nearly a whole century older than him.

You knew this would mean Jungkook would dream of Yoongi tonight, and your Yoongi could slip unknowingly to find out more. You needed to know, it seemed as if Yoongi was essential to solving the problem behind Jungkook’s nightmares, the same ones that creep in during the day, leaving him restless and stroppy in the morning.

When night fell, you were ready to hide under the nearest tree you could find. It looks like today, Jungkook is thinking about his friend’s death. Some things remained unclear, as Jungkook fell flat on his face and began sobbing, stirring your own emotions as you empathize with him. Never have you ever felt this way about an assignment before, you only observed from a distance. Seeing Jungkook’s tears roll down his cheeks and his eyes turning puffy only made you more encouraged to help him. Yoongi watches you from his hiding place, smiling as you wipe your own tears, and wait for him to make the next move.

Yoongi walks up to him slowly, after what felt like an eternity, he is directly in front of him.

“Stand up, old friend.” Jungkook’s face lights up at his voice, and his cheeks have retained a lovely rosy hue that you’ve never seen before. He’s just so adorable, the way he chats away with your superior, believing him to be his long-dead friend.

“I miss you a lot these days, you know?” Jungkook turns back to him with a sad smile as he observes his features. “Your green hair was truly iconic. Actually, I think you might have been the only person in Korea to pass away with mint-green hair.” He laughs along with Yoongi making sure to play his part and gain the intel you needed to execute the plan.

“Enough about the green hair. I’m here to check up on you. Heaven has really bad reception so I couldn’t connect to Earth.” Jungkook stifles a laugh at his joke, quieting down when he sees that Yoongi isn’t laughing along.

“I’m leaving this place soon, too,”

Your face turns pale at his words. He couldn’t mean that he wanted to...there was no way. “I’m dying, like a flower blooming in reverse.” It sounded beautiful, when he said it. A part of you wanted to see it for yourself, a flower blooming in reverse. In this case, it seemed that Jungkook was the flower. And a flower can’t possibly turn back into a bud. The only thing it can do is shrivel up and die. You certainly didn’t want to see that happening to Jungkook any time soon.

“It’s called wilting. And also, what do you mean?” Yoongi puts a hand on his hip. You can tell he’s growing impatient.

“I’m losing my will to live. What’s the point of life if there’s no one to share it with? Jimin won’t even come visit your grave because he’s still in denial that you’re gone, Jin is living his dream in America in broadway doing shows, and everyone that we knew before is busy. They moved on with their lives, forgot about you, and us, we were the dream team.”

“That’s a part of life, Kook. I’m sorry if you feel that way now but just because I’m gone it doesn’t mean you should just put a halt on your life. We were the dream team, but now it’s just you. You have to put in an effort to move forward and carry those past experiences with you.”

You never knew the weight of a heavy heart before now.

You resisted running forward as well, letting Yoongi handle this as he was always meant to.

“It’s not that easy, you know? I’ve changed. It’s hard for me to even get a decent night’s sleep with all of the nightmares I have.” Yoongi realizes quickly that Jungkook hasn’t recognized that he is dreaming yet. It is common within humans not to understand that, even when it’s so obvious that their subconscious is altering their dreams while they are in the dream.

“Why don’t you try going to sleep now? I’m sure you can sleep well if you let go.” Yoongi gestures for you to come forward when Jungkook takes his advice and he goes to “bed.” You were in the middle of his bedroom, while he “slept” soundly on a bed. A dream within a dream.

“What do we do? We’ve never tried to help someone like this before.” Yoongi shrugs.

“This way, if he gets too excited and wakes up, he will still be dreaming. It’s a simple banshee-dream surfing hack.” You roll your eyes, relaxing for only a minute before Jungkook begins to stir in his bed.

“Now, put your hand on his forehead. You are going to go inside his dream and confront his problems next to him.” You nervously look up at Yoongi, before putting your hand down on his forehead. Even his forehead is hot. Does this man have to be so sexy all the time?

You were back on the empty road. Except this time Yoongi was there, but it wasn’t your Yoongi. This Yoongi was human, bleeding bright crimson blood, and he was as good as dead. You felt a rush of fear for a moment, having to remind yourself that the real Yoongi is watching you from outside, as you were inside a dream within a dream.

“Please, wake up.” Jungkook desperately shakes his friend, crying as he lies limp in his arms.

“He’s gone, Jungkook.”

“Why are you here again?!” He snaps, and all you can do is wonder how to save yourself the trouble of an explanation.

And then he wakes up.

Day 4

“Since you screwed up so bad yesterday, I wanted to ask you if you’ll stay out of trouble and avoid interacting with Jungkook unless you absolutely have to.”

“Yes sir.” You salute your mentor as you drink a glass of milk before curling up in your comfy bed.

Yoongi was going to join you again in the dreamscape, this time making Jungkook show him the answers without asking. He was a master of deception, making sure to lure his assignments into a false sense of security before making them face their biggest nightmare only to make them realize that they were their own enemy all along.

It was surprising how most of the time, things turned out exactly the same way, with there being a 99% chance that the reason why a person isn’t able to move forward in their life, it is due to their own fears of failure. One should never be afraid of the unknown, as the possibilities for success are endless.

All that he had to do was show Jungkook what could happen if he would just let go of his friend’s death.

He is standing in the middle of a dark and desolate dreamscape, as you duck behind a dead tree only to see that flowers bloom at your touch. This could only mean one thing: you were starting to creep into his subconscious, his deeper thoughts as you appeared many times in his dreams before and now he was actively thinking of you.

You felt flattered at first, before you realized that this could potentially ruin the entire plan.

You stay hidden and watch Yoongi as he bends and controls the environment to his will, showing Jungkook a vision of an ideal family. His future if he learned to let go. His picture-perfect (faceless) wife and two kids, his furnace burning bright as winter came early, and a little golden retriever puppy.

“This isn’t right. I should be married to her,” Jungkook mutters to himself, but it’s still loud enough for you to hear. You see Jungkook create a different version of you from his memory, but since it is a dream it isn’t perfect. You know it’s you because she’s wearing the same red dress you wore when you were fooling around in his dreams before the bet even started in the first place. “She’s the only one for me.” You feel something similar to an earthquake, as Jungkook’s dreamscape shakes violently. You come flying out of your hiding place, Yoongi’s hand reaching out to you a smidge too late as you face Jungkook.

“Who are you?” He inquires, once again reaching out to you as you gaze into his deep brown eyes, admiring his handsomeness before being yanked out from the dream by your superior.

You sit up straight in bed, as if you had just walked right out of the dream realm. Your awareness was intact, and Yoongi was sitting beside you, in his prized rocking chair. You knew with whatever you were planning now, you needed to involve Yoongi.

“Yoongi, do you know where Banshees come from?” Yoongi groans as you ask him the same question all the little ones back in your world ask you.

“No. As I told you before, there’s no exact science.”

“Then does that mean everything I am doing is for nothing? I’m helping my supposed “family” by doing this job but I don’t think I really understand who it is I’m helping. As far as I know, my parents didn’t raise me. They could be dead.” Yoongi sighs, putting a hand on your shoulder as you tell him about your worries.

“While some of that may be true, I know that you are the closest thing that I have to a sister right now. Even if you feel doubt about your birth family, stop thinking about them. I’m the loneliest creature on this planet. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a partner and I’m glad they chose you. You keep me company, and the house feels more lively with you. So what do you say? If you won’t do this for your real family, do this for me?” How could you possibly say no to him when he puts it like that?

“You are my real family, dummy. And who said I was quitting? I just don’t know if I can pull this off yet.” You share an embrace before running off to make yourselves some hot coco.

Meanwhile, across the street when Jungkook wakes up in his bed, he notices the couple running around in their apartment, and upon closer inspection, he noticed that you bore very similar resemblance to someone he saw in his dreams. He didn’t get a good look at the guy, but he also looked familiar.

Jungkook tucked the thought away in the back of his mind, planning to investigate it later, after work. He hops out of bed to get the day started, only thinking of his ideal girl and Yoongi. His past was starting to matter less and less to him, so he felt like he could accomplish a lot more today.

Maybe you were starting to make some progress on him.

Day 5

Jungkook’s dream started off a nightmare again. The recurring car crash scene played out before him, but instead of colliding with the glass and flying through the air in slow motion, he stopped it by holding out his hand.

“I knew it, I’m dreaming!” You and Yoongi share a look of fear as humans who are aware that they are dreaming are not to be messed with. If either of you exposed the magical world to a human, the kind of trouble you would get in is far worse than life in jail.

“We have to get out of here.” Whispered Yoongi as you met in the clouds. It was the only place you could hide, since Jungkook had awareness and it was a bad idea to be seen while he was in a state to make sense of things.

“How?”

“We need to wake him up somehow. Maybe we should trick him!”

“Yoongi, what are you thinking of doing?” You ask as he stands up, preparing to jump down from the cloud.

“I’m gonna try and wake him up. With my true form.” You shake your head at that, trying to grab onto his legs as he floats down.

He turns an ugly shade of blue, his pale skin an unnatural shade of white, the same white that corpses turn after spending hours at the morgue. His hair turns black, and grows out just a little too long. His legs become crooked, bending an unnatural way as Jungkook turns around to face him.

“AHHHHHHH!” He wakes up immediately, pulling you and Yoongi out of your dream sequence.

“Good going. Although, I can never figure out how to make my legs do that.” Yoongi shrugs, before hopping out of bed and leaving you confused.

“Wait, you slept next to me last night? I don’t remember that…” He ignored you as he quickly got out his phone and started going through emails he had received from HQ in the human world. Who would’ve thought? The fancy software company uptown was a cover for all of the monsters working in the human world.

“Oh no, they’re asking me for a progress report.”

“So?” You didn’t know why he sounded so stressed all of a sudden.

“By now he shouldn’t be having that car nightmare. What are we gonna do?” He grips your shoulders as you comfort him with patting his hands.

“There, there. Don’t cry. I think we can do this in three days. We have to use Yoongi, though. The one from Jungkook’s memories.”

While you were busy with Yoongi in your apartment, Jungkook was groveling in his own place, remembering the painful events from the past which led him here.

Yoongi tried killing himself, multiple times. But he saved Jungkook when he was about to get hit by a car. It wasn’t just him. His friends were there too. They came running to find them in the corner of an alleyway after Yoongi had been run over and Jungkook was too shocked to speak.

He was closer with Yoongi than any of the others so when he died, a part of himself died as well. Yoongi was depressed after his last girlfriend left him. They were so close but then out of the blue she ghosted him and blocked his number and everything. Jungkook couldn’t do much to help except play piano for the man when he asked. While Yoongi smoked on his ugly green couch, Jungkook would play.

The same song which haunts him to this day.

Day 6

“When will I see you again?” Jungkook asked as he reached out to the apparition of Yoongi.

He disappeared, turning into smoke when Jungkook tried to touch him. “Why am I so lonely?”

“You’re not lonely because he left. You’re lonely because you miss him.” When he turned around, you were standing before him, in your red dress. Just as he remembered seeing you the first time.

“You’re the girl who’s been appearing in my dreams every night.” You looked down at your gown, deciding to own up to the fact that you’d been showing up in his dreams.

“At first, I thought you were just a cute boy with a troubled past. But I see your past is a lot more than just that.” You sit next to him as he sits down in an empty patch of grass, surrounded by a beautiful garden at his feet.

“How did you get in my head? Surely I would remember what my own crush looks like.” You shake your head. At first, making him fall in love with you was your ultimate goal. You didn’t want to continue deceiving him like this, pretending that you were some angel when you’re not.

“I’m not anyone you know. I’m just here to help and leave after I’m done.”

“What do you mean?” With the way he was looking at you right now, you were a sure goner. His long, black curls forming a natural halo around his head as his face...his soft cheeks blush a light pink. Under the sunset and the dreamy atmosphere, Jungkook looks unreal. It didn’t take long for his lips to connect with yours.

When you woke up from the excitement, you knew you were screwed. There’s no way you could come back now.

“Yoongi!” You called out for your partner as he continued fixing hot chocolate for you. “I need to meet him in real life. Every time I get too close, he just wakes up. Dreaming isn’t going to help anymore, I need to take action in the real world.”

“But Y/N, I can’t let you do that. He’s a human and if he even sees you, he’ll know you aren’t an ordinary girl.” You look at your own skin, dreading how you looked at the moment because you were no greek goddess when it came to looks. You just had control over what you looked like in the dream realm so you appeared human.

“I need to try, Yoongi. Maybe I’ll hide my face. My eyes give it all away. Or maybe I could get contacts like you.”

“No contacts. And no going out alone. How many times do I have to tell you? It is against the rules to initiate contact with a subject directly if not in the dream realm. Even then, you have to keep a distance because there’s a rule about that too.”

“Screw you and your rules! I’ll do what I want. This dream dust is mine.”

“Y/N, no!” Yoongi called out to you as you sprinkled the last of the dream dust on you, drifting off to sleep just to arrive at a party.

“Where am I?”

“You’re at our frat partayyy! Could you do me a favor and go make out with our newest recruit over there? It’s part of our initiation to kiss a girl before being sworn in.” You walked over to the direction the guy pointed you in, seeing a frightened Jungkook sitting alone.

“Hey, are you Jungkook?” You pretend like this is the first time you’re seeing him, since he didn’t know he was dreaming and a lot of dialogue is very scripted in these kinds of dreams as well.

“Yeah.”

“Come with me.” You pulled him towards the closet, making it so that when you entered, you would enter a different place.

“Where are we now?”

“Our first date. Cotton candy?” Jungkook didn’t question you, but he had his doubts as you headed to the Ferris Wheel. You were in the middle of a fair, but Jungkook didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at the moment.

“You’re the dream girl!” You whacked his arm, smiling sheepishly like you were having a natural reaction to what he said even though you kissed a couple dreams ago.

“Aw, I didn’t think I was your ideal type. I guess we got lucky, huh?” You kissed his cheek as he stayed completely still, blinking a few times as the world around you started to crumble. He was about to wake up, but you didn’t want to be present when he did. You quickly used your power to lull his dream self to sleep, putting him down under a safe place before going into his dream within his dream.

“Jungkook! What are you doing here?” He was currently sitting with a group of people, around a campfire as you ran towards him in a new outfit so it looked like you randomly stumbled upon this place.

“What a coincidence. I was out here toasting marshmallows and I found you.” You felt a pang of guilt in your heart from lying to him but you couldn’t disclose your identity so quickly! You were keen on healing him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“No way, I’m not ditching my friends.” You waved your hand behind your back, making the people disappear.

“Too bad, because it looks like they already left you,” You giggle as he groans, before grabbing a stick for you to toast. “Thank you.” You snack on the marshmallow as he asks you some things.

“So are we a thing now?” You nearly choke on your stick as Jungkook awaits an answer.

“I guess. I never really liked labels though, how about we just call it “us?” It’s a lot easier when we don’t have to explain it.”

“You’re right,” Jungkook stays silent for a bit, making the entire exchange feel almost...normal. “You like me, right?” You stay silent for a few seconds, enjoying the calm environment for once.

“Yes.”

When you wake up this time, It’s a lot more clearer and satisfying. You finished your dream, and now Jungkook trusts you. You knew it would be only a matter of time before Jungkook was fully healed.

“Are you happy now? You went back into his dream and threw the rulebook out of the window,” Says Yoongi as you feel a slight pain in the back of your head. “Oh, and I didn’t try to move you from your spot because you just looked like you were sleeping peacefully.”

“Jerk.” You get up, dusting yourself off and glaring at your “partner” before going off to change. You liked wearing different clothes around the house because it made you feel like time was moving forward. Or else everyday just feels like the same day repeating over and over again.

You also put on some makeup, forgetting in between that you had some lipstick on so you ended up swallowing some products but it was okay because nothing was too harmful. Monsters ate all kinds of trash back in your world, anyways. The foundation gives you a more natural look since your skin was an ashy shade of blue and very pale without it.

You went about your day like normal until a doorbell rang, alerting you and Yoongi. “I didn’t see any emails about a dream inspector checking up on us today.” Yoongi whispers as you stay completely still.

“Maybe it’s a surprise visit?” You hoped no one found out about your selfish actions while you were in Jungkook’s dream. Kissing him was already a huge breach of the rules.

When you open the door, you’re at a loss for words. Jungkook was standing before you, looking at you and Yoongi like he had seen a ghost. Before he could say anything, you pull him inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Day 7

You put Jungkook to sleep before saying anything else, silent as mice as he rested on your multicolored retro bean bag. Yoongi paces back and forth, flipping through his handbook and nursing you internally.

“Dammit. There’s nothing about this in the rulebook.”

“That’s because regular people solve these things with their heads. You have a brain, so use it!” You knock some sense into him before kneeling down to take Jungkook’s pulse.

“Let’s go into his dream and see what it is that needs fixing. Maybe when he wakes up I can sprinkle him with some five-minute forgetting powder.”

“Do you think that’ll work?” You ask with worry as Yoongi rushes to look at all of the beakers filled with magical potions and fairy dust and other things he might need to make dream dust. You still didn’t have the recipe.

“I don’t know. But I trust you and after seeing how you handled most of this on your own, I’ll let you finish it. Alone.” You squeak in excitement, staying quiet as Jungkook snores lightly and turns over in the beanbag.

“Hurry, he’s gonna wake up.” Yoongi panicked and spilled some sleep powder on him, that’s why Jungkook was unconscious but he wasn’t in such a state where he would dream. It was a temporary formula, meant to last only a few minutes before he woke up again. Unless Yoongi doused him in dream dust. You got ready to follow him into his dreams again one last time, as Yoongi held the bag of dust over your heads, making sure you were snuggled up beside Jungkook in the bed before sprinkling you both with dream dust.

“I must be dreaming.” Jungkook blinks twice as you come into view. He was currently standing in your apartment, the same one he visited before he passed out. Except Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, it was just you.

“Would you like some tea, coffee, water?” You offer, acting like you were another figure in his dreams.

“Water is fine, thanks,” You watch him swipe his fingers through his long, curly hair. He looks so dreamy, sitting before you on the breakfast bar where you eat with Yoongi everyday. You wouldn’t mind spending every morning with him. Jungkook seems like the ideal husband. Yet the idea of settling down with a human scares you, you would never be allowed to expose your true self to him. Even if you dated him, you’d have to end up leaving him one day. It’s the only way to protect your world. Humans can be dangerous and destructive creatures. Who knows what would happen if Jungkook went to the news? You would be called a freak, or even worse by local news stations.

You got lost in your thoughts for a moment before Jungkook brought you back. “Why did you move here? To this town, I mean.” Jungkook knew this city was relatively tiny and all of the people knew each other.

“I wanted to get away. From responsibilities, my old life.”

“Did your boyfriend want that too?” You nearly spit out your drink at that, Jungkook thought Yoongi was your boyfriend?

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a boyfriend. Only an older brother, if I have to label him that.”

“Oh, I see.” Jungkook sips his water in silence, watching you with those innocent doe eyes.

“What’s troubling you?” You ask him as he suddenly looks sad, morrow filling his gaze as he continues to stare at you.

“I’m all alone in this world.” He sighs, as you put a hand on his shoulder.

“No you’re not. You have me, and your memories of Yoongi.” Jungkook’s breathing turns shallow.

“You’re just an extension of me. As much as I want you to be real I can’t even remember what your face looks like,” With all of your might, you try to make your surroundings more detailed just so Jungkook could remember the dream better when he wakes up. “What is your name?” He asks after careful consideration.

“Y/N.”

“What a beautiful name.” He kisses you ever so slightly, leaning in after you backed away momentarily.

“You’re a distraction.” You shut your eyes tightly as he places the most tender kisses on your exposed neck.

“What does that make you?” He grins, cheekily sliding his tongue over the surface of your lips.

“I’m only a woman.” You give into your desires, kissing him full on the lips after realizing that you don’t care about the consequences to your actions. You want to kiss him, dammit!

“You make me feel less lonely.”

“Here, take this with you.” You press a picture into his warm palm, leaving him to wonder why you were acting so hasty.

“Why? What is it?”

“When you feel lonely or sad, just look at this picture. It’s a picture of me.” Jungkook looks down for a moment, to examine the item you gifted to him.

“Why are you acting like we don’t have much time together? You’re gonna keep visiting me, right?” You wipe your nose. You and Jungkook were never meant to be.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Y/N, wait!”

When Jungkook woke up, he felt something sticking to his palms. He was alone, but he could have sworn he felt another warmth. In his hand was a polaroid picture of a girl smiling at the camera. He felt comforted just looking at the picture, and turning it around he found a message on the back.

“I’ll always be with you- Y/N.” Jungkook smiles, looking at the bright afternoon sun as it blinds him through the sheer white curtains. It looks like he was able to meet his dream girl after all.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #yoongi #bts #fluff #oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #Female reader #yoonkook #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #death #cute jungkook

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writerfae · 3 years

Text

I couldn't write today because of homeschooling and a headache, but

Here are some facts about the backstories of my ocs in the Anastasia AU!

Aiden

grew up pretty sheltered in his family's palace

he was a rather sickly child, which was one reason why he was never allowed to accompany his brother on his summer trips to Paris

when the riots started and his family was killed, he was eight years old

he could escape together with his brother in law, with the help of Talon

they wanted to flee to Paris but were separated

later Aiden was found unconscious on the side of a snowy road, he almost froze to death that day

he was brought to a ward and later to an orphanage, where he spent the rest of his childhood

when he turned eighteen, the orphanage more or less threw him out

he was supposed to start a rather badly paid job in a factory, but Aiden decided against it and instead went to the capital and started his search for his family

all that he has to remind him of his life are two things: an old lullaby and a graven silver coin that was hanging on a necklace around his neck when he was found

Talon

was born as son of a servant working at the palace

started working as a kitchen boy when he was six

when he worked at the palace he had some random encounters with Aiden, one time Aiden shared his apple with him (I really want to write that scene now tbh)

at the night of the riot he was nine years old, he helped Aiden escape the palace

after the riot he ended up living on the streets, trying to survive by begging and stealing

he grew up to become a con man, a pretty clever one at that

he never quite stopped wondering what happened to the lost prince and later forms the plan to find a "fake Aiden", teach him and introduce him to Aiden's in-law to get the reward

though he never says it, deep down he secretly hopes that he might find out about the real Aiden in the process

Maya

her mother worked for a noble family

after her death, said noble family took Maya in and educated her, that's why she knows so much about nobles and their lifestyle

at her time at court she never got to meet the royal family, but she met Halea, a noble's daughter, and befriended her (she might've had a little crush on her)

after the riot, the family that took her in left in a hurry and left Maya behind

her life afterwards was similar to Talon’s, she tried to get through the years with little jobs and errands (not always legal ones)

she met Talon when she was eleven and since then they always stuck together, she often helps him with his "jobs"

still, the con artist's life isn't her ideal life. She hopes that if she and Talon get the money she'll have the means to restart and do something more honest

Halea

daughter of a noble family

during the riots she got separated from her family somehow

so she traveled back to Paris alone, because that's where her family originally comes from

there she meets Aiden's in-law again, who is a very distant cousin of hers

she stayed with him and sort of became his right hand/confidant

Halea is the one every possible "Aiden" has to face before meeting her cousin because she doesn't want to overburden him. also, she was friends with Aiden when they were children so she knows him

Aiden’s brother in law

son of another country's royal family

his family and Aiden's family were friends and to strengthen their bond they promised their eldest sons (him and Henry) to each other

he grew up with Henry's and Aiden's family, getting his education there, so he was very close to both Henry and Aiden

him and Henry actually fell in love so he really didn't mind marrying him

after he could escape with Aiden but got separated from him, he went back to his hometown alone, but he never gave up searching for Aiden, because he's like a brother to him and the only family he has left

he also refused to re-marry after Henry's death, even though people recommended it to him, because he says he only ever loved him

tag list (Anastasia AU): @rise-again-2001 @thegirlwithnonickname @annoyingwritingtrash

#writer speaks #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder #anastasia au #my writing #writing

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thomas-and-the-chocolate-factory · 3 years

Text

Thomas and the Chocolate Factory - Chapter 3

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Fanfiction

Summary: Remus Duke is the greatest chocolatier of all time, and after living the past few years a recluse, he decides to finally open his factory once again. And it's young orphan Thomas Sanders' dream to win a ticket and get to go! Will he win a ticket? And if he does, will he make it out alive?

Masterpost

Thomas frowned down at his shoes as he walked home from school. The sole had been starting to tear off of the left one for some time now, but today it seemed to be on its last legs. Well… at least today was his day off from his paper route, so he had the evening free to see if he could find a way to fix them?

As he walked past a candy store on his way home, he looked through the window. The place was practically full of people, all wrestling to get to the counter and hand over their money. The person behind the counter was hurriedly handing out Duke bars, trying to keep up with the growing line. Thomas sighed, stomach growling as he watched people ripping open and devouring Duke bars. He’d give anything to be in there with him, having the chance of winning a ticket, and even if he didn’t win one, getting to eat all that delicious sweet chocolate…

He shook his head. As fun as fantasising was, it wouldn’t put food on the table. And it wouldn’t fix his shoes either. He needed to get back to do so.

He continued walking down the street, hurrying up a little as he heard the rumble of thunder. He didn’t want to get caught in the rain again like last week. He hummed as he went, starting to daydream about what he thought would be in the Duke factory. I mean, since he’d likely never be able to see it himself, he may as well construct his own version of it in his head to explore.

So much candy… what if there was a room that was made of pure candy? It seemed like something Remus Duke would make. Maybe… there would be… a flavoured ice rink! And when it’s skated on, the ice the skates shave off is taken away and sold as, well, shaved ice! And, for warming up after, right next door, there could be a room with Hot Cocoa Springs! And what if there was also a room where the floor is made of jello, and you could jump on it like a trampoline!

After some time of thinking what the factory could contain, his mind drifted to the man himself. Remus Duke… what would he be like? Creative and rather eccentric of course. You’d have to be to make what he does. He also must be really really smart. And to choose to spend his life bringing joy to people, mostly children, by making candy, he must be so kind and warm, and a little childish at heart too.

Well, Thomas guessed that even if he never got to meet Remus in person, he’d at least get to see him for a bit on TV, since there’d undoubtedly be reporters there when the factory opened.

He soon found himself back at the orphanage and, as he was welcomed inside by Dot, he almost immediately felt his arm be grabbed.

“Thomas, you’re just in time! Come on, you gotta see!” Kai grinned as he tried to tug Thomas over to the living room.

“See what?”

“The news! The first golden ticket’s been found! There’s about to be an interview with the boy who won it!”

Thomas felt a weird mix of disappointment and intrigue as he quickly followed Kai to the living room. He sat on the couch along with all the other children who had gathered to see the news report. Dot stood in the doorway behind them all, a little curious to see who it was who won too.

On the screen, the anchorman announced they were going over to the reporter on scene. Thomas leant forward in his seat as the screen transitioned to show the reporter: they had brown skin and curly black hair that was shaved on one side and partially dyed pink. They were wearing clothes that seemed less than professional - sunglasses, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket.

“Thanks, babes. I’m here in Dusselheim, Germany to have an exclusive interview with the first golden ticket winner of the Duke competition: Patton Gloop!”

The camera zoomed out to show a boy sitting beside the reporter along with a woman who Thomas assumed was Patton’s mother. Patton himself was… well, Thomas hoped it didn’t sound rude to say, but he was fat. His round face was peppered with freckles, and he wore round glasses over his light blue eyes. His hair was curly and blonde, a trait his mother shared. Patton was wearing a blue sweater with a frog on it and khaki shorts, and was eating a Duke chocolate bar.

“So, Patton, you excited to go see the factory?” the reporter asked, before holding their microphone to the boy to respond.

Patton nodded, swallowing the bite of chocolate that he’d have in his mouth. “Yep, I can’t wait! I hope I get to try a lot of samples for a bunch of candies and chocolate, all of Mr Duke’s stuff tastes sooooo good! I’m a huge fan!”

“Patton loves eating, it’s one of his biggest hobbies,” his mother added. “Good thing given I myself am a baker! But the Duke brand has always been his favourite, he’d have anything Remus Duke makes. He eats so many bars a day, it doesn’t surprise me he won a ticket.” She ruffled Patton’s hair, causing him to giggle.

The reporter nodded, “Kay. How exactly did you find the ticket, Pat? What’s the story?”

“Oh, well, it was yesterday after school…”

The second the bell rang to signal the end of school, he and his friends Dayd and Terrence shared excited looks, before practically jumping out of their chairs. They ran out of the room right after their teacher dismissed them.

“Do you all have money or do we need to stop off at anyone’s houses first?” Dayd asked, pulling his backpack on.

“My mum gave me some this morning, it’s in my bag,” Patton replied, slipping on his frog raincoat. “Terrence?”

“Got mine.”

“Then lets go!”

The three boys practically ran from the school building, before sprinting across the playground to the main gate at full speed. However, after they were through the gate and starting to head down the pavement, Patton slowed to a walk, panting a little. “Uh… can we slow down a little…? I’m a little tired…”

“Sure. Sorry we almost left you behind, Pat,” Dayd said as he and Terrence stopped, waiting for Patton to catch up.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to apologise,” Patton reassured, reaching into his bag and pulling out a Duke chocolate bar. “I have a few of these on me already to get my energy back.”

“You already have some on you?” Terrence asked.

“Yep! I’m buying as many as I can everyday to boost my chances of winning! It means it takes some time to open them all, though…” Patton ripped open the bar as he talked before taking a big bite. He then asked, with his mouth full. “You two want one?”

“Sure!”

“Thanks, Pat!”

Patton reached into his bag and pulled out two Duke chocolate bars. He handed one to each of his friends, who happily accepted them. They both sighed upon seeing them absent of tickets, before biting into them.

As the three boys walked down the street, they continued to eat their chocolate. By the time they reached the candy store, they had all finished. Patton pulled another bar for himself from his bag as they stepped inside, heading over to the Duke section of the store. Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few people there, all pushing past each other to get chocolate bars. Patton sighed in disappointment, knowing there was no way they’d be able to get past the small crowd to get more chocolate. He dejectedly opened the one he was holding, taking a bite without looking down at it.

However, he almost immediately slowed his chewing. It tasted weird… and there was a strange texture to part of it…

Dayd frowned as he crouched down, trying to see if he could push between people’s legs to get to the shelves, but there wasn’t enough space. He frowned, before turning and looking up to Terrence. “Think you could fit through?”

Patton frowned, reaching into his mouth and pulling out the bit of the bar with the papery texture.

Terrence considered Dayd’s question, before shaking his head. “No, there’s not enough room.” He sighed. “Guess we just have to wait and hope that there’s still some bars left when there is a space to get through.”

Patton looked down at the bit of chocolate bar in his hand that wasn’t actually chocolate at all. It was a bit of paper. Golden paper. He looked down at the bar in his hands.

“Great... “ Dayd sighed. “We’ll never win any tickets at this rate…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that!”

Terrence and Dayd turned around to face Patton. And Patton was pulling a golden ticket out of his chocolate bar. “I won!”

After a moment of staring in shock, Dayd and Terrence burst into excited yells and cheers. It wasn’t long until all the others nearby wrestling over Duke bars were distracted by the cheers and noticed the golden ticket in Patton’s hands. Dayd and Terrence used the opportunity to go grab some bars for themselves. Then, once the two of them paid, the three boys left, excitedly talking about Patton’s win.

When they all had to split up and all go their separate ways home, Patton immediately ran as fast as he could, not caring at how out of breath he got, excited to tell his mother the news.

The reporter nodded as Patton finished his story. “So, what are you looking forward to most about going to the factory? Anything you’re hoping to see?”

Patton hummed for a moment, thinking. “Hm… Well, I’m hoping to get to try a bunch of sweets that I never have before! And maybe some I have too… I just want to try a bunch of things!”

“Cool. Now, let's get into the tea. Patton, what are you hoping the other tour members are like?”

“Oh, I hope that they’re really nice and friendly! I really want to get to know all of them and hopefully make friends with them. I hope we can even keep a connection after the tour is over! It’ll be really cool to make friends with people from other parts of the world.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet.” The reporter turned back to the camera. “That’s been our interview with the first golden ticket winner, Patton Gloop. I’m Remy Sleep, and I’ll be back when the next ticket is found. Back to the studio.”

The screen changed back to show the anchorman, who went on to another story. Thomas sighed, feeling a little disappointed at the fact he had one less chance at the possibility of winning a ticket. But he guessed it could be worse. Patton seemed like a really sweet kid, and given how big a fan of Duke candy he seemed to be, he really appeared to deserve to get to go to the factory.

But still. It couldn’t change the slight loss of hope Thomas felt.

“YOU SAID I’D BE THE FIRST PERSON TO WIN ONE!”

Romulus sighed. He made a mental note to purchase some earplugs at some point. He’d need them if he didn’t want to go deaf. “Roman, I know I promised, and I’m sorry. But all the world is looking for these tickets. There may not even be any in the country, for all I know. There are only five, and a lot of places they could be.”

“Then start getting shipments from other countries! Make your workers work overnight!” Roman demanded, slamming his hands on his father’s desk. “If I don’t win the next one, I’ll scream!”

Pryce spoke up from where he was standing in the corner. “Roman, maybe we should head home so your dad can-” He cut himself off when Roman shot him a poisonous glare.

“I’ll make sure of it, Roman,” Romulus continued. “You won’t need to wait much longer. I’ll have gotten you a ticket by the end of the week.” Romulus winced right after he said that. He really should be careful when making promises… It may calm Roman down now, but if he failed to follow through, Romulus may have to lock himself in his office to survive the wrath.

“You’d better have!” Roman pounded his fist on Romulus’ desk as he yelled, not caring that he knocked various things in the process. Then he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Both Romulus and Pryce let out sighs of relief, sharing an exasperated glance.

“I imagine this whole ticket thing has made things rather hard for you,” Romulus said. “I’m sorry if Roman’s becoming more difficult. He’ll calm down when he has a ticket.”

Pryce shrugged. “I’m used to it. Tantrums come with the job anyway. And-”

“PRYCE!”

“And I should probably go. Goodbye, Mr Salt.” Pryce turned and hurried from the office, catching up with Roman. “Sorry.”

Roman huffed. “This is so unfair… I ask for one thing and he doesn’t get me it. I mean, there were five tickets! How hard is it to find one?!”

“Roman, there are many places they could be, and-“

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about or love me!”

This caught Pryce off guard. He looked down at the boy beside him, who had now fallen quiet, glaring at the floor. But there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Roman… your father loves you so much. Can’t you see how much he does for you? He’s completely stopped the production of his business all to help you.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it…” Before Pryce could say another word, Roman stormed off, hopping into the car and slamming the door behind him. “Home! Now!”

The driver raised an eyebrow. “But Pryce is still out-”

“He can head home for the day! I don’t want to speak to him right now! HOME. NOW!”

The driver did as he said, and Pryce sighed as he watched the car pull away. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone before calling his roommate. “... Hey, Arthur? Can you come pick me up? Yeah, I got left behind again… Outside the nut factory, yeah. Thanks.”

Logan didn’t look up from his laptop and notepad as the news report played from the TV in the living room. Even though he could feel his pa’s glare from where he was leaning in the doorway, and that glare caused fear to bubble in Logan’s stomach, his focus didn’t waver. Anton saw the ticket being found as a bad thing, as it meant Logan had less of a chance of winning one. Logan, however, saw it as a great help. Knowing where that ticket had gone could help him.

He had already (less than legally) hacked into Remus Duke’s computer system and found distribution information. All he had to do was find the most recent date Duke bars had been shipped to Dusselheim, and see where else they had been shipped that day, and from there start narrowing it down.

Anton suddenly let out a scoff, eyes still on the news report, where Patton was excitedly talking to Remy about his hopes for the tour. “‘Friends’? What a joke… Remember, Logan, the other children on the tour aren’t your friends. They’re your competition. Don’t get all buddy buddy with them. You have to show that you’re better. Win or-”

“-die trying,” Logan finished. “I understand, Pa.”

Teal looked up from the book he was reading, frowning up at his husband. Anton caught his look and raised an eyebrow sneering at him. “What’re you giving me that look for?”

“Nothing.” Teal quickly said. Only to pause, before taking a deep breath. “Actually… it’s not nothing. I, um… I think it’d actually be nice if Logan were to make some new friends. I mean, right now he only really has Joan, and-”

“Friends show weakness,” Anton spat. “Too sentimental. And they distract you. Logan’s too busy for friends, they’ll get in his way.” He looked over his shoulder, back at the boy sitting at the kitchen table. “Right, Logan?”

Logan nodded, ignoring the sinking feeling he felt as his pa had spoken.

Teal sighed, looking down at his book but not reading, fiddling with the pages. He should say something, and give his husband a piece of his mind. He put his book on the coffee table, before standing from his armchair. He started marching over to Anton, to finally stand up to him…

… Only to walk right past him and into the kitchen.

Great.

Teal’s eyes went to his son, still sitting at the table, eyes glued to the laptop screen as he scribbled down information from it. He sighed, stepping over to Logan and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, Lo, you’ve been doing work all day. How about you take a break for a bit? You could put on your onesie, and we could curl up on the couch and watch a movie? Big Hero 6?”

Before Logan could respond, Anton cut in. “He can’t afford to take a break, there’s only four tickets left. He needs to find one quickly.”

Logan nodded. “Pa’s right, it’s best I keep looking.” He paused. “Though I wouldn’t mind if I could have some Crofters?”

Teal smiled, before pressing a kiss to Logan’s head. “I’ll go grab you some, Lo.”

Logan felt a small smile tug at his lips. If there was one thing he liked most about his dad, it was that he didn’t have to work for affection from him. As the jar of Crofters and a spoon was placed in front of him, he pulled his gum from his mouth and stuck it behind his ear. Then he opened up the jar and dug in.

Anton frowned. “Don’t be such a pig, Logan. You eat fast like that all the time and you’ll put on weight, and you can’t exactly win any of your sports competitions if you get as fat as that kid who won the first ticket.”

Logan nodded, slowing down, knowing better than to try and argue that Crofters was organic and healthy.

“First golden ticket’s been found.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow as Missy joined the Discord call. “What the hell is that noise in the background?”

“That would be my brother, screaming because, as I said, the first golden ticket’s been found and he’s annoyed he didn’t get it.” Missy joined the Among Us lobby. “Because apparently the fact there’s four more he could win doesn’t resonate with him.”

“Well, four left means there’s three for us still,” Andy said, setting the lobby to public so they could get enough players. “Who won it, though?”

“Some kid from Germany called Patton. He seems sweet, in both the personality and he eats a lot of them sense” Missy replied. “You guys have been buying up loads of bars, right?”

“Duh,” Andy said.

“Yep,” Virgil replied, popping the p. He decided to leave out the story of how he started hyperventilating and crying right after buying a bunch and leaving the store, because he accidentally replied “you too” when the cashier told him “good luck with the competition, and enjoy the chocolate”, which was stupid because the cashier didn’t have chocolate, he was stupid, stupid stupid, a complete idiot who didn’t deserve to have such cool friends who were so eager to meet him, they’d be completely disappointed when they did and would lose them forever, rightfully so-

“Virge? You okay, dude?” Missy’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Huh? Oh… y-yeah, it’s fine. I, um… can we start the game?”

“Sure.” Andy did so. Virgil muted, before looking back to his laptop. He was a crewmate.

He sighed as the game started, pulling one of his blankets around him. He pushed back his scary thoughts, just focusing on the screen, making his little purple bean run around and do tasks. When the first body was found, and everyone started debating who it was, everything was good humour again and Virgil started to relax.

There were only four tickets left. It was practically impossible for Virgil to find one. There was no need to be worried about his friends meeting him and being disappointed. Things would be okay.

He took a Duke bar from the bag sitting by his bed, opening it and smiling at the lack of gold. He happily took a bite as he watched his little bean get murdered by Andy’s.

Downstairs, his mother wasn’t as content. Linda sighed, mulling over a glass of wine, her phone to her ear. “Again? Dice... you cannot keep doing this. This is the fifth time you’ve cancelled on him in a row. Virgil’s having a very tough time at school right now, he needs support… I don’t care if you’ve been invited to a film festival to review, your son should be your number one priority! … Oh don’t say that, this has nothing to do with us two! This is about Virgil! … Don’t you dare hang up on me, Dice- DICE!” The phone went silent. Linda huffed, practically throwing her phone down onto the table. She held her face in her hands.

God, what was she going to tell Virgil...?

Taglist: @writetherightwordsdammit @a-goldengirl-in-a-condominium246

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faltien · 4 years

Text

All Of These Years Together (But Still I Want More)

Rating: T

When Khun first meets Bam, he's crying, curled into a ball.

"Hey." Khun calls. "Why are you crying?"

Bam looks up, and golden eyes meet his own, time slowing. Just like that, their future begins.

OR: Khun and Bam through the years, featuring Gay Disaster Khun, Ultimate Wingman Rak and Cinnamon Roll Bam.

Khun is ten when he first meets the boy with wide, gold eyes. He’s gotten into another fight with Kiseia, and storms out of the house under the pretence that he needs fresh air, all the while fuming at her pig-headedness. Kiseia is usually rational and logical, but when it comes to their big sister, she is anything but, her fierce emotions of love and adoration getting in the way. Khun can respect that Kiseia cares for their older sister, yes, but he cannot respect how she lets her emotions cloud her mind, whirling her thinking into a storm. Khun, to the contrary, is calm and rational in all situations, keeping his emotions tightly locked away behind vaults enforced with steel and iron. Showing emotions signifies weakness, a voice in the back of his mind hisses. Khun has wandered down to the edges of the garden when he hears someone crying. Usually, Khun would ignore it and continue along his way, but today Khun is curious, almost feeling drawn to the sound of the sobbing. He walks down to the fence that separates the Khun estate from the rest of the world – a tall, metal, white thing, made with bars, twisting into fancy spires at the top – and calls out,

“Why are you crying?”

The sobbing halts, and then a brown head looks up, glancing around wildly, before settling on Khun. Gold-brown eyes rimmed with crystalline tears bore into Khun. The boy is curled up into a ball, crouching on the hard gravel path. Khun waits passively while the boy takes another heaving breath, before he mumbles,

“Rachel said she was going somewhere special, and told me not to follow her, but I did and now I’m lost and I don’t know where she is!”

At the end of his statement, the boy’s lip wobbles and his eyes well up with fresh tears. Khun sighs and rolls his eyes, fully prepared to turn away, but for some reason, he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward slightly, placing his hands on his knees and asks,

“Do you want me to help you find her?”

The boy’s eyes light up, and Khun feels something fluttering in his stomach that he quickly squashes. The boy looks hopefully at him.

“You’d really do that?”

Khun nods. It’s not like he has something better to do, and something about the boy makes Khun curious. It’s a mystery Khun will have to get to the bottom of. The boy beams, and Khun swears light seems to emanate from it, dousing Khun in warmth.

“Thank you, Mr…” he trails off.

“Khun.” Khun supplies. “Khun Aguero Agnis.”

The boy smiles again. “Thank you, Mr Khun! I’m the Twenty-Fifth Bam!”

Khun turns the name over in his mind. The Twenty-Fifth Bam? What sort of name is that? he thinks, before smiling.

“Pleased to meet you, Bam!” He sticks his hand out through the gap between two metal bars, and watches as Bam stares at it somewhat wonderingly. Bam holds his hand up too, seeming unsure of what to do with it, so Khun takes his hand and shakes it firmly. Bam’s hand is warm and slightly clammy. Then he lets go of Bam’s hand and climbs over the fence, landing on the ground in a crouch.

“Right.” He says, dusting himself off. “Which direction did she go in?”

Bam points wordlessly to the left and Khun mentally maps out the possible places that a ten-year-old would deem ‘special’ enough to want to go to by themselves. He comes up with multiple potential destinations and mentally sighs. This is going to take a while, he thinks somewhat forlornly.

“Let’s go.” He declares, turning to Bam.

“Okay.” Bam says, and follows Khun as he strides away confidently. After a while of walking in quietly, Khun decides to break the silence.

“So, Bam,” he begins. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Did you just move here?”

Bam hesitates, before replying, “Ah, I guess you could say that?”

Bam scratches the back of his head. A nervous gesture, Khun notes absentmindedly, categorising it away as such, before wondering why he’s bothering.

“You see,” Bam starts, “I don’t have parents, so I live in an orphanage. Recently, the caretaker of my old orphanage decided we didn’t have enough room, so she decided to move me and Rachel to the orphanage here. I arrived a couple of weeks back, and this is the first time I’ve been so far away from it.” He ends his statement by chuckling somewhat awkwardly.

Khun inspects Bam critically. His eyes are wide and honest, and something about his demeanour radiates innocence, so Khun accepts the statement without picking at it too much.

“I see.” Khun says.

“What about you, Mr Khun?”

For a moment, Khun is surprised. He hasn’t heard of my family? Khun finds that slightly suspicious. Khun Enterprises is one of the biggest companies there is, and consistently makes it on the Ten Great Companies list, among others such as Aries Corporation and Yeon Factories. But when he turns to ask Bam about it, Bam flashes him a smile, and Khun dismisses the notion.

You know what? Khun thinks, mentally waving away the strange fluttery sensation from earlier. Never mind. If he meant me harm, he would’ve done something by now.

Clearing his throat, Khun decides to throw Bam a bone. “I live in the mansion back there, as you probably saw. Nearly my entire family lives there, and it’s the headquarters of our business.”

When he turns to look at Bam again, he has stars in his eyes.

“Wow, you live there? That’s so cool! What’s it like, living in a house that big?”

Khun is taken aback.

“What, did you think I snuck in? Of course I live there.”

He’s surprised when Bam flushes red, rushing to defend himself.

“I didn’t think you snuck in or anything! I just thought you were a guest there or something!”

Khun chuckles, smirking. “Why would you think that?”

Here Bam hesitates. “It’s just that……Rachel told me the people who lived in the big house were really mean and cold, and that I should stay away from them.”

Khun is silent for a moment. Mentally, he agrees with that statement. It would be best if Bam were to stay away from his family. Bam seems to take his silence as hurt, though, and hurries to tack on,

“But I don’t know why she said that! After all, I think you’re really nice, Mr Khun!”

It’s Khun turn to flush red now, caught off guard, and for a second, he flounders for words. No one has ever called him nice before. Once the brilliant red on his face has returned to its usual pale white, Khun comments,

“Really? I think you’d be the only one to think that.”

Bam doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, and so silence descends upon their walk once more, until they reach an intersection. Khun calculates whether to turn left or right. He asks Bam,

“What exactly does Rachel like?”

Bam’s eyes light up once again and he starts to chatter about everything Rachel likes – from her favourite food to her favourite colour to her favourite thing to do, which happens to be stargazing. Khun snaps his head around to look at Bam as he says the last bit, enquiring,

“Stargazing?”

Bam startles and stops talking for a moment, probably surprised at being interrupted so abruptly. Khun feels bad for a split second before he brushes it off with surprising difficulty.

“Uh, yeah.” Bam says. “Late at night, she’ll sneak out and go to look at the stars. Sometimes she’ll even take me with her!”

Khun hums thoughtfully. “Alright!” he declares. “I know where she is.”

Bam gasps. “Really?”

Khun nods. “Of course!” he says, and takes a right turn. Now that Khun knows definitively where he’s going, he navigates the twists and turns of the path easily, keeping an eye on the cars rushing by. He’s reached a pedestrian crossing and is about to cross the road when he feels a tug on his shirt. He turns around and raises an eyebrow at Bam, who fiddles with his sleeves, golden eyes downcast.

“Um…” Bam begins. “Rachel always holds my hand when I cross the road.”

Khun sighs. Usually he would brush a request such as this off, but he guesses he can make an exception. He seems to be making a lot of exceptions today. Khun turns back around to face the road, this time sticking his hand out behind him. He doesn’t even need to face Bam to know his eyes are lighting up, a smile blooming across his face like a flower. Bam grabs his hand and swings it merrily as Khun leads them both across the road. They take another right, and after around 5 minutes of walking, Khun abruptly stops, causing Bam to crash into him. Khun turns around, the question already half-formed on his lips – Are you alright? – before realising what he’s about to ask and snapping his head back around. What’s wrong with me today? Khun thinks. Again, if it was anyone else, Khun would’ve turned around, yes, but not to ask if they were alright, but rather to lecture them about how they should be watching where they’re going. And Khun realises with a funny feeling that all of the exceptions he’s made today have been for Bam. That’s odd. He thinks, furrowing his brow.

“Why’d you stop?” Bam asks, and Khun tucks away the dilemma to sort through it later.

“We’re here.” Khun replies, and points to the large, dome-like building with a sign on the front that reads in thick black letters, Planetarium.

“What’s a planetarium?” Bam asks.

Khun, already used to Bam’s odd questions by now, replies, “It’s a place where people can go to view stars and planets and stuff.”

Bam lights up and Khun vaguely regrets not bringing sunglasses. “Oh! So that’s why you asked about the stargazing!”

Khun nods, only to realise when a lady walking by coos at them, that they’re still holding hands. He drops Bam’s hand like it’s an iron poker, ignoring Bam’s curious look and beginning to walk stiffly inside. Bam jogs to catch up, entering the planetarium with Khun and looking around once they enter.

“Do you see her?” Khun asks him, and Bam looks around once more, before his eyes settle on a short girl with blonde hair and freckles.

“That’s her!” Bam almost yells, drawing a few looks from the surrounding people. He smiles sheepishly.

“Ah, well, that’s good.” Khun says. He wonders what the sinking feeling in his stomach is. He expects Bam to run off to Rachel, but instead Bam clasps one of Khun’s hand with both of his, leaning into Khun’s personal space slightly and declaring earnestly,

“Thank you, Mr Khun! And I meant what I said earlier! I think you’re really nice, and I don’t know why anyone would think otherwise!”

Khun blushes, the fluttery feeling from earlier returning in full force.

“It was nothing.” He insists, cursing his pale complexion.

Bam turns, seemingly about to run off, when he turns back and asks, “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

Khun hesitates. His mind comes up with a slew of reasons, excuses why he can’t – You’ve got to study, to go to school, to learn how to run the business, to help promote your sister in Jahard’s company – but instead what comes out of his mouth is,

“Of course.”

Bam beams, before he waves and turns back around, running towards Rachel. Khun stays there, smiling for a bit, before turning back around and heading back home, his mood noticeably better.

On the way back, he wonders if this is how Kiseia feels trying to say ‘no’ to their older sister. If, so, Khun might be able to understand.

___________________

Khun is twelve when Bam transfers into their school, standing in front of the class and introducing himself as,

“The Twenty-Fifth Bam!”

Gold eyes dart around the classroom, resting briefly on each of their faces before they come to rest upon Khun. Bam’s entire face lights up and he smiles. Khun has come to learn over the past two years of meeting up with Bam every so often that Bam does that a lot – smiling. It’s different from what Khun’s used to, because Bam’s smiles are genuine, filled with warmth, so unlike the icy smirks of the Khun family. Khun has grown to like that warmth.

The teacher asks, “Bam, why don’t you go sit next to Khun?”

Whispers break out though the class murmuring about how unlucky Bam is that he has to sit next to the proclaimed ‘Ice King’, but Bam ignores them, scurrying into the seat next to Khun and beaming brightly at him when Khun turns to greet him. Ugh. I might actually need sunglasses if this keeps up. Khun thinks.

“Hi, I’m Bam, nice to meet you!” Bam declares, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Khun raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, other than a curt, “Khun, pleased to meet you too.”

Bam nods, and turns back to the front, appearing to listen attentively to what the teacher has to say. Khun, on the other hand, is bursting with well-hidden curiosity. He didn’t say anything about transferring to my school. Is it possible he didn’t know? No, he definitely knew the name of my school. I’ve mentioned it multiple times.

By the time break time rolls around, Khun has thought himself through multiple scenarios, barely paying attention to what the teacher has to say. He’s startled out of his thoughts by the bell ringing, and the class murmuring to each other as they stand up, stretching and beginning to head to the cafeteria. Bam stands up too, and smiles at him again. Why does he smile so much? Khun finds himself wondering. Khun stands up too, grabbing his bag, swinging it across his shoulder and walking out the door. Bam scrambles to catch up, grabbing his bag and falling into step beside Khun. The walk to the cafeteria is silent, and they don’t talk even as they grab their trays full of sub-standard school food. Bam looks around, seemingly trying to find a place where they can sit, but Khun shakes his head and gestures for Bam to follow him.

It’s vaguely reminiscent of how they first met, Khun thinks, as he leads Bam up to the roof, ignoring both the sign that says ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in large, angry red letters and Bam’s alarmed look upon reading the sign. He shoulders the door open before walking to the centre of the roof and plopping his stuff down, watching Bam hesitate slightly before doing the same, his books making a thud as they hit the concrete roof. As soon as Bam is seated, Khun can’t contain his curiosity.

“You didn’t tell me you would be coming here!” It comes out more accusing than Khun would’ve liked, but Bam doesn’t seem to care. He smiles weakly,

“It was a surprise!”

Khun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I sure was surprised when you showed up out of the blue.”

Bam winces, rubbing the back of his head. He’s nervous, Khun notes.

“Sorry, should I have told you?”

Guilt stabs Khun like a knife to the chest, and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

Bam stills seems unsure, so Khun smiles and adds on,

“I’m glad you’re here actually. It means I can see you more often.” Khun realises he’s not lying as he says that. He shoves the implications of that away and focuses on his food.

Silence descends upon the rooftop once again until a thought strikes Khun, and the words are tumbling out of his mouth before he realises what he’s saying.

“What about Rachel?”

Bam smiles, but it’s decidedly more strained.

“Oh.” He says. “She, um, studied hard and got a scholarship to a school that focused on astronomy.”

Khun is still curious, so he probes a little further. “Why didn’t you follow her?”

Bam’s smile slips a bit. “It was an all-girls boarding school.”

Khun doesn’t know what to say for a bit. “I’m sorry. I know how much you cared for her.” Even though she never cared for you even half as much, is what he doesn’t say.

Bam’s smile drops from his face completely. “Yeah. I did.”

The wind plays with emerald green leaves for a bit, swirling them over their heads, and Khun tilts his head up to look at them. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps.

“I really, really did.” Bam repeats softly, and when Khun turns to look at him, silver tears are slipping out of Bam’s eyes, falling onto the concrete softly. Khun freezes. He’s not equipped for situations like these. But Bam is crying silently, nothing like the heaving sobs he had been doing when Khun had first met him, so Khun shuffles closer to him and awkwardly loops an arm around Bam’s shoulder. Bam leans against Khun, and Khun feels tears begin to soak his white dress shirt. Khun finds he doesn’t really care though. He’s glad his father decided to send him to this school to learn about ‘commoners’ if it means Khun can be here with him. It’s at that moment, with Bam sniffling softly into his shirt, that he realises he’d do anything for Bam, even if he has to burn down the world around them. Khun doesn’t know what to do with that revelation either, so he shoves it into a box in the back of his mind that’s slowly growing fuller and thinks he’ll pick it apart later.

___________________

A year later, Khun and Bam meet the final addition to their trio – a loud, noisy transfer student named Rak. When he introduces himself to the class, he does so by puffing out his chest and declaring loudly,

“I AM THE GREAT RAK WRAITHRAISTER! ALL YOU TURTLES MUST BOW DOWN TO ME!”

Silence descends upon the class for a moment, and Khun swears he can hear crickets chirping. Then the class bursts out into laughter, and Rak flushes at the front of the classroom.

“HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT YOUR LEADER, TURTLES!”

The teacher yawns. “Rak, would you please sit next to Bam?”

Rak huffs, but doesn’t argue, stalking angrily down to sit next to Bam, who smiles politely at him and introduces himself. Khun raises an eyebrow at Bam who mouths at him,

It would’ve been rude not to introduce myself!

Khun knows this, but he also knows that half the students in their class wouldn’t have bothered to introduce themselves. So he shrugs, turning back to the board and watching the teacher drone on about algebra. Bam seems to have made quite the impression on Rak, as the transfer follows him and Khun to the cafeteria, and then to the roof. There’s an awkward silence, broken only by Rak noisily eating his food, before Rak turns to Khun, eyeing his banana. He says,

“Blue Turtle, if you��re not going to eat that, give it to me.”

Khun stares at Rak for a bit. He isn’t particularly fond of bananas, but he doesn’t hate them either. He’s debating the pros and cons of giving Rak the yellow fruit when Bam says,

“Here, Rak, you can have mine.” He hands Rak his banana, and Rak smiles.

“Hahaha, I knew you would be unable to deny your leader, Black Turtle!”

Khun is only mildly annoyed, but that annoyance intensifies when Rak mutters something about ‘stupid Blue Turtles’ under his breath. Khun’s eyebrow twitches.

“Eh?” He says. “Who are you calling stupid, -”and here Khun tries to think of an insult, but for some reason what slips out of his mouth is, “gator?”

Rak turns to look Khun fully in the eye.

“Why, of course, you, Blue Turtle!” he explains, with absolutely no hint of sarcasm.

Why you little – Khun thinks, before snapping, “Really? Because from over here you look pretty idiotic yourself.”

Rak draws himself up to his full height – which admittedly isn’t very impressive – and quirks an eyebrow at Khun.

“Oh?” he says. “You dare to defy your leader, Blue Turtle?”

Khun smirks, the smug grin falling onto his face like he was born to wear it – which he was.

“I don’t see any leader here.” He replies coolly. “Except for, of course, me.”

Rak takes a step forward, right into Khun’s personal space. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then the tension is shattered as Bam bursts into laughter, the almost melodic notes filling the air.

Khun and Rak turn to face him, and Bam smiles. “Sorry.” He says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your…..argument.” Khun has a feeling he means ‘fight for leadership’. “But it’s good to see you getting along with each other!”

“What?” Khun and Rak splutter at the same time.

“I could never get along with an idiotic gator like him.” Khun harrumphs, as Rak says,

“Me? Get along with a cocky, stuck-up Turtle like that? HA!”

They both turn and glare at each other, even as Bam bursts out laughing again.

“Come on, let’s eat!” Bam declares, plopping himself on the ground again. Rak follows his example, and they both shoot Khun a look. So he sighs, walking over and crossing his legs as he sits on the sun-warmed concrete. When the bell rings, they pack up and walk back to class together. Rak sits with them the next day, and then the day after that, but Khun doesn’t complain. He also doesn’t complain when Rak begins to walk home with them, and partners with them in group projects. And the funny thing is, neither does Rak.

___________________

It’s the middle of summer, and Khun is sixteen. His mother is applying more pressure on him than ever, grooming him to be the perfect little businessman to run the perfect little company. It grates on Khun’s nerves, but he’s been playing this game for as long as he can remember, so he attends company parties and events, bantering with the other attendees using sharp words and wearing an even sharper smile. He trains his wit, trains it and conceals it so that those who wish to stand against him won’t know what hit them until it’s too late. He’s been born for this, raised for this, and yet a part of it bores him, tires him.

His only reprieve is when he’s with Bam, and occasionally Rak. Bam has grown over the years, and is now around the same height as Khun rather than a few centimetres shorter than them, and Rak…..well Rak has grown from a ‘mini-gator’ into a full sized alligator. Khun likes to laugh at Rak when he bumps his head on doorframes attempting to enter them, which is more often than Rak would probably like to admit. Their little group has also grown, with some additions over the years such as Hatz, Shibisu, Anaak and Endorsi. They’ve trickled in as time has passed, drawn in by Rak’s loud demeanour, or Bam’s charming, innocent one. Anaak, Hatz and Shibisu join after Rak intervenes in one of Anaak and Hatz’s famous fights, somehow managing to calm them down. Bam draws Shibisu in by empathizing with him about being the main one to break up said fights most of the time, and Endorsi joins a bit later after she loses her lunch money and Bam offers to buy her lunch. Because of that break times are chaos, loud and noisy, and it makes Khun think somewhat wistfully to when it was just him, Bam and Rak. Even so, Khun is fond of their odd little friend group and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Because of their aforementioned chaos, Khun isn’t exactly surprised when they send Bam to his door at 9:00 on a Saturday morning, phone clutched in one hand and looking ridiculously hopeful. (And cute, but Khun will shove that thought into that box in the back of his mind which has grown worryingly full.)

Khun sighs as he glances around leisurely and notes the unnatural rustle of the bushes, pretending not to notice the fact that he can see one of Rak’s arms and the top of Shibisu’s head.

“Good morning, Bam.” He drawls. “What brings you here on this fine, Saturday morning?”

Bam laughs awkwardly and looks at the bush in which Khun can clearly see Shibisu. He looks pointedly away, but notices Shibisu making a ‘Go on!’ gesture to Bam out of the corner of his eye. He tries not to sigh.

“Ah well, good morning, Khun!” Bam begins. “Shibisu –” Here Khun sees Shibisu make a ‘Wrong thing to say!’ gesture with his hands. “I-I mean I-” Shibisu nods encouragingly. “was wondering if you’d like to go to a café with us.”

“Us?” Khun asks.

Bam nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! As in me, Rak, Shibisu, Endorsi, Hatz and Anaak!”

Khun considers it. If he says yes, he’ll most likely be dragged into whatever they’re planning, which clearly isn’t just to go to a cafe. On one hand, he’ll get to spend time with Bam. On the other hand, Khun doesn’t really want to be a menace to society like the rest of them. He thinks about what he could do at home, and comes to the conclusion that he’ll forgo the shenanigans today, and ring Bam and Rak tomorrow to organise something. The ‘no’ is on the tip of his tongue when he sees Shibisu make a ‘Smile!’ gesture at Bam.

And so Bam turns to Khun, and with a blinding smile, asks, “So? Will you?”

Khun finds himself in the backseat of Endorsi’s older sister, Yuri’s car, as Yuri drives them to whatever godforsaken place they’re going to. Shibisu and Rak are singing along with the radio as loud as they can, while Endorsi applies makeup in the mirror. Anaak and Hatz are arguing about something again, and Bam is trying to be the peacemaker. Again. Khun curses his own weakness to Bam’s smile and then curses Shibisu for utilising that weakness. That son of a bitch, Khun thinks, as he glares at Shibisu belting out the lyrics to ‘Call Me Maybe’. Shibisu notices his glare and winks at him. Khun glares harder, hoping that maybe if he does, Shibisu will stop singing. It’s giving him an earache. When Shibisu doesn’t stop singing, and in fact, only gets louder as he reaches the chorus, Khun turns to look out the window, watching the other cars whiz by. He wonders how Yuri is putting up with this. After he’s stared out the window for approximately ten minutes – Rak and Shibisu are now duetting ‘Friday Night’ – he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. It’s Bam, and he says something, which is drowned out by Rak’s hideous singing.

Khun says, “I can’t hear you!”

Bam moves closer. “What?” he asks.

He repeats himself. “I can’t hear you!”

Bam moves closer still. “What?” he asks again.

“I can’t hear you.” Khun says, and they’re close enough that this time, Bam can hear him.

Bam nods. “I was just wondering if you were alright. You looked a little bit sad.”

Khun wonders what he must’ve looked like. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Bam asks. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

Khun thinks of Shibisu’s ingenious plan. Fat chance of that happening, he thinks. But he doesn’t want to worry Bam so he flashes him a smile and lies through his teeth, “I wanted to come.”

“Oh okay.” He says. “That’s good.”

The conversation is over, but the problem is, Bam doesn’t move away. He seems perfectly content where he is, almost squished up against Khun’s side. Khun tries to remember how to breathe normally. He’s hyperaware of how close Bam is, close enough that he can smell his shampoo, and Khun tries not to dwell on how Bam’s shoulder will brush against his as he talks with Hatz and laughs at something Anaak says. He feels butterflies rise in his stomach, and his palms begin to sweat. He looks at Bam’s hair and notices how soft the brown curls appear to be. He wonders what Bam’s hair would feel like if he were to reach over and run his hands through it. Then he realises what he’s doing, so he takes the thought and tries to quickly and swiftly kill it before it really takes root in his mind.

Khun focuses on his breathing and tries to calm his racing heart, and a part of him thinks, Wow, isn’t this pathetic? The great Khun Aguero Agnis, almost defeated by his own emotions. How the mighty have fallen. He kills that thought too, and focuses on things that will snap him out of it, like Shibisu’s horrible singing, which thankfully, has not gotten any less hideous, nor has it gotten any quieter. He supposes he can forgive Shibisu for dragging him out here.

“Khun?” Bam faces him to ask him a question.

“Yeah?” Khun responds, turning to look at Bam and just as he does, Yuri takes a sharp turn, causing Bam to be thrown against Khun. And suddenly Khun’s forehead is pressed against Bam’s and he’s staring into two wide, molten gold pools, shifting around, catching the light in a way that makes Khun’s breath catch in his throat. When Bam exhales, Khun can feel his breath fan across his cheeks and lips, and suddenly Khun wonders what would happen if he were to tilt his head forward a bit and press their lips together, but just as the thought has flitted through his mind, faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Rak starts yelling at Yuri, breaking the spell, and both Khun and Bam move backwards at the same time, apologising.

“Sorry.” Bam mutters, blushing.

Khun waves it off. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He says, trying to will away his own blush and calm his racing heart. In the background, Rak finishes yelling at Yuri. Or rather, Yuri shuts him up with a death glare that could kill a man. It is a well-known fact that one does not mess with Yuri. The second half of the journey is considerably quieter than the first half, so Khun startles when Shibisu announces in a sing-song voice,

“We’re here!”

Khun raises his eyebrows when he sees where they’ve stopped.

“An amusement park? I thought we were going to a café, not terrorising some poor employees and young children.”

Rak chortles. “Haha, blue Turtle, did you really think we were going to a café? And you claim to be smart?”

Endorsi pipes up, “If you really want to go to a café so much, we can always go to one here.”

Khun waves away the suggestion. “Don’t bother.” He says. “I already knew you were up to something.”

He looks around and begins to walk towards a ride before being stopped by Shibisu.

“That’s not all though!” Shibisu says gleefully. Khun begins to get a very bad feeling about this. “Today, we will do the ultimate test of friendship! Today, those who walk out with their friendship intact will be deemed the purest of friends! Those who-”

“Shut up and get to the point.” Anaak says, glowering at Shibisu.

Shibisu laughs nervously. “Today, we’ll be picking rides for the others to go on.” He finishes lamely.

Hatz frowns. “That doesn’t sound that bad.”

Khun nods. “For once in my life, I can actually agree with the idiot.”

Hatz bristles. “Who are you calling an idiot?!”

“Hahaha.” Shibisu leans forward and pats them both on the back. “No need to fight, my children.”

“Shut up. I’m not your child.” Is said in unison by both Khun and Hatz. Shibisu, of course, glides right past this.

“Okay! Let’s start picking!” he declares with finesse.

“Alright.” Anaak says. “You go on that one.” She points to a ridiculously tall ride, in which you get into a carriage where you’ll be slowly transported to the top, before being dropped down as fast as you can. Shibisu pales.

He fake laughs. “How about you pick for me, Endorsi?”

Endorsi looks up from where she’s been reading a fashion magazine.

“That one.” She says, pointing to a rocking ship that gradually gets faster and faster until you’re being flung upside down.

Shibisu, desperate now, turns to Khun. “What about you?”

Shibisu’s eyes search Khun’s icy blue ones, looking for any shred of mercy. He finds none.

“I know!” Khun says, with false cheer. “What about the Turning Terror?”

The Turning Terror is a rollercoaster that has more loops than you can count on two hands, and goes upside down more than a dozen times. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been taken down due to safety violations yet.

Shibisu slumps, resigned to his fate, and Bam pats his back while Shibisu mutters about ‘merciless friends’ and ‘traitorous bastards’.

“Bam!” he cries, throwing himself at him. “You’re the only one that understands me!”

Khun feels a spike of annoyance. “Shibisu!” he calls. “Shouldn’t you be going on your ride now?”

Shibisu turns to glare at him. “I…” he declares, drawing himself up, putting a hand on his chest, “will have my revenge against all of you!” Then he begins to trudge dejectedly towards the Turning Terror, going to wait in line.

“ALRIGHT!” Rak yells, making them jump. “I WANT TO GO NEXT! HAHA! YOU WEAK TURTLES, WHATEVER RIDE YOU PUT ME ON, I WILL BE ABLE TO WITHSTAND IT! I AM YOUR LEADER!”

Anaak raises an eyebrow, while Hatz points to a ride aptly named ‘Flower Fun’. It’s filled with screaming little girls and boys dressed as princesses and covered in fake flower petals. Rak hesitates.

“I thought whatever ride we put you on, you’d be able to withstand it!” mocks Anaak. Rak flushes.

“Of course I can!” he says, and pridefully strides towards it. Khun makes sure to take multiple pictures of little kids crawling all over Rak as he goes to sit in one of the ‘flowers’. Rak looks to be in pain, even though he tries to hide it, as the kids crawl all over him, hanging off his arms and grabbing at his face and hair with sticky, candy-coated fingers. Khun shudders. He doesn’t do well with children, and he can only imagine what their fingers would do to his hair. To put it into perspective, Khun is the type of guy, to, if on public transport, see a child crying, tell them to shut up and learn to deal with it.

Hatz dares Endorsi to go on a tornado ride, perhaps forgetting for a moment that while she is stylish, she does not fit into the stereotype of a girl that cries about broken nails and ruined hair, but rather the type of girl that starts a new fashion trend based on it. To put it shortly, Endorsi is a badass, so she owns the crumpled, ruffled look the tornado ride presents her with. Then Endorsi dares Anaak to go on a tall waterslide, to which Anaak gives her the middle finger and goes off to do. Khun dares Hatz to go on a spinning ride, and Hatz looks faintly green at the idea of having to go, but walks off to do it all the same, Endorsi accompanying him.

Then it’s just Bam and Khun left, so Khun turns to Bam and asks him,

“So? What ride do you want me to go on?”

Bam chuckles awkwardly. “I don’t really know….? I guess you could go on-”

He’s cut off as Shibisu, having just got off his ride, yells,

“WAIT!”

Khun turns back around to see Shibisu, looking quite undignified, hair a mess, clothes crumpled, pale as a sheet, lurching towards them. Unfortunately, unlike Endorsi, the look doesn’t fit him.

“I want to pick the ride Khun goes on!” he huffs, looking quite sick.

“Shibisu, are you alright?” Bam asks him. Shibisu waves his concern off.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He turns to Khun with a shaky, evil smile, and the bad feeling from earlier returns, hitting Khun like a truck full of cement.

“I say you go on…” Shibisu trails of dramatically, before whipping around as fast as his motion sickness will allow, “that one!”

‘That one’ is a pink, red and white ride, decorated with hearts, swans and pictures of Cupid. Decorating the front, in cursive, pretty writing are the words, ‘Tunnel of Love’.

Khun exhales in relief. It’s not as bad as it could have been. But Shibisu, apparently, isn’t done, because he continues his sentence.

“With Bam!”

Khun’s heart stops. “What?” he chokes out, an embarrassed flush already making it’s way to his cheeks.

Evidently, Bam feels the same way, blushing as he turns to ask Shibisu, in a much more dignified way than Khun,

“Go in the Tunnel of Love? With Khun?”

Shibisu cackles, looking very pleased with himself. “Of course!” he says.

Khun, having recovered his wits, looks Shibisu dead in the eye and says, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Eh? Why not?” he asks. “After all, everyone knows you-”

Khun glares at him, effectively cutting him off. “Not a chance.” He hisses.

Just because Khun likes Bam – not that he’d ever admit it to Shibisu - doesn’t mean he’s willing to go on a stupid ride like this with him in a stupid amusement park.

“Well,” Shibisu says, their positions reversed as Khun searches for mercy, “good luck.”

And then he pushes them towards the very pink, very romantic-themed, ride. Khun curses his luck and Shibisu as he resolves to murder him next time he sees him. He turns to glare at Shibisu a final time as he and Bam are ushered onto a pink-and-white swan shaped boat.

Revenge, Shibisu mouths.

I’ll kill you, Khun mouths back.

Toodles, Shibisu smirks, as he and Bam are entering the tunnel, and then makes a kissy face at Khun.

That bastard! Khun thinks indignantly, fuming. Then they enter the tunnel, and Shibisu’s face is out of sight. Cheesy, romantic music plays in the background, and ambient artificial lighting shines down from fake candles. On the walls are painted pictures of famous, madly-in-love couples, such as Romeo and Juliet and Cupid and Psyche. Khun clears his throat and turns reluctantly to look at Bam, trying to avoid eye contact. An awkward silence reins for a few minutes before both Bam and Khun attempt to say something at the same time.

“Why do-”

“This is-”

They both stop and Khun puts on a strained smile, a voice in his head screaming about how awkward it is and making death threats toward Shibisu.

“You go first.” Khun says.

“No, you can go first.” Bam says.

“You go first.” Khun repeats. He kind of wishes he could disappear right now. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, the earth will swallow him up and take him out of this awkward, pink themed torture.

“If you insist,” Bam says, before continuing. “Why do you think Shibisu sent us here? You would’ve though he’d have opted for some torturous ride like the others.”

Why indeed. Khun thinks, gritting his teeth. He forces a laugh. “Well, you know how Shibisu is. Maybe he put you in here to tell you to get a girlfriend or something and put me in here to taunt me over the fact that I’ll probably be forever alone.” Khun half-jokes. Please don’t question that, he begs. Bam doesn’t question it, but instead looks over at Khun with earnest eyes.

“I don’t think you’ll be forever alone, Khun!”

“Really?” Khun asks, doubting it sincerely.

Bam nods. “After all, you’re really nice, and smart, not to mention pretty! Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

Khun is certain his brain cells have stopped functioning, the scene playing on repeat behind his eyes.

Bam thinks I’m pretty? Is currently the only thought running through his mind. Then he realises he’s taken far too long to reply and scrambles for a semi-intelligent response.

“Thanks for saying so, Bam.”

Then Bam looks down, fiddling with his sleeves.

“Actually, Khun,” he says, glancing up at him slightly, “I, um, I have something I want to tell you.”

Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the fake candles. Khun doesn’t know, but for whatever reason, Khun’s heart begins to pound, his mouth becoming dry. There’s no way in hell, Khun thinks. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

Bam looks up, and his eyes are blazing. “I really li-”

He’s cut off as something crashes into the back of their boat, and it tips over, capsizing and dumping Khun and Bam into the freezing, cold, probably dirty water. Khun meets Bam’s eyes in the water, and then they both swim upwards, breaking the surface and gasping for air. Khun turns around to see another swan boat, and two people in it who are looking at them, horrified.

“I’m so sorry-” one of them says. “It just- they started-we didn’t-”

The other one cuts them off. “The engine malfunctioned, and we couldn’t do anything to stop the boat when we saw you.”

“It’s fine.” Bam says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Hysteria and amusement bubbles up in Khun’s throat, and he struggles to suppress it. But looking around, Khun can’t help it. He starts laughing. Honest-to-good laughter, spilling up out of his throat and into the air. His hair is absolutely ruined, he’s soaking wet, and not to mention freezing, but something about the situation strikes him as funny. He doesn’t know what. His nervousness from earlier when he thought Bam was going to confess is dissipating, leaving behind amusement. He tries to get his laughter under control.

“Sorry,” he says through chuckles, “It’s just-” He turns to look at Bam and forgets what he was saying, because Bam is looking at him as though starstruck, face set in an expression of wonder. It’s a good look on him, Khun thinks, followed by, Is he looking like that at me?

Bam shakes his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Nothing.” Khun says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want to go onto our boat?” one of the people asks, and Khun nods, swimming to the edge of the boat and heaving himself onto it. Bam does the same.

“So how are we going to get out of here?” the same person asks.

Khun points to the oars, there just for show, considering the boat is electric, and says,

“That’s how we’re going to get out of here.”

Fifteen minutes later, Khun is out of the water and bundled up in a cheap blanket. It’s neon green and orange and covered in black skulls. Khun stares at it with an expression of extreme disgust. He and Bam are waiting patiently for the guy who runs the ride to give them the thumbs up to go. Shibisu sprints up to them, and Khun turns his expression of disgust to him instead.

“Bam! What happened?” asks Shibisu, ignoring Khun entirely, perhaps for fear of his life. Bam opens his mouth to answer, but Khun shakes his head sharply, cutting Bam off. Bam shoots him a quizzical look, but Khun ignores him in favour of putting a hand down on Shibisu’s shoulder and squeezing it. Hard. Shibisu yelps.

“Hey there, Shibisu.” Khun says, smiling. Shibisu turns around, smiling nervously, refusing to meet Khun’s eyes.

“Hey Khun….” Shibisu says. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Really.” Khun says flatly, eyes boring into Shibisu’s soul. “I could’ve sworn we made eye contact for a second there.”

“You must’ve imagined that.” Shibisu laughs nervously. He starts backing away. Khun starts advancing, the effect somewhat ruined by the wet slurping sound his clothes make with every step.

“I don’t think I did imagine it.”

Shibisu stops and looks up. His face is grave. “If it makes you feel better, you’ve always been my favourite child.”

Khun doesn’t stop advancing.

Shibsu nods, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “More so than Hatz and even Anaak!”

Khun stops at this. He looks into Shibisu’s eyes, and sees hope for the future in them. Khun puts a hand on Shibisu’s shoulder, the gesture friendly, and smiles beatifically at him.

Shibisu looks relieved. “I thought you were actually going to-”

He’s cut off as Khun punches him in the stomach, smiling all the while. Shibisu collapses to the ground just as Hatz and the others arrive, stepping over Shibisu’s body, lying defeated in the dirt.

“What happened?” Hatz asks.

“Yes, tell your leader what happened.” Rak agrees. In the background, Bam helps Shibisu up. Shibisu sobs, once again wailing about how Bam is the only one to understand him. Bam smiles and nods politely.

Khun decides to keep things curt. “Bam and I were in the boat when it capsized, and we fell into the water.”

“Not that.” Rak says, waving it away. “What happened in the tunnel?”

Hatz nods. Shibisu limps over to listen, leaning on Bam heavily for support. Khun looks at his friends, lined up, looking at him curiously. He shakes his head disbelievingly, fixing them each with a disappointed look.

“Nothing happened.”

Rak squints. “Are you sure?”

Khun snaps, “Yes! I’m sure.”

He then watches as Hatz, Rak and Shibisu, who can now apparently walk properly now that the conversation’s over, walk away.

“They certainly have their priorities straight.” He mutters.

Bam laughs. “I can’t say I’m shocked.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Khun says. He turns to look at Bam and is reminded of that moment in the tunnel again, when Bam had said he had something to tell him. He turns the half-formed phrase over in his mind. “I really li-” Bam had said. Was he going to say he liked Khun? It’s now or never, Khun thinks, and decides to take the plunge.

“What were you going to say in the tunnel?”

“Huh?” Bam stutters. “Oh….” He laughs nervously. “I was going to tell you that I, um…”

Khun holds his breath, waiting nervously.

“I was going to tell you that a man called Jinsung came to the orphanage and decided to adopt me, and that I think I really like him!” Bam blurts out.

Silence hangs thick in the air for a moment, and Khun can’t help but feel disappointed. Bam never promised you anything, he chastises himself and smiles.

“That’s really good!” he says, and he means it. Khun is sincerely happy for Bam, because it means that Bam will have someone to make sure that he takes care of himself and that he’s eating properly and sleeping well. Bam nods.

“Yeah, it is. He even lives near here, so I won’t have to change schools or anything!”

“That’s good.” Khun scrambles for something to say. “What’s he like?” he asks.

Bam scrunches up his face a bit, as if he’s deep in thought, and Khun waits patiently. Cute, he thinks.

“Well, he works for this company called FUG, and apparently he’s pretty high-ranking there. Oh yeah, he wants to change my name to Jue Viole Grace.”

“Jue Viole Grace?” Khun tries out the new name, disliking how it rolls of his tongue.

Bam laughs. “It’s fine. You and the others can still call me Bam. It’ll be weird for you to call me that anyway.”

Khun nods. “Yeah.”

“He also apparently has adopted kids in the past. I don’t know for sure, but I heard he adopted some kid called Karaka, and that they-”

Khun attentively listens to Bam’s chatter, even as half of his mind wanders. He recalls what Bam said earlier. “I don’t think you’ll be forever alone, Khun!” Khun smiles to himself, but it’s bittersweet. Because Khun is certain he will be, because Khun likes – no, loves Bam, Khun is certain he loves Bam, remembering how he had looked in the tunnel, all golden-eyed determination, his gaze piercing Khun, making Khun’s heart beat faster and faster, causing emotions to bubble up in him. Khun loves Bam, and he’s in too deep to stop now. And because Khun is also certain that Bam will never love him back.

He ignores the voice at the back of his head telling him the other thing that Bam had said. “After all, you’re really nice, and smart, not to mention pretty! Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

___________________

They’re eighteen and they’ve just graduated and it feels surreal. A part of Khun can’t believe it. He’ll never return to Evankhell High School, at least not as a student. Rak and Shibisu are crying, though Rak is trying valiantly to hide it. Shibisu, on the other hand is sobbing openly onto Anaak’s shoulder, while Hatz pats him awkwardly on the back. Endorsi is going around, ever the social butterfly, asking people to sign her yearbook. And Khun stands watching it all, the tears, the heartbreak, the excitement. It feels….nostalgic.

“It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Bam is suddenly standing next to Khun, smiling softly, and Khun starts.

“Sorry,” Bam says sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” Khun says. “I guess it does feel weird to know that we’ll never come back here to learn.”

“At least we won’t have to deal with Mr. Han Sung anymore.” Bam jokes, and Khun smiles.

“Yeah, I guess.” And then there’s silence between them, but it’s a companionable silence, one born of many days spent together, laughing and joking and crying. Khun thinks that he’ll miss this. They’ve been standing there for a while when Khun notices a gaggle of girls out of the corner of his eyes. He only notices them because they’re giggling a lot, pushing one of the girls, who is blushing furiously, towards them. Oh. He thinks, and his heart sinks. He knows what’s happening. The girl who is blushing furiously makes her way over, knotting her hands in her skirt, and stops once she’s in front of them. She’s going to confess to Bam, Khun thinks. After all, it makes sense. How could anyone not love Bam? Bam, who is reliable, kind and empathetic. Bam, who would do anything for his friends, whose loyalty knows no bounds. She looks at them nervously, before bowing at a 90 degree angle, shoving out a box of chocolates. Khun prepares for his heart to be broken.

“Khun….I’ve, um, liked you for a while now, and I was wondering if you’d go out with me!”

……What? Khun reflexively glances at Bam, who seems as surprised as him, shock and a hint of something Khun can’t quite identify in his eyes. He looks back at the girl, still waiting for his answer.

“Sorry.” Khun says. “I can’t accept your confession.”

The girl looks up, heartbreak visible in her eyes. “Could you at least give me a chance?”

Khun shakes his head. “Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

Khun takes a deep breath. “Because I like someone else.”

“Oh…” she says, and her lip wobbles, tears welling up in her eyes. “I understand. Thank you for explaining.” She turns around, and Khun pretends not to hear the quiet sniffles, more for her sake than his. Her friends crowd around her almost instantly, comforting her and telling her it’ll be okay. Khun turns away to give her some privacy, and almost bumps into Bam, who is staring at the crowd of girls, seemingly transfixed, an expression Khun can’t read on his face.

“Bam?” he asks quietly.

“You like someone?” Bam blurts out, and immediately flushes. “That was rude, sorry.”

Khun shakes his head. “It’s fine. And…yes, I do like someone. I’ve liked them for a while now.”

“Oh.” Bam says. Khun waits for the inevitable question, Who do you like? but it never comes. Instead, Bam shakes his head as if to snap himself out of something, and mumbles,

“Sorry, I’ve, um, got to go somewhere. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he walks away, head downcast, a dejected air around him. Khun almost doesn’t notice the box of Khun’s favourite chocolates clutched in Bam’s right hand.

The next day, Khun still hasn’t heard from Bam, despite him saying, I’ll see you tomorrow. Khun thinks it over. Maybe he forgot? He decides to wait a bit longer. That night, he calls their friends, but none of them have heard from him since yesterday. Khun is worried, so the day after, he drives over to Bam’s house and knocks on the door, a bag of Bam’s favourite food clutched in his hand. Bam’s adoptive father, Jinsung, opens the door.

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.” He says, before looking up from his phone. “Oh. It’s you. Come in.” he steps to the side, allowing Khun to enter.

“I assume you’re here for Viole?”

Khun nods.

“He’s in his room, and has been for a day now, I think. Wouldn’t even leave to go eat. Good luck dragging him out.” Jinsung returns to the lounge room, where Khun catches sight of another male, presumably Karaka, Bam’s adoptive brother who’s almost never home. Khun turns to the left and begins to walk up the stairs, wondering why Bam would shut himself up in his room. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he walks down the hallway and knocks on Bam’s door.

“Coming!” Bam calls, and he hears some scrambling from inside. Then Bam opens the door and Khun is confronted with the sight of him. Khun is shocked. Bam looks…well, he’s seen better days. He looks tired, deep purple bags under his eyes, not to mention the fact that they’re puffy and swollen.

“Khun!” he exclaims when he sees who it is. “Why are you here?”

“Because you seemed sad on Friday, and then you disappeared off the face of the Earth on Saturday, so I was worried.” Khun says matter-of-factly, walking past Bam into his room, which definitely isn’t in a better state than Bam. The blankets on the bed are crumpled, paper is scattered all over his desk and the floor and there’s two bags of used tissues on the floor. Khun turns to Bam and raises an eyebrow at him. Bam flushes and walks in, picking up the bags of tissues on the floor while Khun works on making his bed.

“You don’t have to help.” Bam says softly.

Khun shakes his head. “I want to.”

Bam disappears for a second, most likely to deposit the tissues downstairs. Khun finds Bam’s phone on the bed, and, finding that it’s out of charge, plugs it into a charger. Bam returns and begins picking up the papers on the floor and on the desk. Khun finishes making the bed – Endorsi likes to joke he could work as a cleaner at a hotel with how efficiently he makes them – and watches as Bam leaves again and returns with a vacuum cleaner. He vacuums the floor, Khun watching silently. When Bam finishes, Khun picks up the bag and hands it to Bam, who lights up when he sees what’s inside.

“Thank you Khun!” he beams, and Khun smiles softly, melting a little bit inside.

“It’s alright.” Then he recalls what Jinsung had said. “When was the last time you ate?”

Bam looks up guiltily, half a bun inside his mouth. He swallows. “This morning…?” he tries. Khun fixes him with a look. “Yesterday night…?” he tries again. Khun continues to stare. Bam slumps.

“The night before yesterday.”

Khun sighs, before an idea blooms across his mind. He straightens and says,

“When you finish eating that, get changed. We’re going out.”

Bam looks at him questioningly before nodding. Khun exits his room and walks down the stairs. Jinsung looks up.

“Bam and I will be going out soon.” He informs him.

“On a date?” Jinsung asks, and Khun splutters.

“No!” he says.

“Will anyone else be there?”

“No.”

“Where are you going?”

“To one of Bam’s favourite places.”

“Are you doing it to see him smile?”

“Yes.” Khun blushes as he says this, and he feels the need to clarify. “As friends do.”

Jinsung raises an eyebrow. “So, a date.” He says, and Khun shakes his head.

“It isn’t a date!”

Jinsung shrugs and says, “Well, you know what they say, ‘If it looks like date, and acts like a date, it’s a date.’”

Khun begins to feel like he’s fighting a losing battle. “It’s not a date.”

Thankfully, he’s saved from anymore arguing as Bam clatters down the stairs.

“I’m ready!” he says.

“Alright, let’s go.” Khun says, and begins to walk out the door, Bam behind him.

“Have fun on your date, kids!” Jinsung calls, and Bam is quiet for a second.

“It’s not a date.” He replies softly, before turning to Khun with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about him.”

“I don’t mind.” Khun says, realising the implications of his words half a second too late. He turns to Bam, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed, instead looking dejectedly at the floor, as if Jinsung’s words have reminded him of something.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks, and Bam looks up.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He says, smiling. Khun notices it’s strained. They climb into Khun’s car, and Khun starts up the ignition, turns on the radio, absentmindedly adjusting it to Bam’s favourite station before backing out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Bam asks.

“It’s a surprise.” Khun replies, and Bam nods, seeming content to stare out the window, humming along to the music. He doesn’t bother to probe, to ask what made Bam sad, because he can sense Bam doesn’t want to share that, so Khun will respect his unsaid wish. The rest of the journey is quiet, Bam’s humming and the radio being the only sounds. When Khun pulls up, Bam looks around.

“Is this….?”

Khun nods. “It’s the ‘secret place’ you told me about when we were 12.”

Bam beams, and Khun can swear actual sunshine pours out of Bam’s smile. “I can’t believe you remembered! Even I forgot!”

“Of course I remembered.” Khun says. After all, you showed it to me, he thinks. “Well, let’s go.” Khun says, getting out of the car. The ‘secret place’ is a little clearing near the orphanage Bam used to live. It’s a little way off the path, well-hidden, and you have to battle through some brambles to get to it, but Khun can still remember how excited Bam had been to show him it. He can almost see Bam – younger, his chestnut curls a little shorter – running to show him it.

“Isn’t it so cool, Khun?” Then, he had taken on a slightly melancholic look. “Rachel and I used to go here together. She’d tell me about the stars.”

At the time, Khun hadn’t known what to say, to do, so he’d stayed silent, hoping his presence would at least help comfort Bam.

Bam had turned around and laughed sheepishly. “But you probably don’t want to hear about that.”

Now, six years later, Khun pushes through the brambles, wincing as one of the pricks him. They’ve become more unruly since he was last here, which would make sense, considering it’s been around three or four years. And then he’s there, in the clearing, smaller than he remembers, but that makes sense considering he’s grown. He walks to he centre of the clearing and sits down, leaning back on his hands while he looks up at the vibrant blue sky, broken only by white puffs of clouds moving leisurely across it. He waits patiently for Bam to sit beside him, and after a few minutes he hears footsteps and a thud. Bam sits down next to him, looking at the sky too.

They sit like that for a while, when Bam quietly asks, as if afraid to break the silence,

“Why did you bring me here?”

Khun looks at Bam out of the corner of his eye. Bam is still looking upwards, golden eyes fixed to the sky, tracing white wisps across a canvas of blue. After a moment of staring, Khun slides his eyes back.

“Because once, you told me you liked to come here when you were sad.”

Bam startles, tearing his eyes away from the sky, resting them upon Khun, scrutinising him intensely.

“You remembered that?”

“Of course I did.” Khun replies once again, and wonders why Bam thinks he would forget things like this. Because of course Khun will remember, because it’s Bam, and need he say more? Bam stares at him for a few more moments, before looking back at the sky.

“The person….” He says suddenly. “How long have you liked them for?”

Khun’s surprised to say the least. Why would he ask that? he wonders, before coming to the conclusion that Bam’s probably just curious, considering the fact that Khun has never told Bam that he’s liked anyone, despite other secrets that were shared between them, exchanged easily under the cover of velvet blackness and diamond pinpricks in the sky.

“For a very long time.” Khun settles on saying, and it’s true. Loving Bam was easy, and it didn’t take long for Khun to fall after meeting him, even if he didn’t realise it at the time. And by the time he realised, he was in too deep to stop, to slow his descent, nor had he wanted to, so he hadn’t even tried.

“What would you do,” Bam begins, “if someone who wasn’t that person, but who was close to you, say, like Shibisu, was to confess to you?”

Khun wrinkles his nose at the thought of Shibisu confessing to him. “I would reject them.”

“Oh.” Then Bam’s quiet again, and Khun gets the faint impression of something slipping away from him, but he doesn’t know what to do, so he says,

“Bam, remember, I’ll always be there for you. If you ever need a friend, call me.”

“A friend…” Bam says, then smiles, but Khun notices it looks a bit sad. “Thank you, Khun. I’ll always be your friend too.”

Friends….Khun thinks, and feels the word twist painfully around in his chest.

___________________

Khun is nineteen when Rak suggests the best-worst thing Khun has ever thought of. They’re in their first year of college and slowly getting used to it: the feel of freedom, the differing schedules, the teaching, it’s all so new. Khun can’t help but be slightly overwhelmed, but he hides it well. Their friend group still meets up often, despite going to different colleges, discussing random things and comparing about the different learning styles. Khun’s also considering moving out, having gotten in a dispute with his family about which college he should attend. Khun’s family had wanted him to go to a prestigious, high-class college, one that cost more than most people would earn in a year to attend. Khun, on the other hand, had wanted to go to a cheaper, simpler college, for reasons he had not told them. The reason, of course, was because Bam (and Rak) were going to go there. In the end, they had icily agreed to let him go, albeit very reluctantly, and warned that if his marks weren’t up to expectation, they would pull him out immediately. Khun had agreed, but since then, there had been a lingering tension in the air, one that would spark and fizzle with every interaction Khun shared with his family.

So, Khun’s considering moving out. He’s looked at a few apartments situated near campus and is currently in the process of enquiring about one. And that’s where the trouble starts. Bam’s also been looking for an apartment, explaining that unfortunately, his father will be moving away temporarily for work soon, and that he’ll be renting out the house while he’s gone. However, unlike Khun, Bam doesn’t have large amounts of money, instead having a very modest amount, which he’s expected to be able to rent an apartment with.

It’s late afternoon, and the seven of them are meeting up at a café. They’re talking about their lives, how they’re adjusting to the differences in work, when Bam begins talking about moving out.

“I don’t know how I’m going to find an apartment!” he complains, banging his head against the table. “They’re all so expensive, and I don’t have a lot of money.”

Rak nods, “I have also been looking for an apartment, Black Turtle. They are all very expensive.”

Khun frowns. “Really? I haven’t had much trouble finding one.”

Rak turns to look at him from the corner of his eye and snorts. “Hah! Easy for you to say, Blue Turtle. However, unlike you, Black Turtle and I don’t have a family fortune.”

“I’m not that rich.” Khun protests. “My apartment wasn’t even that expensive.”

Rak suddenly looks at him, scrutinising him intensely. “Have you already rented an apartment, Blue Turtle?”

“Yes, why?” Khun responds suspiciously.

“How big is it?” Rak asks.

“Well, it has two bedrooms, a kitchen, a lounge, a bathroom…” Khun trails off as he notices Bam staring at him, slack-jawed. “What is it?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…” Bam hesitates. “That sounds very expensive.”

Rak seems to be deep in thought, staring intensely at the table. Then he jumps up, a cunning smile on his face. “I know! Let’s move in with Blue Turtle!”

“What?” Khun chokes out, looking towards Bam. Bam is also staring at Rak, seeming surprised, an expression of thoughtfulness on his face. Rak nods, satisfied, then continues.

“There are two bedrooms, so two of us can share one, and from what Blue Turtle was talking about, it seems like they’ll be plenty of room.”

Khun glares at Rak. “Have you forgotten you need to get my permission for this, gator?!”

Rak harrumphs. “I am the leader. I don’t need things like ‘permission.’”

Bam laughs nervously. “I don’t know, Rak. It is Khun’s apartment.”

Rak frowns. “He should be courteous.”

“Courteous?” Khun splutters. “It’s my apartment!”

Bam looks between them, hands raised weakly. “Ah…”

Rak looks Khun in the eyes once more before dropping his gaze, rolling his eyes. “Consider it, Blue Turtle.”

Khun shakes his head. “No.”

Rak raises an eyebrow. “You say that now, Blue Turtle, but mark my words, you will change your mind.” Then he very purposefully slides his eyes towards Bam, before getting up and declaring loudly, “YOUR LEADER MUST NOW DEPART!”

After that, the rest of them slowly leave, until it’s just Khun and Bam.

“I guess I better head home now,” Bam says, grabbing his bag and standing up.

“I’ll walk you.” Khun says automatically.

Bam hums in agreement. His house isn’t too far away from the café, so he can easily walk home by himself. Neither of them mention it though. They fall into an easy pace, walking side-by-side, and Khun admires the scenery as they walk through the streets. There’s quaint little shops littered here and there, and children run past them, squealing. There are few vehicles on the road, so the cars don’t zoom past like usual, and Khun can hear faint music playing from a shop across the street. They pass a toy store, and Khun spots an alligator plushie. It reminds him of Rak, and a surge of irrational annoyance shoots through him.

“I can’t believe that gator.” Khun mutters. “Not even asking if he can move in…..!”

Bam laughs, the sound like tinkling bells. “Well, it’s just like Rak to do so.”

“Yeah, I know.” Then Khun turns to Bam and asks, “Is it really that difficult to find an apartment?”

“Hmmmm.” Bam considers the question. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Bam brightens up. “I didn’t get a chance to mention this earlier, but I did manage to find one! It took a lot of searching though.”

“Really? That’s good. What’s it like?”

“It’s not as big as yours, and it’s got one bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom, but I’m not in any position to complain, so I’ll take what I can get.”

“Where is it?”

Bam hesitates. “It’s a bit out of the city.”

“A bit out of the city?” Khun frowns. The college they attend is in the middle of the city.

“Yeah.” Bam doesn’t elaborate.

“How far will you have to travel?”

“Ummm…. I’ll have to get up at 4:00, catch a bus, arrive at the train station at 5:00, and then I’ll arrive at 8:30 before catching another bus to the campus, and arriving at 9:00.” Bam rattles off.

“You have to travel for five hours?!”

Bam nods. “It’s fine though. I don’t mind.”

Khun narrows his eyes. “At what time will you get home?”

“5:00.”

Khun stares at Bam. Bam fidgets under his gaze. “Okay, it’s actually 7:00.”

Khun continues to observe Bam until he gives in with a defeated sigh.

“10:00.” Is what he offers up.

Ten? Khun calculates. Even if Bam goes to sleep as soon as he gets home, he’ll still be sleep deprived. He frowns, and opens his mouth, but then Bam says,

“Thank for walking me home, Khun!”

Khun realises they’re outside Bam’s house. Bam proceeds to open the gate and rush inside before Khun can get a word in, and Khun doesn’t stop him, lost in his head. He thinks about the dilemma even as he walks back to the café, gets into his car and drives home. Later that night, he calls Rak.

“Hey, gator,” he says. “What was your proposition again?”

The next day, Khun, Bam and Rak find themselves standing in the entrance to Khun’s apartment, surveying the inside.

“Are you sure you’re fine with this?” Bam asks Khun.

No, Khun thinks, looking at Rak out of the corner of his eye. Rak offers him a smug smirk. “Yes.” He says.

“Okay…” Bam says. He doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t push the subject either, so Khun thinks he can live with that. They enter, and Rak and Bam look around.

“It’s really big!” Bam says wonderingly.

“’I’m not that rich’, my ass.” Rak mutters.

Khun rolls his eyes. “Maybe it just seems expensive because you’re poor, gator.”

Rak ignores him and steps further inside. He walks over to the kitchen and immediately begins rifling through the cupboards.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Khun barks, but is ignored once again.

“You don’t have any yellow fruit!” Rak despairs.

“Of course I don’t!” Khun isn’t that fond of bananas.

Rak looks down at him. Khun glowers back.

“Hmph!” Rak says, after around 10 seconds of staring Khun down, before wandering through the rest of Khun’s apartment. “This place is acceptable.”

Khun turns to Bam, who is hovering uncertainly in the entrance. “You coming in?”

“Yeah.” Bam says, before walking in, still not straying too far from Khun’s side.

“Do you want me to show you around?”

Bam nods, so Khun brings him around the apartment, pointing out where everything is so Bam won’t get too lost when he moves in. When he moves in. The phrase brings a tingly sort of warmth to Khun’s mind, washing over his body and making his stomach feel like it’s on a rollercoaster. Khun doesn’t linger on the feeling, shoving it aside, all too used to it. It’s the feeling that accompanies Khun whenever he goes to see Bam, hovering over his shoulder like a cloud. It annoying sometimes, but Khun…. doesn’t hate it.

After around an hour, Khun pulls Rak and Bam up (not that Bam needs much pulling up, considering he’s been sticking to Khun’s side the entire time), and tells them politely to leave. Well. He’s polite to Bam.

“This weekend, right?” Bam affirms.

Khun nods. “Yeah. This weekend.”

“Okay.” Bam says, packing up his stuff and preparing to leave.

“THE GREAT RAK WRAITHRAISER WILL RETURN!” Rak yells, and Bam waves goodbye as they depart together. Khun sits on his sofa and slumps, hands resting on his head.

“Argh. So noisy.” He says, but really, he’s thinking of Bam’s soft smile when he had seen a seashell he had gifted Khun when he was younger, sitting on Khun’s dresser. He had stared at it for a bit, a soft shine in his eyes, a smile on his lips and his cheeks dusted a soft pink, before snapping out of it and looking at Khun, laughing nervously and starting to prattle on about how he thought the dresser looked especially nice today. Khun had owned the dresser longer than he had known Bam. The rollercoaster returns to his stomach, and Khun is free falling once again. He wonders if he’ll ever stop.

That weekend, Rak and Bam show up as expected, carrying things such as a change of clothes and toothbrushes. The movers, however, do not. They wait and wait, and by the time the sun has set, Rak has called the company three times. Each time, they’ve been told the movers are on their way. After a while, Khun orders pizza and they sit around his table, eating it.

“Perhaps they took the long route?” Rak asks.

Khun snorts. “It must be one hell of a long route if they’re 5 hours late.”

Bam shakes his head. “They collected our stuff this morning.”

Rak gets a phone call, and after chattering into the phone for a bit, hangs up.

“They went to the wrong house.” He says.

Khun’s not shocked. He figured this was the reason why they were late.

“Where’s the house they went to?” Bam asks.

Rak shoots him a flat glance. “A bit out of the city.”

Bam slumps. “Oh.”

Rak goes on to explain. “They said the movers would be able to make it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Khun exclaims. He didn’t think it’d take that long. “But what are you going to do today? Where are you going to sleep?”

Rak considers it for a second, before laughing haughtily. “Isn’t it obvious, Blue Turtle? One of us can sleep on the couch, and one of us can sleep on your bed!”

“Where am I going to sleep then?” Khun splutters.

“On the floor, of course!” Rak says.

“No.” Khun says.

“Fine then.” Rak says, and Khun makes the mistake of being relieved. “Well, I’m going to be taking the couch!” He continues. “Black Turtle, you can sleep on the floor!”

“Hang on,” Khun says, “Why do you get the couch?”

Rak eyes him. “Because I have back problems.”

Khun glares at him. “What back problems?”

Rak looks at him innocently. “I go see a doctor about them regularly.”

“I call bullshit. If you had actual back problems, you’d know sleeping on the couch is actually bad for your back! ” Khun says.

Rak glares at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he declares imperiously. “I have a doctor’s certificate!” He rifles through his bag and produces an official looking document before whipping it away before Khun can read it.

“Let me see that.” He takes a step forward.

Rak shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Khun asks.

“Because you’ll wreck it!”

“I won’t.” Khun takes another step forward. “Just let me see.”

Rak looks at him suspiciously. “No.”

“Well, I guess if he has a medical certificate I can.” Bam interrupts.

Rak looks at him smugly. “See? Black Turtle agrees.”

“But-”

He’s cut off as Bam shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it Khun. I’m fine with it.”

He turns around to pick up his stuff and begins walking idly to the empty guest room, while Rak grabs his stuff and jumps on the couch. Khun feels as if the situation is spiralling rapidly out of his control.

“Hold up!” Khun almost shouts, and both Bam and Rak turn around to look at him curiously.

Khun coughs, his face burning. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“Where would I sleep then?” Bam asks.

“You can sleep on my bed.”

Bam looks at him shocked, and there’s a faint flush on his cheeks. “I can’t do that!” he protests. “Where would you sleep?”

Khun shrugs. “On the floor.”

“No.” Bam says firmly. “It’s your house. I can’t just take your bed.”

He shakes his head. “Just take it. I don’t mind.”

“No.”

Khun opens his mouth to argue, but just as he does, Rak lets out a bellowing laugh.

“Foolish Turtles! You’re overthinking it. If there’s only one bed, sleep on it together!”

Khun snaps his head around to look at Bam.

“Sleep on the bed?” he asks.

“Together?” Bam finishes.

Rak nods, preening. “Haha. Aren’t I smart, you idiot Turtles? Now your problem is solved!”

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as Bam does funny things to Khun’s stomach and heart, making them somersault and churn around.

“I couldn’t do that!” Bam is protesting, even as Rak laughs and boasts.

“Why not?” Khun asks, the words out of his mouth before he realises what he’s saying.

Bam stops short, shocked, and turns to stare at Khun with wide, gold eyes. Khun curses himself for being an idiot, and then plasters a cool, unbothered expression on his face even as his heart hammers furiously, so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if Bam could hear it.

“I mean,” he says. “It’s not a big deal. As long as we keep to our sides of the bed, it should be fine. And this way, we don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Rak nods approvingly. “See? Blue Turtle gets it!”

Bam can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Khun, making him self-conscious. He’s about to laugh it off and pretend he was poking fun at Rak or something, when Bam answers.

“Okay.” He says. “I can sleep with you.”

Rak raises an eyebrow, causing Khun to blush and Bam to splutter.

“I mean sleep on your bed! I can sleep on your bed!”

And that is how, twenty minutes later, Khun finds him and Bam standing awkwardly on either side of his bed.

“So…” Bam starts, his hand straying to the back of his neck. “Do we just climb in?”

“Sure,” Khun replies, trying to maintain his cool. Somewhere, a distant part of his mind is screaming, BAM IS SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED AS ME! He tries very hard to ignore that part of his mind. It gets more difficult as that part only increases in volume as they climb in. Bam’s arm brushes Khun’s, and Khun snatches his arm back like its been burned.

“Sorry.” Bam mumbles.

“It’s fine.” Khun says. His skin tingles where Bam’s skin had brushed against his. They slide in. Khun’s bed isn’t small, but it isn’t big either, meaning that if Khun moves even the slightest bit, his skin will brush Bam’s. He can feel Bam’s body warmth next to him, and it seeps into his skin, warming him. He isn’t sure whether to be grateful or not. Khun lies stiffly, not daring to move a muscle, for what feels like hours. He stares at the ceiling, watching the pale white paint as it it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Khun lets his eyes wander around his room, taking in the dresser pushed against one wall and the desk against the other. The walls are unadorned, save for two pictures – one of their whole group and one of Bam and Khun when they were younger. Outside, the wind howls. There’s a trashcan under Khun’s desk, filled with paper – words written carelessly on the page, thrown away moments later.

There’s also a vanity table, stacked with Khun’s various hair products. His straightener is there too, unplugged and carefully put away. When Hatz had first seen them, he’d laughed and deemed Khun the ‘Hair Straightener Prince’. The mirror reflects Khun’s door back at him, showing light creeping in under the crack at the bottom. His room is neat and organised, just how he likes it. Khun continues to survey his room, even as he feels Bam’s breathing even out and slow down.

He isn’t sure how he’s going to sleep like this – with Bam next to him, golden eyes hidden from the world, long lashes casting shadows on his skin. It makes Khun’s heart throb painfully because no matter how much he wants this – wishes for this – it will never happen, not in a million years. Still though, night is a place for dreaming, and Khun imagines, in the shadowy half-twilight of it, what it would be like if this was real, if Bam did return his feelings. It’s a foolish dream, but a dream nonetheless, and Khun entertains himself with it until he drifts off.

When Khun wakes up, he is warm. That’s the first thing he notices. It’s comfortable, so Khun is about to close his eyes and drift off again when he feels warm air brush his neck. For a moment he lies there, trying to process where it could be coming from, until he reaches gradual awareness and realises that there’s an arm thrown across his chest, and two legs tangling with his. A face is also buried in his neck. Bam’s face, to be exact. Khun freezes. Bam exhales again, blowing warm air across his neck, and Khun shivers.

Oh god. He thinks. Whoever’s up there, please give me mercy.

No-one responds, and Khun’s left to try and figure a way out of it on his own without waking Bam up, which while would be helpful in trying to get him to move away, would also be very embarrassing. It’s harder than it sounds, especially when Bam is clinging to him and Khun’s thought process is essentially a process of exclamation marks and love hearts. He first tries to move away, but Bam tightens his grip, bringing Khun closer than he was before.

Well, Khun thinks, that backfired.

It’s incredibly hard to concentrate, and Khun finds himself distracted multiple times by things such as the way Bam is mumbling under his breath slightly, his lips brushing Khun’s skin as he does so, and how warm Bam is, almost burning Khun’s skin. Khun’s heart is going wild, accelerating at a fast pace, and butterflies are fluttering in his stomach like crazy. Khun tries to think, he really does, but he simply can’t. Not with Bam hugging him like this, like he’s something to be cherished, to be loved. Not when it’s all a mistake.

Bam would probably be disgusted if he knew how I felt. Khun thinks bitterly. Bam can’t ever know, can’t ever figure out why Khun gets distracted sometimes looking at him, deeply lost in the gold of his eyes, the way Bam’s lips stretch into a smile when he sees Rak’s antics, the way Bam tilts his head back and laughs, the sound spilling out into the air, joyful and light.

Khun half-wishes he didn’t have to love Bam, didn’t have to feel this way about him, wishes he could be satisfied with friendship and nothing else. At the same time though, loving Bam is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Khun can’t quite bring himself to regret it. Perhaps it is because in the end, Khun is a human, and humans are selfish creatures.

Khun waits, lying still, contemplating, until he feels Bam shift and move away, lifting his limbs off Khun. Khun doesn’t wait a second for fear that Bam will change his mind, and gets up quickly, practically throwing the blankets off. He stands up and stretches, feeling his back pop and crack, and winces. He turns back around and notes with some amusement that he has accidentally thrown the blankets off Bam, so he walks closer and pulls the blankets on him again. He stands back up and is about to walk away when his eye catches on Bam’s curls. He feels a sudden urge to run his fingers through them, and he stands there for a bit, fighting against it. It’s an uphill battle though, and Khun gives in, so he leans down and fondly runs his fingers through Bam’s hair, feeling how soft it is. And because Khun has no self-control, he leans down and presses his lips to Bam’s forehead, springing back quickly, afraid that Bam will wake up. He doesn’t though, barely stirring, and Khun breathes in relief before heading out of the room.

He doesn’t notice golden eyes snap open as he leaves.

The same morning, after Khun has graciously fed Rak a breakfast consisting of pancakes and maple syrup, Rak calls Khun aside, showing him something on his phone. It’s pictures of Khun and Bam soundly asleep, with Bam draped all over Khun.

Khun feels a flush rise to his face.

“How did you get these?” he demands.

Rak smirks. “Anyone who came in here this morning could see!”

“Don’t you dare send those to the others!”

“It’s too late!” Rak cackles. “I’ve sent it to every Turtle in my contacts.”

“Weren’t there some teachers in there?”

Rak only smirks once again. He heads towards the door. “I appreciate you letting me sleep at your house for one night, Blue Turtle.”

“Aren’t you moving in?” Khun asks.

Rak raises an eyebrow. “No. What gave you that impression?”

And then he waltzes out the door, leaving Khun behind.

___________________

Khun is twenty, and regretting a lot of his life decisions. He’s at Endorsi’s birthday party, where he was promised, to put in her words, a ‘good time’. Khun is not having a ‘good time’. In fact, he is having a decidedly terrible time. The pop music blasting from the speakers is loud, and so are the people. The house is packed, but honestly, what did he expect? Endorsi knows all kinds of people, from high schoolers, to those who already graduated college.

“‘Don’t be a stick in the mud, Khun.’, ‘It’ll be fun, Khun.’, ‘You need to live a little, Khun.’” Khun mutters under his breath. “Yeah, right. I’m having so much fun.”

Khun did come with Bam, but he had been whisked away as soon as they arrived by Endorsi, no doubt looking to introduce Bam to her many friends. And while Khun does know what to do at his mother’s or father’s fancy parties, he has no idea what to do at a ‘commoner’s college party’, as his father would call it. So Khun sort of stands there off to the side, trying to avoid the clumsy, drunk dancing of the other party guests. Khun considers trying the punch, but he knows for a fact it contains alcohol, and he doesn’t feel comfortable getting drunk around a bunch of strangers. A couple starts making out intensely next to Khun, so he grimaces and moves outside to the front of the house, deciding to sit on the balcony. The night air is fresh and cool compared to the humid, too warm atmosphere of the house, and when Khun exhales, he can see his breath forming condensation in the air.

He considers going home, but sighs because Bam and him came together, and if Khun leaves, it means Bam will be forced to rely on someone else to bring him home. Besides, Bam and Khun live together anyway, so Khun will most likely be woken up when Bam comes home anyway. Not that he’d be able to sleep, what with Bam at a party with almost no-one he knows, unable to locate those he does. No, Khun decides, he’ll just stay here until Bam decides he wants to leave, and then drive them both home. He checks the time. It’s 10:30, and Khun sighs. He probably won’t be able to leave until 12:00, at the earliest. He’s just settled himself down, preparing to wait, when Endorsi, the birthday girl herself, stumbles outside. Her eyes light up when she’s spotted him, so Khun knows she’s been looking for him.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, because he’s annoyed, god damn it, and he’d rather be anywhere than here.

Endorsi hesitates, which is unusual. Endorsi’s the type of girl to charge forward, strong and unwavering. “Have you, by any chance, had anything to drink?”

Khun narrows his eyes. “No, why?”

She smiles. “That’s great!” And then she tugs open the door further and drags a flushed, very drunk, Bam towards him. “Because someone will need to drive you two home!”

Khun sits up. “You got Bam drunk? Why and how?” As far as Khun knows, Bam usually doesn’t drink at parties, and when asked why, usually mutters something about disliking how disoriented alcohol makes him. Endorsi knows about this, and generally won’t pressure him to drink.

Endorsi winces. “I didn’t mean to get him drunk! It’s just, one of my friends roped him into playing a drinking game.”

“What was the game?” Khun probes.

“Spin the bottle.” She says, and Khun has a heart attack.

“What?” he hisses.

Endorsi rolls her eyes. “Relax, Romeo, he didn’t kiss anyone. He had to take a shot every time he refused, which he why he got so drunk in the first place.”

Khun relaxes, and then levels Endorsi with a glare. “I can drive him home, but I won’t forget this.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I figured you wouldn’t.”

And then she walks back inside, leaving Bam behind. He’s staring up at the sky, looking at the stars. And then he starts crying. Khun panics.

“Bam, what’s wrong?”

Bam is sobbing. “Rachel…sh-she left me! She left me for the stars.”

“Oh.” Khun says.

He continues to babble. “I don’t see what’s so great about the stars. Why did she have to leave me? I was so happy! And then she left and I couldn’t follow an-and-”

Khun walks forward and awkwardly pats Bam on the back. Bam cries for a bit, before he turns around to look at Khun.

“Thank you for comforting me.” He says, through hiccups. And then he gets a better look at who’s comforting him and launches himself at Khun.

“Khun!” he says, his bad mood disappearing. And Khun suddenly has an armful of Bam. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Um….” Khun says intelligently, because Bam is hugging him, and holy shit, Bam is hugging him! Bam seems to take his silence and sudden stiffness as an invitation to hug him harder, because his grip tightens. It takes an embarrassingly long time before Khun gets his wits in order and remembers that yes, Bam is drunk, and that yes, he needs to drive Bam home.

“Uh….Bam?” he says. Bam squeezes him. “Would you mind letting go?”

“No.” The answer comes as soon as Khun has finished saying the question.

“We need to get home though.”

“No.”

Khun sighs, and then tries to pry Bam’s arms off him. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work, as Bam is much stronger than he looks. Alright, Khun thinks. Time for plan B.

Plan B is Khun attempting to get to the car with Bam hugging him like he’s Bam’s favourite teddy bear. Thankfully, no-one is around to witness it, all of them inside, or else they might’ve gotten quite a few weird looks. Many curse words later finds Khun in front of his car, with Bam still clutching him tightly. He manages to unlock it, before saying once again,

“Bam, could you let go?”

“No.”

Khun tries again. “I need to drive home, Bam.”

“No.”

He thinks for a bit. “Bam, if you let me go, once we get home, you can hug me as much as you want.” His cheeks burn as he says the words, but he considers it a win when Bam doesn’t immediately shoot down the idea.

“You promise?” Bam asks.

Khun’s cheeks flare red once again. “Yes, I promise.”

Bam reluctantly lets him go and climbs into the passenger seat. Khun sighs in relief and walks around to the driver’s seat. He climbs in and starts up the car, shivering slightly and turning on the heater. Warm air blasts him immediately, and he sighs in relief. He reverses out of his parking spot and begins to drive them home. Bam, in the meantime, seems content to sit there, watching the road. Until he asks Khun,

“Can I call you Aguero?”

Khun almost misses a turn, the car swerving violently. He blushes again, and his cheeks might as well be permanently red at this point. Bam continues, with no regard for Khun’s poor heart.

“After all,” he rambles. “I’ve known you for ages now. It’s been 10 whole years! And you’re my best friend, Khun, did you know that? You’re my favourite friend out of Shibisu and….” He pauses, seemingly searching for another friend. “Shibisu, and I really like you, so can I call you Aguero?”

Khun’s dying. He’s dying and he’s in heaven. I really like you, echoes in his hears. He’s drunk, Khun reminds himself. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. They reach a red light, so Khun turns and looks at Bam. Big mistake on his part, because Bam is doing puppy eyes. Not the puppy eyes, Khun thinks. Please not the puppy eyes. Bam continues doing the puppy eyes, again disregarding the irreversible damage it’s doing to Khun’s heart. How can a 20-year-old man possibly look so cute? Khun thinks.

“Sure…” He says, sighing.

Bam beams, lighting up the entire car. “Thank you, Aguero!”

Khun has five heart attacks in the span of two seconds. He wonders if he can claim insurance if he actually does have a heart attack due to Bam’s drunken self. Probably not. He fixes his attention back on the road again, waiting for the lights to turn green. Soon, Khun is concentrating on driving once again. Thankfully, the rest of the trip home goes without incident, Bam radiating happiness, and Khun slumps in relief when he pulls into the parking lot for their apartment complex. He turns around to tell Bam to get out, reaching out to shake his shoulder, but Bam is fast asleep, mouth slightly open and head tilted back against the headrest. I didn’t notice when he fell asleep, Khun thinks. He smiles softly, indulging himself and allowing himself to stare at Bam’s peaceful, sleeping form once more before getting out of the car. He walks over to Bam’s side of the car and opens the door, easing Bam out and leaning all of his weight on him before carefully shutting the car door. He tries to half-carry and half-drag Bam back to the apartment, before he gives up and scoops Bam up, holding him in a princess carry. As he passes an old lady, she beams at him and says,

“What a devoted boyfriend you are! Helping him get back alright.” She chuckles. “I wish my children had grown up to be half as gentlemanly as you.”

Khun chuckles awkwardly. “Ah, he’s not my-”

In his sleep, Bam nestles into his arms, murmuring, “Aguero….”

He gives up. “Thank you.” he says. “Have a good night.”

The old woman smiles again. “You too.”

Khun carries on. He struggles to open the apartment door, eventually succeeding by precariously half-balancing Bam against the door as he gets out his keys, then kicking it open and catching Bam before he hits the floor. He kicks the door shut behind him, hearing the automatic lock click into place and sighing in relief.

Finally, it’s over, he thinks.

He carries Bam to his room, depositing him on his bed before attempting to leave. The key word here is attempting, because Bam grabs his wrist, yawning sleepily and exclaiming,

“You said I could hug you.” It’s said in an accusatory tone, and Bam is rubbing one eye as he says it, looking like a child denied of a toy or a piece of candy they particularly want.

“I will. Just let me get a drink of water first.” Khun lies. He’ll leave and then check on Bam later to make sure he’s still asleep.

“No,” Bam says. “I want to hug you!”

“Don’t worry.” Khun soothes. “I promise I’ll be back, just let me get a glass of water first.”

Bam’s eyes blaze. “But if you leave, you might not come back! Like Rachel.”

Khun feels his heart break a little bit. It’s been eight years, yet it seems Bam is still hurting over what Rachel did. He remembers how after she had left, even after he had cried his heart out on the school roof, Bam hadn’t been the same. His smiles were a little more forced, the glow in his eyes duller. It had taken months, months of Khun working tirelessly to cheer him up before Bam had gotten over it enough to smile genuinely, laugh genuinely. But the scars still remain. Khun can sympathize. Rachel was all Bam had ever known, had been with him for as long as he could remember. And then she had left, with scarcely even a goodbye to Bam, nothing but a short letter talking of her yearning for the stars, and the memories they had made together.

Khun’s eyes soften, and he moves towards Bam, leaning down and looking him in the eyes.

“Wherever you go,” he declares. “I’ll follow. Even if it’s to the ends of the Earth.”

“Do you promise?” Bam asks.

“I promise.” Khun replies solemnly. Normally Khun would feel a bit silly saying something like this, but this is for Bam, so Khun is fine with it. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep Bam happy, to keep that shine in his eyes. And Bam looks at him in wonder, and then says,

“That’s why I really like you, Aguero.”

And then he tugs Khun down and- Bam’s lips collide with Khun’s and they’re warm and chapped, yet somehow soft and it’s everything Khun has ever wanted. Fireworks are going off in his mind, images of gold dancing behind his eyelids, and his heart is pounding, feeling so full of emotions like happiness and yearning and joy that it could burst because Bam is kissing him, lips pressed against Khun’s – But then Khun comes crashing down back to Earth because Bam is drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t realise his actions. And Khun can’t, won’t, take advantage of that. So Khun pulls away, pulls away because he refuses to take advantage of Bam’s drunken state, despite the fact that it’s what Khun has wanted for years. What Khun still wants.

“I’m sorry, Bam.” He says, starting to rush out of the room, but Bam catches his wrist again, looking so confused, and Khun feels his heart – light as a cloud a few moments ago – sink.

“Aguero?”

Khun laughs bitterly. “You’re drunk, Bam. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Bam frowns. “But, Aguero-”

“Shhh. Sleep.” Khun cuts him off because he can’t bear to hear another word because Bam doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand that this is what Khun has been dreaming of for years, something that Khun wants so badly, but can never have, because who is he kidding? Bam will never return his feelings.

“Aguero-”

“Sleep.” Khun says harshly, unable to look Bam in the eyes.

“Okay.” Bam says, his voice quiet and soft, and he lies under the covers, head against the pillow. It’s quiet for a second, but then he asks,

“Can you stay here with me?”

Khun hesitates. He knows he should say no, for both their sakes, but Khun has always been weak for a boy with brown curls and swirling gold eyes, and a part of him wants this too, so he doesn’t say ‘no’, doesn’t say anything, instead opting to sit down a respectable distance away from Bam. Bam doesn’t try to close the distance. As soon as Bam is asleep, Khun slips out, silent as a ghost in the night.

The next morning, Khun wakes up with heartbreak heavy on his mind, bitter ashes on his tongue. Bam stumbles out nearly three hours later, complaining of a headache. He walks to the kitchen and fills a glass with cold water.

“Ugh, what happened last night? I can’t remember.” Bam frowns. “Did you drive me home? The last thing I remember was playing Spin the Bottle.”

“Yeah, I did.” Khun replies, answering only the second question.

Bam shoots him a grateful, if not tired, smile. “Thanks, Khun.”

“Call me Aguero.” Khun blurts out, thinking of the way the syllables had rolled off Bam’s tongue last night.

Bam stares at him, seemingly shocked, a pink flush on his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Khun says.

“Okay…. Aguero.” Bam says, testing out the name.

Then he takes another look at Khun, scrutinising him carefully, and asks innocently,

“Did I do anything weird last night?”

“No.” Khun responds, while thinking of warm, chapped lips against his own, and words that will never mean what he wants them to.

“That’s why I really like you, Aguero.”

___________________

Khun is 22, and he’ll be graduating college soon. It feels weird, different from when he’d graduated high school, but just as exciting. There’s not long left now, and Khun wonders what it will be like, not having to learn. Getting a full-time job, being out there in the world, it seems so distant, so far away, despite the fact that Khun knows it isn’t actually. So many people Khun knows are having parties, but he often opts out of them now, remembering a night two years ago with alcohol and Bam and lips pressed tenderly against his. He shakes his head, waving the memory away because it isn’t important – a distant part of him argues that it very much is – and focuses on the present, the here and now.

“Damn.” Endorsi is saying. “I can’t believe we’ll be graduating soon.”

“Yeah, I know.” Shibisu agrees. “It seems too soon.”

“It’s like the years just sped by.” Hatz decides to contribute.

Endorsi turns to Bam. “What do you think, Bam?”

Ah yes. Bam. Recently, Khun has been even more of a gay disaster than usual, often distracted by simple things such as Bam’s smile, something he thought he had gotten over years ago. Not that Khun never got distracted by it before this, but it had been happening an alarming amount recently. A prime example had been when he was talking to a girl called Hwa Ryun and Bam had spotted him, smiling brightly and waving at him. Khun had stared at him for five whole minutes until he got his wits in order and remembered he had been in a conversation. Hwa Ryun had looked at him and clapped his shoulder.

“Good luck.” She had told him solemnly, and then left.

Khun had been left there, cursing his own inability to maintain even a simple conversation these days. Back in the present Bam responds.

“Yeah. It was really fun though.”

Shibisu, Endorsi and Hatz make sounds of agreement.

Bam turns to Khun. “What do you think, Aguero?”

Khun leans back in his chair, taking a sip of coffee. “I agree with Bam. It was fun.”

He ignores Shibisu’s mutter of, “When do you not agree with Bam, aside from things such as his health?”

Bam laughs, and Khun’s eyes are drawn to him. Bam looks particularly nice today. Not that he doesn’t usually look nice, Khun thinks. Bam’s wearing a simple white T-shirt, with an unbuttoned blue collared shirt as a jacket and black shorts. The light dances across his skin, highlighting his eyes. Bam’s brown curls sway softly in the breeze and curl lightly around his ear, and Khun wonders absentmindedly how Bam would react if he were to get up and walk over to Bam. If he would gasp if Khun were to run his hand through his hair, settle his fingers behind Bam’s ears. If Bam would push him away or pull him closer if Khun put his fingers under Bam’s chin, tilted his head up, angled his own head just right, pulled Bam forward and-

“-un! Khun! Earth to Khun!” Endorsi is yelling at him.

“What?” he snaps.

Hatz raises an eyebrow. “Shibisu asked you something, Earrings.”

Khun turns to Shibisu, unleashing the full force of his icy wrath on him. “Yes?”

Shibisu shudders. “I was wondering if you had any plans after college?”

The response is automatic. “I’m going to work in my father’s company.” And take his place as head.

“Really?” Hatz asks. “I thought you disliked your father.”

“Family relations are complicated in the Khun family.” Khun responds.

Bam hums, checking the time. He pales slightly when he sees it. “I need to go.” He says, already standing up. “I promised I’d meet Rak and Anak in the library.”

“I’ll go with you.” Khun says, beginning to stand up, only to be stopped by Endorsi.

“No.” she says. “We have something we need to discuss.”

Bam pauses, looking between them. Hatz and Shibisu nod along.

“We do.” Hatz says.

“Well, I guess I can stay if it’s that important,” Bam begins to say, but Endorsi is already shaking her head.

“Not with you, Bam.” She levels her eyes at Khun. “With Khun. You can go.”

“Oh.” Bam says. He’s looking between all four of them now, seemingly hesitant. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

He stands up and walks away, and Khun turns to look at them.

“Alright,” he says. “What’s this about? You guys want me to help you or something?”

Shibisu slams his hands down on the table they’re sitting at, rattling the plates. “This is an intervention.” He says, in a lowly voice.

“An intervention for what?” As far as Khun can see, no interventions are needed.

Shibisu hesitates. “It’s an intervention for, you know, your and Bam’s…..” he trails off, waving his hands vaguely in the air, “relationship.”

“What?” Khun thinks his and Bam’s relationship is fine.

“What Shibisu means to say,” Hatz chimes in, “is that everyone can very clearly see you’re pining for each other, and that something needs to be done.”

Endorsi nods. “Too much tension in the air.”

Khun stands up. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Shibisu says, standing up too.

Khun ignores him, even as Shibisu catches up and falls into step beside him. They walk in silence for a bit, until Shibisu tries again.

“Khun.”

Khun speeds up, and Shibisu sighs.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not asking you to propose to Bam or anything. Just…..at least consider confessing. I assure you whole-heartedly your feelings are not one-sided.”

Then he walks away, leaving Khun with whirling thoughts. He stands there for a bit, just thinking, before deciding to head to the library, where Bam will hopefully still be. Being around Bam always helps Khun feel better when he’s stressed out. He makes his way there slowly, enjoying the scenery, all buttery yellow sunlight and green leaves. When he arrives at the library, Khun looks around, trying to spot Bam.

If I were Bam, he muses, where would I be sitting?

The answer comes to him easily – Bam would prefer sitting in a corner – and he heads to the closest one, quickly finding the head of brown hair he’s looking for. As he comes closer, he’s about to call out when he hears low, aggravated voices. It’s Rak and Bam.

“At least try, Black Turtle!” Rak is saying.

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve tried already before. Both times it failed! If that isn’t a sign, then what is? Besides, I thought he had someone he liked.”

Rak growls. “And I’m saying, that someone is you!”

A derisive laugh from Bam. “As if. He would never like me. Not in that way.”

Khun begins to feel the beginnings of coldness creeping in. Who is Bam talking about? Who doesn’t like him? As far as Khun is aware, everyone on campus likes Bam, and if they didn’t Khun would’ve already had a word with them by now. But then Rak’s next words shatter Khun’s world.

“Just hurry up and tell him you love him, Black Turtle! He definitely feels the same!”

Bam? In love? Ice crackles down Khun’s spine, freezing him in place. Vaguely, he wonders if Bam had felt the same way when the girl had confessed to him years ago, but he shakes off the thought. No way. Khun can’t comprehend it, his mind replaying the words over and over. Tell him you love him. He definitely feels the same! Khun can’t stand it, can’t stand the thought of Bam being with someone else. He imagines Bam confessing, getting accepted – who in their right mind would reject Bam? – growing older with them, imagines all the little mannerisms Khun has analysed in Bam over the years being privy to another person. Imagines the soft smiles Bam will throw him sometimes being shown to another person. Khun always imagined that if Bam did love someone else, he would be able to get over his crush on Bam. Would be able to support him. But now, with icy water trickling down his spine and his mind reeling, Khun doesn’t think he can do that.

Perhaps Khun has grown used to Bam’s affection, to having Bam to himself. Has allowed himself to think – to believe – that Bam could possibly love him back. I assure you whole-heartedly your feelings are not one-sided, Shibisu had said. What a joke. Khun turns on his heel and walks out, not able to bear another word.

Over the next few days, Khun avoids Bam. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s no other way he can phrase it, no other way he can arrange the words to make them sound better. When Bam is at home, Khun stays in his room and doesn’t come out. When he sees Bam, Khun walks away, pretending to be busy. One night, Bam knocks on his door and calls out tentatively,

“Aguero?”

“Yeah?” Khun responds, making sure his voice betrays no emotions.

“Are you alright? I haven’t seen you much these past few days.”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

It’s quiet outside for a moment, and Khun wonders if Bam has left. Then he hears footsteps padding gently away, and sighs in relief. He feels some guilt, but it’s better this way. Better he avoids Bam, rather than mess things up and make Bam confused. It continues for a week before Khun is confronted about it. The confrontation comes in the form of Rak kicking his door open at 2PM one fine Saturday afternoon.

“BLUE TURTLE!” he roars. “WHY ARE YOU MAKING BLACK TURTLE SAD?!”

Khun startles, dropping his textbook and looking up. “What in the ever-loving hell, gator?”

Rak stands defiantly in the doorframe. “You’ve been avoiding Black Turtle for the past week!” he says accusingly.

Maybe if Khun was feeling better, he would deny it. Would shake his head. But Khun is so tired, is sick of pretending. So he opens his mouth and says,

“What if I am? It’s better this way.”

“How is it better?” Rak explodes. “Black Turtle has been moping around and so have you! As far as I can see, what you’re doing is only going to hurt both of you!”

Khun turns to look at the floor. “It’s better.” He repeats.

“How-!?”

He cuts Rak off. “Because,” he says. “I love Bam, and I can’t stop. And if he loves someone else, I can’t mess that up for him!”

A thick silence settles over the room.

“What….are you talking about, Blue Turtle?” Rak sounds incredulous.

“I heard you guys in the library, okay?”

Rak begins to say something, but Khun holds up a hand, stopping him. “It’s fine. I know Bam loves someone else, and I’m fine with it.”

Rak seems at a loss for words Then he walks forward and stops in front of Khun. And he draws his fist back, and punches Khun.

“What the hell was that for, gator?

“I thought you were meant to be smart, Blue Turtle.”

Rak turns around and walks back towards the door. As he exits, he pauses. “At least try talking to Black Turtle.”

And then he’s gone.

That night, Khun is lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, Rak’s words playing in his mind. He doesn’t know what Rak had meant by saying that Khun was supposed to be smart. Khun is smart. Khun turns on his side and remembers how all those years ago, Bam had slept here next to him, peaceful and quiet. And that sends him into a spiral of memories, all about Bam, how he had first met him, how Bam had cried when Rachel moved away. Meeting Rak and the others. When they had fallen into the water in the love tunnel when they were 16. Helping Bam study for finals when they were 17. Graduation. Moving in together when they were 19, and going ot that stupid party when they were 20. Khun…doesn’t want to lose this. To lose Bam. He’ll talk to him tonight, he thinks. Khun won’t confess, but he’ll apologise and make up some bullshit excuse. Then they can go back to how they’ve always been. Khun and Bam. Bam and Khun. And when Bam confesses to the person he likes, Khun will support him, be with him every step of the way, no matter how much his heart screams and cries and rips itself into little pieces.

Khun hears the door open and he inhales. He stands up and opens the door to his room, walking up quietly to the front area where he knows Bam will be. When he walks out, Bam is in the middle of taking off his shoes.

“Hey.” Khun says.

Bam looks up, golden eyes meeting cobalt blue, and a wondering expression comes over his face, like he can’t believe Khun set foot outside his room.

“Hi.” Bam says breathlessly.

They stand there for a few moments, staring at each other, until Khun asks Bam,

“Do you…want to come further inside?”

“Huh?” Bam blinks. “Yeah, sure.”

He hurries to take off his shoes, following Khun further inside. Once they’re in the lounge room, they stand there for longer, until they both speak at the same time,

“I’m sorry-” They both break off.

“You go first.” Bam says.

“No, you.” Khun replies, and a ghost of a smile flits over Bam’s face.

“Okay.” he agrees. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to make you want to avoid me, or if I’ve offended you somehow. If you want me to respect your boundaries more, or you want more time, that’s fine. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, Aguero! I’m really sorry-”

Khun cuts him off. He can’t bear to hear this a moment longer. “It’s not your fault! It was never your fault. It’s mine, and I shouldn’t have been taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Bam inspects him carefully. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything wrong? It’s fine if I did, you can tell me.”

Khun shakes his head. “It’s not your fault Bam. It’s mine.”

Bam shakes his head too. “Don’t blame yourself for this, Aguero.”

“I was the one avoiding you.”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault! You’re allowed to want to have time off sometimes.”

Khun feels something akin to anger welling up in him. “You don’t understand, Bam! I could’ve avoided this! I could’ve dealt with this, and I didn’t need to take it out on you!”

Bam’s eyes are blazing gold. “What don’t I understand Aguero? Tell me!”

Khun is angry now, the response out his mouth before he can think. “You don’t understand that I love you, Bam!” Then he freezes. Holy shit, I just said that.

Bam has frozen too, staring at him slack-jawed, shocked.

“I’m sorry.” Khun says, feeling himself pale, and then he’s rushing out, fear fluttering on his insides, intending to head back to his room, but Bam catches his wrist. Bam is silent.

“I’m sorry.” Khun repeats. “I didn’t want you to find out, because I know you love someone else, and I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Bam snaps his head up at this. “What gave you the impression that I loved someone else?” he asks boldly, and it’s Khun’s turn to stare at him. A few moments tick by, the air thick and heavy, before the realisation hits Khun like a truck full of bricks.

“What?” Khun breathes. His next words quiet and tentative, said while Khun’s heart is in his mouth. “You love me?”

And then Bam’s eyes are blazing once again, but with a different emotion. He pulls Khun forward and kisses him. Khun is reminded vaguely of that night from two years ago, but brushes off the thought, because that was in the past, and he can’t focus on that. Not when Bam is kissing him now, lips pressed up insistently against Khun’s and hands gripping his waist. Khun feels like he’s flying, knowing that Bam wants him, wants him like he wants Bam. Khun kisses Bam back, pushing his lips against Bam’s like he’s wanted to for years and sliding his fingers into Bam’s hair. Bam’s kiss feels like honey, syrupy and inviting, irresistibly sweet. His lips move against Khun’s silently, and Khun revels in the sensation of it, even as it makes his toes curl. Bam holds Khun tighter, his arms sliding around him, and Khun’s skin tingles where Bam touches it. Everything is right in that moment, and Khun feels whole and warm, down to his very soul. And then Bam pulls back, smiling at Khun, his eyes so very gold, looking at Khun, seeing him completely, understanding him, accepting him no matter what.

“Of course I love you, Aguero. Who else would I love?”

And then he’s tugging Khun back towards him to kiss him again and Khun can’t even begin to describe the vortex of emotions whirling through him at that moment. Somehow, though, he knows he doesn’t need to, because Bam will still know, will still understand, just like he always has. Just like he always will. And so Khun tightens his hold on Bam – he can’t let him slip away – and kisses him with everything he has.

The next day, Rak watches from a distance as Khun and Bam arrive. He waits, seeing nothing out of the usual yet, but then Khun leans up to kiss Bam quickly and then he’s gone, face flushed red while Bam stares after him like the lovestruck fool he is.

“HA!” He says triumphantly. “I KNEW IT! I knew I would be the one to get those foolish turtles together! Pay up!”

There’s much grumbling around the small table they’re all seated at, but there’s also rustling as people pull cash out of their wallets and hand it over.

“You’re a rich man, Rak.” Shibisu says enviously as he watches the cash being handed over.

“Well, what can I say?” Rak boasts, smugness radiating off him. “I am their leader.”

He returns his eyes to Bam, positively radiating happiness as he walks towards them. “I am happy for the turtles though.” He says, much softer. Rak looks down at his phone as it beeps. It’s a single message from a contact labelled, ’Blue Turtle’. All it reads is ‘Thank you’.

Rak smiles, his fingers already beginning to type out his response. Someone has to look out for the foolish turtles, and if no-one else can do it, Rak supposes he’s up for the job.

#khunbam #tower of god #disaster gay khun #wingman rak #cinnamon roll bam #light angst #slow burn #mutual pining #tower of god fanfiction #khunbam fanfic #my writing #the fic i said i was working on a couple weeks back

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simhaven · 3 years

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Big List of Homes

AIt’s really a list of a lot of homes or community lots that I found and liked. I wanted a post to keep them all together. There are many links down below so forgive me if I don’t include a long summary for each lot.

A beautiful community lot with multiple places to shop for your sims

I’ve been in love with dirty, grimy looking apartments for my sims to wallow in. There’s something about making my sims live in squalor before earning their riches that works for me. It’s like my sims are experiencing a coming of age on a journey to greatness.

A small beach restaurant lot. I love beach lots growing up near the coast like I did.

A home business lot. A nice blank slat that is three story tall. Good for a growing family.

A small abandoned warehouse that has space to be renovated into many things. Maybe a fire station, police station, orphanage, asylum, you name it.

Another home business lot. Two story, two bedroom with an orchard and greenhouse in the back.

A cute, modest home with a small backyard for the children. It’s not a starter home and the rooms are kind of small, but I love the way it looks and that you have a fenced in yard.

I love townhouses and I’m not sure how they make the roof and walls reach to the edge of the lot, but I love the way it looks.

Another nice townhouse. I don’t know what it is, but I love the apartment feature in the Sims 2, especially the ones built as beautiful as this one.

A sweet little apartment co-op where two families can share one lot. I love the look and the color of yellow they choose. I would love this in any of my Sims 2 neighborhoods.

I love plasticbox’s homes, they have an aesthetic that I like very much. This lot has two homes and one community store.

This is another lot by plasticbox and it’s also two homes, one store. It’s bigger than I thought it was with this first picture and has a separate building for the store unlike the one above it.

Another, abandoned factory. This one is smaller than the previous one and is empty and ready to be turned into a business for a lucky sim.

I’m probably wrong for liking this lot, but I love rough beginnings and if you can combine a lot like this with a mod to lower the wages of your sims, your sims will have to work much harder to move up in the world, which can feel very satisfying once they can afford to upgrade to a better place.

A wonderful beach lot perfect for sims to relax, shop, and socialize.

Numerator’s flat. For some reason even though their are not a lot of pictures I love this build. It also happens to be a build of Numerator’s actual house at the time.

Another wonderful slumlord dorm for students. You should see the inside. It’s the perfect place for your sims to suffer, I mean learn in peace.

This place was made for kids! It has a small greenhouse, a play area for the kids, a beautiful kitchen, and kid’s room.

Anyway, this is just my share of some builds that I found interesting for normal gameplay, I’m going to posting more links soon.

#the sims 2 #Sims 2 custom content #sims 2 build #The sims 2 master list

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ghostbustermelanieking · 4 years

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snippets from an msr historical au

cleaning out my 2019 fic closet lol. this is excerpts of a historical au i did, based on a short au prompt i wrote in june here. it takes place in 1850s new york where scully and emily are irish immigrants who befriend mulder when he offers to tutor emily. i wrote these snippets months ago and it'll probably go unfinished, but i liked it too much to not share. so here is my scattered sense of world building.

---

Melissa had been the one to suggest the name. She had been there in the birthing room, the only one left after her mother had traveled to America with Bill and her father was gone and Charlie was in England. Daniel had been elsewhere, of course, it wasn't proper for husbands to be in the birthing room, and he upheld tradition stronger than she did, so it was Melissa and her friend the midwife, Melissa holding her hand, Melissa handing her the squalling babe. She had passed out from the pain and felt a rush of relief when she woke up again; she had feared she wouldn't wake up again after it was all over. She knew many women who had never met their children. Melissa had brought the baby back, the tiny child with their mother's eyes and a patch of bright hair, and Dana had filled with relief. If she had no one else in this marriage, which had long grown sour, she would have her daughter.

Melissa had suggested Emily because she loved Wuthering Heights, recently republished under the true name of its author. "It's a beautiful name, Dana, and perhaps, if she's lucky, she'll receive even an ounce of the creativity that comes with it," she had said, clutching the tiny hand in hers. "What a wonderful thing that would be."

That had been enough to convince her. Emily Margaret, she'd said, for her mother, far away in the heartlands of a country she would never see, and for her stepdaughter, who hated her fiercely, though she didn't live with them anymore. The girl hated her, for taking the place of her mother, but Dana saw it as a chance to make peace with the both of them. It did not work, though; Maggie had not had any interest in her sister, or in her stepmother, and Dana had long given up trying. Given up on the whole family, her husband included: he took little interest in her or his daughter, and when he did, it was in a possessive sort of manner that made her skin crawl. The medical lessons she'd received as a young woman were long gone, and he saw her only as the keeper of the house and of his child. He wanted more, but she refused.

When he'd died on the voyage over, a small, shameful part of her had been relieved. She would not have to pretend to love him anymore, to feel the same way as she had all those years before. But she had feared so greatly for her daughter, that the illness would take one of them, too. She knew life would be hard without a husband, as was the cruel and unfair way of the world (her mother had told her as a little girl as she braided her hair), but it would be impossible for Emily without her. She would end up alone in some horrible orphanage, neglected and abandoned. And Dana could not imagine life without her daughter now, imagine being alone in the city she'd heard so much about. She could not go out west alone, and she could not survive alone. She remembered lying in her small, cold, hard bunk, holding Emily's small figure close, her lips to her hot forehead and murmuring a prayer. And God had heard her prayers. Her daughter had lived, and she looked more and more like Melissa every day.

Emily often has questions about this, the family she will never know. When the two of them are lying in their bed, behind the makeshifts wall John had built to separate their tiny space from the rest of the equally tiny apartment (he and Barbara sleep in a bed on the other side, adjacent to the stove, and their boy Luke sleeps in a pallet on the floor), she will whisper questions about her father, her half sister, her aunt and her uncles and her grandparents. But it is often Daniel and Maggie, the family she will never know. "Did they love me?" she whispers. "Was Papa kind? Was Maggie beautiful?"

Dana offers some truths and some falsehoods, knowing she will never see either of them again, and therefore her stories will never be contradicted. Yes, Maggie was beautiful, although she mostly remembers a girl not ten years younger than her calling her a whore and a witch and a false mother. Yes, they loved her. No, Emily will never know her sister, because though she did love Emily (although Dana does not know if this is true), she did not feel the same for Dana. There is a picture that Daniel had made before they went, of Maggie, her hair combed nearly and gathered up, wearing her best dress, her cheeks thin, and Emily sitting on her lap, her face twisted with displeasure at having to sit still for quite so long. Emily loves to look at it, and of the faded portrait of the two of them on their wedding day, though Dana does not feel the same. But she allows Emily these frivolities. She cannot give her much more than that.

---

She meets him by accident one Sunday, her one and only day off from the factory. She and Emily go to Mass every Sunday, of course, and then she spends much of the day helping Barbara to clean, cook, do the laundry (she always does hers and Emily's, at least; though Barbara has the time in the day to do it, she will not accept the favor). She takes a rest, sometimes, or she spends time with Emily, playing jacks or cards (Luke Doggett taught her to gamble, and she cannot shake the habit), or with the worn rag doll she and Melissa had made for her in Ireland, or reading to her. Her favorite is a newer one by a man named Melville. Dana relishes the time alone with her daughter, as she is often too tired to do anything like this after work. She has meant to teach Emily to read and write herself, considering that she's too young to start school yet, and John claims that most children already know a bit before they begin school, but she's barely had the time to teach her more than a few words. Sometimes on Sundays, they have a brief lesson, but there is so little time in the week.

One Sunday, after Dana has hung the laundry, and scrubbed the floor, and washed the dishes, she decides to go and find Emily, thinking they can read another chapter of Melville, perhaps. (She likes the book, she will admit; it reminds her of her father and his stories of the sea.) She expects to find Emily on the tail of Luke and his friends—they are much older than her, but her lonely girl still follows her around like he is the brother she'll never have—but Luke claims he has not seen her. She finds her, finally, on the steps of the building, an old reader Luke had kept open on her lap, squinting furiously at the page. A man is sitting beside her, pointing out the words on the page, speaking in a calm and patient voice. Dana recognizes the man immediately as their neighbor, Mr. Mulder, a schoolteacher who she has spoken to in the hall before. She's seen him occasionally playing with the young boys in the building, or talking with the men and women about books, plays, politics, scientific discoveries. She'd had a particular long discussion with him once on the effects of anesthesia in medicine, which Daniel had commented on several times.

"Emily," she says, and Emily scrambles to her feet and runs to her side, beaming with excitement. "Mama, this is Mr. Mulder, the schoolteacher," she says in a rush, tugging at her skirt. "He saw me trying to read and he offered to help!"

"He did?" She strokes the top of her daughter's head, messy from where she's taken it out of her braids, stealing a look at the man.

"My apologies, Miss Scully," Mr. Mulder offers, getting to his feet. "I didn't mean to intrude… I only wanted to help, if I could."

"It's not an intrusion," Dana says, but she is still wary. "I have been trying to teach her, but I often cannot find the time, and she's so desperate to learn. She's still too young for school yet." And privately, Dana worries about what Emily will go through when she enters school, considering the anger New Yorkers have for immigrants. There is a Catholic school she's looking at, simply because it seems like the best option, but it still is too easy to worry.

"Mama," Emily whispers, tugging her skirt again as if she finds her embarrassing.

Mr. Mulder smiles a bit. "Your daughter is very intelligent. She should have no trouble catching up."

"I'm six years old," Emily informs Mr. Mulder, her back automatically straightening as if to look older. "In a year's time, Mama says she can put me in school."

"I'm sure you're very excited," Mr. Mulder says, without even a hint of indulgence in his voice. Emily nods, a little shyly. Mr. Mulder seems to be thinking a bit on the subject, but he speaks soon after. "Perhaps if your mother permits it," he says, speaking as much to Dana as to Emily, "I could tutor you in my spare time. Teach you your letters and give you a head start on reading."

Emily's eyes light up, shyness forgotten, and she tugs pleadingly on Dana's skirt. "That would be wonderful!" she breathes. "Please, Mama, can't I do it?"

"I don't know, Em… I wouldn't want to impose on Mr. Mulder's time." The man certainly seems smart enough to educate her daughter, but it seems too large a favor to ask of a complete stranger. It is also worth noting that she doesn't know the man very well outside of polite conversations in the hallway. She offers Mr. Mulder an apologetic smile.

"It's not an imposition at all," he says. "I would be glad to do it."

Dana bites her lower lip, her hand on her daughter's boney shoulder. "I-I could not afford to pay you anything," she says softly, although that may be obvious. None of them are wealthy—that is why they live here. But she may be a step down from the rest, staying in the corner of a friend's apartment with a screen instead of a wall, using her meager earnings to buy unsubstantial meals and pay a portion of the rent. If she had the money, she would get Emily and herself their own place, but she's got something of a disadvantage in that area. There isn't much she can do to rectify it.

Mr. Mulder shakes his head immediately. "No money is required," he says, his voice full of sincerity. "I would be glad to do it as a favor."

"I could not ask that of you…" she tries, but he halts her protests quickly. "Do not worry about it," he says. "When I was younger, my little sister was not allowed to go to school as I was, and she wanted to learn as badly as Emily. I tried to teach her, but I wasn't very good at it." He offers a rueful little smile. "I would be glad to be able to give someone else the opportunity where I couldn't give it to her."

Emily tugs at her skirt again and whispers, "Please."

Dana chews her lower lip again and sighs. "If you are absolutely sure it would not be a problem, Mr. Mulder," she says. "I know Emily would appreciate that very much."

Overjoyed, Emily bounces up and down on her toes with excitement. Mr. Mulder smiles at the both of them widely. "I can assure you it won't be a problem, Miss Scully," he tells her. "It will be my pleasure."

---

They practice reading each night, at least for a little while. Even when Dana is so tired she can scarcely keep her eyes open, they spend a few minutes going over Mr. Mulder's lessons, if nothing else. Emily has always been a fast learner, and within a couple of months, she is able to stumble through a page or two of Moby-Dick. Dana is incredibly proud. She can remember her own lessons in reading and other forms of education: her father had taught her often when she was younger, alongside Billy and Melissa, but the lessons had more or less stopped at a certain point. Past that, she had more or less taught herself with books of her father's, watching Bill and her father as they worked, more books still from Daniel's vast library. She never wanted that lapse in education for her daughter; it may be inevitable at some point, but she'll do what she can to prevent it.

Emily seems to adore Mr. Mulder as much as she does the lessons. "He is funny, Mama," she tells her in the second week, after she's retrieved her and thanked Mr. Mulder profusely. "And kind, just like John is. Much kinder than the other men in the building. Luke says he's the best schoolteacher he's ever had, and he's very smart and fair to the other children."

"He sounds very nice," says Dana, swinging their hands between them.

"He is." She looks up at her with Missy's eyes. "Was Papa like that?" she asks.

Her voice is so high and innocent, it makes Dana want to cry. No, she thinks, biting her lower lip. She says out loud, "I-I could not say, Em. I don't know Mr. Mulder well enough to make a comparison between him and your father."

Emily nods, her face serious. She looks down at her shoes, almost self-consciously. "I would like to believe that Papa was like Mr. Mulder," she says softly, and Dana squeezes her daughter's hand tightly. "I-I imagine him reading to me some nights, and helping me read. Y-you could take turns. And he could buy me pretty things, perhaps, and teach me all that he knows, like John does for Luke. Do you think he would have, Mama?"

"I know he would have," says Dana. It may be a bit of a lie, but that hardly seems to matter as much as her daughter's happiness.

---

Mulder had done it, originally, because Emily Scully reminded her of his sister. He'd seen her as often as the other children in the apartment building, sometimes hovering after Luke Doggett the way that Samantha had followed him. But more often, he'd seen her by herself, playing alone on the front steps with a ragged doll in hand, or trying desperately to read, hunched over a ragged old reader and struggling out loud to sound out words, dress muddy, pigtails unraveling. And he had thought of Samantha, sneaking reading lessons in the back of their immaculate library, trying to climb up a tree and ripping a hole in her stockings. It had been enough to cause him to offer up free tutoring, on an impulse, remembering his sister and how frustrated she used to get whenever he would leave for school and she would have to stay home. He hadn't been lying about that.

But a part of it was because of his admiration for her mother, Miss Dana Scully, who he'd seen in the halls often beforehand. She is beautiful, and intelligent, and there is something about her that simply draws Mulder to her, in a way he cannot explain. He is sure it won't go anywhere past friendship—Emily has reported that her father died only a few years before, on their trip over from Ireland, and Mulder himself has never particularly expected to be married—but he still enjoys any opportunity to spend time in her company. Particularly the talks they have when she drops by to retrieve Emily after shifts at the factory; they often last long, while they discuss books or plays or scientific theories, anything of the sort. Sometimes, he will ask Emily and Miss Scully to stay and share in his supper, sparse as it is; other times, Miss Scully will invite him to share leftovers of John Doggett's, or whatever cooking she has done herself. Sometimes, he fears he is bothering her, but other times, it seems as if she might like him a bit, too. He cannot tell for sure.

He tells himself it does not matter. He is here mostly to save money, so that he can travel. He hears there is opportunity in the west, but he would be fooling himself if he cited that as the reason. It does not matter to him where he ends up; all that matters is that he finds his sister and brings her home, after all of these years.

But still, he enjoys tutoring Emily. She's a bright young girl, a quick learner, and sweet. He does not know anything of her father aside from his death, but she still undeniably resembles her mother in every way he can see. He teaches her a bit of mathematics after she's gained some talent in reading and writing, and she enjoys that immensely. She has a load of questions for him every time she sees him: about stars, about history, about how things work and why they happen and where places are. Sometimes, Miss Scully will answer her before he can even open his mouth, blushing a little after and looking at him as if to see if he minds. He never does.

---

She shows up at his door after midnight, her face white, shaking. Emily at her side, curled into her with a blanket wrapped around her shoulder, her face hidden in Miss Scully's skirt, crying softly. For a second, Mulder doesn't know what to do, what to say. "Miss Scully, is… is everything okay?" he stammers, clutching his door in one hand. He sees a sudden splotch of red on her dress, alarming and bright. "Are you hurt?" he stammers.

She's shaking her head. "No, no, Mr. Mulder, it's not that, it's just…" She swallows hard, her eyes wide and helpless. "I-I need you to take care of Emily. I need to leave her here. Please."

Emily seems to clutch Miss Scully's skirt harder at that, shaking her head and crying more frantically. She mumbles something that sounds a bit like, "Don't leave me, Mama, don't leave me."

Mulder takes a sharp breath and opens the door wider. "Come in, come in," he says, and Miss Scully does, stroking Emily's mussed hair with quivering fingers. "W-what has happened, Miss Scully? Perhaps I can help."

Miss Scully clenches her chin and shakes her head, her face turned down towards her daughter. "I-I cannot… I do not have time for this, Mr. Mulder. I… Please. Please, Mr. Mulder, I have to leave, they will be coming for me."

"Who?" On an impulse, he reaches out and takes her free hand. It is cold and soft, and as he draws it closer, he sees the same glimpses of red, red crescents under her fingernails. "Who is it, Miss Scully? Who is coming for you?"

Emily's sobs are heart wrenching, even muffled by Miss Scully's skirt. Miss Scully looks to be on the verge of tears herself. She does not pull her hand away. "The… the police," she whispers.

"The police?" Mulder's mind tightens in fear as he remembers something suddenly, something he has often forgotten: the Irish are not well liked here. He wonders if these prejudices have somehow found the Scullys. "What has happened?"

Miss Scully bites her lower lip before lifting her chin so that her clear, blue eyes meet his. "There… there was a fight at a bar," she says tentatively. "John's son was involved, and so he intervened, and was injured. They followed him home. I… intervened, and I… harmed a man in an attempt to protect the Doggetts and my daughter." Her chin quivers once, steadies. She presses a hand over her daughter's head, spreading her fingers over her scalp. "He's dead," she whispers. "And he… he was police. So they'll be coming for me, to arrest me, and I… I will not find mercy here. I have learned that much."

His mind racing, he stammers, "But that… that is not murder, Miss Scully… that is self defense. A-any jury would see that."

She laughs bitterly. "But who can prove it? Emily did not see, and Barbara and John had already slipped down the fire escape. The only witnesses are the men who would have me arrested. And I will be convicted. Americans do not have any sympathy for women of my background." She swallows again, her pale white throat, a bruise blooming underneath her jaw. The sight of it makes Mulder furious. He is still clutching her limp hand. "S-so I am begging you, please take my daughter," she whispers. "She adores you. Take her, a-and take the money I have saved, and you can send her west, to my brother's house… I have to go. If they catch me, I can't let them get her. And if I escape…"

"Please, Mama, please don't go," Emily whimpers, drawing back, her cheeks smeared her tears. "Don't leave me alone, Mama, please."

"I have to, sweetheart." Miss Scully leans down to kiss her daughter's hair. Mulder can see her tears falling, glistening in the candlelight. "I must. But you will be safe here…"

"I cannot do this," says Mulder, speaking abruptly, almost without thinking.

Miss Scully's eyes widen with horror, and she pulls back her hand as she looks up at him. "You… you will not help me?" she whispers furiously. "After everything, I-I thought you cared for my daughter… cared for me, as a friend…"

"N-no, Miss Scully, y-you misunderstand," he stammers, his eyes wide. "I will protect Emily, of course I will protect Emily, but I… I will not leave you to be arrested."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "You are foolish to offer this," she whispers. "If they catch me… you cannot hide me here, Mr. Mulder."

"I cannot," he agrees. "But I can get you out of the city. You and your daughter both." His mind is racing, full of ideas. "I-I have friends I trust, a house I could take you to tonight. And tomorrow, we-we could go to my mother's house, in Massachusetts, for the time being. The two of you could stay there until… until we figure out a way to get you to your brother's."

Miss Scully is quiet, her eyes wide. Emily, leaning into her mother, is looking between the two of them curiously, like she is hopeful that this will happen. "You will be safe," Mulder adds. "Both of you. I promise you that."

"I could not ask that of you, Mr. Mulder," Miss Scully whispers. "It is too much."

"It's not." Mulder thinks of the money, put aside to search for Samantha. Enough for three train tickets north at least, if not a little left over after to fund a trip to wherever Miss Scully's brother is. A part of him is reluctant to spend the money he has been saving for so long—part of him feels like he is abandoning his sister, his family—but the rest of him is remembering Samantha at seven, at eight, more caring and compassionate than anyone in his family. She rescued animals (kittens, baby birds, piglets from the barn), knitted things with their mother to send to the local orphanage, shared her food with the servants on occasion and stole food from the pantry for the family down the road who never had enough food. She would want him to help them; he can still picture her wide, teary eyes, her weepy voice prodding him to help them, help them, Fox. And he wants to. He looks at Dana Scully and her daughter, the best companions he's found in the past few months, and he knows immediately that he must help them. He has no choice.

"I have money," he says out loud. "I can get you out of the city. I can help you. Both of you."

"Please, Mama, you must come with us. We can't leave you all alone." Emily hugs her mother hard around the waist, sniffling loudly. "I need you, Mama, please."

Miss Scully looks to her daughter, and then back to Mulder. Her eyes are still wide with fear. She sighs a little, tensely, and whispers, "I'll need to pack some things. My savings…"

"If you tell me what you need, I'll go and get it. You should not have to go back there."

Miss Scully rattles off a list in a quivering voice: clothes for the both of them, a knife that her father gave her, her bundle of coins underneath the bed. Emily tugs on his sleeve and adds softly, "And my dolly, please. And the picture of my sister Maggie, and of Mama's family. There's two of them."

Mulder slips out of his apartment and into theirs and finds it all, bundling it into a ragged carpet bag. He grabs their coats, too, and the family Bible under the bed, and a pistol he finds in John Doggett's part of the apartment. He tucks the pistol into his waistband and goes back to his apartment, where he finds the girls sitting on his bed, Emily curled up asleep in her mother's lap. "There is no need to wake her," he says when he sees Miss Scully moving to do just that. "I can carry her. It may be easier if she is asleep."

She nods, taking the carpet bag from his hands. "I… I cannot begin to thank you, Mr. Mulder," she whispers, shifting Emily off of her lap and standing.

He's begun to gather his own things, shoving his feet into his boots, retrieving his own savings. He puts a few books he cannot bear to part with into his bag, and a drawing he's held onto for years now, a portrait his father commissioned of Samantha. Photography was not in fashion when he and his sister were growing up, and so this drawing is the only memory he has as to what she looked like. "There is no need for thanks."

"You've done too much for us," Miss Scully whispers. She's put on her coat, and Emily's coat, and now she is tying a piece of cloth over her head—he assumes, to hide her bright hair. Her voice, soft as it's been all night, sounds a little different, as if she's trying to sand off the edges of the accent, attempting to sound different. "I… will find a way someday to repay you."

"It is not at all necessary." He shoulders his bag, grabs his hat and pulls it onto his head, before leaning down and scooping up Emily. She is a bit tall to be carried, but much lighter than he expected, barely weighing anything in his arms. She stays asleep, her coat and the blanket hanging off of her lightly. He shifts her in his arms and turns back to Miss Scully. "Shall we go?"

Miss Scully nods, her fingers rushing to button her coat. She grabs her carpet bag, clutching it to her chest, and trails out of the apartment after him.

---

She was twenty-one the first time she was married, at the end of the famine that had plagued her teenage years. She remembered being frightened, if only a little bit. She'd met Daniel a few times beforehand, and though at the time he'd seemed kind and honorable, she found it bizarre that his young daughter was only seven years younger than her. Practically the right age enough to court her younger brother. She hadn't wanted it for herself, it was the last thing she'd wanted in a way, and yet she could not protest. She could feel her mother watching Melissa as she helped her to get ready, and knew she was thinking about the disappointment Melissa had given her by refusing to marry, even driving away potential suitors. Her sister was going to have the life she wanted, and Dana was going to take her place as the honorable daughter, the one who did what she was supposed to do and did not argue. She wasn't marrying Daniel Waterston for herself, but for her father, because it was what he wanted, and she could not stand to let him or her mother down. Her father walked her down the aisle, and she wore the veil her mother had worn when she'd gotten married, and she'd wished to be somewhere else.

Now here she is again, in front of an altar with a man, but her father is dead, and she hasn't seen her mother or sister in years, and her daughter sleeps in the room upstairs, and she is twenty-eight and grimy and dressed in a dress that is too large for her because her own dress has bloodstains on it. She does not feel like a bride. The only good difference, she thinks, is that she knows her husband-to-be better than she perhaps ever knew Daniel. She knows he is intelligent and kind, and willing to protect herself and her daughter. And no matter the reason for this impromptu, inconvenient marriage, she is glad for at least that.

Mr. Mulder is holding her hands, so gently in his, and he's not quite meeting her eyes, but she can still see kindness in his face. She doesn't quite have the courage to look at him, either, and so she looks down at her boots. Mr. Frohike, their witness, stands in the corner. The preacher, a friend of Mr. Frohike, stands before them without asking questions. He simply opens the Bible and says the words, all the right ones. Dana and Mr. Mulder say what they are meant to, too, and then it is done. They do not kiss, not even chastely. There is no music or flowers or white dresses. Dana could not care less.

Just before the ceremony, Mr. Mulder leaned down to whisper in her ear, saying, "I promise you I will be a gentleman, Miss Scully. This marriage is for the safety of you and your daughter. It doesn’t have to mean a thing."

She blushed immediately, heat rising on her cheeks, and looked to the ground. "I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Mulder," she had said softly. "And you need not worry. I trust you."

When she looked back at him, he was smiling. "Perhaps we should do away with the formalities, Miss Scully."

"Perhaps," she had agreed, a bit amused. "I won't be a Miss anymore, after all." She offered him a small smile back, still unbelieving that he was helping her so much, that he was willing to hide and marry a murderess. A man she barely knew. "Shall I call you Fox?" she asks.

Mr. Mulder had flinched, just a bit, and shook his head. "Perhaps… just Mulder, if you do not mind. I have never liked my first name, and most people I know call me Mulder."

It's unusual, but it's no more unusual than the rest of this situation. Dana smiles and nods. "Well, you may call me Dana or Scully, I suppose," she said lightly, unsure of why except that he has always called her Miss Scully, like she has always called him Mr. Mulder. "Whichever appeals to you."

"Which appeals to you more, Miss Scully?" he'd asked, teasing, and then the preacher had been ready, and now here they are.

Once, she had believed she would never get married again. Now, she is married, and she has no idea whether or not it counts.

Mr. Mulder—Mulder—keeps hold of her hand as they go back upstairs to Emily. It's the first time anyone has held her hand in years, and she is surprised by how nice it feels, his warm and callused fingers wrapped around hers. Daniel's hands had been cool, his touch unyielding, his voice the same faux-polite sound it always was as he talked to everyone but her. Mulder's hands are gentle, holding her hand carefully—not as if it is fragile and may break, but as if it is something precious, something he cares for. She knows this is not quite the case, it cannot be, but it is nice to pretend, for just a moment, that this is a true marriage, that she and Mulder love each other as a husband and wife should.

#i miss writing for this fandom sometimes... it and asoiaf are fun but this is so comfy #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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famous-aces · 5 years

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Marilyn Monroe

Who: Marilyn Monroe (born Norma Jeane Mortenson)

What: Actress, Model, and Singer

Where: American-Jewish (active largely in US)

When: June 1, 1926 - August 4, 1962

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe by Richard Avedon from 1957. It is a black and white image showing Monroe on a sparkly dress from the waist up. It almost feels weird to describe her, her face is so famous. She is a white pale woman with an oval face and heavily lidded eyes with long lashes. She has full lips with a beauty mark beside them. She is wearing makeup and has her trademark short, curly, blonde hair. She has her arms hanging limply at her side. Instead of posing sexily she looks to be lost in thought, looking somewhere off camera. End ID)

Marilyn Monroe is The Hollywood Beauty. The quintessential sexy starlet. Even if you have never seen a movie with her in it, you know who she was, a bit like possible aces I have covered before Andy Warhol or Sir Isaac Newton, you can picture her in your mind just by existing in Western popular culture. She has become a part of our communal consciousness. Her life was brief and marked by tragedy below the glitz and glamor. Her biggest role was playing Marilyn Monroe.

She was intelligent, warm, and a gifted actress, but she is rarely remembered for that. She is far better remembered for singing Happy Birthday to her sometime beau President Kennedy and for the scene in The Seven Year Itch when wind from a subway grate blows up her skirt. You've seen it. Really her whole persona was often created rather than who she really was. She was an actress in her real life, unfortunately.

Monroe actually came into the spotlight in the Second World War when she posed for photos for the boys on the front. From there her modeling, singing, and acting career skyrocketed. Until her tragic death at the age of 36 she was among the go-to actresses for those sexpot roles especially in comedies. Her death by potentially intentional drug overdose (discovered by her psychologist) is just one piece of the evidence of how much of her life was hidden, like her struggles with substance abuse and mental health.

She was famous for playing Blond Bombshells and Dumb Blonds. She was all beauty, glamor, and sex appeal and it earned her millions of dollars. She always wanted to be more though, unfortunately she never really got it. "Please don't make me a joke," she told a journalist, "End the interview with what I believe...I want to be an artist, an actress with integrity...I want to grow and develop and play serious dramatic parts. My dramatic coach tells everyone that I have a great soul, but so far nobody's interested in it."

She is best known for as an icon and emblem of the popular culture of the 1950s and early 1960s, but her most definitive/important roles include All About Eve (1950) (a small role that would lead to her "discovery" and contract with 20th Century Fox), Monkey Business (1952), How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), Niagara (1953), Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), The Seven Year Itch (1955), Some Like it Hot (1959), The Misfits (1961), and her final film, released posthumously as a short, Something's Gotta Give (1962). She also sang "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" and the very sexually charged "Happy Birthday Mr. President" (just the song here).

(Image Description: the poster for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. It shows drawings of Jane Russel and Marilyn Monroe in red costumes the size and shape of one piece bathing suits that are sheer or pink on top. They have on red top hats and long black and white necklaces. They have black canes and are dancing with one leg upraised. Behind them is a busy Paris scene done in a more cartoony/simplified style. There are musical notes around them. Their names are above their heads in blue. Below them on a black rectangle it says (in white and orange) "in Howard Hawks' Gentlemen Prefer Blondes [in] Technicolor" below that rectangle but above the studio info in blue it says "co-starring Charles Coburn". End ID)

Probable Orientation: Mspec Ace

Oh, I am going to get a lot of hate for this one.

And a lot of people are going to show a lot of misogyny and aphobia, be it overt, unintentional, or internalized. Indeed the first thing the first (allo) person I told these findings to said "but she had a ton of sex!" Yes, that is true, she did, and so do some other aces.

Not to mention that Monroe's relationship with sex was a complicated one. A very complicated one. Monroe had a deeply traumatic childhood (mentally ill mother, tossed between foster homes and orphanages) and married extremely young -- she had turned 16 just two and a half weeks earlier -- to prevent her from becoming homeless and returned to the orphanage after her most recent foster family planned on moving out of state and leaving her behind. Then while working a munitions plant in L.A. she became a model for the troops in World War II, aged 18. From her teen years she was made aware that sex was expected from her, thrust into adulthood and positions she might not have been comfortable with. She was a beautiful woman and people wanted her and she accepted that because it did get her what she wanted.

(Image Description: the 1944 factory photos that launched Monroe's modeling career, taken by David Conover for Yank Magazine at the Radioplane Munitions Factory in which she worked. Interestingly the commanding officer that sent him to take the photos was Ronald Reagan. The photo shows an 18-year-old Monroe. She is holding a small propeller and is beside some kind of red machine. She is wearing a simple green top and gray bottoms with a photo ID badge at her waist. She wears a wedding ring. She has much frizzier brown hair. She is smiling broadly. End ID)

Over the course of her life she was in love with and had sexual relationships with many different men and women. That doesn't mean she was sexually attracted to them. Indeed throughout her life she had a lot of difficulty with sex. She didn't like it. She thought she must have been doing it "wrong" and stated that a lot of her sex appeal was applied to her rather than something she felt. She was playing to the crowd. Which makes sense, Monroe was a people pleaser. She desired closeness, she romantically loved many people, I have no doubt, and from the time she was a teenager the best appreciated way to show it was by being sexual. The fact that later in life she had a sexual encounter with a literal 16-year-old when she was 30 shows she had a pretty fucked up understanding of what was appropriate sexually. The 16-year-old was the leader of her fan club, she also had an affair with her acting coach, her first husband was her neighbor who was kind to her. She was loving the people who loved her and was showing it the way society told her to. (On her being mspec, there were several women she had affairs with, including the fan and acting coach mentioned above, indeed it has been speculated she was more attracted to women than men).

No matter how she appeared on screen, she voiced fear that she was broken and frigid to her psychologist (who agreed with her) because she didn't really enjoy/want sex. The desire of wanting to fix herself and wanting to please the people who loved her and who she may have romantically loved in return. She probably romantically loved some of these people but didn't know how to separate that from the sexual aspect or didn't want to lose them if she did. She was giving them what they wanted and expected and what culture told her was essential to normal loving relationships.

Her sexual "failure" was a subject she returned to often in therapy throughout her life. She had only one sexual encounter she actually said she enjoyed and it seemed to be more of a relief because it made her normal than what she got from the sex itself.

She said again and again that she wasn't the sexpot people thought she was, nobody listened.

(Image Description: a series of photos from a photoshoot from Life Magazine. It shows Monroe at home in 1953, a huge year in her career. The photographer is Alfred Eisenstaedt [a photographer of whose work I am extremely fond]. They show Monroe wearing a dark turtleneck and checkered trousers. She is in a bunch of different positions and wearing different expressions. Some of these appear candid and others posed. I am especially fond of one in the middle in which she appears to be trying to stop herself from laughing or sneezing. I like to imagine it is the former. It is very human. End ID)

“People had a habit of looking at me as if I were some kind of mirror instead of a person. They didn’t see me, they saw their own lewd thoughts, then they white-masked themselves by calling me the lewd one.”

-Marilyn Monroe

"I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That's the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I'm going to be a symbol of something I'd rather have it sex than some other things they've got symbols of."

—Monroe in an interview for Life in 1962 (both of these quotes illustrate that her "sex appeal" was manufactured and applied rather than her own natural state. Her audience made it clear what they wanted and she played to it.)

"A man who had kissed me once had said it was very possible that I was a lesbian because apparently I had no response to males - meaning him...I didn't contradict him because I didn't know what I was... Now, having fallen in love, I knew what I was. It wasn't a lesbian."

-Marilyn Monroe in her autobiography My Story (written 1954, published 1974). (Note that she has "no response". She loves a man, this one or another, but she has "no response" to men physically. That is the only response he could comment on, her physical one. Clearly she feels some kind of attraction to someone eventually, but not sexually/physically. It is the difference between romantic and sexual love. It also shows that homosexuality and asexuality have always overlapped.)

"Primary frigidity"

-the diagnosis from Monroe's therapist Dr. Ralph Greenson, he worked to "cure" her of this "frigidity"

“Maybe I’m a sexless sex goddess.”

– Marilyn Monroe to Life magazine journalist Richard Meryman, 1961

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe behind the scenes on the set of The Misfits in 1960, photographed by Inge Morath. She is leaning across a table and smiling at someone to the right of the frame. She has tired eyes. End ID)

#queer #lgbtq #asexual #ace #history #20th century #american #usa #entertainers #bio #mspec #jewish #actors #musicians #models

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tanstar · 4 years

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Rambling about RE2R and RE3R’s cut content part 1

Part 1: RE2R

So the original re2 is my favourite RE title. It introduced me to the series (I watched my dad play it) and it was the debut of my favourite RE character, Claire Redfield. So I was overjoyed when I learned it was getting remade. Now all I really wanted from this remake was a melding of the original scenarios to create the true canon storyline of re2 and some fun interactions between our characters and I thought that would be a given... So you can imagine my disappointment at what we got. I also love the original re3 and was looking forward to RE3R for similar reasons though I also wanted to see how they’d update Nemesis. Now I’m not saying either are bad games at all, I think both are worth experiencing and purchasing. I just want to air my grievances with both remakes and their cut content but I will also share what I did enjoy.

Also want to say that I know these games are more like reimaginings or retellings but even from that perspective there’s still issues.

Spoilers ahead.

Just a quick list of RE2R’s cut content:

No proper B scenarios that offer a cohesive narrative. A severe lack of notes/files/diaries for lore and worldbuiling. No zapping system. No bowgun. No explosive rounds for the grenade launcher. Robert Kendo’s death isn’t shown. Leon and Claire’s interactions are severely trimmed down. Marvins transformation cutscene isn’t shown. Two playable segments as Ada and Sherry (Sherry’s second playable segment maybe has the darkest scene in the game, as she collapses after falling down the trash disposal chute her mutated father lurches towards her, stands above her and we cut to black and shortly after this we learn from Annette that William is trying to find Sherry to implant his embryos in her). Multiple unique boss fights depending on scenario. Irons’s death is far more gruesome in both scenarios in og 2. Ben has far less screentime. No super lickers. No giant moth and it’s larvae. No spiders. No crows. Barely any music. No classic iconic lines (“You lose, big guy” etc). Plant 43 has lost it’s iconic yonic design in favour of looking like a rainforest or something. The ivy’s are now human plant hybrids instead of mutated plants. No super ivys. The alligator is now a RE6 style chase sequence instead of a boss fight. No factory. No marshalling yard. Birkin’s transformation by injecting himself with the g virus and the cause of the T virus outbreak are far more clear in the original. No street section for the opening of the B scenario and no cutscene or explanation for the helicopter crash. Leon no longer saves an infected Sherry from the sick room and brings her to the train. The train no longer self destructs and Sherry no longer saves the day by stopping the train.

That’s a lot of cuts right? Now of course not all of these cuts were bad decisions. While I like the crows for atmospheric purposes, i can understand their removal. Same with Kendo’s death and Marvin turning into a zombie, they wanted a different approach with these characters and I can accept that. Even the zapping system’s exclusion I can understand because although it was a cool little gameplay element that added to the cohesion of the overlapping story, it’s really not that neccessary. And the exclusion of iconic lines is understandable as I believe narrative should always take precedence over fanservice.

I’m fine with content being cut as long as it’s in favour of the story or is replaced with something else. RE2R did neither of those things. RE3R gets a ton of shit for it’s cut content but RE2R not only did it first but also cut waaaaay more content than RE3R.

RE2R fucked up it's story bad. Og re2 has the strongest narrative of the ps1 trilogy imo with two separate scenarios per character that integrated into two strong narratives. The game throws you straight into the deep end as you navigate the city streets filled with zombies, you watch Kendo be eaten alive as the zombies break into his shop and finally you reach the RPD. And that’s only the A scenario, the B scenario has you witness the cause of the helicopter crash as you make it to the east side of the RPD. From the beginning the og re2 puts in the effort to tell the whole story of whatever scenario you choose. Like the remake there are certain story beats only one character will face, Claire is the only one to meet Irons and Sherry, Leon meets Ada and Ben( he does meet Sherry in the B scenario but we’ll get there). Also in the original due to Leon giving Claire a radio both characters are able to keep in contact and therefore keep each other up to date on their progress.

So let’s talk a bout the marshalling yard and factory. The marshalling yard is one of my favourite locations in the original. Its atmospheric music, its industrial design and the iconic shot of the train on the turntable with the moon in the background. It’s so foreboding and it leads to an iconic fight with Birkin as you descend to the lab, while protecting either Ada or Sherry (and depending on which scenario you are playing his form will be different). The factory is a small but crucial area to the worldbuilding of og 2 (It’s a cover were Umbrella employees access the underground lab) whereas RE2R has... a sinkhole in the middle of the city. And it’s important in keeping a cohesive overlapping narrative as the reason our protagonists don’t encounter each other in the lab is because the B scenario character has access to the factory. It also contains two iconic scenes for the B scenarios for each character (it should be noted that in the og 2 Mr X is exclusive to the B scenarios). Claire saves Sherry from Mr X, taunts him and then tricks him into falling over the railing into a vat of what looks like molten iron, it’s so badass and it cemented Claire as my favourite character. In Leon’s scenario B Ada arrives to fend off Mr X and protect Leon, she succeeds and Mr X falls over the railing but in the process he nearly kills her, this leads to the kiss between Leon and Ada. No manipulation, just genuine affection for each other. In either B scenario the self destruct sequence is set off by MrX instead of it being exclusively Leons fault like in RE2R. And the factory is important as it gives access to the elevator for the B scenario character to escape to the train. The A and B scenario characters have different methods of escape that make more sense in the original and that comes down to the factory’s inclusion.

So now let’s talk about cut character interactions. In the original Marvin relays to the player the events of re1, I’m fine with this omission as it’s not super important to the overall narrative of re2. Claire and Leon can either reunite in the STARS office or the hallway behind the spade door (Leon also encounters Sherry here but she runs away). Regardless Claire finds out her brother isn’t in the city by reading his diary, Leon gives her a radio so they can stay in contact (which they do, throughout the entire game) and they split up, with Leon looking for an escape route and Claire looking for survivors. Claire’s encounter with chief Irons is very different. The mayor’s daughter’s dead body is sprawled over Irons’s desk as he talks about dealing with the undead and then brings up his hobby of... Taxidermy. It’s just very unsettling and what makes it worse is that earlier before you could access the room, you very clearly hear a woman scream. Once you head into the adjacent room Claire encounters Sherry and radios Leon to tell him. Sherry warns Claire of a monster that is chasing her and runs off again. When Claire returns to Irons’s office he is gone and so is the body of the mayor’s daughter. In Leon’s scenario he meets Ada in the parking lot and she tells him she is looking for her boyfriend John. Now for players who had played re1 this was a neat little reference that tied both games together. With Ada’s assistance Leon gains access to the Cells and meets Ben. Ben willingly locked himself in his cell for safety and won’t leave until Leon finds a way out unfortunately Ben is attacked and either implanted with a G embryo or fatally slashed by Birkin, however he was able to hand over his investigative notes on chief Irons’s corruption and involvement with Umbrella. Likewise when Claire encounters a now crazed irons in his torture chamber, he explains the G virus, Umbrella’s involvement and that Sherry is the daughter of the man responsible for the outbreak. Irons is then either killed from being cut in half by Birkin or from the G embryo. There’s just a lot more build up, subtlety and payoff in the original game that just feels rushed in RE2R and I don’t know why.

Sherry and Claire’s relationship is portrayed pretty well in RE2R. Although their time spent together is severely cut short, like seriously they only know each other for a whole two minutes before Irons drags Sherry off to the orphanage. The original has Claire and Sherry interact way more, with Sherry travelling by your side through parts of the sewers and the entirety of the marshalling yard. Still a good portrayal overall though.

So we have to talk about Ada and Leon. In the original she is at first portrayed as aloof but eventually from her time spent with Leon, she shows her more vulnerable and genuinely caring side. She is a spy and secretly after the g virus but she also genuinely cares for Leon’s safety, almost dying in the B scenario as she protects him from Mr X. RE2R almost get’s this right. She is initially abrasive but warms up to Leon’s sincerity and kindness. The problem is she is far too manipulative. Their first kiss in og 2 only happens the B scenario and is 100% sincere, Ada might be dying from her wounds so it might be the only chance they get. The remake on the other hand comes across as really skeevy and manipulative. In og 2 when Ada confronts Leon on the bridge he doesn’t believe for a second that she’ll hurt him and he’s right, after she falls off the side of the bridge you can inspect her pistol and find out that it wasn’t even loaded! Also I find Leon to be just a bit too naive in RE2R, he acted like a police officer in the original but in the remake he feels more like a boyscout. I can see what they were going for with his arc for RE2R but is just misses the mark for me personally. Not to say he’s awful or anything, he’s still very likable just a bit of a let down in terms of how he’s used in the story. Namely that he really doesn’t get much to do. He saves Ada, sets off the self destruct sequence, kills Mr X with Ada’s help and gets forced to fight G3 by Annette. The most useful thing he does is willingly fight Birkin on the train in the 2nd run to protect Claire and Sherry. In the og 2 B scenario per Claire’s request via radio, Leon carries an infected Sherry to the train, activates the power and opens the gates, fights the super Tyrant and kills it with Ada’s help and then activates the train to finally escape the underground lab. Then he fights G5 Birkin, when they find out the train is going to self destruct he directs Sherry on how to stop the train and our trio are able to escape. The game then ends on Leon’s iconic line “ It’s up to us to take out umbrella.”

And that ending... Oh boy did it not land for me. It’s almost comical how chipper it is considering what’s to come for these characters. Our trio promises to stick together except canonically Claire heads off on her own like five minutes later because Leon knows if she gets taken in by the government it will hinder her quest to find her brother, so he tells her to leave while he looks after Sherry. So Claire leaves and we get the events for Code Veronica. And as for Leon and Sherry, we know from Darkside Chronicles that Leon was blackmailed into working for the government through threats of experimentation on Sherry. He agrees to work for them to protect her but guess what they still turn her into a test subject anyway! And re6 confirms that the experiments where more than Sherry could bare, as she herself tells Jake. Also the fact that Leon and Claire’s friendship never got any developement in RE2R really works against this ending imo.

So what did RE2R get right? Well it has enjoyable puzzles and the solution changes depending on what run you’re playing! While I do miss the soundtrack and think it could have been remixed to fit the tone of the game, the ambient sounds used are spooky and effective. The gore effects are phenomenal. Marvin's expanded role is great, he’s an actual character this time around and it’s sad that we can’t save him. Sherry is adorable and her voice actress does a great job, she’s just incredibly sweet and likable. While Claire can come across a little Moira-ish sometimes, she’s great for the most part. She still get’s to be incredibly caring towards Sherry while also being a total badass who willingly faces down G3. The G3 fight is great and the remixed boss theme is beautiful. William Birkin's transformations are great (though I do wish dog birkin was more like the original), just the detail of his mutated bones and tissue is amazing and grotesque. Speaking of Birkin, the scene where he uses the last of his willpower to kill Mr X and protect Sherry before being overtaken by the g virus completely is so fantastic and perfectly directed. Backtacking/exploration is enjoyable (except the fucking sewers). It has variety of unlockable costumes which is my favourite kind of unlockable. S+ is a fun challenge. The fourth survivor and Tofu modes are really challenging yet fun and have great music, like seriously Hunk’s theme “Looming dread” is fantastic and probably my favourite song in the game. It’s always a joy to see Hunk and he is portrayed perfectly. It’s still an enjoyable game and a good starting point for newcomers, I’d just recommend they play or at least watch a playthroough or the cutscenes of the original to get the full story. Also if you want a fun reimagined, abridged retelling of og re2 then you should look up Darkside Chronicles. The premise is what would happen if Leon and Claire never got separated.

This got waaay longer than I expected so in part 2 I’ll discuss my problems with RE3R and its cut content as well as what I liked.

#resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil 2 #rant

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 5 years

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“Lost and Found” Arthur Morgan x Reader

Fluff

This was another request for @shewalksinanotherworld! Thank you guys for being so patient with me, I’ve had major writer’s block the last few days but now I’m back full swing!

After getting separated from the gang, the reader has to learn to fend for themselves and survive on their own. Arthur thought you had died in a shootout, so boy was he in for a surprise when he sees a familiar horse in Rhodes!

You cursed the sun as you rode into Rhodes, the air was dry and hot and the dust caked your lungs. You were used to living it rough, but you were used to living it rough with others. Since you got separated from your gang, it’s been nothing but hardships one after the other. You tried so hard not to blame the others. You tried not to let it harden your heart. You tried to tell yourself there was a good reason they didn’t come back for you, or even attempt to send you a letter. Unfortunately you could only try for so long and being left alone with your own thoughts only made it easier for you to abandon hope and replace with with anger. How dare they just leave you behind like that? How dare they never even try to let you know their location? Something always nagged at you in the back of your head, told you you weren’t special and no one cared. It’s why your mama and daddy left you in the streets to starve. It’s why the orphanage was more than willing to throw you out on the streets when they became too overpopulated. And it’s why the people you came to call family picked up and left you without a trace. It didn’t bother you though, you told yourself. You came to terms with the fact you would be alone forever long ago.

You dismounted your horse in front of the butcher.

“Ah, hello young lady. You must be new to these parts, I ain’t seen you before!”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I been sellin’ to you the last three months, Eddie.”

the man became flustered and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.” You said flatly as you u loaded your hunt onto the butcher’s table.

An awkward silence fell between you as he handed you your cash. After you collected, you headed over to the saloon. It didn’t take you long to spend the money you had just received on whiskey and fried catfish.

“...suspicious lookin’ group down by the lake.”

“Saw one of em ridin’ through town yesterday, looked like a mean son of a bitch. Best leave em be till they move on.”

The conversation faded out as the two men left the saloon. You made a mental note to keep your eyes peeled, just in case they were bounty hunters. There seemed to be more and more damned flesh hunters every year. You waved to the bartender, “One more down here good sir.”

“Comin’ right up!”

He placed the shot in front of you and you knocked it back easily. “You reckon that group them men was talkin’ bout were bounty hunters?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow at you suspiciously. “Nah, I don’t reckon so. The men and some of the women like to come into town every now and again. One of ‘em actually asked me about bounty hunters the first time he came in though. Seem like a nice crowd, said the factory they all worked for up North shut down. ”

You nodded. “Thanks.” You placed a tip on the table and turned out the door. As you headed towards the sheriff’s office, you lowered your hat over your face and pulled your hair out of its normal braid. “Afternoon.” You said plainly to the man sitting in behind the desk.

“Mornin’.” The man slurred. You rolled your eyes, this sheriff was no more a threat than the hound dog sniffing around the saloon.

Your eyes studied the board of bounty posters. Your own was there and you grabbed it quickly. You’d have to remember to burn it later. When you removed it, something grabbed your eye. There were layers of bounty posters on the cork board, and sticking out two layers behind you could see AR for the first name and M for the last name.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You whispered as you pulled out the wanted poster. There he was, a ghost from your past. “WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. ARTHUR MORGAN, LAST SEEN IN VALENTINE. ASSOCIATES ALSO WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: DUTCH VAN DER LINDE, HOSEA MATTHEWS, JOHN MARSTON, MICAH BELL. ANY ACCOMPANYING PERSONS WILL BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR AIDING AND ABETTING.”

He looked handsome as ever, even in some shitty drawing. Your first thought was, Arthur could’ve drawn himself so much better. Your second thought was, burn in hell, Morgan. You crumpled up the wanted poster in your hand and stuffed it in your bag. You had half a mind to leave it up, fuck all of them, they could rot for all you cared. They left you, he left you.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Arthur’s betrayal (or what you considered betrayal) cut you deeper than any of the rest. He was your closest friend in the Van Der Linde Gang, and even though you would never say it, you were hoping to make things more intimate between you two, and sometimes you felt like Arthur wanted the same. But that was a long time ago, before they up and left you in Blackwater. No food, no shelter, they even took your tent. All you had was the clothes on your body and the supplies you had on your horse. Arthur never once sent you a letter; you went to the post office every day, sometimes multiple times a day, hoping for a letter from Tacitus Killgore but it never came. You kept your old alias at the post just in case. That was what burned you the deepest. There were so many opportunities to reach out, and none of them did, not even Arthur.

You decided you would burn his bounty poster along with yours. If any of the others had bounty posters, they could deal with it on their own. Maybe one day Arthur will know your pain of having hisfamily uprooted and left on his own without a trace. You decided that would be a worse fate than being found by bountymen.

You felt tired as you mounted your horse, as if your body was being dragged down by weights. You sighed heavily and gave him a pat. “Come on boy, lets get back home.” With a dig of spurs, the horse sped down the trail.

Arthur cackled as Sadie read off Pearon’s letter in her best impersonation of him as they pulled off the slim trail from Clemen’s Point onto the main road leading into Rhodes. As he pulled out, a horse flew by them like a bullet. Long hair trailed behind the rider’s head and time stood still. He was almost certain that was who he thought it was, but that was impossible. Dutch said she died in the shootout at Blackwater. His eyes followed horse until it disappeared. All in all no more than ten seconds had passed but to Arthur it seemed like he watched that horse for hours.

“Well, come on then let’s go!” Sadie said impatiently.

Arthur sighed and gave the reins a pull. He was in a daze of his own thoughts the rest of the day and for the first time in months, your ghost returned to him in his dreams that night.

Arthur brought the brim of his hat farther over his eyes as he walked down the steps of the gun shop. He could tolerate most anything, but this dry dusty air was getting real old real quick. He gave his horse a good pat and a carrot, she deserved it. The horses around camp deserved more praise than what they got, or atleast Arthur seemed to think so. It must be just as hard on them all this moving as it is for everyone else. “Yer a good ol girl.” He cooed softly. He mounted effortlessly and took a slow pace down the main street of Rhodes. He wanted to whip the reins and tear through the middle of the street like a hell on a horse, but as a badged deputy, he had to maintain a low profile. Hosea and Dutch thought it was silly how serious he took it, he figured he was just doing his best to keep cover.

The horse caught his attention, an Appaloosa with a Leopard coat. It was so dirty, he could hardly distinguish the spots from the mud. Your hair was the next thing he saw. Big and poofy, no doubt from the humidity. When you turned, his heart stopped. “It’s you.” He said breathlessly.

You didn’t even hear anyone approach. When you turned to mount your horse, there he was. He was standing so the afternoon sun sent sunbeams dancing around him making him look like a blessing, but it felt like a curse. He looked too well, a new olive colored vest with golden accents hugged his chest and a crisp white shirt, so new it hadn’t developed sweat stains. His sleeves were rolled up as usual, you remembered him mentioning he hated how restricting full sleeves felt. You remembered secretly admiring the muscular arms he would leave exposed. He seemed a little beefier than you remembered and his beard was longer. You hated him for looking so good.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” He said softly before pulling himself off his horse. He approached with a big grin, that bastard. He was met with a swift slap to the face.

The shock from your slap rippled throughout his entire body. Of all the reactions, this was the last one he expected. He rubbed the spot where you hit him. “What the hell was that for?” He hissed.

“That was for leaving me!” You half yelled. A couple people were already staring but you didn’t care. “I go hunting for a day and I come back to nothing. No letter, no explanation, no tent! You took my tent for Christ’s sake! I gave my all to you, to everyone and that’s how I’m repaid. Left for dead with nothing but the clothes on my back.” Arthur blinked. You were seething with anger, but your eyes were welling with tears. “You left me behind.” Your voice was suddenly soft and you looked at the ground. Arthur saw the tears fall into the dust. “You left me to die and didn’t even care.”

Arthur stammered, he had no idea what to say. “Dutch said-“

“What did Dutch say? I’m sure it sounded very heroic and made the decision very easy.”

“Dutch said you were dead!” Arthur finally snapped. “He told me you died in that shootout. I grieved over you, I cried for you.” His voice shook with emotion. He grabbed your wrist tight and when you looked him in the eyes, the raw intensity behind them scared you. “Had I thought there would’ve been the slimmest chance you were still alive, I would’ve fought to my last breath to find you.”

Arthur said more than he meant to say in a rush of overwhelming emotions and it took him aback when you looked at him with confusion. “What shootout?”

“Scuse me?”

“What shootout? Why did Dutch say I died?” You looked him dead in the eye and a pit formed in his stomach.

“I...I don’t know.” His grip around your wrists loosened as his eyes darted to and from your face. “Me and Hosea was plannin’ a job, but Micah and Dutch swore by this ferry job they was stakin’ out. I wasn’t with them, but somethin’ went south and the law showed up quick. We had to move out so fast we left everything expect the caravans and the horses. All that money, all my things, and I ain’t sure we can ever get back.”

You sighed. “I understand, that’s a lot to go through, but you didn’t think to try to reach out to me, even once? I been at the post office damn near every day waiting for something, anything from you!”

Arthur gave you a thin glare, “well I don’t remember gettin’ a letter from you, what’s yer excuse?”

You sputtered, it honestly hadn’t occurred to you. “I...well I was- you always tell us to be so careful! How was I supposed to know if Tacitus Killgore was still safe?”

He crossed his arms, he knew you well enough to know when you had been had. “And how was I supposed to know Marisol Fletcher was still safe?”

You huffed in frustration and refused to look him in the eye. “Yeah well, fair enough. That still don’t change the question: why did Dutch say I died in a gun fight I wasn’t even involved in?”

Arthur went quiet. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Dutch would never leave a gang member behind if he could help it. And what was the point in lying? To keep Arthur from returning to Blackwater for you? There had to be some reason for lying.

You took Arthur’s silence as an answer. It was apparent to you that even though you were alive, Dutch made it clear you weren’t apart of the gang any more. You cleared your throat and grabbed your horse’s reins. “It’s gettin’ late, I need to get back to camp.”

Arthur straightened up and whistled for his horse, she had a bad habit of wandering away. “C’mon, you can follow me. We ain’t too far from here.”

You shook your head as you mounted. “I mean my camp. I ain’t goin’ back, Arthur. I am very... happy to know you’re alive and okay, but Dutch has made up his mind. I’m dead to the gang now, I’m on my own.”

“That’s not-“

“But it is.” You looked over the horizon. “Come with me.”

“What?”

You were certain he heard you. You sighed, “never mind. That was a silly request, you’re as loyal as they come Arthur Morgan. Write me when you can, and I’ll always respond. Until then, Mr. Morgan.” With a snap of the reins, heavy hooves sent up a cloud of dust.

Arthur couldn’t decide if he was relieved or frightened by the sight of you today. His thoughts were in a whirlwind as he rode back to camp. Nothing about this made sense, nothing at all.

“Who’s there?” Bill called.

“Arthur, dumbass.” He rolled his eyes, who the hell else would it be? He didn’t even hitch his Arabian before jumping off and making a beeline for Dutch’s tent.

Dutch was sat on a crate just outside his tent puffing a cigar. He lifted a brow in Arthur’s direction as he approached. Dutch let out a thick puff of smoke and smiled, “Good afternoon, Arthur.”

Arthur tipped his hat, “Dutch.” He took a seat beside the older man and cleared his throat. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Ditched eyed Arthur uneasily, “sure son, what’s on your mind.”

“You remember the shootout in Blackwater?”

“Course I do.”

“Who all died? In the shootout I mean.”

“Ahhh...let’s see.” Dutch sat back and tilted his head up, Arthur thought he looked a bit theatrical. “Ol Davey was shot, but he died up in the mountains. Jenny got caught in the fire, the Calander boys, and Y/N was there too.”

“I thought she went out huntin’ that day.”

Dutch cleared his throat. “She did, she did. Returned in the middle of the chaos, her and that pretty horse a hers got shot I believe.”

There was a false note in his voice it was very faint, so faint had Arthur not been face to face with you just a coupla hours ago, he may not have caught it. His eyes slowly came up and met Dutch’s. “That’s strange.” He said slowly. “Because I just ran into her in Rhodes.”

Dutch’s cigar nearly fell out of his mouth as he stuttered and stumbled on his words. “That- I-.... are ya sure it was her?” His voice was steady, but Arthur could see the quick flare of panic in Dutch’s eye.

He crossed his arms and nodded. “Sure as the sun is high. Stopped and talked to her. She seemed quite upset we left her behind.” He laughed nervously and rubbed his cheek. “My cheek still stings from where she slapped me.” He paused and his tone was serious. “Did you see her and her horse get shot?”

Arthur could see the cogs moving in Dutch’s head. “No, I... I didn’t.”

“Then why? Why leave her there? Damn it Dutch we took everything she had with us! She coulda died!”

“What’s important is she’s alive now!” Dutch said hastily. “Did she have the money from Blackwater?”

“No. She said all she had was the clothes on her back and the supplies on her horse.”

Dutch’s eyes went dark as he stared off in space. “We don’t know that.” He said slowly then rose to his feet. “She coulda snuck back and stole everything we had waiting for us. Does she know where we are now?”

The look in Dutch’s eye was fierce, Arthur averted his gaze. “No, I offered to bring her back but she wouldn’t come.”

“Good.” Dutch nodded and paced. “We don’t need her comin’ back here and stealin’ the rest of what we got.”

“Come on Dutch, she ain’t like that. We both known her for years before we got separated, surely you got a little more faith in us than that.”

Dutch shook his head in frustration. “Now why else would she follow us here? Arthur my boy don’t you see? She’s greedy, she wants to take everything from us.” He turned toward Arthur and his eyes focused. “No contact with her, you hear me? Not even through the mail, you can’t trust the mail service any more.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Dutch, I think yer gettin’ paranoid in your old age. Why don’t we just meet up and-“

“No!” Dutch bellowed. “I said no contact. No letters, and certainly no meeting up and that is final.” He sighed and softened his voice as he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I know I’m being harsh, but I just want what’s best for us, for everybody. I know you miss her, but we can’t trust her anymore. Take comfort in knowing she’s alive. It’s more than what most of us have gotten from this life.”

Arthur watched Dutch’s back as he walked away. Was Dutch descending into a new madness or was Arthur following so blindly that he hadn’t noticed until now? He did not know.

Arthur groaned in frustration as he ripped the page from his journal and balled it up. Identical wads of paper littered the booth he sat in at the saloon. Writing was always something that came easily to him, until now.

Y/N,

I spoke to Dutch and

Rip! Crinkle crinkle. Let’s not start with that.

Dearest Y/N,

Rip! Dearest? Arthur flushed. Maybe too much. Crinkle crinkle.

Y/N,

He paused and sighed, he knew what he had to say but putting it into words was proving easier said than done. This is the last shot, after spending an hour writing unfinished letters, this is the last one just say what you have to say. He laid the pencil back to paper and stopped thinking.

I’ve missed your company terribly, so I am quite happy to be writing you this letter. Mary-Beth told me to tell you hello and send you her warmest regards. She cried when I told her you were alive, by the way. Don’t you know it’s rude to make women cry? I guess I can’t say too much, I’m not much of a gentleman myself. We didn’t get a chance to catch up when we spoke, I am curious as to where you have traveled and how you’ve kept yourself. I hope you faired better than us. After the whole Blackwater mess, we retreated up North and stayed in an abandoned mining town called Colter. We about starved to death waiting on the thaw, Davey did die, but from a bullet wound. Ol’ John Marston got attacked by wolves, he’s okay unfortunately just a bit uglier. A lotta bit uglier. Once the thaw came, we hit a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. We didn’t know who the hell he was at the time, and what a mistake it was. Apparently he’s some big oil tycoon, he’s hired the Pinkerton Protection Agency just for us, ain’t we special? So between Pinkerton’s, bounty hunters, lawmen, and O’Driscolls, we’ve managed to find ourselves farther east than I’m comfortable with. In my opinion, we’re too close to civilization and people. Hosea agrees, he thinks if we keep up in this direction we’re gonna end up right in the jaws of their trap and I couldn’t agree more. Dutch is... well, Dutch is Dutch. He swears he’s got a plan to get us outta here, but instead of the West, he wants to go to the Philippines. Or was it Tahiti? Or maybe the Philippines are in Tahiti? To be honest, Dutch isn’t making a lot of sense these days. The day I saw you in town I confronted him about Blackwater. Dutch is a lot of things and a liar isn’t one of them, but I swear I could see his brain ticking like he was searching for answers he didn’t know. Things are changing, Y/N and things aren’t as simple as they used to be. Remember out in Nevada, it seems like we were just kids then. The group was so small, we were all so young. We were the best team for scams, weren’t we? Even managed to impress Hosea. It isn’t like that no more, I’m sure you’ve noticed. I know you said you aren’t coming back to the gang and I understand, but I hope you would be willing to spend some time with an old friend. If you’re still around Rhodes, you should meet me at the saloon sometime for a drink. I look forward to your letter and hope to see you again soon, I miss your company more than I’d like to admit.

Yours, Arthur

Arthur cringed at the last line, it didn’t sound as foolish in his head as it read on paper. He debated crinkling it in a ball and restarting but that was a page and a half worth of writing! He sighed heavily and carefully ripped the pages from his journal and folded them neatly. He would need a new alias, one no one else in camp would know. After a moment of thought, he signed the envelope as Morgan Callahan.

The morning fog rolled over the lake and refracted the morning sunlight over the waves of the shore. The morning air was thick and soupy, you could already feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck. You wiped your brow as you put on your boots and began the day. This wouldn’t be such a terrible place to stay if it wasn’t so damn humid all the time. Iron Flat Lake was teeming with life, both underwater and around its shores. The woods surrounding the lake were flourishing with wildlife. In the three months you had been staying here, you were able to gain a few pounds and keep a low profile. You kept your head low after Blackwater, being part of a gang was the biggest advantage to evading the law and without it you were left vulnerable; you adapted in response. You were an outlaw turned outdoorsman, you traded in your repeater for a bow and replaced blood lust with the thrill of the hunt.

After pulling on your day clothes and your boots, you began your daily routine. First, you check your nets that you had set the night before. You frowned down at the single bass flopping in the tangle of nets. Usually the yield was higher, but one fish is enough for breakfast so it was all you needed. After breakfast, it’s time to kill the fire and take down the tent. Your spot was safe, but paranoia isn’t always a bad thing when you’re on the run, never such thing as too safe. The next step of the day is one that you almost cut out completely- checking the mail. The mid morning sun was warming the thick air as you came into Rhodes.

“Got anything for Marisol Fletcher?”

“Yes actually,” you looked up in surprise, you hadn’t had anything in weeks. You had to close your slack jaw when the postman turned back to you and handed you an envelope. “Here you are.”

You gave him a bright smile and a nod. “Thank you very much!”

You sat at the bench in the shade as you inspected the parcel. You didn’t recognize the name, Morgan Callahan? But you recognized the handwriting immediately. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face as you read over Arthur’s beautiful handwriting. You forgot how eloquently he wrote, you could almost hear his voice reading you the words. The pages had a slight leather scent, they must’ve came from his journal. A memory of him sitting against his caravan lost in his drawings came into your mind. As you finished the letter, you reread the last sentence over and over. I miss your company more than I’d like to admit.

How just like Arthur, it brought back so many confusing memories. Late night conversations where you could swear you saw his eyes linger on your lips, small moments in saloons after he’s had too many drinks and he’d get a little handsy but never in a disrespectful manor. But with all these little things came awkward next mornings where he wouldn’t look at you, claim to drink too much to remember what had happened the night before, and don’t even get started with the whole Mary situation. This man confuses you to no end with his wishy washy behavior. You sighed, was he wishy washy or were you just desperate to read into things? Maybe you just imagined his eyes lingering on your lips, maybe you took his touches too seriously. Maybe you wanted more from your relationship with him than he wanted. There was no maybe on that one, but you shook your head to yourself. You saw how Arthur loves a woman first hand, you were there every step of the way from the time he first met Mary until she rejected his proposal. That was the one night you had seen Arthur cry, and it was the most heartbreaking thing you’d ever seen in your life. So yes, you knew how Arthur loved and no, it was not intended for you.

You pushed yourself off the bench and into the crowded saloon. Your eyes searched for Arthur, but he wasn’t there. You were a little relieved, after so long you had forgotten how to hide how flustered he made you. You pulled the stolen stationary paper from your satchel and began to write.

Dear Arthur,

I have missed you also, as well as everyone else in the gang. Tell Mary-Beth I was elated to hear from her and hope all is well for her. Honestly Arthur, who hasn’t heard of Leviticus Cornwall these days? That surely was a mistake. I stayed in Blackwater for a couple of weeks in case you all came back but not only did you have wanted posters everywhere, the place was also crawling with bounty hunters. I heard some of them got Sean, I tried tracking him down but the trail went cold after a few days. After that, I was everywhere and nowhere. I survived off the land, really survived. I thought what we was doing as a gang was surviving but boy was I wrong. Having a group that size is a privilege you don’t know you have until it’s gone. With more and more bounty hunters popping up, I had to lay low. You’d be proud, Arthur I haven’t committed a crime worse than pickpocketing since we were separated. I’ve mostly just made money by hunting and fishing, I’ll pick up odd jobs where I can. For the most part it’s just been me and Ol’ Cow. He’s still fit as a fiddle, still wouldn’t trade him in for the world. Tell Marston I’m sorry to hear about his unfortunate face, maybe it will humble him up a bit. As far as Dutch goes, well maybe I shouldn’t go there as to keep conversation friendly. Don’t trust him Arthur, that man is a snake. I know he and Hosea raised you, raised us, but people change and not always for the best. Keep that in mind in your travels, and get the hell out of there the moment you notice anything fishy. You’re right, the world has changed and it isn’t so simple anymore. Civilization isn’t the cause of corruption, it’s the spawn of it. At the end of the day, there’s only one cause of corruption and that’s people. As for me, I’m currently camping out on Iron Bed Lake so I’m not far from Rhodes at all. I usually stop in the saloon in the evenings for a drink and some supper, that would be the easiest time to catch me. Maybe I’ll show you where camp is, your company is welcome anytime. I look forward to your company as always.

Yours, Y/N

You frowned at the ‘yours’. You always just signed, but it felt natural to mirror Arthur’s closing. As you folded the letter, you wondered when you would get to see him again. You pushed down the blossoming hope that it would be soon.

Arthur read the parcel just outside the post office, he told himself he didn’t want to risk getting caught but that didn’t explain the excitement he felt as he tore open the envelope. His heart felt heavy as he read your letter, you had lived so hard on your own and he had no idea you were even out there. It was hard for him to remember what it was like to be on his own before he met Dutch and Hosea. It had been so long, he honestly couldn’t recall. But, to live roughly you looked good, he thought. He smiled at the pages, he had forgotten the silly name you gave to your horse. It brought back the memory of the day you bought him from the stables. He spent two days trying to give you better names, what kind of name is Cow for a horse? He would ask. You would shrug as you patted his pink nose and say that it was a good name for a good horse and that was that. If anyone was more stubborn than him, it was you. He looked up at the sky as he finished the letter, the sun was already behind the trees. Perfect timing, he thought to himself as he whistled for his horse. The saloon wasn’t far at all, but Arthur wasn’t a patient man.

When he entered the saloon, his eyes darted across every face until they landed on a familiar black hat at the bar. He straightened himself and tugged at his vest self consciously, he wished he would’ve taken a bath first. He cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”

When you turned, Arthur was able to get a good look at you. Even through the humidity, your hair was still shiny and vibrant, the color hadn’t dulled a day since Blackwater. You had had a bath recently, your skin was clean and he could clearly see the freckles that dotted your cheeks. The sun had spotted new freckles since he had last seen you, now sitting around your lips and chin. Your sleeves were rolled up to reveal arms that were much more muscular than they were before. Even through the thin material of your shirt he could see the muscles in your back and shoulders. He tried to recall a more beautiful sight and was lost for words. When your lips curled into a smile, he felt a familiar heat in his cheeks. “Hello Arthur, have a seat.”

He nodded and obliged. Why was he so damn nervous all of a sudden? He started to speak and his mouth was terribly dry. He cleared his throat and waved over the bar tender. “So,” he stared at the ground as he spoke. “What kinda work you been doin’ in a run down town like this?”

You took a sip of your beer. “Mostly just handy work. Helped a feller patch his roof this mornin’.”

He smiled and his eyes flickered back to your muscular shoulders. “Well, ain’t you just a gentleman.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, gotta do whatcha can to survive.” You smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Plus, I kinda like helpin’ people now.”

Arthur raised a brow towards you, “so you went from robbin’ and killin’ folks go helpin’ em around the house, huh?” He laughed. “Good on ya, ya got out.”

“Huh?”

He looked at you. “Ya got out, out of the outlaw game. Look at you now, a regular citizen.”

You frowned into your mug. “It weren’t my choice.”

“I’m sorry that wasn’t-“ he stuttered.

You sighed and gave him a smile. To him it looked terribly sad. “It’s okay, really. I know it ain’t your fault. I do miss it, more often than I don’t.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just miss havin’ a family. And people who care.”

“You can have a family outside the gang, ya know.” The bartender sat a beer in front of Arthur and he took a swig. “Hosea tried it for a few years.”

You barked a short laugh. “And who would have me? Look at me, I’m a beat up, rough nobody. Ain’t no man gonna want me.”

Arthur’s heart lurched, he fought the urge to put his hand on yours. Is this what he sounded like when he put himself down? It all sounded so ridiculous to him. “You don’t know that.” He said softly.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he looked at you. Your eyes were far away and a small smile was on your face. “I do, but thank you anyways.”

As evening shifted into night, one beer turned to two, which turned to five. The saloon was in full swing, every booth full of patrons and the saloon girls were fliting around like fireflies in July. A jolly tune was coming from the piano and the chaotic noise of drunk men but all you could hear was Arthur’s bubbling laughter. His cheeks were a bright red from the booze and he wore a lazy smile. He said something, but it was so slurred together in an incoherent mumble.

“What’d you say?”

He leaned in close to your ear and you felt his beard hair prickle against your skin. “I said, let’s get outta here.” His Breath was hot and you were glad he didn’t feel you tremble. You nodded and he took your hand and led you out into the street. The saloon was the only building with lights still on and the chaotic noise was muffled in the night. The crickets chirped as the two of you stumbled down Main Street.

Arthur still had your hand in his big palm, half dragging you along as you sang obnoxiously into the night. Arthur was carefully paying attention to the ground under him, but you were not. You stumbled over a rock and began to fall forward, but you were caught by two heavy hands on your waist. “Careful.” He laughed.

You giggled drunkenly and when you lifted your head to look at him, his face was inches from yours. Even with your vision spinning, you could Arthur’s eyes on your lips, when he met your eyes, there was something behind them you had never seen. After a moment, he cleared his throat and helped you to your feet. His hand lingered on your waist and you leaned into his shoulder as you smiled up to him, “thanks Artie.”

Arthur spurted and laughed heartily. “Artie?” He wipes a tear from his eye and laughed again. “Is that what yer callin’ me now?”

You laughed with him, the movement caused the two of you to sway. “Naw, I just thought it was cute.” Your finger came up and bopped him on the nose.

“You’re cute.” Arthur blurted. As soon as it left his lips he could’ve smacked himself. What a fool he was.

You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, “not as cute as you.”

Arthur’s vision was blurry but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He swallowed hard, this was too much. He cleared his throat. “Where’s your camp?” He looked around and almost lost his balance. “Wheres the horses?” He slurred.

You laughed and slumped against a near by bench. “Who knows?” You fell into a fit of drunken giddy giggles.

Arthur plopped down beside you and slunk an arm around your shoulders. He smiled to himself as you curled up against his chest. “I’ve missed you.” You mumbled.

Arthur couldn’t tell if the heat in his cheeks was from the booze anymore. “I...I missed you too.”

When you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, he swore he could see whole worlds reflecting back at him. “Wanna know a secret?” You whispered.

He gulped. “Sure.”

With the most straight face you could manage you said, “I’m going to throw up.”

And with the most grace and poise Arthur has ever seen in a drunk person, you stood up, turned away from him, and vomited. He rolled his eyes and stood shakily. He put a hand on your back-for your support and his- and pulled your hair back with the other. “S’okay,” he whispered. “I gotcha.”

You cleared your throat and wiped your mouth as you turned to Arthur. “I think” you slurred. “It’s time for night night.”

Arthur laughed and whistled for his horse. She must not have been far, she came around the corner immediately. Arthur used her as support as he helped you up and then pulled himself up clumsily. He almost pulled you down as he mounted and the two of you fell into another laughing fit after you helped him up. “Okay okay,” He said as he tried to contain his laughter. “Where you stayin’ at?”

You leaned back against him and pointed lazily. “Jus’ go that way for a minute, I’ll tell ya where to go.”

With your best attempts of directions, the two of you finally made it back to camp and there your loyal steed was, waiting at camp without you. “Son of a bitch.” You muttered. “I’m too drunk to set up a tent.”

Arthur pulled his bedroll from his horse. “Sky’s clear, it shouldn’t rain tonight. We should be fine sleepin’ under the stars.”

You hadn’t even unpacked your bedroll before tumbling to the ground and resting against an old log.

Arthur laughed, “you sure you don’t want somethin’ more comfortable than the ground?”

You didn’t hear him, you were out.

When you woke up the next morning, your head felt like it had been smashed against a rock. You groaned as you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Mornin’.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin and let out a small scream as you opened your eyes. When they focused on Arthur you groaned. “Jesus Arthur, you about gave me a heart attack. Ain’t used to havin’ other people around.”

He handed you a cup of coffee as you stretched. “Sorry bout that, didn’t want to wake ya.”

You scratched your head and closed your eyes as you sipped from your coffee. “Ugh, I feel like hell.”

Arthur chuckled. “Drink up, that should help. You should probably eat something too.”

You nodded and groaned in agreement as you stood up. “Christ,” You said as you walked over to check the nets. “How much did we drink last night? I lost count.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t count.”

As you pulled the net in, your arms ached in disagreement. Arthur stood up quickly, “need some help?”

You let go with one hand to do a shooing motion and went back to pulling it in. “I got it.”

The net was much more successful this morning, yielding three smallmouth bass and two largemouth bass. You smiled triumphantly. “Did someone say breakfast?”

You ate together in silence, Arthur contemplated bringing you back to camp, how mad could Dutch really get? You had something different on your mind. Through your hungover haze, little flashes were coming back. Arthur holding your hand, the way his lips brushed your ear, the way his beard felt against your skin, his arm around your waist. His presence was unearthing so many buried emotions it was starting to get overwhelming. He was the first to speak. “Do you plan on doin’ this forever?”

“Doin’ what?” You turned to look at him and he was staring at the ground.

He turned to you. “Doin’ this, livin’ on your own. Are you not lonely?”

You frowned. “Course I get lonely, but where else am I gonna go?”

“Come with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stood. “Come back to camp, come back to the gang! We all miss you like crazy, and Dutch, well Dutch can deal with it.” He took your hands in his and pulled you up from the ground so quickly you almost lost your balance. His gaze was so intense on you you had to look away.

“Arthur, Dutch ain’t gonna just let me waltz back in. And like I said, I don’t trust that man. I can’t trust him farther than I can throw him and as much as I-“ you caught yourself as sighed. “As much as I...care about you-about all of you, I can’t trust that man with my safety and well-being.”

“Trust me then.” You looked up at him and he caught your cheek in his hand. “Trust me with your safety and your well-being. Let me take care of you.”

Your chest seized and it was hard to breathe. “Arthur I...”

He suddenly looked sad and pulled away. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“

You cut him off as he began to turn away by grabbing his face and pulling it down to yours. Your lips were on his and before he could react, they were gone. You couldn’t look up at his face, you couldn’t handle the rejection. “Arthur, I care about you entirely too much for my own good. I need to go.”

Arthur was frozen in shock, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his. As you turned to your horse, he felt the panic slip in, he lost you once and he didn’t want to lose you again. He caught your wrist and when you turned to look at him he looked desperate, afraid, and devistatingly handsome. “Don’t go. Don’t make me go without you again, I ain’t strong enough. You don’t gotta come back with me, just stay with me.”

“I...oh Arthur, you know I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He wrapped his big arms around your waist and it sent butterflies to your stomach. You wrapped your arms around him and sighed. “What are ya gonna tell Dutch?”

He buried his face into your neck and you felt him inhale. “I ain’t gotta tell him a thing.”

You rolled your eyes and relaxed in his embrace. “You silly, silly man.”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur x reader #van der linde gang #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #request #fluff

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