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help-im-a-gay-fish · 2 years

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Round And Round Till We All Fall Down (FINAL)

Studio Nightkiller story. Part 4.

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

In a way a follow up to KillerNight(s) however you don’t need to read KillerNight(s) to read this one.

Synopsis: Nightmare and Killer’s relationship has been going round and round for years. With feelings becoming undeniable, will they fall together or, as always, fall apart? This is again before Ccino has entered their lives.

P4: After their last fight, Nightmare fights to try and save what is left of the crumbling relationship. But with Killer pulling away, is it to little to late?

Warning, contains some mature themes, and refences to drinking.

Credits

Studio verse by @zu-is-here

Based off of headcannons both me and @jann-the-bean came up with, thank you so much for all your help Jan.

Original nightmare by jokublog

Original killer belongs to rahafwabas

Enjoy :)

Killer got back to his flat late that day. His step was light and his smile wider and full of satisfaction. A freeing morning after a freeing night.

It was a feeling he could remember well even now, a month later. He'd been so happy… it was all so silly now….

It had felt like a long time since he'd been on the walk of shame, walking out in the same clothes you wore the night before, messy and a little stanky. Perhaps bitten, bruised, and aching with that good pain.

Only, No shame came for him this time, he didn't feel like all eyes were on him, or in the know of what he'd been doing. As he breathed in the smog-filled city air, leaving the hotel, He felt greatttt.

It was like the whole outside felt brighter and more energetic, more alive and colourful than he'd seen in a long time. The city buzzed and bustled, and teemed with life and energy. Killer was like the protagonist in a musical right before they burst into song, hearing music in his head.

He felt like he could do anything he wanted, and anyone he wanted for that matter.

Though his enjoyment wasn't to last a long time.

As he got back to his flat he still felt great, cheerfully waving and cheekily winking at the doorman, as he walked past.

Walking into his flat felt great, the familiar scent of cats and cigarettes whipped his nose, as he shut the door.

It was really good to be home...

A patting of little paws alerted him to the arrival of his flatmates, and he cooed happily as his beloved fur babies came into view.

"Cheesy! Crackers! Aww, Daddy missed you" he said, pulling off his jacket and throwing it haphazardly across the living space.

The two walked up to him quickly, tales in the air, and sniffed his legs a few times.

Killer chuckled.

"You two are smart kitties, you can probably smell my new friend on me..."

The two looked up at him and swished their tails around.

"Sorry I was out all night...we really should get you two some breakfast"

~~~~~~~

After Killer had made a choice between the various cat foods at his disposal and divided up the can into their bowls, he took out some salmon from the fridge and held it out proudly.

"How about a bit of a treat today to make up for being late"

A small chorus of happy meows followed as he smashed a small piece of fish on top of both of their foods.

Some people told him that he put too much effort into the diets of his precious felines and that the more expensive brands he used were pointless, but he didn't care.

So long as his loves were happy and healthy, it was worth any cost.

It was when he set the bowls down, and the two started feasting, that his mood first started to change slightly.

He recalled an amusing memory or Nightmare.... from a few months back. complaining to the cats that Killer feeds them better than him.

"And he buys you fresh cuts of fish too! Oh! I really shouldn't be giving it away to him so easily..... if he's capable of treating you, surely your daddy could do the same to me."

"Pot noodles! He gave me pot noodles!"

It was back when they were just a fling. Back when there wasn't a need for labels, or strong emotions and confessions…

It was a memory that had often brought a smile to his face and a warmth to his cheeks. But today?

"...."

He sighed, no use dwelling on the past now, he couldn't change what was done...

A light mew brought him out of his thoughts, as Crackers rubbed up against his legs.

"Aw...I missed you too baby!" He said, stroking them.

"Daddy's sorry he's been in a bad mood lately....but that should all change now." His baby purred and rubbed up against his fingers.

"Mew"

"Oh well that's easy Crackers " he smirked and leaned against the countertop.

"Daddy met someone new last night....and it was really good..."

Cheese stared at him blankly and twitched his ear slightly, before just going back to his food. Seemingly unable to care less.

Killer rolled his eyes and chuckled at his feline friend.

"Handsome, funny, casual....energetic..."

The smile softened on his face at the warmness he felt. He stretched and clicked his neck.

"Mew"

He paused.

"...."

"What do you mean 'what about Nightmare?'"

"......This isn't about him..."

A blank stare was all he got in response.

"It's not OK! The winey snob was always trying to prove I was a cheater...I just gave him what he wanted...."

"....."

It felt oddly quiet in the kitchen now, despite the mews. The two pairs of piercing eyes were on him now, looking right through him like a criminal in court.

Tension was palpable.

Soul was pounding.

"Stop looking at me like that! I'm not going to feel guilty about it"

"....."

He could have sworn it was getting a little warm in the room, as some sweat formed on the back of his neck.

No....no no...he wasn't going to think about this. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing! And if he wanted to do it again then he would! Yeah...who cared if he did.

"Mew"

"Oh, what do you know Cheese!? You're neutered!!" He said before he stormed out of the room.

~~~~~~~~

Nightmare on the other hand had a very uncomfortable morning.

He'd woken up on the living room floor that day, a mixture of wine and saliva spreading on the carpet beneath him.

His head hurt, his eyes were sore and his tongue tasted of vomit.

Pleasant…

The smell in the room was strongly alcoholic in nature, and the evidence of one and half empty bottles on the coffee table explained why. His foot, still resting on the sofa, indicated why he ached so much.

With a groan, he pressed his palm to his head and sat up.

What a night.

He promised himself he'd take a break from the wine for a while, he'd just needed some way to let go of stress last night. After that fight.

He sighed and looked around his living room. It looked like the bins behind a bar, and smelt worse.

His phone was on the table next to the glass, silent.

"......."

Has Killer responded yet? He hadn't messaged him since he left after the fight.

"......."

Checking his phone confirmed his suspicions.

He didn't think so...

His text messages had been fuelled by wine really, and it showed as they contained a circus of grammar mistakes, miss-spelling, and random words that had been auto-corrected wrong.

All of them telling Killer to come back and that he needed to stop flirting with other people and be with him.

'Killer jm warnings yous '

'Comeba k and stop begins so unfair'

'You cnat go our with our me!!'

'I known oe what your doing!!@ you can't co trol yourself '

What toxic crap was this...

This wasn't OK....he couldn't remember being that drunk....but he clearly had been.

No wonder Killer didn't respond.

One thing was for sure though.

He'd messed up.

Night wasn't sure when this toxic cycle of anger and mistreatment had started, but he was up to his neck in it.

And now Killer was suffering for it. They both were.

At first, he'd just been trying to make sure Killer kept his attention on him and didn't flirt with random strangers, which he still believed he'd had every right to do, but he could see that he'd taken it a bit too far now. He'd crossed a line and started to hurt Killer.

He didn't want this.

Peeling himself off the floor, he started to gather up the empty bottle and glasses on the coffee table, he still had some pride in his place after all.

After neatening things up and drinking some water to help soothe his aching skull, Nightmare sent Killer a new text.

'Killer, last Night wasn't really good for us. I think we need to talk about your behaviour '

'And mine of course.'

'We just need to talk'

There...

It's not like Night was going to type out a long apology for his nastier texts, he wasn't really that type.

And despite being able to recognise that he'd crossed a line, he was still angry at how Killer had acted too.

Last Night was in part a blurry mess, but the more he remembered the more frustrated with Killer he got.

Killer had overreacted quite a decent amount last night, and Nightmare wasn't going to apologise when Killer had basically told him he was bored of him. That still stung.

Killer had never rejected him before...

"....."

His tongue once again craved the wine he'd been making quick work off in the recent weeks.

No...no..not after last Night.

"...."

Perhaps he had gotten a little used to Killer taking a lot of the lead in things. Whether that be dates, gifts...or...sleepovers…

Nightmare had just never been spoiled in such a way before, after years of fighting for attention, it had been nice to be treated that way.

"....."

Killer only really liked low and classless things anyway....clubs, bars, cheap fast food and crappy Rom Coms. Not stuff that Nightmare cared much about in the slightest, and things that Killer would be better off not wasting his time on right?

He wasn't so sure anymore...

His head hurt too bad for this...it was something he could think more on after Killer responded...

~~~~~~~~

Killer didn't respond all day.

It was odd in a sense, a kind of behaviour he didn't recognise within himself.

He'd never just ignored a text, from anyone. If he did it would often be for a good reason.

His boyfriend had clearly been drunk last night….. such a fact would have made him laugh, had Night not spent the better part of the night insulting him.

'We need to talk about your behaviour '

'And mine of course.'

"……."

Ok but what about his behaviour did he have to talk to Nightmare about? He hadn't done anything other than reject him and tell him some hard truths, that was something he wouldn't apologise for.

So for that reason, he ignored Night's texts for a day and spent it doing the things he liked. Playing with his cats, ordering take-out (the super greasy kind) and watching all the cheesiest romantic comedies in his DVD collection.

Just a happy, carefree, bachelor life.

Like he used to have.

It was a twinge of guilt at the start of the next day that finally got him to invite Nightmare over to have a conversation….

…..

….

…

Their conversation didn't resolve much… all it did was send Killer back into the arms of his booty-call, and Night to the bottom of a wine glass.

More days passed…

Things stayed the same…

It was a difficult time.

They were two opposing sides of a battle, and neither was giving….

Neither one had seen rock bottom approaching before they'd crashed right into it.

They were spinning too fast on the carousel and had been flung off.

~~~~~~~~~~

*ping*

The playboy picked up his phone, but it wasn't who he wanted it to be.

He'd been expecting a message from his agent this morning, as costume fitting for his new short was coming up. Despite mostly only being fitted in blue fur-collared jackets, a new one for each project he was a part of was often made.

But it wasn't that.

'Killer, can you come over.'

"...."

Nightmare….

He hadn't heard from his boyfriend for almost a week.

He sat up, letting the blanket slip off him slightly.

There were no other messages, no other indication of what Nightmare was thinking. Did he want to fight again? Probably.

Killer wasn't really in the mood for this yet, his throat was sore and his skull was aching. Why did the bed always feel like a toasted marshmallow in the mornings? When it was sometimes so hard to fall asleep, why was it so warm in the morning?

It wasn't often that sleep alluded Killer, once he nodded off he slept like a log and then some.

Only last night, despite being exhausted, he found himself tossing and turning in the covers. There was no real reason he could think of to explain it on paper. He'd been perfectly warm and comfortable, and as before stated, tired. But despite that, he'd found himself laying on his back counting sheep. Perhaps it was due to being in an unfamiliar bed, though that hadn't been an issue before.

With a sigh, he summoned the last of his willpower, swung his legs over the side of the mattress, and got to his feet.

His trousers were hanging loosely off the bedpost, and he had to pull them off carefully to make sure he didn't rip anything.

As he pulled them on, he heard the sound of sheets rustling behind him.

"Hey, handsome, where you goin'.."

Killer sighed.

"Night texted me, he wants to meet"

"Oh that boyfriend of yours is so demanding… surely he can wait a few," His lover said, snaking an arm around Killer’s waist and pulling him back down.

The blank-eyed skeleton chuckled and let himself enjoy the sensation of kisses on his spine.

"Mm…you're naughty babe…but I have to go handle him.."

His partner didn't let go.

"Nah Kills, you can handle your boyfriend after you handle me~," he said before pulling Killer back into bed with a chuckle.

~~~~~~~~~

*ping*

Nightmare was on his phone as quick as a dart.

It was embarrassing for him to admit, but he'd been sitting by the phone with a cup of coffee, waiting for it like a nervous school girl.

'K'

K? K? Really? That's all Killer was gonna give him?

Just K.

It would have taken less than a second to type out. He was really worth less than a second?

It stung, to say the least.

Things here had drawn them to the end of their ropes.

Nightmare was tired.

He was tired of fighting.

The recent arguments the two had been having span them round and round in circles. No matter what they said, no matter how they tried, it always ended the way it started, a fight.

Not today.

Clearly, the two of them needed to just move on from the situation and start fresh, reset and try again.

It had been a while since the two of them had gone on any kind of date, and today Night was going to take him on one.

Or at least that's what he hoped to do.

He sighed and corrected his shirt. In their last argument, Killer had called him a conceited sob, among other things…. And he'd had some time to reflect a little.

Perhaps he was being a bit snobbish to dismiss Killer's interests so quickly. There was nothing outwardly wrong with fast food, other than the grease, so perhaps he could give one of the cheap burger joints another try. Even if it meant he'd need to wash his mouth out later.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a few hours later that Killer showed up, looking happy, but slightly distracted.

Nightmare would be ashamed to admit how good it was to see him. But as Killer dodged Night's attempt at a kiss, his non-existent stomach dropped into a pit.

"So what'd ya call me over for Night?" The dark-eyed skeleton said, tapping out a text on his phone.

Nightmare was going to ask him to put the phone down, but he'd already promised himself he'd stop being so nit-picky.

"Well… it's been a while since we last talked Killer, and I wanted to see you.."

"Mhm" he answered, looking up for a moment "is that all?"

The purple-eyed skeleton felt a little on edge, his partner's blank stares and clean-cut answers were as cold as a knife blade and twice as harsh.

"Well no…"

"Our last conversation didn't end too well… and I was hoping we could move past it.."

"....."

"And….in light of that…I...I was thinking...I could take you out to dinner tonight? "

"......"

His boyfriend’s eyes stayed locked to his phone, typing out a message. It was as if Nightmare wasn't standing just a few feet away from him.

"Since you’ve treated me twice now...maybe I should…."

Night trailed off, seeing that Killer still didn't lookup.

The purple-eyed skeleton started to feel the nagging jealousy raise in his mind. It picked at him, asking who it was that Killer was texting right now? He should pay more attention to you, right?

He silenced it.

No no....that was what had gotten him into this mess, it would probably just be Killer's agent. Yeah that's it, he was gonna be working on a new short, it made sense he'd be paying attention to that.

"Nah...all that fancy shit doesn't agree with me"

"....."

"I mean....we could go to a fast food place you like...or…."

"Night don't bother alright?... I don't wanna have to listen to you complaining about the 'greasy food' the whole time, alright?"

"But..."

"Just leave it...it's a nice thought but no"

Ok...Well, perhaps this was going to be more difficult than he'd expected. Their fights always resolved themselves it seemed. It wasn't common that they talked about what they'd argued about, or the words that had been said. No formal apologies came out of either of them, the fights just stopped stinging.

The two of them were both adults, not children on a playground. They both knew that it was important not to take angry words seriously, and after time had passed, they would always simply get over the arguments.

In the past Killer had always moved on from them faster, his flirtatious and sly teasing returning faster than a boomerang. But this time...

Was Killer still upset? It wasn't that bad of a fight for them, neither of them had ended up throwing anything...

"Alright..."

Nightmare cleared his throat and Killer looked up from his phone.

"Well that doesn't mean we can spend the evening together... you could show me some more of the places you used to hang out in?"

He was kidding right?

Killer snorted.

"What, so you can't stand in the corner in the huff because you were mad, and you didn't want to be there? "

The purple-eyed skeleton stiffened.

"H-hey! I only did that because it was really loud and...and I lost you and-

"So it's my fault?...of course"

*ping*

"What? That's not what I meant.."

Killer turned his attention back to his phone, as Night stammered out some kind of blame game he was sure. He had to stop himself from smiling upon opening the attachment he'd received.

"Killer!"

He looked up.

Nightmare was trying to stay calm now, he'd promised himself he would. But surely it was fair that he was annoyed now. He was trying and Killer was just too busy on his phone. The envy gnawed at him and tormented the inside of his skull.

He took a deep breath. Stay calm, stay calm.

"Killer...I'm trying to talk to you...can you please put the phone down?"

"....."

"I know you have an important short to film, but please, I'm your boyfriend and I just wanna plan a date night..."

The only expression he got from the eyeless one was a numb stare. Killer internally rolled his eyes. Of course...Nightmare was his boyfriend, so of course, Killer couldn't talk to a single other person, what was he thinking.

"Fine," he said, putting the phone away.

Nightmare sighed.

"Killer...look...I'm not trying to be snippy...

"I'm trying to make up for my behaviour in always doing what I want, really, I want to take you somewhere you want tonight...no complaining."

"...."

"No complaining?"

Now that was kinda sweet… Nightlights' eyes were soft now, a gentle violet glow. It was clear that what he'd said was genuine, and Killer wasn't enough of an idiot not to appreciate it.

Killer’s expression softened and he smiled.

"Really?"

It was definitely out of character for Nighty to be so soft-spoken, and it was nice for him to see.

Nightmare sighed and crossed his arms.

"Yeah...it’s my turn to be better..."

Killer stepped forward, suddenly feeling a flush of warmth in his chest and a desire for affection.

"Thanks Nightlight, I appreciate that"

He gently cupped Night's cheek with his hand and pulled him in for a soft kiss, Which he happily returned, fluttering his eyes closed.

That's better…

It truly felt like too long since he and Killer had been like this, and he couldn't stop himself smiling against the taller's mouth.

But just as Nightmare was starting to melt, Killer pulled away.

His eyes were partly narrowed as if he were thinking over something really hard.

"But uh..."

He glanced at his phone.

"I already have plans tonight..."

Oh...

"...."

Jealousy prickled in Night's bones.

"Doing...what..?"

"Does it matter?"

Nightmare stepped back from Killer’s partial embrace, farrowing his non-existent eyebrows.

"Well...yes!"

The prickling was more like tiny stabs now.

"What are you doing?

"Going out to a bar and looking for- "

The moment he said it, he mentally slapped himself. He shut his mouth straight away as if hoping he could trap the words in before Killer heard them.

More accusations…

Old habits die hard he guessed…

Killer narrowed his empty eyes and threw his arms up.

"Oh well that didn't last long did it?!"

"What a surprise."

"Killer..."

"Well, it's none of your business alright? I'm just meeting a friend for dinner, I'm sorry that I'm so untrustworthy"

Nightmare just shrunk into himself.

"Why can't we get dinner though?"

Killer groaned and grabbed his jacket to leave.

"You know, I don't want to talk to you if you are just going to keep repeating stuff from that fight!"

"Well screw you then!" Nightmare snapped, feeling utterly rejected. "Go spend time with them, I'm sure they are soooo much more important than your boyfriend!"

Way to go Nightmare...making it worse again. You idiot! You should stop talking.

Killer stood and stared for a while, before pulling his jacket on.

"Fine"

And with that, he walked out.

~~~~~~~~

More days passed.…and then a week.

It was a pretty happy week for most, as the sun was out for most of it.

Happy families and couples filled the streets below Nightmare, laughing and smiling, enjoying the day.

The sight never used to bother him, but these days he watched them with a vicious poison in his eyes.

Nightmare spent most of the next week inside, with his only other comfort, his books.

Perhaps it was stereotypical to say, but Nightmare loved to read with all his soul, from his book he could be transported anywhere, and for once he could be someone else. Someone more liked.

As a child, he'd used to read to his brother at night, since their mother rarely did, and ever since he'd enjoyed it as a great escape.

He wanted to escape.

He didn't want to be him right now.

Every so often he'd attempt to call Killer, only for the phone to ring out or be manually disconnected.

One time the playboy had picked up, and the two had chatted for 20 minutes or so, but it felt strange as if they were communicating through glass, and the oxygen was being sucked out.

It hadn't been a fight though, which Night guessed was progress.

When they weren't talking, Killer was still on his phone though, his Instagram was full of photos of him and his cats, others of clubs and fancy cocktails.

He was having fun without Nightmare.

Nightmare couldn’t even look at his phone anymore. He kept getting the feeling like Killer was with someone else.

Perhaps it was just his childish jealousy messing with his skull again. Trust in his boyfriend was important. He needed to trust him.

"...."

He missed him.

He missed his lewd comments and perverted words.

He missed the gentle touches, and the light nips and kisses. The smell of the cigarettes, Killer pretended not to smoke, and the cats he so dearly loved.

He missed Killer.

Stuff him.

Screw him.

"....."

He drew his blinds so he wouldn't have to see other people, and shut himself inside with his books.

~~~~~~~~

At this point in time, Killer didn't have a clue about Night's current state of mind, and right now, he couldn't care less.

So long he'd been trying to please Nightmare. So long he'd been suppressing himself to be what Night wanted.

No more!

The purple snob had been trying to call him repeatedly, but it hadn't been all that long since they last hung out, so Killer didn't feel the need to pick up.

They talked once through it all, though Nightmare was mostly quiet the whole time. For a moment it concerned Killer, but he figured it was probably his imagination.

~~~~~~~~~

As the next week rolled around the two saw each other briefly.

Simply getting drinks at a bar before Killer left for rehearsals.

Or at least that's what he said. Nightmare didn’t know what to believe anymore. He felt like Killer was looking right through him the whole time as if he were only half listening to everything he said.

It was almost like Night was a chore for Killer to complete, something he had to do.

That was ridiculous, right? If Killer didn't want to be with him, he'd have ended it.

Yeah…Killer still wanted to be with him… they were still together.

"...."

He'd be back after work was finished.

~~~~~~~~

A few more days passed.

The rehearsals for the new short would be officially starting soon, and Killer was beyond excited about the prospect. After a brief break, it would be fun to jump back into the world of scrips, makeup and movie sets. This short was sure to be good, he'd already met his new co-star Colour, and the guy seemed pretty professional.

The rest of the cast and crew were very welcoming as well, though it was strange in places.

In the place of his violet-eyed boyfriend, a different actor was playing Nightmare this time. Now this wasn't something unusual. Even if Killer and the others were known for their renditions of the au characters, other people would often play them in minor parts.

Killer and Night would sometimes enjoy watching other people playing them and finding slightly more awkward portrayals very amusing. In fact, one of those times had been the last time he'd heard Night really laugh.

Heh…

It would be odd not having him around… but also it was a good thing! Yeah… a nice break…

~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't too long after Killer made a tweet about the new short, that he received a Dm from someone he hadn't spoken to in a while.

He'd been so wrapped up in all his current business, that he almost hadn't realised how long it had been since they last spoke.

Cross was his best friend! How could he be so careless like that? This situation needed to be rectified straight away.

Happily, he arranged to get coffee with him after a rehearsal.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"A vegan? Seriously…"

"....."

The dismissal in his friend's voice hadn't been what Cross had hoped for, even if it was what he expected. Killer could be extremely blunt sometimes, and it was that which got him into the most trouble. As much as it was sometimes extremely frustrating to deal with, Cross had been missing his friend's snark a lot lately.

Killer had been quite a lot busier than normal, and at first, Cross had just chalked it up to the new short he'd been rehearsing. However, it had been at least three weeks since they had gone out for drinks or sat down for coffee.

Now on a surface level, this wouldn't be considered strange at all, especially since the two of them both had obligations to their boyfriends now. However, it was definitely weird on Killer’s part. He was often very keen to drag Cross out for a night on the town, whenever Dream allowed it. So for Killer to go from trying to get him to come out every Friday, or having coffee a few times a week, to hardly talking to him for three weeks….

Well, it was a little strange, to say the least.

The last of contact was why Killer had till this moment been unaware of Cross' recent decisions.

"Yep, I feel like I wanna try it, don't wanna be eating anymore cow meat...ughhh"

Killer stared perplexed at his friend, sipping his coffee.

"You're pulling my leg"

"No"

"Then what about that milky, triple caramel, birthday cake, frappe latte, with extra whipped cream you are drinking?" Killer asked, gesturing to the sugary concoction sitting on the table in front of him. His companion gave Killer the impression of a child being caught sneaking out of bed and staring at his cup.

"Uh…. Cheat day.." he stated, defensively grabbing his drink away from Killer.

The eyeless skeleton burst into a low chuckle, placing his cup down.

"righttttt"

"a vegetarian then! Just no more meat"

"because you're scared of-

"I'M NOT SCARED OF COWS!"

Killer laughed again, poking his tongue out.

It really had been too long since they had sat down like this, but things.... had been busy in Killer's life. Things were hard to keep on top of these days. Lines to learn, boyfriends to tolerate, hickeys to hide. It was stressful.

His duel coloured companion huffed from the other side of the table and proceeded to sip from his drink.

"Why does everyone keep saying that anyway..."

"Maybe because of a certain viral video on YouTube.." Killer replied, trying to suppress a laugh remembering it.

"You have to admit, it was hilarious"

Cross, however, straightened up, his fists clenched.

"That cow was a demon....a beast..."

He shuddered.

"It had murder in its eyes...I swear!"

His companion couldn't suppress his laughter any longer.

"Sureee whatever helps you sleep at night Criss Cross"

He was rewarded with a glare sharp as a sword.

"Shut ittt!"

It wasn't long before their friendship fell back into its normal place. Teasing, laughing and joking... talking about how things had been in recent weeks. Nothing out of the ordinary...until.

*ping*

Killer’s phone.

The dark-eyed skeleton only glanced at it this first time. He sipped his coffee.

*ping*

Hmm...

Again he ignored it and turned his attention back to the bi-eyed skeleton.

"I still don't know about this whole vegan thing...you sure your boyfriend isn't trying to change you?"

"No no...I just want to try something new," Cross replied, sipping his drink again. As he tasted the sweet milky liquid again, he considered that maybe being a Vegetarian would be easier.

"In the end and it’s my choice, not yours"

*ping*

Cross noticed it this time.

Hmm? That's strange. Probably just Nightmare, it was nice to see in a way, the two of them being in a relationship after so long. The texts, all the late nights and love marks on Killer that Cross acted like he didn't see. It was nice...really nice...

"Fair point... you wanna be healthy and strong for Lil light don't you?"

"Oh shut-

"...."

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to be attractive to my man"

Killer laughed and picked up his coffee again.

"Of course not!" He said chuckling as Cross, flushed face "I'm just messing...bet Lil Light loves seeing you drenched in sweat after a workout though~"

"Killer!"

"...you always have to twist it, nothing can be innocent with you can it?"

Killer simply shrugged and shook his head.

*ping*

Killer's face stayed neutral, Cross raised an eyebrow.

The eyeless skeleton was pretty sure who was texting him now. They had a habit of sending short and quick texts, whereas Nightmare normally texted in full paragraphs. How dangerous....the desire to check what his sneaky companion was after made him purr. It was so baddd...and for that reason...kind of fun.

But also, he liked this guy. He was funny and...Well, he was attractive...

Not to mention he didn't want anything other than Killer's body, a quick romp and goodbye. No pointless talking, no spooning which overheated your bones, no stupid feelings...

*ping*

He smiled and picked up his phone.

"You don't mind if I answer this do you?"

Cross smirked at his companion.

"Aww, can't wait to get back to texting your beloved Moonpie?"

"How cute"

"....."

His smile dropped fast.

"Yeah...something like that"

His fingers tapped a tune onto the sides of his mobile, before typing out a response. Cross tilted his head in a dog-like fashion.

"You alright mate?"

'No not really’ he thought to himself.

'I'm lying to you'

"Yep...fine..."

Cross played with his straw.

"Well it's nice to see you so eager to text"

"Yeah...sorry I'm still getting used to the relationship life," Killer said, clicking his phone to standby.

"It's fine, I'm happy for you, you know"

"Glad you finally met someone you like"

"....You took your sweet time searching around..." he said with an implied laugh in his voice.

"......"

A flicker of anxiety flew through Killer’s chest. The guilt curled and suddenly wrenched a small amount.

"Sure did..."

"I just never thought I'd be happy in a relationship..."

There was a kind of weight in his chest now, he'd always been open and honest with Cross during their whole friendship, and now the lies were spilling out of him like water.

"Sometimes I miss the old days...heh...it was a lot less work"

The old days, back when it was so much easier. Back when he and Cross would stay up late watching bad romcoms and then mess around on the sofa for a while. It wasn't so much his physical relationship with Cross that he missed, such thoughts and fantasies were something he'd moved on from, but it was more the emotional side.

Cross was very different back then, a lot more laid back and less judgy of the sleep around lifestyle. The two of them had been able to tell the other anything, there wasn't much room for privacy with FWB roommates...

But now he was hiding his lover from his best friend.

Stiffness in the air was clear now. An awkward film was covering the both of them now, and the two said nothing. Cross could see something was bothering Killer... he didn't want to pry too much, so some gentle prodding might help Killer talk on his own.

"..."

"Oh...Well, you seem happy now, even if I took a little.."

Or maybe not... Killer had been smiling when his phone went off. Maybe Cross was overthinking things. Killer glanced at him.

"Does it show?"

A smirk formed across his face. "You could say I found a way to....spice things up~"

He inwardly purred, thinking about all the bad things he could do later.

Cross on the other hand recoiled slightly and waved his hand. "Please spare me the details, I'm dating his brother.."

Another phone notification pulled the blank-eyed skeleton out of reality, and back into the web of lies. Despite answering the message, he hardly paid attention to it.

"......."

"Cross...I need to tell ya something..."

"Hmm?"

Cross raised a non-existent eyebrow from across the table and sipped his drink again. Ok, this was new, but mostly expected. As he'd noted before Killer wouldn't talk if you tried to press him into talking. However knowing Killer, Cross chose to clarify:

"It's PG right?"

Killer smirked. It was pretty understandable that Cross would wanna clarify, based on his track history.

"Yes Crisscross, don't worry it's PG"

"......."

His fingers dexterously twisted his phone. For a moment he hesitated. Was he really going to tell Cross this? Surely the more people know the more likely that he would get caught. But now there was something, a strong compulsion to lay his sins bare here.

"Cross....I've met someone..."

"....."

It was almost laughable how quickly his friend's face turned confused. A perplexed tilt of the head reminded Killer of the dogs Cross loved so dearly.

"Met someone....what do you mean?"

"Someone new!" Killer answered with a smile.

"Been talking to him for a while now"

Cross still looked confused.

"......"

"You've....made a new friend?"

Oh, classic Cross, just as naïve as ever. Despite having a long friendship with Killer, he really believed what he was trying to say was innocent.

"Heh...oh yeahhh"

"He's become a very good friend"

"You could say we've really.....bonded.."

Silence.

The taller skeleton gripped his cup tight, and did nothing but stare at it. He gave his friend no acknowledgement, just muttered:

"Killer...what are you saying?"

A chuckle fell out of Killer, as he drew his phone to his chest and tapped his fingers against it.

"Oh you know...he's been great Crisscross"

"Doesn't have a stick up his ass like Night does, so much more chill and doesn't nag me"

"He has a different kind of stick up there if you know what I mean"

A laugh is what he'd expected from that comment. A chuckle at least. But no, all he got was a silent stare.

"....."

"Awe c'mon you aren't gonna give me anything?"

"That was a good one".

Still nothing.

And then.

"You're kidding me right."

What?

Cross' look of confusion had shifted into something that appeared to be anger, frustration. But surely it couldn't be?

"Huh?"

"You. Are. Kidding."

"Right?"

"....."

"Oh don't be such a tight ass CrissCross, I've made it work so far"

Cross' knuckles tensed on the table.

"Killer..."

"Are you cheating on Nightmare..?"

Cheating...

Cheating.

That word made Killer recoil into himself slightly. Cheating was such a nasty word... made him feel guilty, like how he was feeling was wrong. He wasn't really doing anything wrong...really...

"....."

"As I said, it's fine... just a new friend-

*bang*

Cross slammed his hand down on the table, causing both drinks to shake.

"ARE YOU CHEATING ON HIM, KILLER!?"

"Yes. Or no."

"....."

The dark-eyed skeleton would be ashamed to admit how much that had made his soul thump. Cross was so quiet most days, calm and collected, especially in his partner's presence, that Killer had long forgotten what it was like to see genuine anger flash across those purple eyes.

"..."

He stared at his lap, like a child in the head teacher's office.

"Yes..."

"......"

He looked up again. "But keep your voice down.... people are looking "

His friend rapidly tapped his fingers on the table, most likely an anger management technique. Killer sighed.

"What Night doesn't know won't hurt him.... anyway it's probably better for us in the long run."

"How?" Cross asked.

"Surely you aren't stupid enough to think that."

Killer sagged his shoulders. "Night was suffocating me! This guy takes all the pressure off!"

"I feel like my old self again!"

"Oh...so you feel like a lonely playboy again? Good for you"

Cross hadn't looked up, he just watched his fingers.

*tap tap tap*

It was rattling Killer's skull.

"I'm not lonely. I'm finally happy again.."

"Oh yeah...so long as you’re happy it doesn't matter who you hurt.."

Ok, that wasn't fair...the phone in his hand pinged again. Of all people, he was sure his brother would understand...right?

"Cross you are meant to be on my side here..."

"I'm always on your side!!" The bi-coloured skeleton snapped, finally making eye contact again, "I'm always sticking up for you!"

"All I want is the best for you! You just never seem to see that".

Cross grumbled and ran his hand across his face.

"What am I gonna tell Sunshine...." he muttered.

"....."

It hurt...Cross just didn’t understand! It wasn't like that... It wasn't his fault.

"Nightmare pushed me to it!"

"I'm doing him a favour by sneaking around! He's impossible to put up with otherwise!"

"Killer..."

Cross' eyes were narrowed.

"Did you think about what it would do to him when your boyfriend finds out?"

"Well it won't find out will he?!" Killer hissed across the table, his eyes darkened with pent up frustration.

"Unless...... you're gonna snitch on me?"

....

Cross didn't answer him.

Killer shook his head in disbelief.

"Some friend."

Cross grit his teeth.

"Killer!! Do you have any idea what kind of a bad situation this puts me in?"

"Do you not care about Nightmare at all?"

A genuine look of hurt fell across his face, and worry set in around his eyes.

"Do you not care about me? Or the fact I'm dating your boyfriend's brother? Who, by the way, wanted to tell Night to stay away from you."

"But I stuck my neck out for you! I convinced him to tell Nightmare to confess his feelings! Because I thought you actually cared for him."

"....."

He locked his eyes back on his coffee cup.

"Guess I was wrong huh?"

Ok...that was slightly infuriating.

Those words made it pretty clear that Cross didn't care about Killer’s relationship with Nightmare. He simply only cared what his little golden angel would think of him. Dream had changed Cross... got him thinking that everyone needed a relationship like he had, that he knew better. Killer didn't need this! He didn't want Cross to medal.

"Well, I never asked you to stick up for me! And I never told you to say that to Dream! I never told you a relationship with him was something I wanted. You assumed!"

Killer downed his coffee in a single swig.

"And you don't care what happens to me, all you care about is what you're little Sunspot thinks."

Cross got to his feet, standing over Killer.

"Don't talk about him like that!! He just wants the best for his brother! As I do."

"I was trying to help you!"

"All I've been trying to do is get you out of this toxic cycle you've trapped yourself in"

"Because I care about you, Killer! I know you aren't happy..."

"....."

Killer put his coffee cup back on its plate and let out a long frustrated sigh. After collecting a few pounds in change and tossing them on the table for tips, he got to his feet.

"Wellll.. this has been fun...but I have a date with my lover, so bye."

He slipped his jacket off the back of his chair, as Cross continued to give him a look of pure judgement.

"You are so selfish.....and an idiot...you know that?"

Killer glared.

"You don't know what's been going on, Cross."

"You have no idea how shitty Night has treated me, so don't act as you understand-

-Then why not leave?" Cross asked, cutting in "if you hate Nightmare so much, then why not leave him? Why keep stringing him along hmm?"

Killer didn't answer, he just pulled his jacket on.

"And on that note, why do you keep pulling him back to you? He had wanted to move on, he had a girlfriend"

"Why go over and get him to sleep with you?"

Killer still said nothing and grabbed his phone off the table.

"Why can't you just leave him alone!?" Cross asked, "Why keep dragging yourselves back into a confusing dysfunctional relationship?! Why can't you just let him go!?"

"SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU KEEP BUTTING INTO MY LIFE!?"

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST ADMIT YOU LOVE HIM!?"

...

Love...him?

The words hang in the air thickly, sticking, lodged like a nail in the wall. Something so simple, but so out of place, something no one could ignore once they saw it.

For one skeleton, he was slightly mad at himself for letting that question slip out, knowing that the anger had pulled it out of him. For the other, his throat was dry and blocked by an unknown item, like he'd swallowed one of his cat's hairballs.

Then all of a sudden, it was gone.

The shock was slowly running its course and running off him like shower water. If he'd not been so angry, it might have found it amusing. Such a notion was completely ridiculous.

"I don't catch feelings."

"Killer..."

"And I don't need to explain myself to you, you're not my real brother."

His tone was flat and factual, with no emotion reading from his voice.

The anger in his system clouded his senses just enough that he couldn't feel the gravity of what he'd said just yet.

At this point, his skull was swimming with so many different frustrated thoughts and conflicted feelings, that he just couldn't care anymore. He stuffed his phone in his pocket, as Cross sat back down at the table. He didn't even pay attention to the hurt in his friend's face.

All he wanted was to meet his 'friend' and blow off steam.

No...

That's what he needed.

And he wasn't selfish in fulfilling a need.

Cross swallowed his inner pain and steadied his tone.

"I guess I was stupid to think you'd even acknowledge your own feelings..."

Killer didn't reply and started walking out.

"...."

"You're going to end up alone Killer...."

"And when that happens you'll have no one to blame but yourself..."

The playboy paused at the door of the coffee shop for a moment. Still as a statue. For a moment Cross thought he was gonna say something back.

But then he simply left without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day passed…

And then…

When Nightmare had heard a knock on the door, he'd been confused, to say the least. A warm swirl of hope curled through his soul, thinking it could be Killer.

But he shouldn’t have been surprised when it turned out not to be him.

He opened the door, a half-drunk glass of wine in one hand, and a slightly scuffed up physical appearance.

It was Dream.

"Oh..."

"It's you.."

"...Hey....."

The last person he wanted to lay eyes on right now.

How could he face them at the moment, when his own relationship was at a breaking point. How could he look him in the eye, knowing that he and Cross were so much better?

He didn't want to take it out on Dream. He was too tired to repair yet another broken relationship, and right now he didn't trust his own mouth.

"Dream-

But before he could say another word Dream tackled him with a hug. After so many years, you'd think that Nightmare would have learnt to expect Dream to greet him this way, but clearly not.

He inwardly groaned as his wine split all over his arm.

"...."

"Nighty!!!" Dream said, pulling back and smiling.

"It's been way too long brother!"

Nightmare gave him a look as dry as his tone.

"You made me spill my wine..."

He rolled his eyes and drained what was left in the glass. He didn't seem to even notice the growing red stain on his shirt. Dream stared at it, waiting for Night to react to it. But he didn't, he didn't seem to care.

"I'm uh...sorry I'm a bit out of it right now.."

"Perdóname, no he dormido bien......"

Oh brother...

Dream couldn't read his mind, but he could see Night wasn't OK right now. Was it possible that Nightmare was already aware of what Dream had come to tell him?

"Oh...that's quite alright Nighty.."

"Is Killer around?"

His twin visibly flinched.

"...."

"I haven't seen him since Tuesday..."

Ok...maybe Nightmare didn't know yet... Dream was not looking forward to this conversation, but it wouldn’t be right to keep such info to themselves. When Cross had told them...Dream couldn't remember the last time they'd felt so angry.

Deep down, he felt like he shouldn't have been surprised, his opinion of Killer had never been a good one.

Killer was like some kind of parasite to Nightmare, he'd latched and sucked his bones dry with all the empty promises and drawn out heartbreak.

Round and round for years. Back and forth like a dance which neither seemed able to escape from. Every time Nightmare seemed to get the message that Killer was a no-good heartbreaker, every time he tried to move on, Killer pulled him right back to bed.

At first, it was harmless...but they weren't getting any younger.

Dream had been set on being a bit firmer with their brother. After the playboy had gotten Nightmare to cheat on his girlfriend and then left him, Dream had really started to feel like it was enough. He'd told Cross that he was going to talk to Nighty, and give him the push to dump Killer for good.

"Mi Amor...I wouldn’t...isn't Night in love with him?"

"So?... That's all the more reason why.."

"Sunshine...I think it would be better to convince him to tell Killer how he feels"

"I know Killer...he loves him...I know he does"

Cross...

Dream took a deep breath, this wasn't about him...

One problem at a time.

"Ohhh, I take it Killer has been busy recently?"

He stepped past Nightmare into his flat.

"Perfect! We can talk without worrying about being interrupted!"

His brother sighed. "Yeah...I suppose so.."

Dream smiled, but then his face switched to being more serious

"I wanted to talk to you about something important"

"Something Cross said..."

Nightmare sighed and found himself rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, wanna tell me about your perfect boyfriend?"

"How's he doing?"

His brother's eye twitched for a second, and a large stretched-out smile was suddenly across his face. It looked almost painful to keep up.

"Yeah...greattt" they said, failing to keep their voice chipper "he's great"

Nightmare blinked and felt confusion rush him. That was strange, had something happened?

"Is everything OK with you two?"

"Yep," they replied, a little too quickly.

"Dream?"

"It's fine Nighty....we aren't here to talk about me"

"....."

The plastic smile was still unmoving, but his eyes showed something deeper behind them, something he didn't want to talk to Nightmare about. Night was torn for a moment, between pressing the issue, and not. But in the end, he concluded that the drama with Killer had been draining him too much to get involved in his brother's problems.

"Alright...if you're sure."

"I am"

"It certainly has been a while since we last talked Nighty!" Dream smiled for real again, as the subject was changed.

"How have you been? Got any new scripts to revise?"

"No, not really, I've mostly been focused on Killer" Night responded.

"Oh...that's good..."

"...."

"How are things going with him?"

"....."

Well, they weren't good in the slightest. But did he really want to tell him that? For years and years he'd watch his brother. Always showing up to an event with a man on his arm, smiling and laughing. For years he'd been watching his brother's long term relationship grow and move on, while he just stayed alone. And after all the trouble he'd been through getting into a true relationship of his own, it was failing spectacularly.

He couldn't bear to admit it to Dream.

"Oh...it's great yeah"

"Lots of dates, lots of sleepovers..."

"...."

"Yeah...Good..."

Nightmare was a good actor. He had to be to make what was currently a successful career out of it.

But Dream was his twin brother and they were an empath. They could read him like a book.

"Night...."

"Are you sure? You said you haven't seen him-

"Working." His twin interjected, "he's working with a new script so...he's been away for a bit"

His brother's golden eyes were piercing him like sunlight. He couldn't look directly at him.

"It's fine"

He didn't believe him at all, and Nightmare could tell.

"We had a small argument...but it's fine."

His brother went to say something, but Night quickly cut in with. “Dream you had something you wanted to talk to me about… something Cross said?"

"Let me guess...he's asked ya to marry him?"

Oh, that would really just be the icing on the cake wouldn't it?

"¡TRANQUILO! I don't wanna talk about him!"

"This isn’t about us!"

Silence.

It had been a long time since his twin had been tightly wound enough to snap at him. All Nightmare could do really was stare at him.

Dream looked to the floor bashfully.

"lo siento solo....."

They sighed deeply.

"I want to talk to you about something he said about Killer. Alright?"

Oh...

Sometimes he forgot how close friends Cross and Killer were. It felt like a movie plot that his boyfriend's best friend just happened to date his brother. But it was a small world sometimes…

If he was going to factor a guess, he'd say that Killer had been complaining about him again, and he'd said something offensive that Dream didn't approve of.

"Are you here to tell me he is insulting me behind my back? Because we insult each other to the other's face plenty..."

The words weren't outside his mouth for a second before he realised how bad that sounded without context.

"Uh, I mean..."

"We banter and joke with each other, so it's probably just that"

"Brother..."

Talking to his brother wasn't making him feel better in the slightest. Nightmare just wanted to read a good book with a glass of white or red, free from all this mellow drama. But he also wanted to be held by Killer again. The way he always did when they slept together.

It was just...

"Dream...things are fine, I'm sure whatever it isn't a big deal"

Dream shook his head.

"Hermano... por favor escucha..."

Nightmare sighed "fine, you aren't going to drop it...what is it?"

His brother looked stuck for a second, and moved his mouth open and shut like a fish, trying to find the words.

Surely it wasn't something that was that hard to say.

"Well spit it out then"

"Um"

“Dream… estás jugando conmigo? Seriously messing around with me??"

"Because I'm really not in the mood for it"

His twin sighed.

"Night...Lo Siento, I hate to be the one who has to tell you this."

"But Killer is cheating on you".

"......"

It was strange to say that all he felt was numb.

Odd how at times of great pain, like a broken leg, or a red hot poker, you feel nothing at first. It's the shock of it, mixed with the adrenaline, which created the ideal pain relief- even if only temporary.

"......."

It was uncertain how long he stood there absorbing the blow, as his brother anxiously awaited a response.

It was still. Silent. Cold and numb. A still pressure coming in from all sides until…

He took a breath and felt relief.

It was like he'd come to the surface after a month underwater. It was a huge weight off the non-existent lungs.

"Oh!"

He took a few deep breaths and doubled over.

"He....he..."

He'd known it...he'd known he would! It had been so obvious, it was strangely relieving. He straightened up and took another breath.

Cheating...

And then it hit him.

What that really meant.

Killer was seeing someone else...

No..no.... no

No, he couldn't.

He...

"No..."

Dream sighed and shifted his feet.

"I'm sorry brother...I really am.."

No...he couldn't do this, it wasn't real.

"But I'm here for you.."

Killer wouldn't! He couldn’t! Dream just...

"......."

Dream...

His eyes locked on his brother. His perfect little twin. His brother was here to tell him that his relationship, the one that had taken years of struggle to come together, was going to end like this? Most disrespectfully and cheaply.

"I...I can't believe it..."

No...no...he refused.

"I can't believe you'd spit this crap!"

The golden-eyed skeleton practically jumped back.

They'd been expecting tears, They'd been expecting anger. But even in that case...he hadn't expected anger directed at him.

"What..."

Nightmare’s expression was shifting all over the place. Confusion, anger, frustration.

His twin narrowed his eyes.

"You really expect me to believe that Dream?"

"Killer is really stupid enough to tell the guy dating my brother he's cheating??"

"Best friend or not...you really expect me to believe that?"

His voice was still, but his eyes told a different story. They were wider and running around trying to make sense of things.

Dream took a breath. Night was clearly just dealing with a lot at the moment...

"You really think I'd make this up?"

"....."

"Yes. I don't believe you"

That hurt...

"...Brother...."

The purple-eyed skeleton avoided all eye contact. The situation was making his twin feel like crap. After all the years they had been back in contact. All the movies and shows they'd been in. Every single time Night had blamed and criticised him for stealing the spotlight and over-shadowing him on purpose.

"......."

"Are you...kidding me.."

Dream didn't want to get angry, that wouldn't help. But the frustration hissed and spat as his brother walked over to the table, and refilled his wine glass.

"Night..."

His brother ignored him and loudly sipped his wine.

"Fine. Why believe your brother who loves you very much, when you can stay with a playboy who has run you around for years."

"Dream." Nightmare said, before draining his glass and setting it down, "My boyfriend is my business....you just don't like that you aren't the only one now".

The golden twin shook his head slowly.

"No creo esto..."

"You're in denial! I'm trying to help you"

"Rubbish!" Night snapped, his eyes flaring with a vibrant purple, mouth pressed into a small grimace.

Despite the rough shape Nightmare was in, he embodied an aura of superiority around himself, something that made Dream often feel like a small annoyance. On occasion, Dream struggled to see if Night left his character on stage. It brought back rough memories of when Night had discovered Dream's old 'modelling' career...

But now wasn't the time to think about that.

Dream took a step towards his twin.

His brother was a cold and closed off man, but Dream wanted to help him more than anything. They were the only family the other had.

"Nightmare please...you aren't in a good way..."

"I just want to help-

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!"

The rise in volume caused Dream to flinch. Looking down, he sighed.

"....."

"Dream...you..... you should go...."

"But-

The look in Night's eyes told him not to bother. Nightmare wanted him to leave... and he didn't have the energy to try and argue with him anymore.

"Alright....."

Dream walked himself back over to the doorway.

Nightmare followed and took hold of the door. They stood in silence for a moment. The purple-eyed one was still as a stone pillar, one thousand thoughts swimming through his mind. His figures gripped the wood of the door harshly. He was a dam of emotion. All blocked behind a still face. A desire to let it leak floated across the surface....but.. he couldn’t.

"Oh brother it's alright...it's just not meant to be.."

"You'll find someone else!"

"You'll be happy just like me and Crossy!"

He could hear his brother saying...

It made him feel sick...

"....."

"I appreciate you coming over..... but I'm fine ok?"

Dream reflected Night's frown with a soft smile.

"I know brother....."

"But...I'm here for you...ok?"

"......"

"Mhm..."

And with that, he shut the door.

.....

Dream stood face to face with the door for slightly too long... feeling strangely rejected.

"...."

It wasn't long into walking away, that Dream heard a shout and the sound of the coffee table being kicked over.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

.....

......

“Killer, I need to talk to you, come over now.”

“Kinda busy rn babe”

“Killer, I do not care. Come here now please.”

“Fineeee whatever :-P”

....

Killer left him waiting.

Night knew he shouldn't have expected more, it's not like his boyfriend was considerate in the slightest.

Cheating...

He shouldn't have yelled at Dream like that, but reality had slapped him in the face hard. He wasn't able to contain the influx of emotion. Feeling like an idiot, he'd just lashed out.

But Dream didn't matter now.

All that mattered was Killer...

~~~~~~~~~

As he heard the front door open and shut, Nightmare took a breath. He chugged the wine in the glass he was holding and placed it on the countertop. After wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he made his way into the living room.

"Finally! We need to talk!"

At first, Nightmare entered the room with anger behind his stride, emotionally volatile thrashing behind him like tentacles. He wanted nothing more than to give this man in front of him hell for everything he'd been doing.

But...when Killer came into view...

Nightmare felt strangely still.

In a second Nightmare's feelings were scrambled. Like a record scratch on his emotions, the second Killer was visible to him. His boyfriend...his first boyfriend.

The object of his affection and fantasies for years....was slipping through his boney hands quickly like grains of sand, leaving him stuck in quicksand. Frozen, and sinking.

"Killer..."

Killer inwardly groaned, upon hearing Night's scathing tone when he entered. So he was in a mood again...of course.

When was Nightmare not upset with him about something? It was the very base of their relationship, dating all the way back to their first meeting... Their first hook up… Back then, he'd enjoyed Night's snippy and feisty behaviour, and to an extent, he still did. It was fun to have someone to challenge. Someone to tease and play with.

But when it was like this… When it was just him always complaining about small and insignificant...

It grated on him.

"Seriously that's why you brought me here? to yell at me?"

He folded his arms. "What have I done now?"

"......"

Before that moment, Nightmare had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted to say.

But his mind was blank.

"...I...."

"You...."

"...."

"You know!"

"....."

He sounded like an actor who forgot all their lines, looking to the side hoping for someone to prompt them. He never had a hard time remembering what to say...

In response, he got a raised eyebrow and a very blunt. "What... I know what?"

It just wasn't worth it was it...

For the last month, he'd been trying...and he'd been yelling.

Nightmare spent so much of his time giving himself emotional distress....it was truly draining.

"I...."

"....."

"Why didn't you just break up with me Killer?"

He hated the defeat in his own voice but could be bothered to mask it.

What?...

Killer hadn't been expecting that. It was such a shock actually, that it caused his defensive front to waver slightly… It was when his irritation at being called here to get scolded dissipated, that he fully took in his smaller boyfriend.

Nightmare looked...awful...

His lover was a person who always prided himself in appearance. He would always make sure his shirt was ironed and his shoes were scuff free.

On basic days he'd slip into a hoodie with a smart jacket over, but still, everything was kept clean and neat.

But now?

He looked exhausted and done. His clothes looked a bit messy and peppered with wine stains.

How long had he been like this?

"What?! What are you talking about..."

"I don't understand....why would you say that..."

His boyfriend straightened himself up a little and tried to keep his voice clear.

"If you are planning to break up with me....just do it.."

"I'm just sick of this..."

But despite that, his shoulders slumped again and his eyes locked on Killer’s feet.

"We don't go on dates....we don't sleep together..."

"You hardly speak to me..."

Their relationship was a joke, a shamble, but after so long of stubbornly telling himself that it was fine, Nightmare was taking a look at the mess behind him, and hurt...

"You don't even call me Moonpie..."

That shouldn't have been the thing that made him want to cry, it was the most stupid. It was just the memory that hit him. All the times Killer had gently held him to his chest...or kissed his hand. The soft gentle Killer...

The one Nightmare had pushed away...

He'd screw it up...

And now Killer was apparently done enough with him to want someone else....and supposedly already found them.

"I...."

Killer felt stumped... since when did his Nightlight act this way?

Nightmare was always so brash and strong-willed, spiteful and ready to fight, determined to have the last say and passionate when he felt he was being wronged.

But it was like someone had pressed him, like apples to juice, all the fight was gone...and he was just a shell of his former self.

"You..."

"You're overthinking things....I've just been busy..."

Busy...

He'd been busy being a two-timer.

He'd been cheating...

"....."

It was almost as if that train of thought was a button which opened the floodgates.

The guilt.

It hit him with the force of a baseball hat to the head. It had been a month of nothing more than petty and spiteful sex with a stranger. Short unbothered texts and calls he'd ignored.

Nightmare had been a complete nag and control freak… But why had Killer wanted to hurt him so badly....? Killer didn't want to hurt him so badly!!

Nightmare felt tears forming in his sockets which he tried to will away.

"I've been trying!!! I know I was crappy! But I wanted to try!"

"I'm sorry-

The tears threatened to fall. "C-can't I do anything to bring you back??!"

Killer's hands took his hands and held them gently.

"Moonpie....I.. "

"I didn't realise you..."

Nightmare’s response was just a shake of the head.

Nightmare would hate himself tomorrow. Nightmare hated himself now. He would have slapped himself if he could, but instead, he felt like crying, his voice cracking, as he couldn't get words out. At that moment, he didn't care anymore. Was he crappy to Killer? Was Killer crappy to him? Was he cheating?

It didn't matter.

His relationship was crumbling and shattering down in a spectacular disaster. Years of hopes and dreams and hook-ups and broken promises...all a mess at his feet. Was he never allowed to be happy? Had he been cursed from birth to live in a bubble of negative feelings for his whole life.

He couldn't take it anymore...

"I..."

"I was just so scared to lose you!!"

"¡¡No quería que te aburrirás de mí!!"

Killer felt almost awestruck.

Nightmare was basically coming to pieces in front of him, layers and layers of masks slipping down to reveal something raw and bleeding.

Guilt stabbed him straight through the chest and lodged itself. It was almost like he was looking at Nightmare with clear eyes for the first time in weeks.

Before him was someone venerable, someone hurting, someone he cared about. He cared about a lot.

What had he done...

How could he have been so selfish....he had to stop this all! How could he?

"P-por favor... quédate c-conmigo esta noche!" Nightmare begged, pulling Killer by the shirt into a desperate, yet anxious kiss.

Oh...no.

Killer felt like the worst person alive at that very moment. He felt like he deserved nothing more than to be hated by everyone. Yes, Nightmare had really hurt him in the previous months, but he hadn't deserved to be treated this way.

He slowly closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Night, to draw him closer.

He was such a piece of crap...

Killer had never been that good with words when they were to do with feelings. He knew that about himself, but he knew he needed to comfort Moonpie at that moment...show him affection...softness.

So, Killer opted for the easiest way he knew how.

His hands gently slipped their way under Moonlight's shirt, as the kiss became even more desperate, and he directed his boyfriend to his bedroom.

It was scummy of him to start such a thing, especially when Nightmare was so emotionally damaged.

But he didn't know how to say what he wanted to... and with Nightmare nodding to him as Killer gently lay him against the sheets...he kissed away the tears....he just took him

Nightmare melted under him that night. The warm gentle feeling of Killer filled a deep need in his soul and brought comfort in many ways. It was soft, and close to his heart, and felt like the first time at that moment.

It had been a long time.

Killer felt strange the whole time. The enjoyment wasn't as strong as he normally felt it, as sadness ached through his bones with each movement. It had been so long...he almost didn't recognise Night, as he sighed below him. It had been good, but it had felt wrong and fake. As if he were tricking Moonpie with a lie. A false promise that he wasn't going to hurt him anymore.

"......"

As they lay together afterwards, Nightmare fell asleep quickly, his head resting against Killer's chest. The sound of his soul, soothing him.

Killer, however, stared at the wall behind Nightmare. With his hand gently stroking Nightlight's back, he became lost in deep and regretful thought. He'd screwed up.

Their relationship had hit a bump, it had become rocky, and Nightmare had hurt him. But...he knew now where his soul lay, he knew where he wanted to be. The feelings of being trapped were no excuse for such a horrible thing.

"......"

He kissed Night's skull.

He could never tell him. From here, he'd try and do better...

Sleep didn't come easy...

It must have been hours before Killer was finally able to drift off.

As such it was no surprise when a few texts pinging on his phone the next morning didn't end his sleep…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They slept late into the morning. The sun was almost halfway across the sky before they awoke.

Nightmare was the one who woke up first. The second he saw the face of Killer he felt shame ripple through his bones.

It felt just like the first morning...it was so similar.

Waking up face to face with the playboy after sleeping together for the first time...it had been...Well, it had been strange.

Now it felt so silly, but that one beautiful night had been the cause of all of this, the craving, the shame, the need.

Just the memory of how Killer had looked above him that night sent shivers down his spine, and warmth across his cheeks.

It had only been a one-time thing back then...now look at him.

Pathetic.

"Killer...."

The purple skeleton shifted closer and rested his head against Killer's chest again.

Killer didn't want to wake up. It had taken so long for sleep to claim him, that when he felt himself waking up it was slightly frustrating. He didn't open his eyes, at first he felt like he couldn't.

Quickly, he became aware of the movement to the left of him and a low murmuring, indicating that his companion was awake. He could feel Nightmare’s body pulling on the sheets as he moved, and the strong warmth his bones gave off being close. His head rested on Killer's chest again.

"....."

With a low groan of sleepiness, Killer moved his arm to loosely wrap around the purple-eyed skeleton, and rest against his ribs.

"Hmm..."

Night kept his eyes closed, and sighed in turn. He shifted himself to snake his hands around Killer’s body, and rest them on his hips.

Close.

Saying nothing, Killer mirrored him, and placed his hand on the small of Night's back and the other on his arm, pulling him to him slightly.

"....Morning Moonpie..."

It was a while that they stayed like that. Nightmare didn't respond to Killer or move at all, he just kept his eye sockets softly closed, and fingers slowly running across the surface of Killer's hips. He felt how Killer did the same with the grooves on his lower spine, and across the top of his arm.

There was no carnality behind this, no hidden intention. It was something kind of alien to them both, just to hold the other. It felt like a long time since it had been so soft...

"......"

"....Good morning Killer...."

"......"

With his eyes still shut, Killer kissed Night's skull and continued to rub his arm.

"How are you feeling..."

Nightmare yawned.

"Mierda...."

"Like crap...."

"How about you?"

If Killer hadn't been so exhausted, he would have laughed.

"....yeahhh same..."

He finally managed to force his heavy eyes open again and give Nightmare a light squeeze.

"But...do you feel a little bit better than yesterday?"

Oh...yesterday.

Why did Killer have to remind him about that, when he'd been reduced to a crying mess? It was embarrassing.

But....he couldn’t deny that last night had improved his mood, even if only slightly.

He stretched and pushed back, out of Killer's embrace a little. Till it was at a point where he could look him in the eyes again.

"Maybe..."

"....."

"Last night was...Nice..."

Now Killer wasn’t gonna deny that.

Even if he'd felt awfully conflicted and full of self hate the whole time, he couldn't deny that it felt good to just be with Moonlight again...

Just looking at him after waking up? He found himself smiling lightly.

"Yeah, it was..."

"It's always good with you.."

Nightlight offered a rare half-smile in return, but he didn't hold eye contact long. He gently placed his hand against Killer's chest and ran his thumb against it absent-mindedly.

".....yeah..."

Killer sighed. "I..."

"I'm going to try harder...and try to be better..."

Nightmare met his eyes again. "Killer I was awful to you..."

In response, Killer sighed deeply.

“Either way…. I shouldn’t have treated you like that…I was being overly defensive"

That was putting it lightly. He'd not just been defensive, he'd been downright disgusting.

“Let’s just.. forget that happened yeah? And move on..?"

Yeah...forget it all. He wasn't going to tell Nightmare what he did, he was just going to let his lover slip among the memories of the countless others he'd been with in the past. He was going to let go.

"........"

Nightmare stared at him. "You want to forget it all?"

With a yawn, Killer nodded and pulled Nightmare closer again.

“Yeah…."

“As in… I won’t bring up the things that you did that upset me....and you could do the same…"

"We just let it go and move on..."

“……."

“If you want that is…?"

What did Nightmare want?

Yesterday he'd wanted nothing more than to scream and curse at the playboy. But then...like many times before, he'd let Killer take him to bed, but had this been a one last night kind of deal? Despite sleeping with him, had Night still been planning to yell at him? He couldn't really remember now...

And......as he lay with him now, feeling Killer’s hands resting on him gently and hearing the softness in his voice, it was starting to feel like a beautiful dream again.

"...."

"Start fresh.."

"Forget it all"

"Yeah…"

Killer couldn't help but smile a bit, knowing that things didn't have to be brought up now and that he and Nightmare could forget it all.

What Night didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

“……. "

“Yeah… a fresh start....you and me.."

He leant over and kissed Nightlight's forehead once again.

“I’ll be better…. And as a way to start fresh…"

“How about I take you out for brunch?"

Nightmare sighed.

With his busy life, breakfast often felt like a novelty, rather than a daily meal. But if there was one thing that Killer often insisted on after a heated night, was that Nightmare ate breakfast.

Even now he could still fondly remember Killer making pancakes for him, and getting the thin thing stuck in the pan.

"That might be nice..."

"So long as it's not burger king"

Ah there they go again...Nightmare being a picky eater. Killer chuckled this time, he was happy to hear it.

“Fiiine just for you Nightlight"

“But I might stop there on the way back to my flat"

He'd pecked his mouth. “But you should probably shower first...."

Oh no no...Nightmare wanted a better kiss than that.

Nightmare rested his hand on Killer's cheek and lightly rubbed his thumb against it, before pulling him in for a proper kiss.

But his heart stung, this morning felt way too nice to him. Killer was being way too soft. He felt uneasy as if the floor was going to collapse at any moment.

He pulled back from the kiss and didn't break eye contact.

"Me vas a romper el corazón Ojos bonitos..."

“…………."

Killer sighed a little and cupped Night's face

“………"

Softly he said “As beautiful as you sound speaking it… You know I don’t understand Spanish…"

"Maybe that's the point..." Nightmare replied with a sigh.

Night’s face was hard to read now, just a second before he'd been so much more positive, but now? Something was shadowing his eyes.

"...."

"If you wanna go shower, I'll hang out here...alright "

Night nodded, and with a bit of difficulty, finally broke the magical embrace. As he sat up and the sheets fell off his bones, some heat rose to his face.

"L-look away"

Killer rolled onto his back and smirked.

"But babe I've seen everythinggggg"

"Y-yeah but! I don't want you to stare at me!" Moonlight responded, blush deepening.

A chorus of laughter fell out of his partner, as he dramatically covered his eyes with his hands.

"Thereeee"

Though he was absolutely gonna peek. Nightmare rolled his eyes, knowing Killer was going to do that, and while his eyes were covered, he picked up the edge of the blanket and tossed it over him.

"Ahfg! Hey!" Killer said, fighting his way out from under it.

As he freed himself from the fabric trap, Nightmare grabbed his dressing gown and slipped it on.

"I knew you were gonna peak," he said, pulling some clothes out of his drawer, and straightening up.

"I know you"

"No control....."

"...."

"Uh I'm going to have a shower"

He made his way to the door and walked out.

Killer watched him go with a shallow smile that soon faded.

He glanced at his phone.

Dealing with this was going to take some careful planning on his part. Now this wasn't something Killer wasn't new to, quite far from it. He'd spent many years balancing relationships with many different men, and when the time came to cut them off, he always tried to leave people satisfied. However, this was a situation he hadn't been in before.

He didn't have the time or luxury to end things without hurt feelings. He needed to slice away the bad branches if he wanted any hope of his relationship blooming further.

As he picked up his phone and clicked it on, he was confronted by a collection of texts and more photos to make his mouth water.

He inwardly cursed upon seeing that his lover was not going to make this easy.

"I've made my mind up. It's over"

"Are you sure?"

Yes...of course, he was. He wanted Nightmare...

That didn't mean this would be easy though.

If there was one thing he couldn't deny, was that he was definitely still attracted to the guy. The thought of him would send a hum of lust through his system even now, even after confirming Night still did the same.

What was wrong with him?

He sighed and clicked the phone off. He could deal with self-loathing later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightmare took a bit longer in the shower than normal, though it wasn't long. It had been a while since he'd taken the time for self-care, and last night’s activities needed to be washed away. What he spent the majority of his time doing though, was simply watching the water run down the drain, lost in his thought.

As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling on his back, the one telling him Killer was spouting pure bullshit. The one telling him to believe Dream….

Well... he did believe Dream…..

But he didn't believe Cross' word...or at least that's what he was going with.

Maybe Cross and Killer had fallen out, and Cross had decided to spite him with this, sending Dream to do his dirty work.

But was Cross really like that?

"...."

Sure...Maybe? Well, he hardly knew the guy...

As Nightmare dressed himself and left the bathroom, it became clear that Killer had left the bedroom. He now stood in between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the counter that divided the two.

He was dressed only in the blanket he was holding around himself loosely, and his eyes were locked on the screen of his phone.

"¿Ojos bonitos?"

His companion would have jumped out of his skin if he had it.

"Moonpie!"

He looked like a teenager being caught sneaking out of bed.

"....."

"I'm going to make some coffee, want a cup?" Night asked, walking over to the kettle and putting it on.

Killer stared for a moment, then sheepishly placed his phone on the counter face down.

"Instant?"

"Do I know how to make anything else?"

Killer smiled and walked over to him.

"Why can't I date someone who owns a French press?" He purred, standing behind him and resting his chin on Night’s shoulder.

A purple blush followed.

"Hmph!"

"Well, I'm sorry my cookware isn't adequate sir".

"Perhaps you should start sleeping with baristas".

Killer chuckled and hummed. "Nah...I suppose your instant crap will do"

He nuzzled the purple skeleton’s neck slightly, however, he only tensed in response.

It was soft...affectionate.

Too affectionate.

The nagging feelings were rising and falling with each passing second. Despite the good feelings he was having with Killer being so close, one question plagued his mind.

"Are you compensating for something?"

"Are you compensating because you chea-

"Get off..." Nightmare muttered, shifting himself away from his boyfriend's touch. It was all too much, and he just couldn't let himself enjoy it.

Rejected, Killer took a step back from his partner. Nightlight's body language had turned 180, but he wasn't sure what he'd expected. It wasn't gonna be that easy to get back to what things once were, after how he'd acted for the past month. Nightingale was a proud creature, and after last night it would probably be a while before he wanted to let his cold mask slip again.

This would be a lot of work...

"....."

"Uh Moon- Nightlight "

"I think I should take a shower...hold off on mine"

Nightmare nodded and poured his cup. As he stirred, the clinking of the teaspoon was loud in his silence.

"....."

"Alright...don't take long.."

Killer gave him a nod and pulled the blanket around himself more, walking out. Nightmare stayed still in the kitchen, sipping his coffee.

What was all that...

Was this really what his mind was going to be reduced to? Unable to enjoy the simple warm affections that Killer offered him? Forced to question everything, every second they were apart.

Stupid brother…

He would have been much happier without knowing, he was sure, without hidden demons tormenting his soul over the unknown. It's not like he could ask his partner, he wasn't a stranger to lying, and he wasn't sure if he'd believe either response.

As the distant sound of the shower came on, he attempted to get his mind to clear.

Only...

*ping*

A text?

The purple eye lights fixed onto the source. His boyfriend's mobile was lying face down on the counter a few feet away. He set his cup down.

Who would be texting Killer right now?

No...

"This is your chance isn't it?"

No.

He wasn't going to be involved with such a cliché… Nightmare was above such a childish practice like that. He was a smart and classy individual. He wouldn't-

*ping*

Killer who wants to contact you so much....?

*ping*

"I hate to have to tell you this..."

Came his brother's voice echoing in his head, as he turned his attention fully to his boyfriend's mobile.

"But Killer is cheating on you..."

"....."

No...no he said he wasn't going to be like this anymore. Start fresh and new.

*ping*

Who would be texting him at this time?

"You really think I'd make this up?"

No...no he didn't, but he wanted to...

Dream had always been such a good brother to him, considering all Nightmare had done to hurt him. After so many years, he'd always been a reliable and honest family member. He wouldn't want to hurt him...

Unlike him, his twin wasn't a spiteful person. He wouldn’t have said a word unless he had a good reason to accuse Killer of that...

But...as Night felt his soul contort in his chest, he wished that Dream could be wrong.

*ping*

It was surely just his agent, right? It had to be...he would have given anything for it to be...

Maybe...

"....."

No...he wasn’t that stupid. It was painfully obvious what it was, he just didn't want to admit it.

Last night he'd crumbled like a house of cards, and fallen helplessly into his bed with Killer again. The playboy had flooded his senses and flushed out his dignity.

He'd was hiding like a child who didn't want to go to school, one who didn't want to show their parents a bad grade on a test.

It was almost as if he entered a trance, going over to the phone and picking it up.

Maybe he should check...if it was Killer’s agent, then he'd be able to move on with his boyfriend...if it wasn't...

"......"

He could have sworn that his soul was beating 1000 times a second threatening to burst. From how loud it was hammering against his ribs, he could hear the thumping in his head

As his hand neared the other’s phone the pounding in his chest only grew stronger.. faster.. louder.. it vibrated throughout his whole body.. in his skull.

It was like the backing track in a horror movie, right before the masked murderer jumped out.

Por favor... por favor... demuéstrame que estoy equivocado...

He clicked the phone screen on.

Silence.

At first, he didn't respond, he didn't know how to.

"......"

"But why would you pick that insecure dick head over me? All you've done the past month is complain about him."

Killer...

"Come on now Killer... You'll be back, no use wasting your energy on him"

How could you...

"You said it yourself, he's just a narcissistic loner..."

And it went on...and on...the more he scrolled back, the more and more was revealed. Words that made his head spin, and pictures...

Pictures that made his non-existent stomach churn.

It was almost as if time had stopped around him, the sound of the shower slowing to a simple white noise.

Eventually, the texts were all blurring together as he was no longer taking in a single word. All until...he stopped. Nightmare froze, hand gripping the small device mercilessly, shaking as the screen turned to stand by.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to curl up and never leave the flat again.

But he stood still, like a mannequin in a shop window.

All the past month he'd tried to...

Last night he...

"....."

The mannequin finally moved, his arms falling limp down at his side.

Nightmare liked to consider himself a more artistic type. As such he would have loved to describe his current feelings as a riving nest of snakes in his chest, hissing and spitting like a hydra. A sense of sharp acidic poison was injected into his very soul.

He would have wanted to describe this relationship as a poetic tangle of limbs and tongues. A bright flame of desire, and scorching fire of lust, all hidden under the blanket of night and bedsheets of moonlight.

Perhaps those words would allow him to mask his basic carnality, as being a sweet affair of the heart. The kind that people read and act about.

But no...now it was nothing like a romantic fantasy, it was shameful, humiliating and now...

The combination of all of that had all led to this.

He was blatantly an idiot, as trusting as an ass lead to water, or perhaps more like a pig lead to slaughter.

Cheater...

Raging cheater...

He'd known from the start, he wasn't surprised. Killer was a liar... Killer never cared, it had all been a trick.

Last night was a con, all to bring Nightmare away from the truth.

Despite expecting this, the blow hadn't hurt any less. The shock was still rippling through him.

But it was dying down.

The sadness turned to anger...

The shower was off now. The journey ended here.

He heard the bathroom door open and shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killer walked into the living room, stretching his arms a bit. Everything felt a bit sore.

He wasn't really a person who took long showers on the regular, but from the moment he got in he hadn't wanted to leave the place. Every drop of water hitting him had felt like heaven, with all his sinful actions crawling across his back, his body had felt unusually dirty.

Even after the shower, he didn't feel much better and having only last night’s clothes to change into didn't help.

As Nightmare came into view, Killer's soul twisted. Moonbeam had put on a brave front since they had woken up, but the memory of how broken he'd been last night was haunting Killer.

The blank-eyed skeleton kept going round and round in his own head, circling back to guilt and self-loathing. But it wasn't himself he was sorry for, it was Nightlight.

Plastering his classic smile across his face, he finally spoke.

"Hope you don't mind, but I used some of your skull scrub"

Nightmare said nothing.

"...."

"So...I was thinking that I should take you to Muffet's? I think they do those posh little French pastries and coffee you like."

"Mhm.."

Killer walked a bit closer.

"Moonpie? You feeling ok"

It was that nickname that was the last straw.

"...You..."

Nightmare hardly whispered, turning to face the playboy.

"You bastard...."

His voice was cold with a vicious menace that Killer had only ever heard on set. It sent a chill up his spine.

"What.."

Nightmare hissed at him.

"I knew you were a playboy...I knew you slept around...I knew you had no standards.."

"But...I wanted to believe that you weren’t this much of a scummy person..."

Killer narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Nighty...I don't know what you're talking abou-

"They tried to tell me"

"My brother warned me over and over and over"

"They said you were un Sin vergüenza.. un Descarado....I should have listened"

He laughed.

"Soy un idiota!!"

Killer was still just staring at him, confusion spread across his face, the smile gone.

"What?"

Nightmare's laugh turned icy.

"And you have the nerve. The audacity to play dumb!?"

"Acting like you don't know!!!"

His smile disappeared.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU DID! I KNOW WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING!"

At first, Killer was confused at the sudden burst of hostility, but then his eyes flicked to the phone gripped tight in Night's hand.

A phone…

Wait… but that was his phone…

Oh no...

Killer wasn't the sharpest knife most of the time, but the events here were so clear they were borderline cliché.

Killers soul felt as if it had sunk deep to the ground, and was trying to pull the rest of him with it. In some ways he wouldn't have minded if the floor swallowed him whole, the pending fight was hanging over them like a guillotine blade.

His mouth went dry and his mind ran amok, millions of thoughts bouncing throughout his skull.

“Moonlight….” He barely croaked out.. he had to say something... the silence would only make it worse, and now the guilt was written all over his face.

But what could he possibly say?

Was there a single word that could do anything besides dousing their bones in gasoline?

The low flame in Night's eyes was a clear warning.

"....."

“Moonpie…. I…..”

Wrong words.

“DON'T CALL ME THAT!!”

Killer felt a breeze brush against his cheek, so suddenly that he didn't even see the movement. But he heard it... Something slammed against what he assumed was the wall.

At first, he wasn’t sure what it was… but then he saw Nightmare’s now vacant hand.

Nightmare had thrown the phone against the far wall, hard enough for the screen to shatter against the plaster, before dropping to the floor in defeat. It was almost frightening how fast it happened, and how close it had been to him. Prickles of anxiety ran across his bones, as he stared at the dead device.

Nightmare hadn't been aiming for him right?

As for Nightmare, the small skeleton's chest rose and fell quickly, as tried to control his breathing without much success. Throwing the phone had been wildly childish, but he didn't care much about being a sophisticated grown-up at this moment.

He was done, he was flatly done with everything.

How Dare He Call Him That.

He was so enraged.. he was so humiliated.. he was so frustrated with himself.

How could he have let himself fall so low? How could he have missed the obvious cliff at the end of the river he'd jumped in.

Oh, how he wished he could go back in time. Slap that pathetic excuse for a skeleton after that first kiss. All Killer had ever done is think for himself, from the first kiss it had all been Killer chasing a lay with anyone.

The spiralling chain reaction… endless pursuit for pleasure to the point of madness.

All for it to lead to this moment.

He was done with it all. He couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

“Es que Deberás no te podías aguantar?! Do you really have so little control over yourself?!”

“Night… now hold on..”

“Eres un pinche adicto!! You just really can’t go without it can you! Es todo lo que tu pequeño cerebro piensa en verdad?!”

“That’s-“

“Espero que hubiera valido la pena maldito!! But you still don’t get it, do you? I’m sure you think you've done nothing wrong like always! Porque siempre es mi culpa!!

“NIGHTMARE!!! Can you just fucking speak in English!! You’re pissing me off!”

Killer’s voice boomed in the small room. He knew it wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest. But, he couldn’t dismiss how the frustration and anger prickled at his bones with every word Nightmare spat out.

How was he supposed to defend himself or explain if Nightmare wouldn’t even speak in the language he knew?

Just like usual... His boyfriend refused to communicate with him. At this moment, Killer had been fully prepared to bear the brunt of Night's rage. But this? This was just frustrating to the very core, it brought forward nagging thoughts in the back of his mind and reminded him why he'd gone to the bar alone that night.

Nightmare just always expected him to know what was wrong. Most days, never gave him one measly hint before just lashing out like a snake attacking its prey. The small skeleton never talked to him…

And even now, when he was prepared to take anything Night hit him with, he'd chosen to do it in a tongue he couldn't even understand!

But even so, he tried to calm himself. Getting mad wasn't helping anybody...

Nightmare froze on the spot at those words, his eyes widening slightly at the audacity. Is that really what Killer cared about right now?

The language!?

"The constant flip-flopping between the two is giving me a headache," Killer muttered.

Oh really?

Well, maybe Nightmare was being inconsiderate...

A smirk formed on his face.

“Oh… entonces esto es lo que molestas más verdad?! No que me fuiste infiel maldito carbón?!”

If going back and forth between the two was confusing…

“Pues yo hago lo que se me dé la gana fíjate! Si yo quiero hablar español entonces voy a hablar en español estupido engreído!”

He better stick with one then!

“No es mi culpa que tu cerebro es tan pequeño que no tiene la capacidad de entender lo que te estoy diciendo!”

“Si te enfada tanto entonces aprende el idioma bola de mierda!!”

“STOP IT !!”

Killer’s voice shook the room as he yelled before shoving nightmare back.

He almost felt dizzy, his head being attacked with a flood of words he couldn’t understand.

They banged around in a loud chorus, and he couldn’t stop it. But what he did know was that he was being insulted. Knowing Nightmare and the poisonous look in his eyes, he knew it was hate being spat.

“Don’t be such a pretentious prick.”

"You're conceited and a snob and just such a-

"At least I'm not a cheater"

Killer had to stifle a laugh at that.

What a hypocritical twat, it would have been amusing if Night wasn't so self-righteous.

Nightmare had to be kidding right? He wasn't going to sit there and act like he'd forgotten about that night they had shared, like many others, tangled up in sweet agony. Oh, it was one Killer remembered, Nightmare hadn't been slow to give into him, girlfriend or not.

That night like many, he'd seen the small skeleton in unflattering angles, in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

Every memory, every touch, every feeling...even now.

Such pleasurable torture on his mind.

"Oh yeah...of course, my bad," he said, before putting a finger on his chin, in an exaggerated fashion.

"Hmmm...that's funny though"

"Say did you ever tell your ex-girlfriend about that night between us?"

A delightful look of dread fell across Nightmare's face in a second, the smug pride taking a blow. The satisfaction gave Killer a quick high, as his smile cut across his face.

"I guess you could say it takes one to know one hmm? And she was nothing but good to you... it's quite hard to respect-

"SHUT UP!"

Night's eyes were rimmed with blue, the purple being taken over as Night's anger revealed itself more and more. How dare Killer spin this round, the cocky bastard was trying desperately to drag Nightmare to his level.

Killer, however, was letting Night's words wash over him now, staring. The blue was strange.

It was rare that the blue showed itself, an outer reflection of inner turmoil. He'd seen it many times, times of anger, times of frustration, sometimes even during their most sensual moments.

He remembered a night, a press event, they'd been each other's date, for a casual affair.

Killer's past wasn't exactly something he liked to venture into. One too many questions from a noisy reporter, and Nightlight was demanding an apology from the guy. His eyes had lit up with that beautiful cyan, and his vicious tongue had got to work with a bitter barrage of insults.

What a night...

Killer found it strangely beautiful, staring...

Until Night's harsh voice cut through.

"You've never done a single good thing for me! You've never cared about anyone but yourself!"

"All you ever do is draw people in for momentary pleasure, and screw with us like toys!"

"We're all just playthings right?"

"...I wish I had never met you..."

Killer blinked, snapping to his senses.

“Wait.. what?"

“What the hell are you going on about??"

“I’ve never lied to you about what I wanted! That there were no emotional attachments involved!!"

"YOU ASKED ME TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!"

Nightmare’s breath was ragged, as the end of his sentence strained slightly, the words too painful to understand, the memory of Killer's sweet confession, gashing his very soul.

" 'just you' "

"T-that's what you said to me..."

His eyes ran to the broken phone, and part of the anger faded to a bitter hmm.

"Well, the proof is right there isn't it? All lies!"

Killer hissed under his breath and dismissively folded his arms.

“Oh just drop it already!" He said, waving his hand slightly.

“I mean that’s all you damn well say!"

“It just has to be all about you! Just- screw it!"

"It gets so tiring! It’s always just about what you want, and how you feel, your rules!"

"I WAS TRYING!!" The other basically screamed out, voice cracking from the force of it.

"While you were out getting humpy I was racking my brain trying to find ways to bring you back!!"

Violet tears flooded his eyes and spilt over before he had the will to stop them.

"But you never cared!!

"Lust is all you feel!

On any other day the tears in Night's eyes would have ended Killer's drive for a fight, but today nothing changed.

“YOU ONLY TRIED WHEN YOU FINALLY PUSHED ME AWAY!!"

He lunged forward slightly, the weight of his words pulling him, feeling no desire to spare Night's feelings a second longer.

Now he'd done it. He'd pushed and pushed and pushed, trying to force Killer into the role of a villain, so naturally, he could run to the people for sympathy.

“You can’t even imagine how it felt being constantly berated and yelled at!"

"Treated like your property! Trapped!"

But he wasn't. Last night the guilt had almost eaten him from the inside, but now they need to care was gone. It was nothing but a hollow space.

“I tried too! To be better! But it was never enough for you!" He wanted him hurt. He wanted him to know just who's fault it was.

“You know what??? it felt good to finally get away from your overbearing controlling suffocating ass!"

"It felt good being with him."

It was a sharp knife now, the blade burning as it plunged into his chest. Nightmare felt like he couldn't breathe, if he'd had visible lungs he would have been worried for them.

His breath was fast.

"I hate you"

It was all Night's scrambled mind could bring to the surface.

"I hate you!!"

Words he'd said to the playboy many times, but never meant till this one moment.

"I HATE YOU!"

He'd never felt like this before.

"¡DESEO QUE NUNCA HAYAS NACIDO!"

He grabbed a pillow from the sofa behind him and threw it at full force.

"Tu diablo hombre!"

The tears became faster, as it became hard to just speak in un-shaking sentences. His boyfriend wouldn't even look at him now, he didn't look like he could care any less if he tried.

"You done?"

"......"

In a way Nightmare was.

The man before him was a stranger. Eyes as empty as the words he spoke.

"And you still can't speak English?" Killer asked.

"Yet you can't understand why Dream is in a long term relationship and you never have been"

Nightmare grabbed another pillow and threw it weakly onto the ground.

"You!! You-

"No Nightmare." The playboy stated. "You. It's all you."

"No one else is gonna say it, so I will."

"It's.Your.Fault."

Another pillow was thrown, this time hitting Killer square on the face. It didn't really hurt, but as it fell the hurt in the eyes of the skeleton before him was revealed.

Nightmare wanted to hurt him. He wanted Killer to feel the pain, the humiliation, the misery. He wanted to strike where it would hurt, then kick the wound till the playboy could feel every fraction of the agony currently spreading through his heart.

He fixed a sharp glare into Killer's eyes.

"Well, I should be grateful right!?" Nightmare spat "I'm lucky that you wanted to screw me."

"Because you think you're a drop-dead gorgeous dreamboat right!?!"

He grit his teeth as the anger hissed in agreement.

"Well, the truth is you're not!"

"You're an ugly blank-eyed freak!"

...

It was like someone had shot Killer.

His body felt like it had experienced blunt force trauma. He was numb and full of rippling pain all at once.

The words bounced around his skull and reverberated off of every single painful memory from his past before it settled down like a low bitter hum.

Nightmare had never been one to stray from insulting Killer....he'd done it many times, he'd called him every name under the sun. Every time, Killer had completely brushed it off, but this?

"You....."

He said numbly, in a voice that almost sounded alien to him.

If it hadn't been Nightmare... It would have hurt so much less... But Moonpie.....

It made him feel like someone had ripped out his very soul and stomped it into the ground.

"you of all people..."

Nightmare's heart stopped. As angry as he was... As full of hurt as he felt, he hadn't meant to say that...

That was over the line. He didn't know how far over... But he knew it was a lot.

In his anguish, he'd been wanting to cause Killer as much pain as he could possibly muster, nothing had been off-limits to him. That had struck a painful nerve in Killer’s soul, he could almost sense it.

But...the satisfaction never came, upon seeing the dejected look in his eyes.

Nightmare felt suddenly torn between throwing the cheating, lying, scumbag out, and hugging him and apologising.

Surely it wasn't fair that he felt suddenly horrible... He was the wronged party here.

"I...."

Killer shook his head and turned to the door. He couldn't even look at him anymore. All his strength and drive to continue the argument was gone in an instant. This argument was over. This relationship was over.

It was all over.

He walked to the door silently and opened it. Nightmare still said nothing. The shock and pain Killer had been feeling run through him was suddenly met with a burst of anger.

"This is why everyone likes your brother better than you," he stated, before leaving, slamming the door hard.

Silence...

~~~~~~~

……

And this is where the story started. We'd started at the end.

As all the memories completely caught up to him, Killer froze in his spot and stared at the wall. He couldn't think of anything anymore, his mind was locked on the memory of Nightmare's last words to him.

Those words were a way to open a wound that never fully healed... They always felt like his soul had been ripped out and become nothing but a target for people to stab at...

How ironic.

The city seemed to fall silent outside his window. Cars no longer zoomed past, people were no longer walking on the street.

At least he was free now... He could go sleep with anyone he wanted...

"....."

He told himself to stop feeling sorry for himself... It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before... It was nothing new. It was normal, Nightmare was just... Like them...

"......"

His sofa sighed as he leaned back on it, his face hardly moving, still and frozen in a numb expression.

“Come on Killer....snap out of it... It's not that bad!” He tried to tell himself.

"you just need a good lay... That will make it all go away..."

It wasn't long before he had the number of one of his old 'friends' tapped in...but he didn't call. His finger moved to the power button and simply switched it off. He didn't want that... Not really.

A warm trickle running down his cheeks startled him and caused him to widen his eyes slightly.

Tears?... But he never cried.

Yet even as he thought it, the tears filled his eye sockets and poured down at an uncontrollable rate.

A soft mew pulled him back to reality and he turned to see Crackers and Cheese standing on the sofa to his right.

"Hi..... babies......." he said, lifting his hand up to stroke them "Daddy's fine... He's... I'm fine...

But he wasn't, and soon the two were stood in his lap mewing.

He could say nothing else, and just stroked them in silence. His tears were quiet and didn't want to make a show of themselves.

Killer felt it now. He was alone.

The flat was empty other than the two fur babies before him now.

In a way, both skeletons were, just as they always had been.

As Nightmare lay in a crumpled heap on his living room floor, Killer did the same on his sofa. There were no words left to say to anyone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After days had rolled into weeks, the two skeletons licked their wounds and came out to the public on the state of affairs.

The media was in shock and the questions flew in. Everyone wanted to know every detail, but neither wanted to tell it. After the truth did come out, both were pushed into interview after interview, hoping to never have to see the other again.

Nightmare returned to his brother's flat and was pulled into a hug before even saying a word. Killer stayed alone.

Cross said nothing to him when hearing Night's side of it.

Things moved on, but both found more comfort in their solitude than anything else.

Maybe it would be for the best.

Maybe they should just stay alone.

In the end, after falling, sometimes it was easier not to get up again.

For now, that is…

And heres the ending! its been a long time comic, so i hope you all enjoyed it.

A HUGEEEEEE thank you to the amazing @jann-the-bean who helped me while writting te spanish section of the final scene. THANK YOU SO MUCH

and also thank you to @yuriyuruandyuraart because you've been such an amazing support.

purely because i have no idea of i’ll ever write what happens next, i’ll say it here. Killer and Nightmare do get back together again, long time followers of me will know they form a poly relationship with Ccino.

that takes place just under two years after this break up. It takes a little over a year for Night and Killer to talk again, and after apologising, and sorting things out, Killer and Night go back to just sleeping together. About 5 months later Cross and Dream are engaged and Ccino starts working on the darkcream set.

maybe ill write it, maybe jan would. But for now

thank you!!!!!!

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in-ky · 3 years

Text

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

#negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan smith #negan x you #alpha!negan #omega!reader #a/b/o kink #twd a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

Bloopers

Word count: 2150

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Ok, this one is a little different than the others I've written; it's about the actual cast (specifically our fav British actor Mr. Hiddleston 😉)

* * *

“And… cut! Alright, let’s move on to the next battle scene then.”

The voice of the director echoing through the set snapped you out of your thoughts. You stood up and stretched a little, preparing to film the first scene of the day that you’d be part of. Script in hand, you joined the other cast members on the set for the scene briefing.

It still felt surreal that you had actually gotten to this point. You had signed up for an audition the moment you’d heard this role was open, figuring you could at least get some exposure by trying out for a big-name movie like a Marvel movie. As an up-and-coming actress, you needed all the exposure you could get. Never in a million years did you think you’d actually land a part in the movie, let alone the role of a supporting character.

You were trying desperately to get over being star-struck by the actors and actresses you were working with. They were all surprisingly down-to-earth, nothing like you’d expected from such famous stars as these. The moment you’d arrived on set, they had welcomed you with open arms as they had all the cast members, no matter how small their role was. They’d been trying to get you to relax a little, to see them as friends and coworkers rather than A-list celebrities. And you were trying – really trying – but you were still pretty shy and reserved off-set.

“Ready for your first shoot of the day?” Chris Hemsworth asked as you approached the crowd of cast members standing in the middle of the set.

“Uh… yeah, I think so!” you replied uncertainly. You glanced down at the script in your hands. This particular scene didn’t have many lines, as it was mostly an action scene, but those were the scenes you tended to struggle with. You had gotten good at getting into character when you had to have conversations, but you really had to think hard about how your character would move in battle.

“Come on, you have to say it like you mean it!” he chided, grasping your shoulders in emphasis. “Try again – are you ready?”

“Yes sir!” you shouted. He laughed heartily, releasing you with a final pat on the shoulder.

“Alright, it may be a battle scene, but you aren’t a soldier. We’ll work on it.” The flowing crimson cape of his costume swished along the floor as he turned to find his place in the circle of cast members. You followed suit, slipping into an opening right beside Tom Hiddleston. He glanced at you with a warm smile, which you returned timidly.

“He can be a bit overenthusiastic sometimes, can’t he?” Tom whispered. You nodded, looking across to where Chris was now casually twirling his hammer by the strap on one finger. “He is right, though. I’m certain you’ll do just fine. Give yourself a little credit.”

“Thanks,” you said appreciatively. You turned to face the director as he reviewed the upcoming scene.

It was a pretty standard fight scene by Marvel standards. Your character was battling alongside Thor and Loki as the villain attempted to slip past your defenses to gain access to Odin’s vault of magic artifacts. Magic, explosions, weapon-swinging… the whole works. There were a complex number of camera angles included in the scene, which meant a lot of stopping and restarting of filming to change position.

Physically, this type of scene was exhausting. It required a lot of ducking, jumping, and running, not to mention a LOT of falling. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go home with a few scrapes and bruises after this type of active scene. Like Chris and Tom, you insisted on doing your own stunt work. It wasn’t like you were jumping from buildings or anything like that; you knew you could handle this yourself.

“Ok, next clip!” the director called out, prompting you to prepare for the most difficult part of the scene. In this part, your character is standing a bit too close to an explosion and is thrown backward into Loki, who catches you before you fall backward onto the ground. You stood still as the stunt crew hooked you up to the wire that would yank you backward.

“Nervous?” Tom asked, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“A little, maybe. Is it fun, being dragged around on the wire?” you inquired.

“It’s a bit like riding a roller coaster. Except… you’re not in a cart, and you may crash into things.”

“Hmm. Comforting.” He patted your shoulder firmly a couple of times before walking past you to get into position for the shot.

“Alright, y/n, we’re not going to count down for you – we need a genuine element of surprise in this scene. Got it?”

“Understood,” you confirmed. Your heart was racing with adrenaline, anticipating the moment you would feel the rope tug you backward. Not to mention, Tom was going to be the one to catch you. Your heart fluttered a bit more at that thought.

It felt like minutes went by, although it was probably only seconds. Suddenly you felt the harness under your costume tighten around your waist as the wire finally pulled you backward. True to character, your arms flailed out as your heels slid backward across the floor for a millisecond before Tom caught you, sliding his hands under your outstretched arms to hold you up.

The sudden gentle pressure of his fingertips under your arms tickled like hell. Your knees buckled a little and you yelped in surprise. Tom lowered you to the ground, giving you a moment to rest after your first take.

“The fall was perfect, y/n, but try not to bend your knees like that when Tom catches you. Remember, you’re supposed to be a fierce warrior; your character would jump right back up to their feet,” the director called from off set. You avoided Tom’s gaze as he helped you to regain your footing.

“Did I hurt you? You shouted when I caught you,” he asked, concern weighing in his tone.

“No! Nope, I’m fine, sorry. Just got nervous. First take and all, you know?” you responded quickly, trying to hide your blush.

“Understandable. I recall the first time I was pulled down to the floor by a wire during the infamous ‘Hulk smash’ scene…” he chuckled. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.”

You set up for a second take, this time heart pounding for different reasons. How embarrassing would it be if Tom found out what really happened there? You needed to focus more this time.

This time, when the wire grew taught, you were at least prepared for the swooping sensation in your stomach as you slid backward. Once again, Tom caught you right on cue, his hands lifting your upper body up from under your arms. It still caught you off guard how much it tickled. You let a giggle slip out and went limp in his arms again, nearly causing him to drop you to the floor.

“Cut!” The director walked closer to you and Tom so you could hear him better. “Don’t forget – don’t bend your knees. And it’s probably breaking character to be grinning like that after getting launched by an explosion.”

“I know it’s fun doing stunts and all, but you have to think like your character even during the action scenes,” Tom advised, helping you up off the floor once again.

“It’s not that! I just… never mind,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning again. Tom raised his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, ducking down to catch your gaze as you stared down at your feet.

“Promise. I’ll get it this time,” you assured.

You both set up for take three, this time determined you would get it completely right. You gritted your teeth, trying to envision the actual explosion they’d be adding with CGI later. The wire tugged, and you flew backward once again into Tom’s waiting arms. You almost maintained your composure, until he started to pull you to your feet, fingertips digging into the hollows under your arms. You shrieked, letting out a few more giggles as you stumbled forward to evade his fingers.

“Cut!” You steeled yourself and turned around to look at Tom, who was giving you a confused look. You shot him a look of apology.

“Am I missing a joke? Did Hemsworth put you up to something?” Tom asked, placing his hands on his hips, a grin tugging at his lips. Even after you ruined the take three times in a row, he only used the kindest tone with you. You couldn’t lie to him.

“No… I just… when you slide your hands under my arms to catch me, it… it sort of tickles. A lot,” you mumbled sheepishly. You risked a glance up from the floor to look at Tom, whose eyes had lit up with understanding.

“Ahh! Now it all makes sense!” he exclaimed. “Well, I do apologize; it was not my intention to tickle you. I’ll try not to this take.” He shot you a mischievous wink, not unlike his character.

“Thanks… I’ll try to keep my composure this time,” you promised.

The director shouted additional directions and reminders to you as you set up for yet another take. As you got into position, you turned your head to look at Tom standing behind you. He grinned at you, although you couldn’t tell if it was a smile of encouragement or a mischievous smirk. Maybe it was the costume…

The wire tugged you backwards once again, and the outcome was the same. Tom even tried to catch you closer to your upper arms, but the sensation was still too much for you to handle. A rapid stream of giggles bubbled from your chest as your muscles weakened once again. Tom was laughing with you this time, though, now that he knew better.

“You did that on purpose!!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him once you’d regained your footing.

“On purpose!?” His mouth dropped open in mock offense. “You think I did that on purpose?? Come here, and I’ll show you ‘on purpose.’” You shrieked, spinning around to run away, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could get very far. He tugged you backwards, trapping you against him in a bear hug.

“Wait!! C-can’t we talk about this?” you begged.

“Sorry, no can do.” Before you could protest further, Tom’s fingers were digging into your ribs, eliciting a startled squeal from you. He laughed out loud at your overzealous reaction. “Mahaybe… eheh… maybe this will help you get all the giggles out, hmm?”

“No, Tom, wahahait!!” you begged, folding into yourself and twisting around to break his hold without success.

“I apologize, my dear, but this is for your own good. Can’t have you continuing to mess up these takes, now can we?” His fingers darted up and down your sides and ribs, and your knees buckled beneath you, sinking to the floor. Tom followed you down, still holding fast while he continued to skitter his fingertips over your belly.

“Stahahap!!” you pleaded, grasping feebly at his wrists as laughter poured out of you.

“Now, honestly, y/n – this is supposed to be a battle scene and you’re laughing like a schoolgirl,” he teased, wrestling to hold you still while he continued to torment you. “How are we going to get through this scene if you don’t start taking it seriously?”

“THEN STAHAHAP TICKLING MEHEHE!” you retorted, yelping as his hands spidered higher up your ribcage.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” Tom wrapped one arm further around your ribs so he could pull your arms up, giving him unrestricted access under your arms. He scribbled maddeningly gently at the hollows, making you explode with uncontrollable laughter.

“OK! OK! IHIHI’LL GET IT RIGHT THIS TIHIHIME!!” you shouted. Deciding you’d had enough torture, Tom finally released you from his hold. You took a moment to catch your breath before looking up at your fellow castmates, who were smirking at you, much to your dismay. You felt heat rising to your face as you picked yourself up off the floor, turning to face a grinning Tom (who was looking more and more like Loki by the second with that mischievous gleam in his eye).

“Well then! I’ve had my fun for the day,” he announced casually.

“Thahat was so mean!” you groaned. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you in a one-armed hug for a moment.

“You know you loved every second of it,” he teased.

“Shut up, you,” you muttered, pushing him away jokingly. The two of you got back into position to try the take again.

This time, you got it right. Because honestly, nothing could have been worse than the torment he’d just put you through. But, if you were being honest with yourself, he was right - you had loved every second of it.

#not sure how to tag this one #loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!Tom Hiddleston

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

I was reading your "Fallout 4 companions meet Arcade Gannon" reacts when I had an idea. FO4 companions reaction to visiting the Mojave Wasteland with the Sole Survivor.

"She was Boston, I was Vegas

She was Crêpes Suzette, I was pie

She was lectures, I was movies, but I loved her."

- Frank Sinatra, 1981, "I Loved Her"

Cait: "I've never been much of a gambler, but where there's gambling, there's usually a good time to be had."

While Cait finds the casinos of the Strip a little too ritzy for her liking, she rather enjoys the smaller, satellite venues: The Atomic Wrangler in Freeside, the Vikki and Vance casino in Primm, even the saloons in Goodsprings and the Mojave Outpost (the latter of which being where she foolishly engages in a drinking contest with Cass and happily gets her ass kicked). Her greatest enjoyment, however, comes upon discovery of the Thorn in Westside, with its arranged bouts between wasteland critters and the opportunity to go a round yourself if you're feeling lucky. Instead of the trapped horror she felt when the Combat Zone was taken over by raiders and she was forced to fight, Cait revels in the glory she reaps when choosing to face off against a fire gecko, a night stalker or a cazador with her trusty baseball bat. By the time the visit is over, she and Red Lucy have grown close, and the Thorn's mistress is going around openly calling Cait "my hunter."

Codsworth: "Ah, Las Vegas! Why, I can recall when you considered a quick getaway to this paradise just before young master Shaun's arrival. It appears we aren't too late, after all."

Codsworth is somewhat comforted by the lack of overt nuclear devastation in New Vegas, but that feeling wears off as soon as the first set of thugs in Freeside tries to corner him and the sole survivor and take their caps. Once the would-be muggers are laid out on the ground, Codsworth abandons his rose-colored glasses and puts his quippy, dismayed personality back on. Still, he loves the Strip, particularly the Ultra-Luxe with its refined guests, decor and hygienic practices, but he quickly sours on their hoity-toity attitudes. Instead, Codsworth turns to the presence of the NCR as a sign that civilization is creeping back into the wasteland. He's also tickled pink by the Kings and the Chairmen, but not the mobster-esque Omertas: They remind him too much of the pre-war mob activity in good old Boston.

Curie: "Excusez-moi, but what is that structure there? The tallest one, with the blinking lights."

Curie is thrilled to be out in the desert, observing the local populace and documenting their survival techniques, social structures and power struggles. She's fascinated with the area's history, and drags the sole survivor along to seek out the Mojave's most (in)famous individuals to record their stories for her research into post-war civilization. This lands her in quite a few questionable situations, but her general attitude of perseverance and wide-eyed wonder about the world open a lot of doors for her. She makes a lot of friends at the Old Mormon Fort among the Followers of the Apocalypse, though most of them assume her frustration about her own "biological reactions to extreme living conditions" is just her complaining about the heat like everyone else. Arcade's pretty sure she's a robot, though he's too polite to ask about it outright.

Danse: "We're close now, to the birthplace of the Brotherhood of Steel. This is an honor I never thought I'd experience."

Though it's boiling hot inside his power armor under the desert sun, Paladin Danse is overjoyed that he's accompanying the sole survivor on this journey into the cradle of the ideology that he's devoted to. He's heard about the Mojave from Brotherhood of Steel veterans, those who traveled with Elder Lyons when they initially came to the Capital Wasteland and those who accompanied Elder Maxson when he was just a Squire, and he keeps spouting off random trivia about the area. Any run-ins with disillusioned Scribe Veronica might leave him a bit put out, but it's overall a fun trip for him through a part of the continent that's a little less smashed to rubble than the rest of the world. He especially enjoys visiting the NCR and Brotherhood military outposts, if only to offer critiques and suggestions to any soldiers that give him the time of day.

Deacon: "Sheesh, visiting the Mojave almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter, am I right?"

Deacon has been here before. Well, he doesn't actually say he's been here before, but he keeps dropping hints to the sole survivor that he's somehow on a return trip. He knows the legends of the Sierra Madre and the Blue Star treasures offhand, he has a whole conversation with the Securitrons guarding the Strip about what happened to Robert House, he even knows how to competently play Caravan. Every time the sole survivor asks him about how he knows so much, though, Deacon just grins and keeps chugging his Sunset Sarsaparilla. Obviously no one recognizes him by face, but he does have a setting-appropriate wardrobe along that includes NCR bandoleer armor, a coat-tailed tuxedo, top hat and White Glove Society mask, and a black leather jacket to go with his pompadour wig.

Dogmeat: [curiously sniffs everything]

Dogmeat can't figure out why this place is so dang dry, but he's on his best behavior for the sole survivor as they make their way over the dusty roads of the Mojave. He politely greets each other traveler on the roads, who keep asking his companion where they got "a non-cyber cyberdog." For the most part though, the trip is pretty in line with everywhere Dogmeat goes: Big rodents, big bugs, tired people and plenty of ruins to explore. Dogmeat's one outstanding adventure comes in the form of an attempted kidnapping by some of the Kings, who think their leader needs a new dog after Rex hit the road with some fool. The King doesn't take kindly to this, and graciously has the dog returned to his friend.

Hancock: "Oh, man, how does anyone live out here? I'm drying out, I feel like a radroach husk."

Hancock is having the time of his life in the Mojave, apart from constantly complaining about how he prefers the Commonwealth's weather. He's chummy with everyone, but especially with the ghouls he encounters. He buys Raul a bunch of drinks and asks him about his past, he suggests future career paths and hobbies for Calamity, and he is absolutely enchanted with Beatrix the dominatrix. He's also rowdy enough to attract the ire of nearly every casino in New Vegas: The White Glove Society seethes when the sole survivor points out that his Revolutionary War outfit technically meets the dress code, the Omertas howl when he starts encouraging the strippers and sex workers to band together and take over the casino, and the Vault 21 dwellers keep asking if he's liable to turn feral. The Chairmen, however, treat him as something of a novelty and gift him with a seersucker suit to go with his jaunty personality.

MacCready: "You know, I played cards with a guy from out here once. He tried to teach me a game called... what was it, Candyman? Kilogram?"

MacCready has the barest smattering of knowledge about the Mojave Wasteland, and he keeps injecting it into conversations no matter how inaccurate it is. He's fascinated with the sole survivor's recollections of what Vegas was like before the Great War, and his expectations are sky-high by the time they arrive on the city's outskirts. Those expectations are absolutely met once inside the Strip, even if the sole survivor's are let down. MacCready is just tickled by the existence of a city that is solely dedicated to parting you from your caps, and he settles into each new business for the express purpose of people-watching. He only tries gambling once, and immediately quits after he loses all of his pocket change.

Valentine: "Good old Las Vegas. Somehow, I'm not surprised it's still got a reputation as 'Sin City,' even this long after the bombs."

The Nick Valentine of old never visited Las Vegas, but he certainly knew about it well enough for the Nick Valentine of today to draw on those impressions. He's extra-wary about the city as a result, an attitude not helped by the many people staring at him because of his detective getup, jagged edges and golden eyes. Some people are polite enough to walk up and ask what he is: Others offer to buy him off the sole survivor directly, much to Nick's chagrin. When James Garret offers him a thousand caps for "one night of his services," Nick puts his foot down and starts glaring at everyone who so much as walks up to him and the sole survivor during their trip. The exceptions to this rule are Veronica, who is extremely polite and non-invasive with her questioning; Arcade, who is too polite to even mention Nick's synthetic state; and Raul, who finds the whole thing hilarious but admits that his ghoul status has landed him in some similar situations.

Piper: "I've heard plenty of stories about this place, and if even a quarter of them are true, I ought to get a good travel piece out of just about anyone we pass on the street."

Piper's on a mission to track down the history of New Vegas, which, like Curie, sends her on a path toward its biggest political figures. Aside from them, she's particularly interested in the services of the Mojave, like the Gun Runners, the Crimson Caravan Company, and especially the Mojave Express. Piper gets along swell with just about everyone, and she basks in the widespread acceptance that she lacks back home due to her chosen profession. She desperately tries to get Johnson Nash to ship a case of Sunset Sarsaparilla cross-continent for her, but he gently turns her down and tells her that the only courier he knows crazy enough to undertake a trip to the Commonwealth is too busy nowadays.

Preston: "They're not too friendly to outsiders here, or so I'm told, but there are always good folks to be found if you know where to look."

Preston, true to form, offers help to every little settlement he and the sole survivor come through on their journey, which delays their path to Vegas quite a bit. He makes a beeline for the Old Mormon Fort as soon as he hears the Followers of the Apocalypse have a base there, though, and spends most of his visit picking the brain of its leaders about the best ways to aid those in need in the wasteland. He and Arcade get into some spirited debates about the pros and cons of having a civil service force focused on military matters versus civilian matters, and the Minutemen leader leaves the Mojave with a lot of new ideas to carry home to the Commonwealth.

Strong: "Strong not looking for 'good time,' puny human. Strong looking for thing that make super mutants stronger."

Strong hates New Vegas, but that's nothing unexpected. The sole survivor tries to limit their time in the city and take him around the desert to locales where super mutants are more likely to be found, which brings them to Jacobstown. Surprise surprise, Strong hates Jacobstown - at first. Little by little, through talking with Lily, the other nightkin, and Marcus, Strong starts to realize that the super mutants of the town are doing exactly what he values and sharing their resources among each other for the good of the community, just minus the usual violence associated with super mutants. He struggles with this alternative way of life for a bit, but eventually comes to accept that to be a super mutant, you don't have to constantly attack those around you to show off your strength.

X6-88: "Be careful. The Institute's records about this area indicate high levels of theft, murder, and unsavory characters. It would be best to keep our guard up."

Like Nick, X6-88 greets everyone in the Mojave with open suspicion, and can hardly be convinced to leave the sole survivor's side for their entire journey. His dedication to this task leads those around him to joke about him being "a human Securitron," which the sole survivor finds amusing: X6-88 does not. Still, the ability to hire and maintain a professional-looking bodyguard while visiting New Vegas doesn't go unnoticed, and most people assume that means the sole survivor has a lot of money to spend or be separated from by force. Criminals are more likely to be ruthless, hell-bent on stealing the loads of caps the sole survivor surely has tucked away. Business owners, on the other hand, are more polite to the pair on their travels, giving them better service and goods that ingratiate X6-88 a bit more to the common people aboveground.

BONUS!

Ada: "Jackson brought us out here once, when Zoe decided she wanted to try acquiring a Securitron. The leader of the Strip turned us down."

While Deacon is playing coy about his experience in the Mojave, Ada is completely open about hers. She hasn't been to the Strip, the dam, or any of the Mojave's "fun" destinations, but she remembers the Crimson Caravan Company headquarters, the 188 trading post, and many of the small towns along the way. Her fondest memories are of scavenging around the ruins of the REPCONN test site, the Aerotech Office Park and HELIOS One. She also recalls that her caravan friends came to visit primarily to find a Securitron to take apart and repurpose, but won't say exactly what happened when they tried to do so, other than warn the sole survivor "not to invite the wrath of the House."

Gage: "Now this is a town that knows how to run a successful racket. We need to find out who's in charge, see if they can give us some tips."

Porter Gage walks right up the steps of the Lucky 38 as soon as he finds out that someone inside is running the Strip, and demands that the Securitrons let him in to "talk to the boss." The robots aren't impressed, of course, and toss him out straightaway. Gage, not one to be discouraged easily, tries to find information among the nearby raider gangs instead: Fiends, Vipers, Jackals or Great Khans, he's not too picky. The current state of the raiders in the Mojave quickly informs him that they're failing one by one against the power of New Vegas, and he renews his efforts to find the recipient of the endless streams of caps. Thwarted at every turn, he and the sole survivor retire to Gomorrah, where they bemoan their bad luck while the courier sits a few seats down from them, listening in and smirking.

Longfellow: "Just point me to the nearest saloon. If I can't cool down, I'll try to forget I'm hot."

Longfellow parks himself at the nearest watering hole and does his best to avoid the scorching Mojave heat. The Maine-born grandpa is pretty miserable during the daytime hours unless he's sitting in front of a fan with a cold beer, swapping stories about Far Harbor critters with the bar regulars. At night he's a bit more open to adventuring with the sole survivor, when the desert cools down and he can see the sights by moonlight. Although he's not a fan of the hustle and bustle of the Strip, most of the large casinos there have air conditioning thanks to the Lucky 38, so he claims a table in the back and glares at anyone who disturbs him and his drink. He gets along with most of the New Vegas crowd though, if they agree to pick up the tab.

Maxson: "We came this way, when the Elders sent me to the East Coast. I wonder if the chapter here is still persevering."

Elder Maxson is surprisingly reluctant to visit the two things that the sole survivor would've thought he'd be interested to see in the Mojave: The Strip, or the Hidden Valley bunker. If pressed, he'll admit that he's not the type to cut loose and gamble, drink or participate in general debauchery as a result of his upbringing and position of authority, but neither is he keen to drop in on the dying Western chapters of his order and become stifled by protocol and ass-kissing. He prefers to wander the desert itself, seeking solitude among the cacti and under the stars. Given the chance, he'd probably nip off to Quarry Junction and anonymously solve the NCR's deathclaw problem, if it hasn't already been taken care of. He refuses to wear his uniform for the entire trip.

Desdemona: "The Mojave probably wouldn't know what to make of our mission, which is how you know it's a good place to hide. I wonder if any of our rescued synths made it out this far."

This is by far the most relaxed the sole survivor has ever seen Desdemona, and why wouldn't it be? She's so far removed from her usual sphere that she drops her usual, tight-knit demeanor and embraces loosening up. She's still not talking openly about the Railroad's operations, but she is more likely to answer questions both personal and professional. Like Deacon, she knows a bit about the Mojave, but not so much that she can blend in completely. Instead, she embraces being a tourist and does all the usual things that go with it: Visiting the Strip, the Sunset Sarsaparilla headquarters, the Thorn, and especially Hoover Dam. When she's looking out over Lake Mead, with the sun getting caught in her hair as it sets on her left, she almost looks happy.

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 5✩ Inspiration: Daytime Spiritualities [昼日疑魂] Date Translation (Prologue)

“An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *5✩ Inspirations have 5 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox

Even the unluckiest soul in the world will one day meet a stroke of good luck at some odd point in time.

For example, I'd gone out to purchase some batteries last week, only to somehow win a chance to try out a new model of Home Projector. All I had to do was to give them feedback about it afterwards, and the projector was mine.

What a rare stroke of good luck! Shouldn’t I share some with the exceptional “Mr. Perfect” as well?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Setting my mind to it, I dialled the number I knew by heart.

Charlie: How rare it is for you to be the one calling me.

MC: Cut the crap. I'm here because I need something from you.

MC: Are you free this Saturday, Charlie?

Charlie: I… probably don't have any shifts on that day.

Charlie: Ah, I know now. You're asking me out for a date? Please tell me it's not for a Saturday candle-lit dinner.

MC: Dream on. Dinner's a stretch and candles are a no-go.

Charlie: How dull.

Charlie: But, yes. You do have a point there. My presence overshadows any candlelight before me, so long as I am around.

MC: I'm starting to regret ever calling you.

MC: I'm not going to tell you what we're going to be doing so just wait till Saturday and you'll know.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Saturday arrived much faster than I thought. I went out grocery shopping early on Saturday morning to give Charlie, "his highness", a grand welcome.

I passed the hospital on my way home when something extravagantly gold suddenly caught my attention.

A gold leaf-painted car. One with extremely showy butterfly doors. There, it stood; sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the calm serenity of the hospital.

This grandiose display of extravagance was something all too familiar to me…

Who else would do this, but Charlie?

MC: But… Why's he at the hospital today?

MC: Didn't he say that he didn't have any scheduled shifts?

Unable to restrain my curiosity, I decided to head into the hospital and have a look for myself.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Hurried footsteps sounded inside the IPD (In-Patient Department) as people came and went. Medicinal bottles clinked, and soft murmuring came from the Doctors and Patients down in the Wards. The IPD’s corridor was already abuzz with life this early in the morning.

Yet, the door to Charlie’s office was shut tight with nary a sound.

MC: How quiet. Is he not in his office?

I gently pushed the door open, only to be stunned speechless by the scene that greeted me inside his office…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie was lifelessly sprawled on the floor. His eyes were closed, and it was deathly silent.

The fridge by his side was wide open. The enzyme drinks and the fruit and vegetable juices within were exposed to the open as the fridge expelled cool air. White sheets of document paper were scattered all over the floor.

MC: Charlie?

Said person sprawled on the ground didn't move a finger, much less make a sound.

"An Employee's Sudden Death In the Early Morning", "Inside the Medical Industry: Why Work Crazy Overtime Hours". Possible headlines started running through my head, causing my mental alarm bells to start ringing.

MC: Hey? Hey! Are you okay!?

I flung my shopping bag to the side, quickly reaching out to place my finger under his nose to check if he was breathing.

MC: Phew… At least he's still breathing.

Just as I was about to turn tail and ask for help, I felt my fingers get caught in a soft and warm hold.

Charlie: Wait.

MC: !?

MC: Are you okay?

The person on the ground reached out to pinch my trembling fingers, shaking them twice in what was supposedly affirmation.

The heart that had leapt to my throat upon finding him settled back down, but doubt still remained.

MC: How… How do you feel now?

Charlie raised his head in a daze, looking like a right mess with tired black circles under his eyes.

Charlie: %#*$&...

MC: ???

MC: Wait, were you just asleep earlier!?

Charlie was just like a lion who’d awoken from slumber. He leisurely rubbed his eyes sleepily, the action itself seemingly giving you the answer to your question.

MC: ……

I started to replay everything I’d seen earlier in my mind… Steady breathing, warmness, and even the ever so faint snoring that came out from his parted lips...

Looks like I'm truly the one who’d jumped to conclusions here.

Recalling how I’d totally been frightened out of my own wits upon finding him earlier, I suddenly felt my cheeks grow hot.

MC: But, why are you sleeping on the floor? Are you that tired that you just crashed on the spot?

Charlie: As if. I purposely chose to sleep on the floor.

Charlie paused for a second, gathering up all his documents that were scattered all over the floor before rightening himself and walking over to bask under the morning light that filtered in. However, the expression he wore was still a little out of place.

Charlie: Once you’ve tried out all of the high-end beds in the world, you’ll soon come to realize that the bed is actually a pretty inferior piece of furniture to be sleeping on.

Charlie: It is only by staying in tune with nature and reverting to primal nature that you can get the highest quality of sleep.

Charlie: And the ground is the one thing closest to nature.

MC: ...We're on the second floor here.

Charlie: I have my own manner of thinking.

MC: ……

Although it did sound ridiculous, Charlie was someone who could even the most absurd things miraculously come true. I think I've pretty much been… rendered speechless.

As I was rendered speechless, the initiator of this entire farce had settled back in front of his desk as if everything was as per usual.

Charlie: I'll have to congratulate you first, (Y/n).

Charlie: For taking the initiative to find my workplace; and advancing us a step further in our progress towards making it onto the "Guangqi City's Model Married Couple List".

MC: Sorry, but we don't seem to be married yet. So, there's no way we'll be up on that list.

Charlie: Keep at it and we'll soon qualify for it.

MC: You've got some thick skin…

Did I really need to worry about this man earlier? He has such thick and impenetrably hard skin that I don't know whether I should be pitying him or the floor his face smashes into.

MC: Still, what are you doing here on a Saturday?

MC: Didn't you say that you didn't have any scheduled shifts today?

I leaned over and stared at him with narrowed eyes.

His eyes were a little dodgy. And when paired with the dark eye circles under his eyes, it was a rare sight on this "pricelessly perfect face" of his.

Charlie: I came to the hospital today to… Ahem. To wait for my assistant to deliver the blood test report.

Charlie: Last week's report; dragged till today. I'm not one to say this, but the young doctors all have serious procrastination issues.

Charlie: If all doctors are like that, then who dares be their patient?

Charlie had his brow furrowed into a particularly deep crease at that. He turned his gaze outside the window with eyes as dark as the old senior director of the hospital, who had a head full of grey and ever so grave.

And when I moved closer to peer at the stack of documents on the table and the crooked and askew words… His face morphed into a look warmer than that of welcoming neighbours.

However, the problem here was that… Wasn't that "Ward Round Medical Records" written on top of those documents?

MC: This doesn't look like a blood test report.

Charlie: You can actually tell?

MC: If I squint at it… Your scrawl is most certainly…. Erm… Unique.

His face slightly changed at that. He swiped the document from my hand and shoved it under the table.

Charlie: Enough of that. There is no way that this can ever be my handwriting.

Charlie: My calligraphy was already level 8 out of 10 in middle school.

Charlie: This is clearly someone else's handwriting!

He purposefully angled his body so that his back was facing the documents and propped his hands on the table.

Charlie: And, back to you. Why are you in such a rush to see me?

Charlie: Come on then; let's hear it. Just where are you asking me out to?

My eyes moved to look away, the fluttery airiness in my voice no longer carrying its lilt.

MC: My house.

Charlie: ...That quickly?

There was an odd hint of hesitance in his tone, something different from his usual overwhelming confidence.

However, this minuscule hesitance of his was gone as soon as it came. Soon, the corners of his mouth lifted up as high as they could go.

Charlie: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Never thought you'd be more proactive at this than I.

Charlie: There's no need to refuse; no need to feel shy. I know.

Charlie: But still, just us alone… together? Don’t you think that’s a little too rushed? Shouldn’t you do this more romantically, at least?

MC: ...Are you still half-asleep?

Charlie raised his eyebrows before shooting me an overly enthusiastic wink.

Charlie: What do you think?

MC: If you're awake, then stop spouting nonsense.

MC: Long story short, I won a trial run of a new Home Projector model last week…

Charlie: So, you’re inviting me to your house to watch a movie with you?

I never thought that Charlie would understand what I was getting at so quickly. I hurriedly nodded.

MC: Yup!

Charlie suddenly perked up. He crossed his fingers in thought.

Charlie: I suppose that makes sense. First, a movie; and then slowly, step-by-step.

MC: ……

He “knowingly” quirks his brows at you, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

All traces of sleepiness on his face had been wiped clean from his features. Charlie stands up from his desk, seemingly having been suddenly imbued with a burst of energy.

With a faint smile on his face, he stretches his slender fingers out to hook it around the handle of the leopard-print mug on the table.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I was caught off guard as an oddly familiar sense of deja vu overcame my senses…

It was as if a lively, yet oddly out-of-place saxophone piece had started playing in the background of his deserted office.

And there he stood, slowly coming into the view of the lens, panning forth in slow-motion. Golden sunlight filtered in from the windows, kissing the contours of his face and highlighting his profile.

Charlie: ……

He hooks his fingers onto his tie, tugging gently at it. His collar loosens, revealing his collarbones that peek out from beneath his shirt.

The knot of his tie rested next to the third button of his dress shirt. It was undone, yet not quite.

He pushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place by his sideburns.

Charlie: Does something seem off?

MC: What do you mean?

I lifted my head to peer into his cup. I could only see his reflection reflected in the waters.

MC: Not really…?

Charlie: As it should be.

MC: ?

Charlie: It appears that I am still as glamorous as always.

MC: ……

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

If Narcissus, the God of Narcissism who turned into a Narcissus, were to be reborn; then his reincarnation will be none other than Charlie.

In just a mere 2 seconds, Charlie was back to his usual pompous self.

Charlie: I'm going to get changed. Please give me a moment.

With that, Charlie briskly turns around and heads into the dressing room. He muttered lowly to himself as he went, the sound trailing after him as he disappeared into a corner of the room…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie: Charlie, I don't want to be the one to say this; but what’s the matter with you today?

Charlie: Passing out in the office! Your perfect image was almost ruined!

Charlie: Thankfully, I reacted fast enough.

Smiling, Charlie shakes his head helplessly at his own mirror image.

Charlie: Still, my posture is still so very charming, even if I did pass out cold on the floor.

Charlie: Oh, perfection; your name is Charlie.

Meanwhile, I was blissfully unaware of these small theatrics going on inside the dressing room as I waited for him outside….

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Since Charlie was out, I decided to take the chance to survey his office.

The multitude of silk award banners and certificates of merit displayed on the cabinet stupefied me. I couldn’t believe the fact that all these awards belonged to Dr. Zha, who was currently piecing himself back together in the dressing room.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the work calendar that hung at the door. It had Charlie’s familiar handwriting scrawled on it.

MC: Is this…

The door to the dressing room opens with a thud as Charlie appears by the window, now casually dressed.

I ended up blurting out the question that was festering in my heart.

MC: Charlie, were you… working overtime overnight yesterday?

MC: Just so that you could make time for me on Saturday?

I looked at Charlie, attempting to gauge the answer from his eyes. That was when I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.

Charlie freezes for a moment. Something clicked inside his brain as he realized that he’d unwittingly overlooked a small detail. His high spirits immediately dampened.

Charlie: Do you have to say it out loud for the entire world to hear? How unromantic.

His honesty confirmed the disbelief I’d felt upon the revelation. It finally made sense now.

Charlie: No need to feel overly moved by this. An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.

Charlie: Of course, I have to be willing to make said sacrifice as well.

He faced me with utter confidence. The sincere look in his eyes made me think that maybe this was only right.

Looking at the childish chicken scratch on the calendar, I can’t help but suspect that this might just be how he is when he was actually being serious for a change.

Charlie: Stop standing around. Let's go.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie led me out of the hospital. The engine of the flashy golden sports car roared as it brought us to my place.

I took my keys out and moved to open the door.

Suddenly, I recalled that it had been a long time since I last cleaned my room. I feel like I should say something about it first…

MC: I’ll warn you beforehand. My room is a little messy, so I’m sorry if it offends you, your highness.

MC: Express your distaste, and today’s session will end here.

Charlie: That's all?

MC: ...That's all.

Charlie: And here I thought that you were going to say something like, “Close your eyes, I’m going to blindfold you.”

Charlie: Or, maybe ask me for the right password before granting me entry.

Charlie: What’s wrong with a messy room?

He laughs, leaning down to place his hand upon mine, which was gripping tightly onto the doorknob. He gave it a small push. My hand moved along with the doorknob under the pressure he exerted, and the door creaked open.

Charlie: I can always help you move into our new apartment if you want a bigger room to place your things in.

Charlie went around me and walked straight in.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The lights weren’t on yet, but I could hear his voice in the dim room.

Charlie: Where's the mess?

Charlie: It’s pretty good; enough to house another person.

The embarrassment that had yet to completely set in was soon washed away by his teasing words. Relieved, I left the bag of snacks by the door and ran into the room.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie was seated on the loveseat, his hands casually resting against the back of it.

MC: Your arms are stretched so far out. Made yourself at home, I see.

I patted the hand that he’d stretched out to lean against the sofa with a smile.

MC: I think distance makes the heart fonder between us.

Unfazed, he withdrew his hand without a word.

Charlie: And this is how you treat the evaluator you specially invited?

MC: Yeah.

Charlie: Can't you be a little more professional?

MC: Of course I can. But, I’ll also have to ask this evaluator here to kindly up his professionalism as well.

MC: Don’t get any funny ideas from your own fantasies during the movie.

Charlie knowingly retracted his “I own the world” sitting posture and moved further out.

Charlie: I can obviously do that.

Charlie: But, what if the person picking out the movie has their own selfish motives and chooses to watch some romance flick?

MC: No need to worry about that. We’re watching this today.

I sat down and turned the projector on. A shockingly red movie poster flickered onto the screen. Charlie's smile immediately froze in place.

Charlie: What… What is this?

MC: "Massacre of the Spirit". This is what we're going to be watching today.

Charlie: Massacre of… the Spirit? A horror film?

Charlie: Seriously, (Y/n)?

MC: Absolutely. My hard disk died not too long ago, so this horror movie is the only thing left in my cloud storage.

Charlie didn't reply, only mutedly leaning back against the loveseat.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked a little… nervous.

MC: Charlie? Are you scared of watching it?

Charlie: ...How absurd.

Charlie: The word "scared" doesn't exist in my dictionary.

Charlie: Don't go clinging to me in fright when the time comes.

With that, he casually pulls the blanket over our laps as if it was the most natural thing to do.

I peered up at him, but he cut me off before I even had the chance to thank him.

Charlie: No need to thank me.

Charlie: I can most definitely lend you this warm chest of mine if you get so frightened that you get the chills.

MC: Heh, there's no need for that.

MC: But, thank you for the blanket.

However, just as I was about to hit the play button, Charlie held my hand down.

Charlie: Wait, wait!

He reached over my lap and quickly smoothed over all the wrinkles on the blanket. He was very swift, almost as if he was handling white mice.

Charlie: Okay. You can start now.

Why's this man acting so strange today?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I lowered the blackout curtains and the room darkened.

The screen before us flickered twice as screams and the sound of something tearing reverberated through the room.

The movie showed an autopsy room that was lit up as bright as the day with a withered human chained to the operating table. And hidden within the darkness, was a deathly sharp bayonet that was fatally poised.

It was then that Charlie brought something up. His low voice cut through the movie's colourful sound effects and entered my ears.

Charlie: Are you not afraid to see scenes like this?

Charlie looked at me, awaiting my reply…

How should I reply to him…?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #查理苏 #Charlie #For Night For Paradox #昼日疑魂 #Daytime Spiritualities

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reinersbb · 3 years

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Chapter Five- Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy PT.1

Chapter Five Part One of Forget

Orange, black, and purple plastic solo cups littered the dewy grass along with other miscellaneous speckles of trash- some cups still retaining remnants of alcohol. Only ten o'clock at night and there was already a headache of a cleanup worth of mess outside on the front lawn. There was no telling how much worse it would be on the inside where the heart and soul of the party was. But it's not like after-party cleanup would be your problem to deal with.

Carved jack-o-lanterns that were once originally placed along the long walkway leading up to the front door of the frat house were smashed and overturned. Stringy pumpkin guts and seeds clung to the porous pavement of the walkway, some of the pumpkin innards in the grass. A collection of large oak trees in the front lawn were decorated with ominous purple lights. The flickering light cascaded across the grass, bouncing off the glass of littered alcohol bottles.

As you transitioned onto the property from the bustling street of roaming party-goers from different frat homes all around, the music and shouts from within the home ahead of you seemed almost loud enough to shatter its' windows. The base of your heels clicked against the pavement out of excitement as you trailed up the property.

A gust of wind hit your overly exposed flesh, and a chill of excitement tickled your vertebrae. While you were pulling the silk robe you wore over your body to cover yourself, short wolf-whistles from a group of drunk party-goers who'd barely managed to stand up straight caught your attention. The intoxicated faces that wore skewed face paint waved to you, catcalling you, wanting nothing else but your attention, but, you ignored them and continued onto the covered porch. Anywhere away from the blabbering drunk so-and-so's who were floundering in the lawn is a place where you wanted to be.

The front door that belonged to the home was left completely open, and you couldn't tell if the people passing through were coming or going. But you pushed your way through and sure enough, you were finally inside and one with the chaos that was the Halloween party. You already knew that this party was more hectic than the last one you attended.

Spirits were high, and the energy emitting from the room you now stood in practically zapped you.

One look alone at the hoard of people around you had you wishing that you would've at least asked Ymir to cancel her late-night movie date with Historia so they could follow along with you tonight instead. You weren't sure if you could handle a party like this all by yourself.

Managing to shuffle away from the front door, you stood aside and reached for your phone that you'd been holding in your small purse. Taking a quick look around at all the flashy details of costumes, your eyes dug down at your phone screen.

Today 22:46 Hey Jean, I'm here...

Though it wasn't out of spite or pettiness, a handful of hours is how long you left Jean's messages on seen. You decided earlier in the day to take it upon yourself and show up and surprise him with your arrival instead of messaging beforehand so that way he wouldn't expect a thing.

After your message was sent, all you had to do was find Jean. Or he had to find you. Seemed simple enough, but with one look at the crowd, you knew it wouldn't be such an easy task to tackle. Even if Jean was nearby, how would you be able to pick him out of the crowd?

There were many, and if not all, people wearing costumes. Even if by chance you were to know tons of people, they'd be hardly recognizable to you. So trying to catch a face would be worthless.

A singular buzz from your phone had you checking your lock-screen within an instant. Sure enough, it was a response from Jean.

Jean: Where are you?

Just as you were about to start at your reply, the chat bubble from the receiving end disrupted you. But as you watched and waited, the chat bubbles disappeared without any further sign of reappearing.

Then somehow you heard Jean's voice shouting your name over the crowd.

But where?

You couldn't help but look like a maniac as you scanned your surroundings. You were trying to recall which direction you heard his tenor voice last when suddenly two large hands skewed your vision. Instantaneously your hands went flying upward, dropping your phone mid-process as you felt at his wrists as he stood close behind you.

You yelped a response, "Jean!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jean's hands lowered from your face, allowing you to see clearly once again. "Let me get that," you watched as his hand reached for your phone that was on the ground.

Jean fell into your line of sight as you turned on your heel to face him. Both of you went wide-eyed as both of you took each other in, examining each other's costume. Your phone that was now dangling at his fingertips was almost dropped for a second time out of Jean's surprise.

"Are you... a cowboy?" You managed to make the first remark.

Covering Jeans' head was a worn chocolate brown cowboy hat, along with a matching colored mid-thigh coat. His hair was tucked under the hat, only the ends of his hair billowing out. Though like always, the black studded earrings were still imprinted in both his earlobes. A red paisley bandana covered up the neck of his button-up shirt. Dark faded blue jeans covered his long legs and a large belt buckle hung at his hips. The cuffs of his jeans swamped worn down brown pointed boots. His cheeks seemed to be more defined while somehow his facial hair seemed to be darkened and unruly.

His ruggedness was hot.

Jean cleared his throat before attempting to speak with his best cowboy impressions, "you betcha', cowgirl." Jean paused for a beat, mainly to gather his words, "now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you're dressed as a playboy bunny?"

"Bingo. How do you like my costume? Historia and Ymir helped me come up with the idea."

Promptly, you corrected your bunny ears that'd been pushed out of place from his surprise attack. Jean silently raked your appearance in from head to toe, his tongue caught on his lip as if he were about to say something but he hesitated, almost like he was nervous. Even if he was nervous, he most certainly wouldn't let you know that.

Eventually, he gulped, and through his parted lips he spoke, "I- I like it, your costume puts mine to shame. Also, I think the colors red and black suit you well."

If it weren't for the off-put lighting of different color hues, you would've been able to notice the radiating peach glow on his cheeks.

"Thanks, your cowboy costume isn't so bad either," you teased, tipping the front of his hat down over his brow line. "That's payback for making me drop my phone."

Jean chuckled, lifting the hat from his head, allowing the locks of his hair to fall across his forehead aimlessly. His long fingers ran through his hair, pushing his amber strands back before setting the cowboy hat back on his head.

After the quick readjustment, Jean's eyes were on you, "by the way, thanks for showing up tonight."

"Oh, it's no big deal," you admitted when in reality you'd spent hours getting ready, regardless of how nonchalant you'd made your previous statement out to be.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to look good tonight since you knew Jean would be at the party. You didn't care about the technicalities or the thoughts and ideas people would make of you from your attire alone. But you wouldn't admit it.

You were uncertain for how long you had been staring at Jean for, that and you were also uncertain of close the two of you were standing next to each other until you were randomly pushed from behind by a passerby. Jean of course caught ahold of you as you went stumbling forward. Jean helped stabilize your footing by holding onto your arms.

There was a scowl on his face as he stared off into the crowd, searching for the person who carelessly bumped into you. The disgruntled look on his face was hardly noticeable if you weren't paying enough attention, but sure enough, there was a scowl on his face.

"Are you okay?" Jean's eyes were back on you, "they didn't even stop to apologize to you."

"It's alright, Jean, it's not like I got hurt or anything, and they're probably too drunk to function."

"You know you're probably right," even though it seemed like he didn't want to give up that easily, Jean carefully took ahold of your wrist, "will you follow me?"

You attempted to speak over the blaring background noise, "okay, where are we going?"

Jean turned his head back for only a second so he could respond as he began to walk, "you'll see."

The next room the two of you entered wasn't as packed as the entrance of the house, but still as lively. A table with solo cups at either side was folded out and there were two teams tossing ping pong balls back and forth, taking a drink from the orange solo cups when directed. A hoard of people surrounded the table, but you managed to get a vision of the action.

"Beer pong?" You talked over the commotion, taking a glance at Jean before back at the table.

"Have you ever played before?"

"Back in high school, I've played a handful of times but I completely sucked at the game. I haven't won, not even a single time."

"Let's see if your luck has changed any and see if we can break that losing streak of yours," Jean finally released your wrist to go talk to a man who'd been standing near the game table.

The unknown man was dressed in black pants and a white and black striped shirt, like one of those burglars you see in children's cartoons. Under a black beanie, he had blond hair and was built, his well-toned muscles were flexed as his arms wrapped around his chest while talking with Jean. Next to the blond was a much taller man, who was even taller than Jean by at least two to three inches, who wore a similar costume as the blond.

"Hey! Are you a friend of Jean?" An alto-toned voice called out from your right as you felt a knuckle tap on your shoulder.

A tall man with a freckle-kissed face and chocolate brown eyes beamed at you, his expression was laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. His hair was parted and styled like a man from the eighties, and he wore a red puffer jacket over a denim jacket. Instantly you thought he was dressed as Marty McFly from Back To The Future.

"I guess you could say that, yes," you said, unsure if a straight yes or no would be correct.

"Okay, cool! I'm Marco, Jean's best friend. I haven't seen you around before, where did you guys meet?"

"I met him through my mutuals at a party last Saturday-" you paused for a beat, remembering the first actual encounter you had with Jean. "Actually, the first time I ever met him is when I quite literally ran into him. It was horrible, I spilled my latte and everything."

You'd have Jean pay you back for that latte one day, even if you were the one that barged into him. And that was a promise.

Just then, those chocolate brown eyes of his flashed for a split second. His thick eyebrows rose and fell and the corners of his lips struggled to keep from lifting into a knowing smirk.

"Before I forget to ask, what is your name?"

Whenever you told Marco your name, his eyes darted over towards Jean's direction then back at you. There was a weird expression on his face that you couldn't put your finger on, it almost seemed like he knew something that you didn't.

Your eyebrow lifted, "what's the matter, Marco?"

"Marco!" Jean finally reappeared from the beer pong table, almost standing in between you and Marco.

Jean glanced at you and back to Marco.

"Wait, what were you two talking about?" Jean shifted towards you slightly, a shadow falling across his brow from the cowboy hat he was wearing.

His defensive side caused suspicion to arise inside of you. Had he been hiding something from you?

"We-"

You'd attempted to speak, but Marco beat you to it, "nothing, Jean, I was just introducing myself to your friend."

Jean stared at Marco for a few seconds, like he was carefully reading the man with chocolate eyes.

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer, almost like an explosion from the table. Then there was a harsh whistle that zipped through the other commotion which caught Jean's attention entirely.

"Jean! Come on, you're up against me and Bert," the same man that Jean was talking to previously informed.

"Come on," Jean motioned for you to follow him, "let's get you that win."

Across from you stood the same two men who Jean had been talking to previously. Apparently, the blond's name was Reiner and the other went by Bert, or Berty, however, the blond cooed. While Marco stood off to the side of both you and Jean, loaning you his friendly support and cheering both of you on.

As the game commenced, Jean stood close beside you the whole time, giving you a few tips and tricks here and there to help sink the ball. You noted how nice it felt when he held onto your wrist one time to imitate a fake swish. Or how nice it felt when you actually sunk a ball into a cup and Jean would congratulate you by pulling your body against him into a side hug.

You felt at the top of the world, soaring all high and mighty. There was a slight buzz kicking in already from the cups of beer you had to drink, and Jean even decided to help you out with most of them by downing the liquid. He'd pluck the cup up from the table, and before dipping his head back, he'd glance at you with a knowing look with his intense eyes over the brim of the cup.

Your fingers accidentally laced with his momentarily as you high-fived one another after Jean scored your team another point. Soon after your mini celebration was cut short, Jean rolled his eyes whenever Reiner's ball bounced into your team's orange cup. Reluctantly his slender fingers grasped the brittle material and downed the beer.

With the back of his wrist, he wiped the corners of his mouth, "we just need to score the last cup," Jean placed a hand on your shoulder, his excited eyes staring into yours.

"What if I mess up?" You kept your eyes only on Jean.

"You won't."

With that, you sucked a breath in through your nose and exhaled steadily. The music was continuously bumping in the background while you rinsed off your ball in the discard cup. Your chest was thumping, and there was a ringing sensation beginning to sound.

The game was currently tied up. One to one. Reiner and Bert stood adjacent to you and Jean. Both men waved their hands in front of the cup as you aimed for the center.

Once the ball was tossed and in mid-air after its' first bounce, their hands ripped away, and almost as if it were playing in slow motion, the ball landed in the cup. The contents sloshing around slightly on impact as your ball sank into the depths of the plastic. Reiner sighed and plucked the ball out and drank the beer from the remaining cup you happened to score.

An eruption of emotions spilled out of you and everyone else around you. To your surprise, you felt Jean ease his arms around you, swiftly lifting you and spinning you in a victory hug. Naturally, you melted into Jean's touch as he held you up from the ground.

"We did it, Jean! Thank you so much for believing in me."

"It's no problem, I knew that you could do it, but I do enjoy the praise."

If it weren't for Eren walking up and interrupting both of you, the moment of celebration with Jean would've lasted much longer.

You would've preferred that outcome.

"Jean, Marco," A slap on Jeans' shoulder came from Eren, "I've been looking for you two and everyone else, Porco wants us downstairs," Eren was practically already shit-faced.

When Eren's shiny emerald eyes caught ahold of yours, he stopped to smile and greet you. He couldn't believe that he'd overlooked you for that short moment.

"You- a playboy bunny? Damn, if I would've known you'd come dressed as that I would've come dressed as Hugh Hefner," Eren held a bottle pointed at you as he took your appearance in, "don't be a stranger, you should join us downstairs."

"Now, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Jean," you reassured the tall figure, "it sounds like it will be fun."

Your heels clapped against the hard flooring after stepping away from Jean who finally let you back onto the ground. Instead of walking with Jean, you stayed behind him as he walked with Marco, and Eren was already way ahead of the two men. You enjoyed watching Jean and Marco converse from behind, and also you noticed how lively they seemed to be when talking to each other.

Much to your Amusement, you immediately noticed out of the crowd of people in the basement that both Connie and Sasha were wearing matching crayon costumes. Connie was the color green and Sasha was yellow.

"Over here, you guys!" Connie practically fell over his own feet as he grabbed your small group's attention.

Though, another face, another painstakingly familiar face caught your attention.

'Why the hell is he here?'

Floch never showed up to parties, so why now of all times?

You stilled in your tracks, unsure of what to do. Do you approach the group and be awkward because of your ex-boyfriend? Or do you stop, turn around, and head back out instantly without another word spoken?

You noticed when Jean turned his head over his shoulder to look back at you, almost like he somehow noticed or felt a shift in the atmosphere around your group. His lips turned from a crooked smirk from talking to Marco into a slight frown as he gazed at you. Jean paused from marching alongside Marco to glide back and meet up with you.

Naturally, Marco turned on his heel to question what was up and why both of you stopped following, and all Jean did was encourage him to carry on and that the two of you would only take a second.

You appreciated Jean's concerns, but you didn't know what to say to him, what could you possibly say to him without making him uncomfortable?

"What's wrong?" Jean asked as he finally approached you.

"He," your eyes found comfort by staring at the ground you were standing on, "he's here."

"What do you mean?" Jean looked around momentarily before looking back at you, "who's here?"

There wasn't much time to waste, not if you wanted to make your conflicting emotions noticeable to the others who were waiting for all four of you to join them. You definitely didn't want Floch to notice how bothered you were by his presence.

What was he doing here anyway? He never was the one to attend parties, he even said so himself.

"My ex-boyfriend," you spoke dryly, almost unable to be heard if Jean weren't listening well enough.

Without another word spoken, you lifted your head, Jean took the cue to follow your eyes where Floch was seated. You watched as the redhead enjoyed a beverage from his orange cup, laughing at something with a man with short brown hair, whom you didn't recognize.

"Who? That guy is your ex?" Jean asked, paying close attention to you while gesturing towards Floch.

"Yeah, the redhead, I didn't think he'd be here tonight," you exhaled an uneasy breath of air, "he was never the one for parties. God, I don't want him to ruin my night, I've been having so much fun and-"

"So then don't let him ruin your night," Jean took ahold of your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, "I have an idea."

Your eyes flashed with excitement at the hand-to-hand contact with Jean, "what's your idea?"

Jean's stern eyes softened for a split second, almost like he were telling you to trust him. Without any debate on the matter, you swallowed your nerves and squeezed Jean's fingers with your own, embracing the comforting heat of his palm on yours. You could only notice how relaxed your hand was in his, the feeling was familiar and soothing, something you could get used to if given the chance.

"Hey guys," Jean spoke to the large friend group, taking a seat beside Marco on the couch.

The group of people was much larger this time around. You recognized some faces from previous encounters at the last party, while some faces you hadn't seen before, and some were completely unrecognizable due to their costumes. More people were standing idly by away from your group talking to one another, some were dancing, and there were others preoccupied at the wet bar. You noticed that there was a small group huddled around a pool table, but decided to_ ignore_ the pool table.

Without anywhere else to sit due to limited space around, you hesitated briefly until Jean pulled you onto his lap. With a squeal, you adjusted yourself, crossing your legs quaintly as you delicately sat on his lap. This whole time from holding hands with Jean till now you've avoided looking towards the direction Floch was sitting in, but you noticed that his lips had gone still, and movement of his had ceased.

Maybe he was jealous by seeing you and Jean together, hand in hand. But that was a good thing, right?

Jean's large palm draped on your hip delicately, no, hesitantly, almost like he was unsure to touch you. His palm hovered across the material of your silk robe, feeling the intricate indentations of the more risqué undergarments underneath. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by the way he was holding onto you, all he could do was hope you wouldn't mind. But, considering your past encounter with Jean, he thought something so simple as having his hand placed on your hip didn't match up to the extremity of the last personal encounter you two shared.

Connie and Sasha struck up a conversation with you as soon as you were comfortably seated. Jean and Marco casually joined in on the conversation and all five of you sat talking amongst yourselves out of the group of well over a dozen.

There were the occasional cut-ins from Eren or the blond whose name was Armin that you'd seen from yesterday, but you didn't mind. There was also a man who was named Niccolo that appeared from upstairs who joined in, he brought two beers with him and wiggled his way to sit in between Sasha and Connie, mostly leaning into Sasha though as he gave her one of the beverages he'd been holding. The more the merrier you thought.

As long as it wasn't Floch joining in, you didn't mind.

The conversation was cut to a halt when a man with dirty blond hair that was slicked back cleared his throat to speak. The blond wore a black leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath and faded blue jeans covering his legs. Sitting next to him was another male who wore a similar matching costume, sans jacket and his hair was only a little messier than the blonds, with his hair falling out of place but still kept back. They looked to be dressed like a character out of the book _The Outsiders, _like greasers.

"How about we all play a little game?"

"What kind of game, Pock?" A woman with thick black hair asked, her arm lazily dragged across the man's shoulder as she tipped her head out of curiosity.

"Pieck, I told you to stop calling me that," the blond seemed to be easily frustrated by the single comment.

Which only resulted in a soft laugh from Pieck, "alrighty then, Porco."

The irritate state seemed to blow over quickly, and Porco now was back on track with his original train of thought, "anyways, I was thinking of..." Porco glanced around the vast group for a moment, "a little game of truth or dare?"

"Truth or dare? Don't you think that's a little middle schoolish, baby brother?" The man sitting beside him with brown hair asked playfully, visibly striking a nerve in Porco.

"Shut up," Porco hissed at his brother, "it's my party, so I get the say in what we do, so if _you _don't like it, Marcel, then you can leave. It's as easy as that," Porco pulled a bottle of bud light to his lips before tipping his head back to take a drink. "And that goes for everyone else too, if you don't like it, then leave."

Though, with the invitation to leave if warranted, no one got up from their seat. And you could tell that Jean hadn't even considered the option of leaving since he made no effort to move, and neither did you. But, naturally, you turned your head over your shoulder just to ask him and make sure. What you didn't anticipate was the proximity that both of your faces would be to each other once you turned to look back at him.

You stilled on Jean's lap, the breath you sucked in practically caught in your throat at his closeness, "Jean," you almost asked in a hushed tone, "do you want to play?"

"Of course," his smile disappeared briefly, but not because he was unhappy, "I mean unless you don't then we can go somewhere-"

"No," you smiled, aimlessly turning back to face the crowd as you'd once been, "I'd like to play, all I need is a drink to start the pace," you admitted, eyes falling onto Floch after turning back forward.

————————

"You have to do the dare, Bert," the man from the opposing team you played against earlier, who you now knew as Reiner, spoke out, encouraging his tall friend and the girl he was with.

Currently, Bertholdt was to take a body shot off of the girl's stomach. The poor boy was flustered out of his mind, his tan cheeks were a deep shade of pink as he leaned towards the girl. Bert dipped down to her naval, sucking out the alcohol from her belly button. Whistles and cheers sounded out from the crowd when Bert pulled his face back, downing the shot of booze.

"Atta champ," Reiner slapped Bertholdt on his back, causing Bert to cough up a sputter on the alcohol that lingered in his throat.

Bertholdt shrugged his shoulder over his mouth, eliminating any residual of alcohol on his lips.

Currently, you were a few turns in of a modified version of truth or dare. But instead of truths, there were only dares, or you had to take a drink for bailing. The game and its' rules reminded you of the spin-the-bottle game you played last Saturday.

"Drink or dare," you scanned across the crowd, thinking of a victim to pick, "Sasha."

"Dare, obviously," she elbowed Connie in the rib playfully, waiting to hear the poison you picked for her.

A mischievous grin developed on your eager lips, you had just the dare in mind for Sasha.

"I dare you to go lock yourself in a room with Niccolo for ten minutes," you pointed to a room just a few feet away from your group.

Niccolo sputtered out of embarrassment, he was surprised that you'd dare Sasha to do something like that. But Sasha, she wasn't the one to complain over a dare. So, she hopped up on her feet and waited for Niccolo to follow.

Though you only crafted this dare mostly as a joke, you knew well that this dare would also help the two jump-start their relationship in the right direction. You came to that conclusion solely by observing how the two had been interacting with each other so far.

Niccolo seemed to be interested in Sasha but, of course, was hesitant, while Sasha on the other hand was oblivious to Niccolo's advances.

Before Sasha entered the nearby room, she shot you a glance, a glance that could read 'you'll pay for this later.'

After receiving quick congratulatory praise from Eren and Connie due to daring Sasha and Niccolo to do such a thing, both men signaled to Jean that it was now his turn to dare someone.

"Who's it going to be, Jean?" pulling your chin back over your shoulder, you stopped to look at the man you were sitting on.

His fingers that were slack against you suddenly gripped your body slightly. Jean's index finger vaguely tapped against you where he held onto, before combing all fingertips against your flesh in a soothing manner.

Without a second glance around the room, Jean spoke with his head slightly tilted, his eyes on and only on you, "I dare you to kiss me."

#attack on titan #Jean #jean smut #Jean Kirschstein #aot smut #jean kirschtein smut

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Not Your Typical

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort (kind of?)

Pairings: romantic Demus, Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: some language, autistic character, sensory overload, mentions of losing friends in the past, anxiety, unintentional self harm, Roman is kind of a jerk but he regrets it, food mentions, unable to eat certain consistencies, beach/water/swimming, Janus being a disaster gay, ASL, selective mutism.

Word count: 6k

Comments: Like always, I don’t intend for these to be so long. Holy cow.

Janus is written based mostly on my experiences as someone with autism, and how it’s affected my childhood/relationships/daily life. No one’s experience is the same.

Janus was always alone. Alone, not lonely.

Most of the time, that is.

His whole childhood was an endless cycle of make a friend, weird them out, be alone. Find another friend, weird them out, be alone. And sometimes it hurt, yeah, but he got used to it. At home, he spent the entire day in his room, assembling structures out of legos before tearing them down and starting over. Sometimes he’d build something really cool, and that would stay up for a long time. He didn’t have any siblings, and his parents didn’t give a whoop as long as the floor was generally clear, so no one ever bothered the space ships or towers or just really long lines that stretched from one wall to the other. He liked those.

Things changed when he got to middle school. Life started getting real, people became more than just recess friends, and that unsettled him. He made a couple close friends, friends that he really opened up to only for them to leave him when he became too much. He just couldn’t help it though; he couldn’t help the way he bounced when he got so excited he couldn’t breathe, or how he couldn’t use words when he got overwhelmed by the touch and the noise, or how he couldn’t stop talking about his favorite shows or books. He was labeled as childish. It was like a label had been stuck to his chest that read “avoid at all costs”, and people did.

So he relearned how to be alone. He put a lava lamp next to his bed for when he needed something constant to look at, he got a collection of chewy necklaces and stim toys that never left his room. After a lot of research, he convinced his parents to buy him a weighted blanket for when every touch was too light, too agonizingly light, and he needed something firm to ground him. At school, or really around anyone, he learned to control his more obvious stimming and touch sensitivity by staying in oversized sweaters and jeans. He taught himself basic sign language for when he couldn’t talk, even though he knew his parents wouldn’t understand him. They took forever to learn basic signs, for ‘water’ or ‘quiet’ or ‘no’, and both eventually got frustrated and gave up. As if their frustration was anything compared to his.

It was going great, not perfect but better than before, until he graduated high school. Suddenly he realized he was about to move halfway across the country, to a new environment with new triggers and new people who didn’t understand that he wasn’t frowning because he was pissed, but because smiling when you didn’t understand the reasoning was exhausting. Why do people smile and greet you when they enter the room? Why couldn’t that be more of an… understood thing? I’m here, you’re here now, we both know that, so why bring so much attention to it? For once his parents were kind enough to help him out, taking him to the campus during the summer to get acquainted with the surroundings and learn the map by heart. He talked to the admission’s counselor, explaining his disability and why that meant he couldn’t be on the side of campus near the highway, because the constant noise and common sirens would make him explode. They were eventually able to move him to one of the other buildings, one with apartments instead of dorms, even though that was generally only for third and fourth years. It took a load off his shoulders; less noise, less people. The one thing he couldn’t do was meet his roommates before the year started.

The school got them into contact, and since he was the last to be assigned to the six person pod, they added him into their pre-established group chat. The other five already had nicknames, ranging from ‘Dad’ to ‘Rat Bastard’, and he immediately felt like an outsider. Not like that was new to him, though. Except, he didn’t stay like that. When one of the group, ‘Nerdy Mcnerd’ on the chat (he’d long forgotten their actual names), asked him what he liked and he immediately sent a list of special interests and hyperfixations, the top being snakes, it was like a door had been opened. Nerdy Mcnerd was a fan of space as well, and the two stayed up until all hours of night on their own chat discussing space and their place in the universe. Rat Bastard had an affinity for what people would categorize as “creepy animals”; octopi and squid, spiders, star-nosed moles, and most importantly, snakes. Their conversations mostly involved dopey pictures of snakes and unintelligible key smashes and emojis. Emo Disaster shared his love of darker themed TV shows, and they started a couple new ones at the same time, constantly updating each other with theories. When he mentioned his major was psychology, Dad was immediately overjoyed to be sharing the major with someone, and offered to help him study for the harder classes. He didn’t hit it off quite so well with Princey, who was put off by Janus’ so called “moodiness” and didn’t trust him.

When they finally met, it was supposed to be great. Janus knew the environment, somewhat knew his roommates, and was surprisingly excited for the new year. His joy was suddenly vanquished, however, as meeting these people face to face took a turn for the worse. Dad, Patton, immediately tried to go for the hug when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and was slightly taken aback when Janus reared back so hard he hit his head on the wall. The glee disappeared and he apologized profusely, and that’s when Nerdy Mcnerd, Logan walked in, explaining that Patton was very physical. They were over it rather quickly, but Janus shuddered as soon as the other two turned to each other. They had already claimed one of the three rooms for themselves, so Janus chose the one furthest into the apartment. He dropped his suitcases next to one of the two beds with a deep sigh. The thought of a hug… no. It unsettled him greatly, made his skin crawl. Maybe one day, but not now.

Emo Disaster and Princey, Virgil and Roman, arrived later in the day, hand in hand, bickering animatedly when they walked into the apartment. They were greeted with a huge hug from Patton and a side hug from Logan, and that’s when Janus recalled that they had all been roommates the year prior and again, felt a small tinge of pain. He was still the odd one out. Virgil gave a two finger salute to where Janus was sitting curled up on one of the bar stools, knees pulled to his chest and for the first time, Janus didn’t feel compelled to give a forced smile in greeting. It was a relief. The small nod was all that was needed. Roman however, was a different story. When they happened to make eye contact for the first time, the taller man still standing in the doorway, Janus flinched. Hard. The man’s eyes burned through him, as if scouring through his brain, eyes so full of passion that Janus had to look away. Eye contact was only an issue for him sometimes, but with Roman, it physically hurt. Which only made the theatre major more suspicious of him. As he passed him on the way to get a glass of water, the taller man blurted out, “You’re a first year, why are you in a third year building?”, earning him a gentle smack from Virgil. He answered with a lame shrug and rushed back to his room, conceding to just go to sleep, regretting leaving his drink on the counter.

No one besides Janus was surprised when the door burst open at three am and a loud voice screamed, “I’M BACK, FUCKERS!” He was frozen in place, woken with such an adrenaline rush that he couldn’t move. Outside, the other four exited their rooms with varying levels of annoyance and delight, greeting the final member of the group. Remus, as Janus heard them proclaim, was his roommate, the only two dwellers not in a relationship. The gremlin burst into the room, a deranged smile on his face, and Janus wanted to cry. Why did he have to be stuck in a room with the loud one? But Remus saw the mismatched eyes poking out from under the blanket and with no hesitation, sunk to the floor next to the bed, still smiling but a million decimals softer.

“Hey, Snakey. Sorry to scare ya. I’m Remus, but you can still call me Rat Bastard if you want. Call me whatever, I don’t really get offended. You go back to sleep, I’m gonna get settled in. We can talk in the morning.”

Janus wasn’t planning to fall asleep, not with this new person in his room, but Remus was shockingly silent as he unloaded his things (he packed a bunch of garbage bags, not even a suitcase or box), and he couldn’t help the way his eyes slipped shut.

First semester came to a close, and he was equally delighted and horrified that everyone was staying on campus for break. It had become harder and harder for him to avoid movie nights, or family dinners (as Patton called them), or days they all went into town together. In the beginning, he put it off to being tired. Then, studying for exams. Now with school halted for nearly a month, he was out of excuses. It was getting to the point where he could feel the frustration from his roommates, and he wanted to admit how much he wanted to spend time with them, until his drawer full of secret stim toys and chewy necklaces called him back. At times, he let himself spend time with them. Baked something with Patton, talked about the stars with Logan, sat with Virgil as they studied, and it was good. He never was able to escape Roman’s cynical glares that made him absolutely shudder, but he got on much better with his twin.

Remus never minded if Janus only greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he was okay to have more one sided conversations while Janus drew, or after a few weeks, stared unapologetically. Because god, there was so much about Remus that Janus couldn’t help but watch, even if a normal person would get uncomfortable by his wide and unblinking eyes. Luckily, Remus was no ordinary person. But the younger still kept the drawer to himself, only allowing himself to nom on the plastic or squeeze the orbeez filled squishy snake with intense fascination when he was alone. So every time he was with the others and felt the need to stim or infodump or was about to have a stress induced meltdown, he would excuse himself and leave without so much of a goodbye. He couldn’t, not in front of them. Every time he left, he could hear Roman’s quiet remarks about him that stung more than he wanted to admit.

He’d had so many people leave, people he allowed himself to get close to, only for them to see the side of himself he tried to hide. In his heart, he knew that part of him wasn’t bad. It was just him. Other people didn’t understand that, though. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that no one would judge him, or laugh at him because they weren’t like that, he was scared. The effort was wearing him thin, and it came to the point where he realized he had to tell them. He had to, or he would burst, and that would be way worse.

It was just three little words: I. Am. Autistic. And he’d explain everything, tell them about his stims and limits and how he needed space sometimes and hugs others, and spill everything about himself, and they’d accept him. They’d have to, right? Only, the night he was planning to blurt out the truth, something stopped him.

They were eating dinner, one of the only ones he’d attended in a while. Patton kept glancing at him from across the table as he picked half heartedly at his lasagna, distracted from the lively conversation between the twins and Virgil. The whole thing was speckled with bite sized pieces of mushrooms and zucchini, two of the foods that he couldn’t eat to save his life. The texture made him want to recoil into himself and scream and yank at his hair, and he’d learned early in life that that wasn’t a normal response to food. He wanted to explain to Patton that it wasn’t the meal itself he was avoiding, that it wasn’t Patton’s cooking that he didn’t like, it was just the texture of those two things.

Well, maybe that was a good gateway into his big announcement, if you could even call it that. It felt almost as scary as his coming out to his parents had been. If they didn’t take this well, he might be exiled from the group. If they tried to put up with them, they’d get irritated so quickly and slowly freeze him out. He really didn’t want that. It needed to happen though, he realized. How much worse would it be if one of them walked in on him having a meltdown, holding a pillow over his mouth to block his screams, biting almost animalistically on a necklace? How unsettled would they be if they saw him hitting his blanket pile out of repulsion of the feeling of his textbook pages? Better to warn them ahead of time. It was only luck that had gotten him this far.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Logan hit the table with the heel of his hand and let out an almost guttural scream before storming into his and Patton’s room, slamming the door behind him. Janus nearly fell backwards off his chair, matching Virgil’s surprised expression. Roman went silent, wincing slightly.

“What…” It was the first word he’d said the entire meal. Patton whipped his head towards him as if he’d forgotten he was there, a sudden sympathetic look on his face. He gave a weak smile.

“Sorry about that, kiddo. Logan has autism, sometimes he can’t handle the stimulus around him. Or maybe he just had a rougher day than I thought. I’ll check on him after dinner, give him some alone time.”

Logan has autism.

Oh my god.

It was like everything clicked into place. His passionate talk about topics he was interested in that could rival Janus’ (if he would ever let himself infodump like he wanted). His mannerisms, his occasional emotional outbursts, his rigorous unbreakable schedule, it all made sense. For a brief second, Janus was elated. Someone like him, someone who understood! And if they accepted Logan, maybe they would be able to understand him, even if they presented different areas of the spectrum.

But… how would that look? Janus had hidden away his neurodivergent traits for so long, repressed them until he felt like he would literally explode… what if they thought he was faking it? It’s not like they knew him well, not with the amount of time he avoided being around them. They might think he was lying to get attention, didn’t want to be left out. Wanted to be special.

Patton seemed to be waiting for a response, he noted. He gave a curt nod, hoping it displayed that he was unbothered by Logan’s disability, before giving a stupid excuse about some reading to finish over break and darting back to his room. Remus joined him later, saying nothing about the fact that Janus was huddled under his weighted blanket, no book in sight. He sat down in front of the bed, a common habit of his now, and began to quietly talk about some new dark fantasy story he was designing, his lilting voice soothing Janus to sleep.

Time passed, winter came and went, and the end of second semester was drawing near. Janus was still careful with the way he presented to the others. They had picked up that he didn’t like physical contact, and though they never said a word about it, Patton’s lasagna recipe shifted, kept changing, until it no longer included mushrooms and zucchini. Janus refused to believe it was for his sake, though. He tried to join them for a couple movie nights, but the constant fear of stimming made his anxiety spike, therefore finding the need to stim more compelling, until he had to leave. It was getting harder, however, now that it was that pleasant in-between time where he understood how his new profs worked but it wasn’t exam season yet. His excuses were dwindling. Like always, Roman made his stupid quips that hurt him more than was probably intended, and he’d finally had enough.

Maybe that’s why he was staring out at the open lake in front of him, hands playing absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt as Patton and Remus squealed, sprinting into the water without a second thought. One of their shirts had landed on Janus’ sandaled foot, and he quickly kicked it off as the light touch began to irritate him. Logan stood to his side, watching his boyfriend with an almost imperceivable smile.

“You guys could have helped carry stuff if you were just going to stand there!” Roman’s indignant voice carried over the lawn, muffled slightly by the pile of towels he was carrying. Virgil snorted, whether in agreement or at Princey’s expense, Janus didn’t know. Either way, he dumped his handful of lawn chairs unceremoniously onto the lawn at their feet.

“You two set these up then. I’m hot, I’m going swimming.”

“Damn right, you are,” Roman grinned. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m hot, or I’m going swimming?”

“Yes.” He didn’t give any of them a second to retort, scooping up a shrieking Virgil before sprinting them both into the water.

“They didn’t even take their shirts off,” Logan commented, picking up a chair from the pile and unfolding it. Janus quickly joined in, helping him set the four chairs into a line and placing the towels down in front of them. “Did you want to go swimming?”

Admittedly, Janus hadn’t actually gone swimming, much less to the beach, since he was a kid. He was lucky to have even found a swimsuit amongst his other barely worn clothing; how it had snuck into his suitcase, he didn’t know. The water looked inviting and it was hot, but right now he was exhausted from the long ride over in Remus’ truck, having to refrain from plugging his ear when it got too loud or maintain his breathing carefully when a leg touched his.

“Maybe in a bit. I’m kind of tired.”

Logan turned to look at him, dare he say scrutinizingly? He washed the expression away quickly, asking, “Would you like me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Janus mumbled, “You go have fun. I’ll be fine, I like the quiet.” As if to punctuate his point, a child screamed from the playground, making them both flinch.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes. Go enjoy yourself, Logan.”

He nodded curtly, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluent motion and walking towards the waves professionally, as if he were walking towards a lecture. Patton cheered from the water.

Janus didn’t concern himself with the time as it passed, instead letting his mind wander while he focused on a line of ants that were crawling up a tree next to him. It wasn’t until a fast approaching form caught his attention did he tear his eyes away, hearing him give a shout of “Be right back!”.

Remus plopped himself onto the towel next to him, still panting from the run, but grinning from ear to ear. As he ripped open a water bottle and drank greedily, Janus couldn’t help but stare. Water glistened on his skin like jewels in the afternoon sun, plastering his hair down over his jaw and eyes. His eyelashes were barely fluttering against his cheekbones as he guzzled nearly half of the bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The jut of his shoulder, almost touching his throat, taking his weight as he leaned back on his arm… the whole thing was fascinating. People interested Janus as a whole; the way they functioned, how they seamlessly picked up on little cues from others that Janus was still in the process of figuring out, even down to intricate biology of cells was incredibly captivating. But Remus was so much more than that. His voice when he spoke him to sleep, never mentioning it the next day, the way his dark eyes glimmered with hope when Janus agreed to eat with them, the twitch of his moustache as he covered a laugh at Patton’s corny jokes.

He was art, plain and simple.

Janus didn’t know if what he felt was romantic attraction. It sure felt like it, except it had never felt quite like this before. It wasn’t that he was asexual or anything, he was actually decently far from it. It was just how uncomfortable most physical contact made him that gave him the idea he might never have a partner in the way that he wanted. He wanted to hold hands, to cuddle, to kiss… but at the same time, he didn’t. That is, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. Sure, he’d had crushes in the past, cute boys from his classes or celebrities in the shows he hyperfixated on, and still the feeling of uncertainty had stayed. With Remus, something was different though. Never before had a crush ever felt so breath stealing, chest clenching, awe inspiring-

“Like what you see?”

Janus flinched, realizing Remus had finished drinking and was beaming at him with that stupid gorgeous gleam in his eyes. He looked at his lap immediately, feeling his face heat up.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Remus smirked, having the audacity to wink at him before standing up. “I’m going back in. Coming?” He reached out his hand, hopeful. Janus took a breath, acknowledging that this was his first time initiating contact since he’d arrived, and grabbed Remus’ hand. The surprise on the other’s face was almost enough to make him laugh. He pulled the younger to his feet, keeping a firm hold in Janus’ hand. And… that was okay.

Until it wasn’t.

The second his feet touched the sand, it was like alarm bells exploded behind his eyes. He couldn’t describe it, but it felt wrong. It gave in too much, light sprinkles of sand covered the top of his feet and instantly every nerve was on high alert. He ripped his hand from Remus’, stumbling backwards onto the grass again. The elder spun to him with concern.

“Snakey? What happened?”

“I- hmm, no. I can’t. Nope. No no no. Wrong. It… hmmmm. Can’t.” The last word dragged out as his brain seemed to disconnect from his mouth. His mind didn’t work, so focused on how every blade of grass was swiping along his soles too softly, too gentle, too much. His hands had curled into fists and he was fighting against everything inside him to scream bloody murder, because oh god the wind was brushing the hair onto the back of his neck and it tickled and make it stop make it stop!

Janus could vaguely hear someone shout, and the loudness floored him. Get away, get away, it’s too much it’s too much. The feeling of the grass was gone, and he was sitting on his beach towel, but the wind was still brushing his hair too much, so he grabbed at it uselessly, begging it to stop, stop, stop.

“What’s happening?” Roman.

“Is he okay?” Patton.

“Does he look okay?” Virgil.

“Janus, breathe. You’re safe.” Logan.

Yeah, he knew that. He knew, objectively, that the wind isn’t out to get him and grass doesn’t hurt and sand isn’t supposed to fry your nerves. That didn’t change the fact that it did for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it connected that they were seeing him have a meltdown, finally. But he couldn’t focus on that, not when someone was touching his arm why are they touching my arm LET GO!

He screamed now, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His breaths were ragged and gaspy, hands ripping at his hair to try and stop the fluttering strands. Then there was a new sound, an engine, a boat, and with it came the deep bass of some terrible music and there were people shouting and his head was hurting, why was it hurting so bad?! New hands grabbed his wrists and he writhed, pulling back from the grip that was pulling his fists away from where they’d been hitting his skull, over and over, trying to just get his stupid brain to work. Come back to the present, ground yourself, do SOMETHING!

And then something was in his hands.

His eyes peeled open (when had he shut them?) and he saw the dark blue stress ball, almost crushed between his fingers. The hands were gone from his wrist, and he took a deep breath, relaxing his hand and watching the slime filled toy slowly return to its natural shape. It was just like one from his drawer, the first stim toy he’d ever gotten. Familiarity. He kneaded it under his fingers, enjoying the comforting texture, the color soothing to his sensitive eyes. Bit by bit he felt himself relax, still holding the toy inches from his face between stiff hands, letting his legs unfurl. Without thinking, he raised a shaking hand to his chin and did the sign for ‘water’, and immediately regretted it. It was just such a habit around his parents, the only other people who had seen him break down to this extent, how could he be so-

He flinched as a water bottle was pressed into his raised hand, the lid already taken off. The water was so good, settling his senses and grounding him, like he’d been in hyperfocus before and it was dulled now. He gave the stress ball another squeeze, captivated by the way the slime moved, not even flinching as someone snapped in front of him.

Looking up for the first time, his first instinct was to crawl into a hole and die. Logan was sitting in front of him, slowly putting the cap back on his water bottle before handing it back to Patton, who was standing just behind him. Roman and Virgil had begun packing the chairs and bags agonizingly slowly and quietly. Impressive; they were almost done and he hadn’t noticed until now. He turned to his left and his heart completely shattered. Remus was sitting statue still, a few feet away, with a look of pure fear in his eyes. He sat on the edge of his knees, like he wanted to pounce forward and hug him but was holding himself back. He appreciated that.

Logan snapped again and Janus turned back.

‘Better?’ He signed slowly.

‘You know sign?’ Janus responded weakly, confused.

‘Patton too. I go nonverbal as well. Are you okay?’

The younger nodded, returning his hands to the stim toy on his lap. ‘Yours?’

‘Yes.’

“Is he okay?” Remus whispered suddenly, drawing their attention. He looked so scared, like anything could break Janus and he was scared he would cause it. Oh. Did he think he caused this?

‘Not his fault.’

Logan looked between the two, a look of confusion settling in his face. “What?”

‘Not. His. Fault.’ He signed sharply, a frustrated hum emitting from the back of his throat. ‘Not his fault!’

“Remus, he’s saying it’s not your fault. What does that mean?”

“I- I took his hand, and then this happened…” Remus started, leaning back onto his feet ashamedly, “If that wasn’t the cause, what was?”

‘Sand.’

Logan’s eyes filled with understanding, and he responded, ‘Sand?’ as if to double check that he got the right sign. Janus nodded again, slightly thankful for the mute state he was in. He wouldn’t be able to explain this as well as Logan would.

“If I’m understanding right, then my first assumptions were correct. Janus, did you just experience a sensory overload?”

Janus could only nod, meeting his eyes shakily. This is the moment. Now is his segway. If Logan wasn’t already suspicious, he surely was now. And he’d rather not have to explain, or come up with some half assed excuse if he was confronted later on why sinking his foot into sand had made him break.

‘I’m autistic.’ He fingerspelled it, not knowing what the sign was, or if there even was one. There was a beat of silence, the twins and Virgil exchanging puzzled looks, and Janus couldn’t even bear to look at the two people who would have understood. All his fears came rushing back. Would they think he was lying, or seeking attention, or or or-

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton crooned, sitting cross legged beside Logan, “We thought maybe… well, the possibility came up in conversation before. Lo was the one who brought it up.”

“Yes. Though our experiences differ, you seemed to exhibit symptoms that are common to the ASD spectrum. I thought it feasible, but did not wish to offend or frighten you by mentioning it.”

“We thought that if you were autistic, it would be yours to tell us,” Patton smiled softly.

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “Janus, you have autism?”

Janus’ nervous glance up must have been enough to clue the rest of the group in, because Roman sighed and ducked his head into Virgil’s shoulder while Logan messily signed something which roughly translated to ‘how dense can someone be’. Jan couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, but he cracked a smile anyways.

“Shit. Dude, I’m so sorry,” Roman murmured into Virgil’s shirt, “All the times I made fun of you for not joining us or anything, that was way out of line. I truly apologize.”

The youngest gave him the worldwide gesture for ‘it’s okay’; not exactly ASL, but it got his point across. Everything was packed up now, and Janus realized the implications.

‘Home?’ He asked Logan, eyebrows scrunched together.

‘Yes. You need to rest.’ He was right, he was exhausted. Getting to his feet along with Patton and Logan, he reached down to grab his towel, only for it to be promptly swooped up by Roman.

“I… I got it. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

As soon as Roman turned his back, Janus couldn’t help his heavy sigh. This was another reason he had refrained from telling anyone. He didn’t want to be seen as a burden, or worse, a child. He didn’t need help with menial tasks like grabbing a towel. Virgil and him lifted all the belongings again, with less complaining this time, and began the short trek to the truck.

‘He’s not babying you,’ Logan signed, as if reading his mind, ‘He’s just guilty. If you want my advice, get as much out of it as you can.’

“Logan!” Patton chastised, failing miserably at hiding a smirk.

“Guys?” Remus’ uncharacteristically timid voice prompted them to turn back, “Could I talk to Janus for a sec?”

“You understand he is unable to speak at the moment, correct?” Logan raised an eyebrow, probably coming off more harsh than he meant to.

“I know. Just… please?”

The other two shared a knowing look that Janus didn’t understand, before Logan turned to Janus. “Is that okay?”

The youngest nodded, watching over his shoulder as the lovebirds joined hands, leaving him and Remus alone. When he met his eyes again, he was standing much closer, eyes searching nervously.

“Maybe this will actually be easier since you can’t talk,” he laughed, before his face fell dramatically, “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean-”

Janus held up a hand quickly, as if to say ‘it’s fine, settle down’, holding back a snicker. He’d understand if someone was upset by the comment, but he’d learn to take Remus’ jokes lightly. He never meant to actually offend, sometimes he just… blurted without intending to. He rolled his finger in a ‘keep going’ motion.

“Shit. Okay,” He’d never seen Remus blush, or stumble over his words before. Not like this, at least, “Now, don’t feel obligated to say you feel the same or anything, okay? This is just, my feelings, and mine alone,” A deep breath, “I like you, Snakey. I like you a lot. More than… more than a friend.”

Oh.

Janus was ninety percent sure he died right then and there. But Remus kept going, tripping over his words in a way that was so unlike him, and yet so perfect.

“I have for a while. I never said anything because I thought, maybe you disliked me? After today though, I think… well, maybe I was misinterpreting those signals. Like I misinterpreted today. That you didn’t want to be around me, no matter how hard I tried.”

Okay, Janus took it back. He wanted to be able to talk now, but his voice came out as another low hum, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Remus pressed on, unfazed.

“Snakey, I swear to you, that you having autism doesn’t change those feelings at all. It’s not a bad thing, or a flaw, it’s just you. And everything about you is amazing, and perfect, and this is just another thing I get to learn about you. Any fears you had around telling us, telling me, you don’t need to have them.”

He’d never felt this kind of feeling before. In that second, he knew for a fact that this wasn’t a crush that he had on Remus. That wasn’t possible, because a crush had never made him want to break his social barriers like this. A crush had never made him want to make an exception, to stand on his tip toes and kiss him, even if the thought of a new touch usually caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. Because he felt so safe, so blissfully numb, so comfortable with Remus, that he’d be willing to give it a try.

This wasn’t a crush. This was-

“I love you,” Remus whispered, his statement accompanied by a large shaky breath.

He couldn’t say it back, not right now. Later, he would. For sure. Maybe a hundred times. So he did what he’d never thought possible and took that step forward, breaking his bubble that he’d always thought to be unbreakable.

It’s okay. You’re okay. This is okay.

For once, he actually believed it.

Janus reached a hand up, slowly, and rested it on Remus’ face. It wasn’t light, he couldn’t do half touches. It was solid, warm, real. Not a tickling touch that made him twitch, or a brush by that stole the very breath from his lungs. The positive response affirmed his will power, and he leaned up onto his tip toes. Remus looked absolutely stunned, but he didn’t pull away, he couldn’t if he tried. His breath caught in his throat as the elder glanced down, an unmistakable look to his lips.

Had Remus always had those green flecks in his eyes?

And he kissed him. Janus surged forward, pressing their lips together harsher than he’s intended, pulling a small gasp out of Remus. There was a whoop from the vague direction of where they’d parked, followed by a loud smack, and Janus couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

Remus’ hands were clasped at his chest, unmoving, probably afraid that if he touched Janus wrong, this would all be over. He’d have to explain half touches later. For now, he took one of his hands in his free one and guided it around, pushing it into the small of his back until Remus got the message to keep that pressure. He let out a small sigh through his nose, an action that sent a new round of butterflies exploding in the younger’s stomach.

This is okay.

This is all going to be okay.

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #demus #prinxiety #logicality #autistic janus #sanders sides college au

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/83268982

Chapter 78 (FINAL)

In this comfortable position, Nick soon fell asleep. But he woke up early, a sign that he was still uneasy. By no means he wanted to oversleep the moment Arthur awoke. Quietly, he got up and went into the bathroom since he needed to knock himself into shape. A short shower later he already felt much better. He combed his stubborn hair as good as he could and submitted himself to a shave, sparing the moustache. It was still sparse, but he hoped it would have the desired effect. Together with Davey's fancy rags he felt more like Nick Lightbearer again.

Then he hurried into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It wouldn't turn out sumptuous due to their shortage in supplies, but Nick did his best to make it delicious. Eyeing the table, he noticed that something was missing. Something that would make this special. When his searching gaze wandered to the window, he recalled that the front gardens were full of pretty flowers that no one paid attention to, so he went outside and took his pick. He decorated the table with a bright red bouquet and then viewed his own work with delight.

Shortly after, he heard Arthur call for him from upstairs: “Nick! Are you there? Nick?” He sounded upset. Nick liked it. Placing himself at the foot of the stairs, he purred his answer: “I'm right here, darling!” Arthur sighed in relief. At the same time, he felt stupid. Of course Nick wouldn't leave him like that. “Oh...good...”, he stuttered. “I won't be long...” “I'm waiting”, Nick purred back and strutted into the kitchen, cooler than he actually was. He had to calm himself down. When Arthur finally came down the stairs, he stunned Nick with his new outfit by Davey. It really suited him well. “Holy catfish! You look ravishing!” Nick kissed Arthur's hand. “You too...”, Arthur stammered. Nick smiled and skimmed along his upper lip. “You like it?” Arthur instinctively palpated the same spot. “Yes...” His voice was merely a sigh. He lifted up Nick's chin to kiss him. “Is it safe to assume that you're glad to see me?”, Nick asked with a voice as soft as silk. “Yes...”, was everything Arthur could produce.

Nick led him into the kitchen, where he gazed at the well-laid table. “Just sit down, my King. I serve you.” Arthur sat down wordlessly. “I like the flowers...”, he brought out later. “Thanks. I thought it's sad to keep them outside where we can't see them.” He put a mug in front of Arthur. “There you go, my darling.” “Nick, that's...” Nick looked at him, then at the table. “Anything missing?” Arthur almost laughed. “No...” He quickly stood up to lock Nick in his arms. “I really thought you...” He began to sob. “You won't get rid of me that easily, my King”, Nick said softly. “I don't want to get rid of you!”, Arthur sobbed. “I just want to protect you!” “I know. I feel the same”, Nick answered. “But how am I supposed to protect you if I'm not by your side? If you leave me here, you'll break my heart, you hear me? Don't do that!” Arthur pressed his eyes shut, fighting the tears. “I don't know what it is about me...why I'm running away from everyone...” “You lost your old life, too and you're still suffering. I understand. But let me comfort you. I think I made a good impact on you since we met.” “My sunshine...” Arthur smiled faintly.

They passed the time comforting each other. Soon, the town woke up and people became busy again. Also Arthur felt the need to do something. He was visibly fidgety. “Do you want to go back to your documents?”, Nick asked eyeing him. “I don't know...what would you do?” “Come along?” “This is gonna be too boring for you.” “Arthur!” “But it's true!” Nick pondered over it. “The boys said they want to see you.” “Me?” Arthur was surprised. “Yeah...If you like...They like you more than you think. It'll be fun.” “Not if we tell them our plan,” Arthur blurted out. “They need to know. Come on, seeing us like this, they can't help but have an understanding.” Arthur finally complied.

They met a few Wellies on the way, making it look almost like the town was intact again. “Is it still polite to say 'lovely day for it?', Nick asked one of them. “Could be worse”, the other man muttered. “That's true. Keep it bowling.” “You too.” “You know, I still have the feeling that we Wellies stick together”, Nick then said to Arthur. “You look like two Make Believes”, another man approached them. “What if I told you I'm Nick Lightbearer himself?”, Nick joked. “Gosh, Nick Lightbearer!”, the Wellie blurted out. “I wonder where he ended up.” “He's probably about to solve some problems...”, Nick assumed. “Yeah, probably. Good luck, you two.” Arthur was surprised how well he got along with people who would've slaughtered him a few days ago.

When they arrived in the backyard, Nick knocked at the worn out door, eyed by a curious Arthur. Brad opened it. “Ah, Nick, back in good shape, I see.” He slapped Nick's arm. “And Arthur...you look groovy, man.” “Thanks...I have the best supplier here...” He nodded into Nick's direction, who grinned. Brad let them inside. “Come in, get comfortable. The others will be back soon.” “What are they up to?”, Nick asked. “They went back to Maidenholm to fetch some of our stuff. Everything we can't get from the shop you looted.” “Hey, I only borrowed one guitar!” “Sure. You should put him on a leash, Arthur. It would save you a lot of trouble.” “I might think about it”, Arthur joked. “I'd have it's advantages”, Nick agreed. “Having to go wherever you go.” They laughed, but only Arthur and Nick understood the hint. “I suppose you're thirsty?”, Brad asked. “If you can spare something. I know we're low on supplies”, Nick said. “Alright, I'll go check. Make yourself at home.” They sat down on the couch. Nick didn't hesitate to place himself close to Arthur. “Relax. Now everyone is a Downer, just like you”, he whispered to his tense lover. Arthur gave him a helpless smile.

Then they heard the back door open again. “He'll be all eyes if he sees what we brought along”, they heard Matt say. “Bradley-boy! Look what we got!”, Chris shouted playfully. Passing by the living room he found their guests. “Oh, hello.” “Made a hit?”, Nick asked. “Yeah, just look at all that! It was still there.” Chris unloaded his guitars and equipment. Matt joined him. Nick got up to have a closer look. “How's the state of the place?”, he asked quietly. “Sad”, Chris said in all honesty. “But intact.” He took a deep breath, eyeing his loot, or rather looking at what he saw in his mind. “In fact, we could...” He paused. “But it wouldn't be the same again, right?” “No...” Chris hung his head. Arthur got up too and positioned himself next to Nick. “Oh, Arthur!” Matt noticed him. “If we knew, we would've brought you a typewriter.” “It's fine”. Arthur had to grin at that. “I have one at home.” They shook hands. “Have you seen our drummer by any chance?”, Chris asked. “He went to fetch us a drink”, Nick explained. “You left him alone in the kitchen? Oh dear...” Chris went for him.

“There's still a lot of your stuff left”, Matt said to Nick with an apologizing look. “It's okay. I need to see this place myself anyway.” “By the way...You won't believe who we met there.” “Fans?” “No...Our dear friend Hunt.” “What?”, Nick blurted out. “Hunt? Did you tell him the latest news? “He knows, but he has a hard time letting go of his old post. He was happy to hear you're alive.” “Didn't you offer him to come with you?” “We did, but he said the Parade District isn't safe for Bobbies. He's kinda right...His body height and all...they'd recognise him immediately. Poor bugger.” “But...We can't...I can't leave him there. Arthur, would you go to my old home with me and help me with this?” He looked at his lover with puppy eyes. “If he agrees...” Arthur shrugged. “Thank you. For a Bobby he's a good sort.”

Soon, Brad and Chris came back with the liquids and some snacks. When they were comfortable again and the drinks were served, Chris said: “Well, let's begin with the brutally honest conversation, shall we? Seems to be the new trend.” “I can't believe it's finally over”, Arthur admitted. He felt like a remnant of the old days. Him. As a Downer. “Have you really been a Downer?”, Matt asked as if he could read his mind. Arthur was taken aback by the question at first, eyeing the band as if they'd jump at him. He figured that Nick must've told them. “It's weird to talk about it...just like that...It's weird I don't have to hide...” “How did you hold on?” “I had no choice”, Arthur said with a shrug. “I couldn't just walk out of Wellington Wells, with all the detectors and alarm systems. I had to sneak around, come up with ideas...Coming back here was hard enough, because they dumped me in the Garden District.” “What's so dangerous about the Garden?”, Brad asked. From what he heard in Uncle Jack's shows it was a rather idyllic place where they grew fruits and vegetables and had everything they needed. “Well...there you have the plaque, toxic fog, Ploughboys that love to smash a Downer's head, the other people who are also not very fond of you if you show up in a proper suit, soldiers with bayonets who take you for a Gerry and of course the spankers.” “And the food? Are there any farms there?” “None at all...the people live of what they get to steal from the guards.” “Shit...”

“Wow, you're definitely tougher than you look!”, Chris said. “No offence.” “None taken. I had a lot of luck.” “Aw come on, Arthur, what about the arena-fight you won?”, Nick replied. “Er, that...” Arthur blushed a little. “That was your amazing fighting skills! You should've seen him taking on that white Bobby!” “I had your help there!” Arthur reminded him. “It was still awesome!” “Sounds like you should write a story about yourself.” Brad was impressed. “Perhaps” Arthur grinned meekly. “But I wasn't the only one having problems. The people in the Garden District...those that made it until now...they have a story to tell. “Do they know?” Nick asked. “Did anybody tell them?” “We haven't heard of it”. Matt replied. “I don't think the General cares much for them”, Arthur said dryly. “Or he's still full of Joy.”, Matt added. “No. He doesn't take Joy. Our dear General is above that.” The others were stunned. “No Joy?” Brad asked. “Just like that?” “He's not the only one. Doctor Verloc doesn't take it either.” “Right, he didn't look like he'd take his own drugs. He was much too moody for that.”, Nick approved. Brad leaned back. “That's a bit thick.” “And we played along”, Chris said bitterly.

“But if they knew better than us, why did they let everyone starve?” Matt was upset. “Why did they let us die out?” “I don't know”, Arthur answered. “Perhaps Victoria Byng knows or she'll find out. She's on our side.” “I hope so”, Chris sighed. “Or else we're fucked.” “They can't make us take Joy again”, Brad said sternly. “I rather die in another fight than becoming their slave again!” “Perhaps more Wellies think like that...” Arthur dreamed out loud. “Oh, Arthur, we must look like absolute morons to you! We played along all this time!” Matt eyed the floor. “I wasn't any smarter, believe me. It was pure coincidence that I went off Joy and it could've happened to any of you.” Arthur actually wasn't reproachful for a reason he didn't really understand. “I'm not better than you.” “Well...I guess we can only wait now...”, Brad sighed. “Let's hope it won't backfire”, Chris said. “I don't want a new Committee that kills everyone who dares to smile.” “Don't you have a vivid fantasy!”, Nick blurted out. “Remember me to never let you tell me a bedtime story.” “I'll kill everyone who tries to suppress me.” Brad scowled. “If they dare...” “They can't do that again. They went too far.” Matt was determined now. “They can't prevent us from finding a way out, sooner or later”, Nick pointed out. “Many people are digging in the tunnel or looking for another way...and those who stay won't submit.” “In any case, not us!”, Chris decided. “No way!” Nick agreed. “I won't start now”, Arthur added. “I'm done with it, too”, Matt said. “I want to see them try”, Brad repeated. “We should drink to that!”, Nick cheered. They did with pleasure.

“Now let's dream a bit...”, Chris said some time later. “What if the tunnel opened one day? Where would you go?” Arthur's face fell. “I'll go to Germany...” “Arthur!” Chris shook his head as if he was talking to a stubborn child. “You have to go to France! Paris! The city of love!” “Or how about the Maldives? Reputedly, people went there on holiday but most likely nobody of us had ever been there,” Matt proposed. “But islands again?” “Pretty islands.” “They remind me too much of this town. I want to go to a place I can easily leave when I have enough.” “So, the moon falls flat”, Brad deadpanned. Chris laughed. “That's not an option.” “How do you know?”, Matt asked. “Perhaps it's already settled and we're the last ones to notice!” Nick gave Arthur a pitiful look while the others were dreaming out loud.

“I have to find my brother...”, the former reporter said quietly. The others fell quiet. “Your brother is in Germany?” Chris had a suspicion. “He was in the train...There's at least ten places where he could have spent his childhood...I need to find him, even if it takes my whole life...” “So, your adventure continues?” Brad asked. “It's not over yet...”, Arthur muttered. “But this time he has me”, Nick announced, putting his arm around his lover and squeezing him. The room was silent for another second. “Well...that's odd...I almost got used to you again”, Chris said to Nick. “How do you plan to get there?”, Brad asked. Arthur and Nick looked at each other. “We don't have a plan yet”, Nick admitted. “We'll figure that out while finding a way off this island”, Arthur added. “Maybe we'll meet there some day...Germans might like music, too”. Nick smiled. “Sure. We become a marching band and learn yodelling...We'll be the greatest stars in Germany,” Chris joked. They laughed.

“Jokes aside, it's not too far away. We'll be close”, Brad stated. “You can visit us any time”, Nick said. “With pleasure, as soon as you moved into your estate on Lake Constance...”, Chris answered. “Not any sooner, eh? Spoilt snobs! I'm glad I don't have to put up with you anymore.” Nick crossed his arms. “Have fun with him, Arthur.” Once again, they laughed over the finality of their decision. Arthur had counted on them to try to change their mind, at least winning Nick over. Instead they had just accepted it. Also Nick hadn't hesitated to tell them his plan. The whole thing looked settled and still Arthur felt unwell.

“What will you do?” “Well...in all honesty...we don't know...or do you?” Brad passed the question to Matt and Chris. “I keep making plans and abandoning them again”, Chris said. “What's to plan anyway?” Matt found. “We don't know the world outside.” “We should collect a few informations before leaving”, Brad said. “We'll come up with something”, Chris assured Arthur. “Don't worry about us. We made a living here and we'll make it outside as well.” “Or we stay until we're filthy rich and go for a world tour”, Matt said. “Then we pick you up.” “I like that plan”, Nick agreed grinning. Arthur let himself get carried away and smiled too, but he was deep in thoughts. “At any rate, you're as stubborn as Nick.” “I take that as a compliment.” Chris laughed. Like this, they had an actually good time. Arthur hadn't had such honest and joyful company in the past few years, but he noticed how Nick and the band understood each other nearly without words. It made him wonder if he even had an equally close bond to Nick.

One time, Nick went into the kitchen to collect replenishments. Chris followed him and suddenly grabbed Nick by the shoulders. “Now you're leaving me, just when I begin to like you, you little bastard!”, he hissed and shook Nick slightly. “Make sure you become a star this time, so I don't have to come back to run the show for you!” Nick replied insistently. “Ah...that's what it's about...” “Exactly! Don't disappoint me, you hear me? Don't think I can't keep an eye on you just because I'm in another country!” Chris nodded. “You'll hear from me.” “I hope so”, Nick said less jokingly. “I'll miss you, little one...” “I'll send you postcards. In German.” “Great...So I can't even read them.” Nick pulled Chris into a short and tight embrace. “What's taking you so long? We're thirsty.” Brad came in. “There comes the gooseberry...” Chris let go and viewed Nick's face. “Any love bruises? No? Good...” “You cheaters!”, Brad shouted. “And Arthur sits right next door, I can't believe it!” Nick quickly backed away from his fellow guitarist. “You're silly, both of you”, he said pouting. “What did I do?” Chris played upset. “You're a bad kisser.” “You prick!” Chris lifted up his hand as if he wanted to slap him. Brad burst out in laughter. Then Matt and Arthur came in. “Don't drink it all alone, we have a guest!”, Matt shouted. When Arthur asked Nick what happened, he only shook his head. It made Arthur doubt their bond even more.

When they went home, Nick was still in a good mood, but it could've been the alcohol, too. “See, it all went well”, he said confidentially. “They're good chaps, they want nothing but our best.” Arthur wondered if Nick had drunk so much for a reason. "They are, but are you really ready to leave them?" "I am! I already told you!" Shortly after, Nick seemed to be sorry for his rough answer because he put an arm around Arhtur's shoulder and softly whispered: "Come, I'll show you something..."

Arthur asked himself if Nick should rather lay down and sober up, but he didn't want to ruin this for him. He let him lead out of town. When they approached the bridge, Arthur tought they'd go back to Hamlyn Village, but then Nick went straight to the handrail and climbed over it. Then he offered his hand for help. Arthur took it with pleasure. He soon understood why Nick brought him here. The place looked similar to their Garden District. It was a rawer landscape, with rocks spread over the meagre grass, but it still had it's magic. A glimpse of freedom that Arthur felt especially at the sight of the ocean. He remembered standing on Britannia Bridge and caught himself wishing he could show it to Nick. Being alone with him like this, enjoying the silence around them, only the rushing of the wind instead of the noise and hubbub that usually surrounded Nick, he suddenly had the feeling that they shared a closer bond that nobody else could break. Nick moved so casually within the silence as if he didn't need anything more. Here, Nick was just himself and seemed to be happy. Arthur noticed just now that he was still holding Nick's hand.

"It's a beautiful place", he said eventually. Nick gave him an eased smile. "I figured it'd be nice to have a moment for ourselves", he said quietly. "I like these moments." "Yeah, me too", Arthur answered just as quietly. Then he bit his lower lip, pondering if he should say what lay on the tip of his tongue. And how. "But would they be enough?", he then dared to ask. Nick didn't answer promptly. He seemed to think about it despite his current state. Arthur was glad that he took the question seriously.

"You know...looking back at my life, at everything that happened to me, everything I still see in my dreams..." Nick paused to gaze into the distance, slowly letting out the air as if he was letting go of a heavy weight. "I like the silence", he concluded and Arthur believed that he was feeling this way right now. "There's a lot I didn't tell you yet, Arthur", he went on and Arthur hung at his every word. His soft voice comforted him. "We spoke about my past with the band a couple of times but for your interviews I could only tell you the good things...I had good times, of course, and I don't want to forget any of them ever again. But in most situations I couldn't make my own decisions. I noticed it in the past few days when I was talking to the lads...I didn't know what was happening around me, I didn't look through other people's plans, I was tossed about by fate, I fell between the cracks...It was always loud around me, I barely had time to think about what happened and what I really wanted. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to be aware of what I'm doing. I want to make my own decisions. I want to enjoy every minute, just like this very moment. It's gonna be a new start. You gifted me a new life and I want to live it." He said the last words insistently.

Arthur remembered how he found Nick. He had lost control over his life long ago and he had no greater wish than to get it back. It was fitting. "You could try to become famous by your own decisions", Arthur proposed. "I could, but like that I'd only repeat myself", Nick said calmly. "And how it ends, I know that too. I don't know if I want that again...so soon...And if it doesn't work out, I don't know if I can bear to see me fail...It's bringing up so many memories...I want to try something I can't compare myself to." Arthur let his gaze wander along the weathered rocks. "And if you don't like your new life?", he asked quietly. Nick looked at him. "Then I at least tried." Arthur gave a meek smile. He in turn had no greater wish than to take Nick with him, who supported him and cheered him up. But... "We won't be free", he replied. "We'd have to do all it takes to find Percy, no more, no less. We'll have a mission, so to say..." "We'll have a firm goal", Nick said. "A simple, understandable task. That's good." He nodded.

Why did Arthur feel like personificated chaos while Nick kept a clear head? Arthur's head was spinning. He noticed how Nick eyed him from the side. "What is it, Arthur? Tell me the truth. Do you want to leave me?" Arthur's expression was painful. "No, but..." "You think you don't deserve it", Nick said. "You think it's your fault, your problem and you have to go through with it on your own." Arthur almost winced. The analysis was scarily exact. "You showed me that I'm worth loving. Why can't I show you that you deserve to be happy? I want to comfort you when you're sad, I want to support you when you doubt yourself and I want to help you when you're in trouble. Let me do this, if you must, do it for my sake. I need you, Arthur." His green eyes lay on Arthur, who could barely stand the look. He began to shiver. "Nick, I also didn't tell you everything, but I'm afraid I must, or else I can't look into your eyes ever again." Nick fell quiet and waited. Arthur crossed his arms and turned away. "It's my fault that Percy was brought to Germany. He wasn't even on the list, but me...We went to the station together, he wanted to come along, just because he didn't want to abandon me. He was so trusting and didn't fear for himself..." Arthur gulped. "I posed as him....I acted as if I only went along to say goodbye to my younger brother...I made it back out like this, but I saw how they pushed him into the train...he called out for me...he was so afraid..." Arthur fought back tears. "Now I wish I was there..." He fell silent, sobbing and waiting for Nick's judgement.

“How old have you been?” Nick asked quietly. “Twelve....Still young enough for the train And Percy was one year older...” “You've been a child, Arthur.” “I knew exactly what I was doing!” Nick didn't say any more. He hugged him from behind and held him close. Arthur clung to Nick's arms. “Why are you doing this?”, he asked after a while, letting go and eyeing Nick meekly. “Aren't you upset?” “Just look at you”, Nick answered. “You're not a child anymore. The man who's standing in front of me now wouldn't do this.” “But it still happened...” “You changed”, Nick insisted. “If it wasn't for you I couldn't judge you in the first place.” Nick kissed his cheek. “I'm glad you're here.” “It's not about me, Nick! I have to find him! I should've never dragged you into this!” Arthur winded. “And what do you do if you find him?” “I'll think about that later.”

“Arthur...Percy isn't a child anymore...He's leading his own life by now...Who'll keep you company if you find him and suddenly lose your only purpose in life? Who'll give your life a new meaning?” Arthur hung his head. “And if he didn't make it?” “Also then”, Nick said without mercy. “Who'll comfort you?” Arthur struggled to hold back tears. He wondered how on earth he deserved such a stubborn and affectionate man at his side. He couldn't simply push him away. “Nick, if you don't like it anymore, if you believe you made a mistake, you can go! You can go anytime!” Nick put his hands back on Arthur's shoulders. “This is an offer I can accept...”, he said quietly. He ran his hands along his upper arms, making Arthur's body tingle at the sensation. With Nick, he just didn't feel like he'll end up as shark bait while Nick drank margaritas on a desert island. Nick wouldn't give up on him, search the entire ocean if he had to and take him back to his island. Arthur already felt like he was there. He leaned closer to Nick and for a long while nothing happened other than their extensive kissing. Then Nick sat down on the grass and looked up to Arthur, inviting. “Here? Now?”, Arthur hissed. Nick took his hand and pulled him down.

Lying in the grass, Arthur found his body covered in kisses. Nick was eager to spoil every spot of him. Arthur's cheeks were salty from the tears he had shed, but Nick kissed them all away. Arthur winded giggling and gasping. His body tickled and his heart fluttered. The grass was cold, so was the air, but Nick's love bites warmed him. When his heated blood pounded in his veins, he pressed Nick down. He adored the soft foam that was growing along his upper lip, that would soon be a full Lightbearer moustache, and caressed it with his lips, before he placed a craving kiss on it. He wasn't shy with his tongue anymore. He wasn't shy with almost anything, causing Nick emit a noise that sounded like a purr. Then it was time for Arthur to redden Nick's skin with his teeth. Nick gasped, running his hands along Arthur's tights. Arthur bit him gently, his tongue massaged the sour spots right after. Arthur thanked him with every kiss, every gesture, overwhelmed by the promise he had just made.

Nick was so happy, he felt butterflies all over his body and his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He adored to see his Arthur in action and was looking forward to many, many more moments like this. With pleasure he felt Arthur expose him and skim along his lower back without shame. Nick moaned just as shamelessly when he felt Arthur shove a finger inside him. His body shivered, he pressed himself against it, begging Arthur to massage him. His blood was pounding in the right spot as his lover went along. Aroused like this, Arthur felt ready. He held Nick close while his thrusts massaged him more. Nick's quiet whimpers were music to his ears. Arthur climaxed quietly, with his hands curled into Nick's hair and his head pressed against his chest. He relaxed like that for a while, receiving kisses on his head from Nick. Then he began to feel the chill on his naked skin and decided to put his clothes back on. Nick followed him shortly after.

They walked home slowly and peacefully, with their arms wrapped around each other, holding themselves as if the could barely stand. At the bridge, Arthur promptly lifted Nick up and carried him over the rail. Nick's expression after putting him back down was priceless. In town they walked next to each other as if they were friends, but if someone had paid attention to their looks they would've known better. At home, they both had a hot bath before they put themselves to bed.

The next day, Arthur didn't intent to wake Nick up early. His lover was most likely exhausted after everything he had been trough. Arthur himself was tired as well. The day wasn't quite inviting either, being cloudy and dark. The drizzle moistened the windows with tiny drops. It was the perfect weather to stay inside, have a hot chocolate and relax. But Arthur was still restless. He didn't feel well, just sitting around and hoping for the best. He was used to nothing good happening as long as he didn't do it himself. That was why he sat at his kitchen table, absorbed in his thoughts and forgetting to drink his coffee. The house was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking that hang on the wall next to the fridge. The radio had stopped playing the happy jingle that would normally start every day in Wellington Wells. He could just as well bin it, but he hesitated to change anything in this house. To make himself comfortable in it. After all, it was supposed to be only a stopover before they would go on their journey. But to make it that, he had to do something. After Arthur had walked back an forth in between the kitchen and the living room for a while, he couldn't bear it any longer. He wrote a letter to Nick and put it next to him on his pillow. He hoped to be back before his long sleeper woke up. Then he put on his coat, opened the brolly with the colourful pattern and went outside.

Nick woke up much later, feeling cosy, lolling and stretching out. He was completely refreshed. He remained in the bed a little while longer after noticing that Arthur had already gotten up, listening if he could hear him downstairs. It was very quiet. No footsteps, no clanking of the dishes, only the silent pattering of raindrops on the window. Nick sat up, thereby noticing the letter.

Nick darling, I'm on the move again. I need to make sure we're getting out of here. Don't worry about me and take a rest. I'll be back soon. I love you! Arthur

Nick stared at it. It sounded loving, of course, and not if Arthur had had any bad intentions. Still, it bothered him. Nick was sure that he couldn't expect Arthur to wait for him to awake from his sleeping beauty sleep, and Nick had been really tired, he admitted that. Still...why couldn't they go together? Was it really too necessary to wait? Did Arthur fear that Nick would spoil it? Or be bored? Nick rumpled the paper and let it fall on the table. What are you doing to me, Arthur?, he thought sadly. Then he told himself he should trust him. That he had a good reason to do it. That there'll be a good explanation for all this. He sighed. However, he was alone now. Take a rest. How was he supposed to relax while Arthur was out there facing who knows what? He just had to play the hero again.

Nick left the bed. He couldn't sit around and wait anyway. He needed a distraction and perhaps he could even do something useful as well. On the way downstairs he remembered Hunt. Of course, his Bobby, who in a way was also his friend. If Arthur couldn't help him, he had to do it on his own. He couldn't leave poor Hunt to rot in his old home. He left a note for Arthur and went into the cold and moistly weather.

This time he went to the bridge to actually cross it. He knew the way by heart, still it felt strange. Walking by the counter where normally a Constable would control the passports, he found it empty. He went along the bridge all alone, then Maidenholm greeted him in all it's silence. It looked like a ghost-town. Nobody had cleaned up this place. Old newspapers lay in puddles or flew by in the wind. He saw rats gathering the leftovers from the pantries of the houses. The gardens were abandoned, all windows closed. In his best days, Nick had known every face in his district. A few of them had been in the church. He could only guess where the rest had ended up. How many of them had been chased into the Garden District, without him noticing? The rainbow-coloured road looked more pale than he remembered. All houses had been more colourful as well. Did he only imagine this? Still, the town could be beautiful. Perhaps this place would be populated again. He would definitely bring it up next time he was in the church.

His own home after all occurred dusky and not very welcoming to him, even though he had liked visitors in the old days. The red carpet was greasy. The former bright red was vaguely perceptible. Nick made a few steps until he noticed that someone sat in front of the door, cowering and visibly sleeping. Under the canopy he was protected from the rain, but still it must be cold and uncomfortable. The uniform definitely had seen better days. He had taken off his helmet and the blonde hair told Nick that it was indeed Hunt.

“Hunt?”, Nick tried. When the man didn't answer, Nick grabbed his shoulder and shook him a bit. The man finally awoke with a grunting noise and then looked around frantically. He seemed to back away from Nick, even though his body was already pressed against the door. “Don't worry, it's just me, Nick”, Nick reasoned with him. “The band told me you're here.” “Nick?”, Hunt stammered. “Mr. Lightbearer?” His eyes widened and he went back up on his feet. He grabbed his arm tightly, so that it stung. “I'm so happy to see you alive!” “You know, a cat has nine lives...”, Nick played it down, massaging his arm. “What are you doing here?” “Er...well...” He shrugged. “I don't really have another place to go...I'm lucky enough, escaping the Parade and all...Here, it's a safer place for the likes of me.” “Perhaps the Parade calmed down. People stopped fighting and they have other worries now.” “Yeah, Mr. Reid told me something like that, too. You know, it's different with the other Wellies. They didn't know what they did...” “You neither.” “Blackberry Joy isn't the same as normal Joy. It doesn't make you forget...We had to keep a clear head. Who else could push through law and order?”, Hunt admitted contritely, leaning against the door and hiding his face. “I knew and I only watched...” “You couldn't stop that easily”, Nick opposed. Hunt gave another shrug and made a helpless sound. “You only guarded my house!”, Nick said with emphasis. “Yeah...after working night shifts for a long time...I can't get the bloody jingle of the Jubliators out of my head...” Nick understood how he felt. “You don't have to torture yourself though. Go inside and warm up.” “My place is out here.” “From now on you have a larger field! Go inside and warm up, that's an order!” He raised a smile from the taller man. “Well...won't do any harm...”

Nick followed him inside. “Oh”, he noticed. “We should let some air in...” “Aye, sir.” “Has it always been that dusty?” Nick remembered that his last charlady had given up months ago. Besides that, everything looked the same. Nick ascended the stairs to his bedroom and looked inside. The same as always. Nick was suddenly undecided about what he intended to do here. He gave his golden records a wistful look. He'd miss them probably. But what use would they be in Germany? Then he recalled something else that was located in this floor. Back in the corridor, he opened a door to a smaller bedroom. It took a lot of effort to go inside. Too many memories were collected here, shattered dreams and pain. But also one memory he wanted to keep. He went to the desk and lifted up the little frame, not without looking at the photo as well. Arthur would allow it, right? It was his past after all. Nick put the frame into his pocket and left the room with a heavy heart. Before he closed the door, he hesitated. He felt like Morrie had called out for him. But that was impossible. Surely, it was only a plank that had creaked. He finally closed the door. In the second floor he found his iconic blue guitar and shouldered it. Then he had everything he wanted.

Back downstairs, he found his Constable sitting at the kitchen table in a sunken down position. The window was open. The look Hunt gave him made Nick ask: “Do you really want to stay here?” “I want the old days back, when this place was full of life.” “Now the Parade is where the action is. You could try to find a new home there. I can help you.” “And I could guard you...on you way back...yeah, I could do that...” The tall man stood up and closed the window. Nick was pleased with himself. Stepping outside, he took a deep breath, waiting for the Bobby. Hunt locked the door when he went out. Nick asked himself if anyone would loot this house. If so, they'd probably look for food. Who would still care about Nick's underwear?

Walking through Maidenholm, the district was as empty as it had been before. No one crossed their path. To the empty counter Hunt said: “Ah, Constable Johnson...well...He's always been kind of an arse...I guess he had it coming...” “He could be in the Parade”, Nick replied. “Maybe...”, Hunt said less optimistically. In the Parade District however they met multiple Wellies and received their mistrust. “Where do you think you're going?” Nick placed himself in front of Hunt. “We can go wherever we like. Did you forget?” “That doesn't apply for his kind”, the Wellie glared at Hunt. “He's clearly a Bobby! He doesn't even try to hide it!” “We don't want any Bobbies here!”, another man approached them. “And also no friends them!”

“You don't have to be afraid of him”, Nick persisted. “Hunt did no more than guarding my home for years. He's a good guy.” “Guarding your home?” The Wellie spit on the cobblestone. “That's neat. Must've been some big shot to afford this. Maybe Executive Committee?” “No, I'm not that relevant. I only lived in Maidenholm.” “So what? That doesn't prove anything! Your Bobby is making you suspicious!” “I never had any power! I'm just a musician!” For the first time they took notice of his outfit “You're a Nick Lightbearer lookalike?” “No, I'm Nick Lightbearer himself.” That made them fall quiet for a second. “Nick Lightbearer, eh? The one who distracted us with jolly tunes while we were starving?” “Who told us to take Joy with his songs?” “Who led us to believe everything was right as rain?” The Wellies came closer, not any less angry than before. More joined them. Hunt gave Nick a questioning look, but Nick shook his head. “I didn't know better than you! I took Joy just like all of you! What was wrong about cheering you up? That's what I always wanted, long before we started to take Joy! I never meant to force you into anything and as long as some of you like my music, I'll play it!” “Nick Lightbearer?”, another Wellie shouted. “That's Nick Lightbearer?” More Wellies came and the atmosphere shifted drastically. Suddenly, the thugs were outnumbered. “Alright, you won for now. But if we catch your Bobby red-handed...”, one of them implied before he took to his heels. “Nicky! Sing a song for us! We love you, Nick!” Hunt looked at him again. “Are we running now?”

Nick agreed and soon they ended up far away from the bridge. They escaped the fans and carefully made their way to the alley of the Make Believes. “I'd like to take you to my place, Hunt, but it's too close to the main road. We better hide in the band's house for now.” “So, you split up again?” “We're still friends. It's just...I'm living with Arthur now. You remember him?” Hunt didn't have to think for long. “The friendly reporter?” “Yes, him.” “Would he want a Bobby close-by?” “He doesn't have much of a choice, now that my fans know I'm alive”, he joked. “Chin up, you're a good chap, believe it or not.”

Brad answered the door again. “Hey, uh...could we hide in your house for a while?” Nick pointed at his company. Brad understood. Inside, he asked: “How bad is it?” Hunt and Nick eyed each other. “It's me...I got recognised...” Nick scratched his head. Promptly, someone knocked at the door. Nick and Hunt winced. Brad set himself into motion again. He was surprised to find a complete stranger outside. “I'm sorry...May I speak to Mr. Lightbearer? I really need to see him!” “I'm sorry too, here's no Mr. Lightbearer!” Brad slammed the door shut. “How many followed you?”, he shouted walking back to Nick. “Nobody”, Nick said meekly. “I can confirm that, Mr. Wilson! Nobody escapes my eager eyes. This fan eluded me!” “Brad?”, they heard Matt's voice. He came running down the stairs. “Brad? Have you seen the crowd in our front garden?” He came into the living room and found Nick and Hunt being abashed. “Oh, no! Are they after you, Hunt?” Brad crossed his arms. “They want Nick.” Matt looked at the still famous enough star who smiled helplessly. Outside, the crowd began to call for their idol. It wasn't long until Chris ran into the room. “What makes them think Nick is here?” Then his gaze fell on Nick and drew the conclusion. “Why am I not surprised?” “We should've been more cautious about his outfit”, Brad commented. The Wellies began to knock at the door again. “Nick! Sing a song for us!”

“Should we wait until they bugger off?” Matt wasn't convinced himself. “I can go, then you're free”, Nick offered. “They'll tear you apart!”, Brad shouted. “Why not?”, Chris muttered. Brad gave him a look. Chris ignored it and approached Nick. “If they want a spontaneous show, why not giving them one?” “Can we?” Nick asked without hesitation. It seemed to be the easiest way out. “Yeah, we got everything from your house.” “And how do we keep them from breaking in to see us?” Matt wanted to know. Chris thought about it. “We have a flat roof we can access...people could see us there.” “Is that safe?”, Hunt asked. “I'm not excited about fighting off the poor sods who climb up the walls.” “It's quite high. Nobody should climb up there”, Brad mused. “So, it's settled?”, Chris asked. “Hell, yeah!”, Nick shouted. They hurried while Hunt locked all doors and windows. When the band finally arrived at the roof the crowd went wild. “Did anybody see my Joy?”, Nick asked, seemingly nervous. The others stared at him. “I'm kidding.” Nick grinned Their first song rang out in the entire district.

Arthur couldn't express how he felt when finally the light came through. The dark tunnel that had occurred to him as if it lay hundreds of miles below ground level, an unscalable prison for every Skipper, suddenly lit up. Little fluffs danced in the air, glittering like diamonds. For a while it was silent. The rain had stopped and in the bright blue sky above them they saw fluffy white clouds pass by. Then the noise broke loose. The workers cheered, danced, cried out their relief. It was infectuous. Arthur had to laugh too, patting other Wellie's shoulders. They made it! Finally! He could see the fatigue of multiple sleepless nights in their eyes. It had been worth it.

Arthur slowly progressed, walking by the celebrating Wellies, but as soon as he was alone again, he ran as fast as he could, following the rails. He climbed out of the ravine and abruptly came to a halt. The whole town was emptied. He had feared that a crowd would scramble for the tunnel, but no one had noticed. From afar, he heard music that, after a further analysis, couldn't come from a radio. Was that...? Arthur's heart pounded after running and climbing. Or was it because of the music? He followed it and after a while, he met Wellies walking into the same direction. “Oh, no...” The crowd was getting bigger. They were all here, looking up for some reason. Further away, on a roof, Arthur recognised Nick. He was back in his element. Without Joy. Arthur was proud of him, but he also felt melancholic. Did it change everything?

Arthur wanted to reach him before anyone else noticed that the tunnel was open, but his gaze wandered helplessly along the masses. It was impossible to get through there. And then he couldn't simply walk through the door without letting everyone in. But wait...wasn't that the same house...? Sure, why would they carry their instruments any further? Arthur went a devious route, always watching out for fans, until he arrived in the backyard. But of course the door was locked. At first he knocked, but as expected, nothing happened. Who was supposed to hear it anyway? Desperately, he hammered against the door, fearing to alarm the whole district. “It's me, Arthur! Let me in!” When he felt ridiculous already, someone actually opened. It was a very tall man. The white shirt and blue trousers seemed to be the remnants of a uniform. “Arthur? Mr. Hastings?” Arthur gasped. “C...Constable Hunt?” The old escape reflex kicked in, but Hunt grabbed in and pulled him inside. Then he looked the door again, securing it with a chain around the handle and a dresser shoved in front of it. “I need to see Nick...” He felt the need to explain. “Go ahead, he's on the roof.”

Arthur ran upstairs. His heart was still pounding. When he heard that they had just finished a song, he went outside. Carefully avoiding the cables, he made his way to Nick who was talking to the other guitarists. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, making Nick wince and turn around. Arthur's expression alarmed him, so he put the guitar down and followed him back inside. Nick waited for him to speak, so Arthur blurted out: “The tunnel is open!” “Wha...really?” Nick began to beam. “You made it?” “Come, I show you”, Arthur said. Or was it more likely a question? “You want to leave now?” Nick looked startled. “No, only show you, before they realise it and the place gets crowded.” Arthur's eyes begged. It seemed like Nick would only reluctantly go. Arthur prepared for a refusal when Nick said: “Okay. Just let me give the word.” With that, he went to talk to the band, but came back shortly after with an expectant look. Arthur was looking forward to leave this noisy place and he was even happier that Nick went with him. They sneaked out of the backyard after Hunt had opened up for them and went another devious route, hiding and watching. “This is like the old days”, Nick whispered gleefully.

Like this, they reached the ravine and climbed inside. Nick had never thought they'd conquer this again. From the bottom up it looked less intimidating. When they went into the tunnel, Nick began to feel a little queasy, watching the ceiling as if it could collapse any second. Arthur noticed and took his hand. Nick gave him a thankful look, then they went on. Nick's footsteps were more determined now. He was also surprised when the tunnel lit up and couldn't avert his gaze from the beams of sunlight breaking through. He stared at the sky just as stunned as Arthur had been, at least he found that there was a certain resemblance. But this time, Arthur took the first steps towards the light. He still held Nick, who cautiously climbed after him. Back outside, also Arthur was overwhelmed. The horizon was bright and clear. He could look much further than before. The land that had been purely black and vaguely shaped, now exposed a coastal cliff, meadows and forests. The bridge went all the way to there, it's end vanished somewhere in the distance.

“Wow!”, Nick produced. “This is the mainland? Just like that?” He pointed at the horizon. Arthur nodded. “And you wanted to go all the way on foot?” Nick pointed at the bridge and grinned. Arthur had to grin, too. He went a few steps with Nick, until they were surrounded by nothing but the ocean. Arthur rested his elbows on the handrail and Nick did the same. “Do you smell that? No Motilene, no chemical waste...” Arthur took a deep breath. Nick closed his eyes and breathed in as well. “This is the real world, huh?”, he asked after enjoying the fresh air. “Yeah...a part of it...” “Can't wait to see more...”, Nick whispered. Arthur was happy to hear that. He beamed at Nick. “And from here you came back to me?” Nick turned around, leaning his back against the rail in a nonchalant manner. The wind had already ruffled his hair. Arthur would've loved to take a photo of him now. “Yeah...”, Arthur felt flattered. “It must've been hard for you.” “Actually, it wasn't...I couldn't leave you like that...” “You have a way of disappearing and coming back...” Arthur smiled helplessly, clutching the rail.

Nick eyed the stony floor, pondering. “Arthur...”, he then said. His tone alarmed Arthur. “Why did you leave me this morning?” Nick gave him an urgent look. Arthur stared at the horizon. “Because...because I had to do this alone...” “You wanted to punish yourself again?” “No...You were tired...You needed to rest and I didn't plan to be gone for long...Then one thing led to another and...I'm sorry...” “So you wanted to protect me?” “Yeah...” “Why?” “Just look at you!”, Arthur shouted desperately. “I can't let anything happen to you!” “You put yourself in danger?” Nick became louder. “No!”, Arthur quickly replied. “Well...not more than usual...Nick, I have to put myself in danger every day! Me and...others to....But you...I can't let anything happen to you...”

“Arthur, this is over! You're not a Downer anymore, nobody's chasing you for what you are and you're not alone! I understand that you're used to this, but we have to move on! I'm not a spoiled rockstar you have to spare! I'm your partner! You hurt me when you run off all alone! The tunnel could've collapsed! Your old boss could've changed her mind and kidnapped you! And I wouldn't know where you are! How could you do this to me?” Arthur couldn't come up with a good answer. “The worst you can do to me is disappearing, you hear me? If you put yourself in danger, I want to be at your side! I want to know where you're going if we really have to split up!” Nick had shouted the last words. He was really upset. Arthur hadn't seen him so angry before. “I'm sorry, Nick...I didn't think about it this way...I just had to do something...I'm sorry, please don't tell me I fucked this up...” Arthur was at the edge of tears. Nick promptly embraced him, noticing how much he needed it himself. “Ssshh...don't panic...I still love you...” They held still like this and and slowly calmed down.

“Don't do it again, okay?”, Nick said quietly. “Okay...I promise...”, Arthur whispered meekly. “It's hard not to see you as a star...” “But you've seen my real self...” Nick recalled something. “It's the name, right?” His face fell. “I know your name isn't 'Lightbearer'”, Arthur disagreed. His partner averted his gaze. “But it's also not 'Nick'.” Arthur was really taken aback. It felt so natural to call him 'Nick'. No other name seemed to fit. He even looked like a 'Nick'. “I never meant to keep it a secret. You have the right to know the truth, but there never was a fitting moment...” He faced Arthur again. “My name is Norbert. Norbert...Pickles...If you need to laugh, just do it...” Nick crossed his arms, dropped his gaze and waited. Arthur wouldn't be the first. Some people knew his name, from gossip or any other source. Their reaction was mostly the same. “I don't know why I should laugh...It's just a name.” Arthur came closer. “It never bothered me...But after years of being The Lightbearer...”, Nick explained and shook his head. “It's hard to look at it the same way again.” He looked back up to his lover. “You don't have to use it...But you can...Just do as you like...” Arthur felt that he'd need a while to get used to it. Still, he felt that the other man had just tightened their bond. “Thank you for telling me the truth...Even thought you're still 'Nick' to me...” “Thanks for not laughing.” Nick smiled his adorable smile. Arthur cupped his cheeks and kissed his hair.

They enjoyed their moment some more before they started back. Arthur was glad not to meet anyone yet. Back in town, they still heard The Make Believes perform. “Good idea...that concert...people love it”, Arthur stuttered. “We didn't really have a choice.” Nick chuckled. “It doesn't change anything?” Arthur eyed him carefully. “Nothing at all”, Nick confirmed. They silenced, listening. “Do you want to finish it?”, Arthur asked. “If you agree?” Nick didn't urge him. Arthur smiled meekly. “Just go for it, my Golden God.” He gave him a slap on the lower back. “I'll take care of you when you come home.” Nick beamed and ruffled Arthur's hair. “Until then, my tall boy.” After a passionate kiss, Nick hurried to join his band.

Arthur stayed outside for a while, watching Nick proudly, then he obeyed his tired body and went home. There he prepared for his journey, at least emotionally. He realized that not only Nick left his old life here, but also himself and he looked for something to keep. After deciding for the medal that he had brought from his former hideout and the documents about Percy he had to keep anyway, he put the few objects on his night table and lay down on his bed. A few moments later he dropped off.

Nick was excited. The noise of their last song was still ringing in his ears. The last applause had doped him. And now this! He had to tell Arthur! His rash footsteps echoed in the night, but he wasn't afraid. The show had ended long ago and the fans had gone back home. Out of breath, he reached Arthur's home and hurried into the corridor. There, the light was out. “Arthur?” He flicked it back on. Nick assumed his lover was already in bed. He ran up the stairs. Also the upper floor was dark. In the second floor, the light went on and a sleepy Arthur appeared at the stairs. “Nick, is that you?” Nick stormed up the stairs and span his lover around who yelped adorably. “Pack up your things, my King! We're going to Germany!”, he shouted and kissed Arthur wildly. Greeted like that, Arthur had to catch his breath. “Nicky, I'm glad you're so motivated. No need to exaggerate though, it's not going to be a fun journey”, he said but laughed nonetheless. “Oh, yes, it is! I know how we get there!” “Really?” Arthur's eyed widened. “You better sit down.” Nick shoved him back into his bedroom and placed him on the bed. Arthur stared at him while Nick shortly searched for words.

“After we told the boys our plan, they went looking for opportunities. They met Birdie today who has a similar problem. Her manager is looking for ways out of here and you won't believe what he found out! Germans actually love beat music and he's already in contact with a club there! He'll organise it all...the journey...the night stop...Isn't that fantastic?” Arthur was overwhelmed once more. Their whole impossible, lonely journey, suddenly simplified? On the one hand, he was fascinated about how fast Nick came up with a solution. It was another reason to have him at his side. On the other hand, it had an unpleasant connotation.

Arthur's silence worried Nick. “What's wrong?” His lover made a pained face. “So, you'll stay with the band...” “No, you got me wrong.” Nick sat down next to him. “I'll stay with you.” “How is this going to work?” “We're travelling with the band, because it's the easiest way out. Also, we'll need money and a place to sleep. And then...” Nick shrugged. “The rest is our adventure.” Arthur pondered. “Come on, is it easier to find Percy completely without resources or help?” Nick tried a joke. “What if he'll become a fan?” Arthur had to grin even though he doubted it. “And what if you don't want the silence anymore?” “You mean, if I don't want you anymore?” Nick leaned closer and tenderly kissed Arthur's cheek. “Then I must be the biggest dumbass in the world,” he whispered close to his ear. Arthur's resistance melted away. He accepted another loving kiss from Nick.

They had a very emotional night, dwelling in dreams and wishes. They slept together and then left the house for a night walk. It was the greatest conquest of their new freedom that they could enjoy the night without fear, at least that's what Nick thought. Also Arthur appeared to be ravished by the starry sky. “It's really pretty”, he sighed. “Everything is pretty as long as you're by my side”, Nick purred, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah...” Arthur had to chuckle. “Alright, I believe you!...you won...! I believe you!” “Finally!” Nick shouted out loud. He went a few steps forward, spread his arms and yelled: “My man believes I love him!” “Sssshh!”, Arthur hissed and laughed. “You're crazy...” “Yes, I am”, Nick confirmed. “But happy.” He fell back into Arthur's arms. “Me too...”, Arthur said and hugged him tightly. “Me too...” They stayed outside until sunrise.

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