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stressedinsomniac · 3 years

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His Lie // Her Truth: Fruba Fanfic

Type: One-Shot; AU

Words: 1290

Relationships: Kyo x Tohru

Triggers: Just.....pain

Rating: T

*Takes place during season 3; episodes 8/9 of the 2019 anime adaptation or right after Kyo's confession.

Summary:

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His next actions didn't involve thinking. Just moving.

He was between Tohru and Akito in an instant.

The knife was inside his back the next.

---

"I'm...disappointed in you,"

Why were those the words that came out of his mouth?

It had hurt. Someone finally accepted him - true form and all. All his quirks and rough edges, all his baggage. She knew how to dissolve all the defenses he'd been honing his whole life in an instant. She just had to look at him and somehow a little of the darkness was melted. Every time.

"Let's go home,"

She'd found what to say so naturally, like she could read his mind. The phrase he'd always wished someone would say to him - the real him - and she'd said it.

Why did it have to be Tohru Honda of all people?

It was almost as though the universe was trying to torture him. While she soothed his pain, she also inflicted it ten fold without even being aware.

You don't know anything. Not what I did, or what I failed to do.

It was true. She didn't know. I deserved the pain.

How'd things get so screwed up? She loved him. Someone finally loved him.

But it was wrong. So wrong.

It hurt. Because he loved her back. He wanted her so much, and she was so close. Right there.

But it wasn't fair. I can't do this.

He confessed. All of it. All his sins. All his wrongs. Even though it was painful to say it. Because there was no way she could still love him after that, and that was how it should've been from the start.

I didn't mean to run into you. I didn't mean to get so close. I didn't mean to fall in love.

Yet she still accepted him. She still looked him in the face and told him she loved him.

"I'm...disappointed in you,"

How could he leave her with those words and then run away? The only one who didn't grimace at his existence. The only one who wasn't disgusted by him, including himself. The only one who didn't think he was a monster.

The only one that loved him.

He was filled with an ache that came from more than just the rain. His body screamed, but he kept running, not even knowing where the hell he was going. He didn't know what else to do. He wanted to collapse. It was pouring. It felt like every drop was trying to drag him down with it.

But something in his gut felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, but this anxious twist in his stomach stood out. He was reminded of the feeling that washed over him when he realized he couldn't save Kyoko Honda, and when she mumbled those words.

"I won't forgive you. Ever."

He moved against his own will. The feeling took over, controlling him. He was running back. No, stop it.

But his legs didn't obey. They carried him back down the path, screaming and burning the whole way. I can't face her again. Not yet. Not right now.

He slowed as he approached the house. He needed to run away again as fast as possible. He needed to get out of here.

Something moving caught his attention. It took a few agonizing seconds to register Akito's figure, brandishing a knife and forcing it in Tohru's direction. Kyo's next action didn't involve thinking. Just moving.

His body came between Tohru and Akito in an instant.

The knife was inside his back the next.

At first it was just shock. He felt the blade in there, and he heard something crunch upon impact, but it didn't hurt. It didn't feel real.

"You! The monster! How dare you protect the insolent outsider who stole everything from me?!" Akito shrieked at the top of her lungs, twisting the knife inside of Kyo's body like she did to Kureno.

And thats when the stabbing, searing pain exploded in his back. He winced hard, and cried out involuntarily, the sound becoming more intense when he felt the knife come out. He saw Tohru, and then the ground came up to meet his face. Akito ran away.

Kyo bit his tongue to suppress his own screams of pain.

I can't cry out. That would make Tohru feel bad.

He realized his arms were up in front of him, which exposed his bare back and wound.

I know how it feels to have guilt eating away at you.

He brought his arms in and crossed them in front of his body so he could rest his head there, his face hidden.

No one should feel that way. Not for me.

The hard raindrops pounded his wound relentlessly.

Damn, it hurts.

They felt like little needles driving into his flesh.

It stings.

He used the pain to steady his breathing, involuntarily trying to escape it by shifting his weight around. But that seemed to make it worse.

I know I deserve the pain, but knowing that makes it hurt more.

It was so hard not to cry out. How much time had passed?

"KYO?!" Tohru shrieked. She came out holding two umbrellas: one for herself and one for him. She ran to him, and the tip of the second blocked the rain from pounding on his wound. It was a relief he knew he didn't deserve, but the pain was lessened a little.

"Kyo?!"

No.

"Are you alright?"

You shouldn't care about me anymore.

"Say Something!"

Go away.

"Help is on the way!"

"Stop it," He sounded so quiet and sad, Tohru felt like his voice had broken her into a million pieces.

She gasped, which caused the umbrella to move. The raindrops started digging into his wound again.

Speaking had caused him to stop biting his tongue. The reminder of the rain made Kyo groan and shift a little.

Damnit.

"Kyo?!" Tohru yelped in concern, then realized he probably didn't want to be screamed at right now, so she spoke softly, her eyes full of worry and sadness.

"Does it...hurt?"

She gently touched his shoulder, but recoiled when he flinched. She felt him quivering under her fingertips for a brief second, and it broke her heart even more.

He bit his tongue again. By now the tip of it was probably bleeding.

She noticed the way he was tensed, the way his back was arched, the way his shoulders were shaking, and the realization came up and hit her like a sledgehammer.

He was surpressing his own cries of pain.

"Kyo," Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she tried to sound confident. "You can let it out. It won't change how I feel,"

Kyo's eyes widened.

Then she spoke more softly. "I won't be...dissappointed,"

They were his words. The words he'd used to soothe her, and the words he'd trampled on the next day.

His lies.

And yet she said them back. This time, though, they were her truth. She wanted him to know he didn't have to feel guilty. She knew now. She knew everything, and it didn't change how she felt. That fact only made him feel worse for what he'd said before. Why the hell does she still care about me?

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, too. Damnit.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's...it's ok," her tears were audible now.

It's not.

He groaned and clenched his fists into balls, collecting dirt in the process. He was shaking. Shaking from the cold, from the pain, from the overwhelming emotions that he couldn't put into words. That's when the sirens in the distance got louder and Kyo and Tohru heard a crunch as the ambulance pulled onto the gravel.

Kyo heard yelling and was faintly aware of some people rustling in the distance, but couldn't remember why they were there. Then everything went black.

Part 2 coming on Ao3! If you made it here, thanks so much for reading!

#kyoru #kyo sohma #furuba #tohru honda #kyo x tohru #fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket #fanficiton #fanfic #tw stab mention #angst fluff #yeet me into the void

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 4 years

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Tabaco y Brea

Part 6

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, angst, nightmares, dissappointment, I think that's it.

Summary: Everything becomes strained and awkward after what happened in Cali, putting a strain on your friendship with Javi. But you have to fix it, before it's too late.

A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long but here it is for anyone who’s interested. I hope you enjoy it!

You can find all previous parts in my masterlist

The air of Colombia in the morning feels great after a night of fun with Javi. There are parts of your body that haven't been sore in a while, not since you went to México two years ago at least. The picture from that trip on the bedside table in your room makes waking up easier.

Your feet make noise as you walk without shoes to the kitchen, finding the sight of Javier shirtless very pleasing. His plaid pants are hanging low on his hips as he hums a tune that sounds a lot like Aerosmith.

His ring glints as he moves his left hand to mix the eggs at the stove, sunlight illuminating him in a way that should be considered as a form of art. His watch looks blurry to you, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

Sleepy, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze.

'Why did you get up?" You ask, groggy and warm from the bed. He chuckles.

"Someone has to keep us fed around here”

His voice is rough from sleep too, so he probably hasn't been awake too long either. His hips start swaying to the imaginary music that must be playing inside his head, moving you along with him. His skin is so warm against yours it makes you relax against him, giving him little kisses on his back.

You turn your head to look at the living room. The newspaper that’s on the table has a bloody picture with a big headline that you can’t read. It makes you frown. Maybe you will have to get a pair of glasses soon.

Everything feels warm, safe. Javier presses back against you, sighing deeply. You smile.

Your eyes look to the side and see a shadow moving. Not even a second after, you draw in a startled breath and a ray of sunlight glints off a knife. You pull Javi against you to get him out of the way, but not being fast enough, the blade slices through his chest. You feel the force of the stab through his body, pushing you back when a cry of pain leaves his lips and his body hits the floor when you can't take his weight.

Kneeling, you frantically move your hand to grab at the gun under the table, but it isn’t there. When you turn to see who may have taken it, there’s no one but the two of you in the room.

Or rather, there’s only you in the room. Javier is too still, his chest isn’t raising and falling from breathing. His brown eyes are lifeless as they look up to the ceiling.

You kneel down in front of him, gripping his shoulders and palming his chest, getting your hands soaked with blood. You can’t stop the sob that tears out of you.

“Javier!” you scream. “Javier, wake up!”

Red hands glint when you look down. His eyes don't shine anymore.

“You promised” you wail, left alone in the room, with a lifeless body in front of you.

Your body bolts up in your bed, gasping for the hundredth time in the past two weeks and covered in a cold sweat. The rise and fall of your chest feel too quick to be real, even after so many past experiences. The room is filled with moonlight seeping through the white curtains that cover your window. For some reason, it makes your heart ache more.

Pain is universal. Some people feel it down their stomach, with a knot that pulls and contracts at every thought that brings something you don't want to remember or think about. Some others feel it in their chest, something swelling and constricting every breath they take, aching right at the center. Some feel it in their throats, pain and anger clogging their pipe, teary eyes, and swollen face is commonly found those times too.

The kind of pain you're feeling right now seems to include all of them.

Once again, the bed is empty, and the vague memories of the dream you just had start to mix with every other you've had in 15 days. They are always variations of the same thing, always leave you hopeless and scared. The tears stream down your face once again, increasing the fear that has been clogging your system since everything that happened in Cali.

The most horrible part of everything is that you're not sure what's worse, dreaming of Javi dying in different ways every night or the knowledge that every single one is possible and you can't do anything about it.

A ella no la tocamos mexicanito, one narco had said. A ella no la tocamos, pero a vos sí. (We don't mess with her, little Mexican, we don't mess with her but we mess with you)

They had been saying rude comments about you all night instead of answering your questions, but Javi finally snapped when the one nicknamed Jarrogrande told you to give him "cacho mami, que uste' se ve que es bien conchuda" (a chance, you look like you're shameless) and smashed his head against the table. Both of them realized that what was happening was for real, and started talking. Ironic how every single narco seemed to brag about loyalty but ended up talking when their skin was in the line.

The words of Mosca, the other one, rang in your ears for the rest of the night and stuck in your head to the point of giving you nightmares all these days. You had no clue what he had meant, neither did Javi or Steve. Even after hours of interrogation, spilling about the recruitment of young boys they had been doing in the Comuna 3, not one word of explanation had left their mouths about it.

It made you uneasy, so much that the idea of sleeping was almost scary by this point, even though you always ended up falling asleep no matter how much coffee you drank and how much you tried to stay awake reading.

No human should go through this and yet here you are, crying repeatedly over the visual of Javier getting stabbed this time, less perturbed than with the last dream where he flew through the air after being hit by a car several times. And not once, not even the first time, could you have done anything about it. And if you can't do anything about it in your own dreams, what would happen in real life?

The worst one yet had been one where you both were sleeping together and someone broke into your apartment, shooting him right next to you. And you couldn't do anything, just lay there and watch how life slipped away from his brown eyes as his body went limp.

You turn around to the bedside clock. It reads 5:03 A.M.

Tired from a night full of restless sleep, you move your legs over the bed and stand up, rubbing your eyes and wiping the tears from your face. Barefoot, you make your way to the shower and strip your clothes off. A short and a tank top are the only things you can handle at night, the humidity seems to skyrocket as soon as the sun goes down. It should get more fresh, for fuck's sake.

Pulling the curtain to the side, you open the shower and step inside, letting the water wash away the sweat and discomfort that the 15th night in a row tormented with nightmares left you.

"Is everything okay?"

Steve's voice makes you jump as you attempt to read reports in your desk, uselessly. The lack of sleep is finally starting to take its toll, all day you've been nodding off.

The fact that Javier is avoiding you like the plague doesn't help at all.

"Yeah," you answer, "just tired."

He frowns at you from his brand new desk across yours. Stacks of paper fill it completely, manila folders in every space available. The smoke of his and Javi's cigarettes go directly at your zone, and seeing how he smokes just as much as Javi makes you wonder how he managed to control himself when he was working at your table.

"You don't look just tired"

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Javi's desk, where he's completely buried in studying a map of Cali spread above his mess. The barrio zone in Carrera 8 is underlined with a red marker as he traces the path you followed the narcos after the club. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention.

He grunts without turning to look at you. The blue shirt he's wearing today makes his skin glow in a way that makes your hands itch to touch. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Do you need help?" you ask, sounding much more composed than you feel. Surprisingly, he nods and gestures for you to come close, signaling somewhere in the map.

"Can you remember where we followed them to?"

Distracted, you roam the paper with your eyes and point at where you think they went.

"I know it's right where Carrera 8 crosses the Alfonso López Bridge, but I can't tell you exactly where that is in the map"

His face lights up slightly at the mention of the bridge, bringing his hand up to draw a circle at an intersection you had failed to see. He bows his head at you subtly.

"Thanks"

"No problem"

The interaction feels so awkward and forced that your instinct is activating the urge to either say something or run away. You're more inclined to do the later but end up doing neither as you return to your desk. You can feel Steve's piercing look right on your skull.

Even the air feels too heavy to breathe. It had never been like that, not even in your first days at the office or worst fights. Javi always tried to fix it by buying you food or cracking a joke to ease the tension, never really addressing what started the fight.

Maybe that's the problem, you're not used to communicating verbally and this isn't something you just shrug off.

And if it wasn't enough, you're sure Javi has also realized your poor state caused by lack of sleep. Every time you try to make coffee, he drinks it all and doesn't leave any to you, he stays with Steve at the office until they make sure you'll leave, and when he thinks you're not looking, he gives you side glances with a concerned expression you had only seen the first time after your first raid in Bogotá. He knows something's wrong, he's just not sure what.

"Bera," Steve's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, "aren't you hungry?"

You're surprised to feel a void in your stomach at his mention, realizing that yes, you are hungry.

You nod, cocking your head to one side as you look at him.

Just then Javi straightens and grabs his jacket without saying anything, not even turning to look at neither of you. A lump in your throat makes itself present once again when logic tells you where he must be going at this specific hour.

"Where are you going?" Steve dares to ask. Javi keeps walking.

"Out"

You confirm your thoughts when he puts his hand inside his pocket as if checking for something to be inside.

Your eyes burn as he walks away and climbs up the stairs. Something grips your chest tight, makes your stomach clench, and your temperature rise.

You shouldn't feel like that, it's not like Javi is doing something wrong. You're not together, he's not cheating on you.

You just wish your heart agreed.

Murphy's voice breaks you out of your pain.

"Here," he gestures for you to get closer as he takes out a big recipient from under his desk and opens it, a wonderful smell of food that floods your senses and eases the ache in your heart a little. Then he pulls out another one and serves some food inside.

You stand up and pull your chair towards him, sitting in front of his desk and moving the folders just enough to leave space to eat. He hands you a spoon and the second recipient, but it feels close to being offered a hug, a sense that you're not alone, that he understands.

“Connie is trying to learn traditional dishes,” he offers as an explanation, smiling sheepishly. You take a bite and moan, marveling at the taste of Bogotá meatloaf.

“Well she’s doing great”

You eat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, afraid of mentioning what you both know about Javier’s absence.

You realize Steve is itching to tell you something, so you try to show as much openness as possible. He seems to catch on it, so he swallows and clears his throat.

“Why do they call you Bera?” he, after so many days of wanting to and not doing it, finally asks. But doesn’t dare to look at you while he does.

“It’s a long story,” you answer, smiling at the soft tone he uses.

“I think we’ve got time”

You take a deep breath and sit back in your chair, with your legs crossed and the plastic container resting on top.

“On my first week,” you start, “we had one of the most important raids there has been in the past two years”

“The one where you found one of Escobar’s hideouts?” he interrupts, looking at you expectantly. You nod, chuckling when he takes a mouthful of food and urges you to continue.

“I met Carrillo, and he wanted to boss me around as if I were one of his soldiers. Javier wasn’t too happy about it but didn’t say anything. We are in his country, after all”

“He can be an asshole, uh?” Steve mutters. You’re not sure who he's talking about, but either way, it’s true, just in different levels and senses.

“When he realized I wasn’t going to let him, he called me berraca. I slapped him because I thought he meant it offensively, but it turned out to be a compliment." Steve arches one eyebrow at that. "He then clarified he had called me berraca with b and not with v while he rubbed his cheek,” you say, smiling at the memory. His skin had been so red you feared it would stay like that for a while. If you had hit him a little to the left, his lip would have probably split open.

“What’s the difference?” he asks, confused.

“Verraca with v means stallion pig. Berraca with b can mean many many things, but one of them is brave.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips, with narrow eyes as if he was studying something. "Well, he's right."

You smile, pleased that he agrees with it.

"It just morphed to Bera as a way of making fun of gringos," you finish. "You can't pronounce the hard r, so you say beraca instead of berraca. Javi started calling me Bera as a joke and it stuck."

Something inside Steve's mind goes quiet with the new knowledge. He can barely talk in Spanish, maybe he understands it a little better. But he's sure he would use that word to describe you too. It fits.

But now that he thinks of it, Javier and Carrillo say it in different tones, something he hadn't been conscious about before.

Carrillo says it like a challenge. As if he's waiting for you to react, to attack. Something bugs Steve in the way the colonel spits it out of his mouth, almost afraid of something everyone else is unaware of but prepared to take on it.

Javier, instead, says it like a prayer. His eyes sparkle and the corners of his lips rise slightly, amused but with something soft on his face. And it's not like he's not always like that around you because he is, he's less frowny and, dare Steve say, less of an asshole when you're close. He almost becomes nice. But when he calls you that, there is also admiration brightening his skin, shining in his eyes, beyond anything else he most likely feels when he looks at you.

He would have loved a warning before getting inside this mess though.

One of the things that has stuck with him since he arrived was the time both you and Javier left to meet one of your informants and when you came back, Javier was nursing a bruise on his face and others on his knuckles, fuming. You looked at him with such annoyance but wonder simultaneously that it gave Steve whiplash.

When one of the other agents in the office got close to Murphy and explained that that specific informant was always too sassy, especially with you, he understood why Javier came back like that.

“He’s very protective in general,” the way the other agent had muttered it let him know Javier didn’t like any talk about it, “but there is always something worse than Hell coming for anyone who messes with her.”

It sounded like a cheesy movie, and Steve knew you hated it when either of them tried to protect you, but he could see it was the truth.

He doesn’t understand how you haven’t gotten together though, it just seems too irrational not to. If Javier doesn’t care about the rule of no relationships with informants, why would he care about the rule that also prohibits them between co-workers?

The phone rings suddenly when he starts to get deeper in thought, making both of you jump. Steve picks it up, frowning.

You start to worry when his face goes white and his back straightens, motioning you to give him something to write on.

He answers affirmatively a couple of times while he writes something on top of the sheet of paper you gave him, hurriedly. When he hangs up, the stare he gives you worries you even more.

"Javier just found a hideout." You freeze at his words. "He called from a public phone and said he needed backup because someone most likely identified him.”

Your blood starts pumping so loud in your ears they feel like they’re going to explode. Your chest feels tight, making breathing harder, and blurring your sight.

Something inside your head whispers that this is going to end just like your nightmares, that you're going to lose him and never get to tell him everything you want. Javier is going to die, and you're too far to do anything about it.

Panic starts to cover your whole body when Steve's hand touches your arm and pulls, forcing you to look at him.

"We gotta be quick! Move!"

His tone orders your body to do as he says, picking up your gun and tucking it behind your pants. Steve does the same while screaming to the rest in the office, ordering around, and putting everything in motion. You can't understand what they're saying, but soon someone is shoving a bulletproof vest for you to put on, and you quickly do it. Instinctively, you pull one from somebody's hands and hold it tight, thinking of Javier.

All of you run outside to the cars and Steve starts driving like a maniac towards the address that Javier told him. He hands you the built-in radio between your seats and you start shouting orders to anyone who might be hearing on the line.

The way the car moves makes your body shake.

Or maybe it's the fear, you're not really sure.

You close your eyes and try to evocate Javier's voice reading to you, a few weeks back.

Era en verdad una aldea feliz, donde nadie era mayor de treinta años y donde nadie había muerto. (It was a truly happy village, where no one was over thirty years of age and where no one had died)

Please stay safe Javier, you thought. Please don't do anything stupid until I get there.

Adrenaline starts pumping through your veins like a freight train, shutting down anything else you might be feeling.

In some weird, twisted joke of life, many moments you spent with Javier start to pass in front of your eyes. Back in 1980, when you had gone to the cinema to break away from the depressive aura of the office. The first time you ate in Salomé. When he, for the first and last time, went to your apartment and you had watched Rocky while making fun of Stallone's voice. At Christmas, when he gifted you a tape for your Walkman. The way his eyes had glinted when you had given him a special edition vinyl of Led Zeppelin IV.

It hurts, to think about all that and know you may never live any of it again after this.

When Steve hits the brakes with no warning, you immediately wrench the door open and kneel behind it, pointing in front of you through the window in case someone shoots.

There are four military Jeeps behind you, with soldiers quickly jumping down from them and forming lines around the zone. Their colonel signals them to move forward.

Something gives you a bad feeling, everything is too quiet, too still. There are not even people walking around in their normal day, the streets are completely deserted.

You can hear your heavy breathing, sweat dripping down your back as you look for any signs of movement.

A gun gets reloaded somewhere to your left, and it takes you a second to turn around and point at where the sound came from when someone else shoots them first.

This gives the narcos the distraction they needed. Guns start to fire in time someone yells at your team to get cover, bullets ricocheting from the cars, and breaking the windows to pieces.

From the corner of your eye, you see Javi's back as he hides in one of the alleys, soaked in sweat. He's breathing so hard you can even hear it over the blood that's pumping on your ears. He seems unharmed though, there are no spots of blood on his clothes.

In a stupid decision to try and keep him that way, you scream his name, making him turn to look at you.

His eyes almost bulge out of his skull as he sees how carelessly you are acting by giving away your position, but without a second thought, he starts to run towards you, his gun gripped tight on his hand and moving with such urgency it makes you anxious.

Once he gets next to you and kneels beside you, you lose all words. He's safe, he's next to you, healthy y uninjured. Around you, there's shouting, followed by gunfires. None of it matters for a second.

Your brain reminds you of the bulletproof vest you brought for him when you look down and see he lost his jacket at some point, so you turn to grab it and give it to him. He seems incredulous, you don't really understand why.

"Just put it on," your voice leaves no space for arguing. He nods, strapping it quickly while you cover any shot that may get you.

Both of you stand up, pointing in front of your bodies as you walk towards the sudden line of cars that are on the other side of the street.

Even if they wanted, there's no way they're getting out of this. You have them at least five to one, with far more weapons and advantage.

Again, something doesn't seem right. It's too stupid, a mistake that is too careless and idiotic for them to make it without any other intentions.

You stop breathing when, by chance, you get a glimpse of Escobar's hair in the backseat of a blue Sedan.

He feels your stare, turns to look at you, and grins. Your whole body freezes, with your fingers stiff on your gun.

All air leaves your lungs and the blood from your face drains.

The way he smiles, with a familiarity you don't know where it comes from, makes a shiver run down your spine.

Javi feels it, turning to look at you briefly and ask what's wrong when suddenly, Escobar gives an order you can't hear to one of his men and he starts to walk directly towards you in the middle of the chaos.

Javier reacts immediately. He pushes you behind him, recharging his gun and firing at the same time as the other man.

Everything happens in slow motion.

Both of them fire twice before anything else happens. Javi gets two shots right in the middle of the other's chest, but the man gets two on his chest too.

Blood starts to spread over the man's shirt, red and bubbling quickly. No one pays attention to him as they keep shooting and shouting, the blue Sedan leaving without anyone but you noticing what just happened. Escobar shouts something for you to hear, but you're too distracted to pay attention.

Panic rises in your throat when the impact knocks Javier back, making him give a short yell when he instinctively moves his hand to grab at his chest. You move fast to cushion his fall, stopping him from hitting the floor too hard.

Tears flood your eyes as you frenéticamente move your hands to assess the damage when Javi's hands grab yours and stop you.

"I'm okay," he mutters, but there's pain in his voice. He tries to smile at you but fails, wincing. The way his grip tightens around your fingers bring your brain back a little to reality, and you realize there's no blood on his body.

The vest.

A relieved sob leaves your mouth when you realize the worst he can have is a few cracked ribs. You thank past you for thinking of bringing that heavy horrible thing with you.

Around you, everything starts to die down when the few narcos that aren't injured or dead climb in their cars and run away. There are just three injured soldiers from your side, and it's nothing fatal.

Steve comes out of nowhere and kneels down next to you, speaking words that come silent to your eyes.

You and Javier look at each other, with fear and relief and anger all mixed together in your eyes. The love he sees in your eyes shatters him, makes the pain in his chest feel sharper.

Neither of you says anything as Steve helps him stand up so you can take him to get checked up, but he never looks away from you. Your friend is amazed at how quickly Javi can change from completely aggressive to absolute tenderness in just a few seconds.

But when it's about you, he knows both feelings come from the same place.

You don't say a word on the trip to the hospital, but all the way both of you are gripping the other's hand as if your lives depend on it.

Maybe they do.

Your body feels like you just went into shock. None of anything that happened feels real, anything but Javier's touch seems fake. He's shaking against you, and that's not common at all. His leg is jumping from the adrenaline in a way that would be funny if it wasn't because he almost died a few minutes ago.

He plants a kiss on your head, gripping your fingers tighter.

The sun is in your eyes when the car starts heading down another street. You start to crash, leaning your head on his shoulder as a deep male voice sings from the radio.

He wishes he could rest with you too, but something is bothering Javier.

He heard what Escobar shouted at you.

-/-

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difficultbutreal · 6 years

Text

Truly Blessed

A/N: Hi guys, after … a while this is the requested follow up to “Heart Wants What It Wants”. I guess you could also read it seperately. Again, this is just a product of my imagination. Thank you so much for all your feedback after HWWIW. I hope you’ll like this one too.

Three weeks. It had been almost three weeks since Selena had argued with her mother about her relationship with him and even tough she didn’t say anything about it, Justin knew her well enough to know that she was unhappy with the situation and thought a lot about it. Family was important to her, after all and he saw the little signs whenever they were together. How she checked her phone as if she expected her to call any minute. How she purposely didn’t talk about her family or christmas. And he immediately recognized the staring off into distance, her mind going off to someplace.

She was acting normal, she was loving and she laughed and they talked for hours when they hung out, but still, he knew. The first time he asked her if it would help if he talked to Mandy, she had said no; that she needed her space to calm down and think trough things. The only time he had brought it up after that was a few days ago and she had just shrugged her shoulders before placing a short kiss on his lips and changing the topic.

And that is how he found himself in his car in front of the Teefeys house, determined to make this better for Selena, even if he was terrified to say the wrong thing or that she kicked him out before he could say anything.

He kicked the door open, locked the car and made his way over to the house he had been to so many times years ago. He had been on good terms with Mandy, and also with Brian, her whole family really. They were both family people with the same values and past experiences and most of all, with the same dream of their own family one day.

He knocked two times and his heart was beating loudly in his chest before the door opened and Mandys smile immediately changed into a frown when she saw him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here because there are things we should talk about,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “And I am here because even if she doesn’t say it, I know Selena feels terrible about being in a fight with you.”

“Oh and she thought sending you here would make things better between us?” The older woman asked bitterly, but it was exactely what he had expected.

“Nobody send me here. I want to talk to you and I hope you will give me the few minutes I need to explain myself.”

She eyed him disapprovingly, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Fine. Talk,” she finally decided, pushing the door a little more open so they could at least close the door to the outside world as they stood in the hallway.

“Okay so I don’t know exactely what Sel and you were talking about but there are some things I have to say,“ he clarified, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“When I first met Selena, I was blown away by how kind and beautiful and graceful she was and when I told her that I was in love with her after we had been friends for a while, she was scared. She had feelings for me too but she had gotten her heart broken before and I begged her to give me a chance. I promised her that I would never, never break her heart.”

He was met with a scoff but Mandy said nothing so he ignored it.

“She was everything I could have wanted. I was so happy with her, I swear I kept imagining a future with her after like two weeks. But things around me were … terrible at some point. I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out who to trust and the constant … pressure of peoples expectations and realizing how fake this industry is, I .. I started hanging out with people that changed the way I was behaving. I drank and I took drugs and I went to parties when I should have focused on myself and my relationships. I didn’t.

I had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be so I let myself get pulled into the constant stream of distractions and I trusted people that stabbed me in the back while ignoring those that truly cared about me and tried to help me.

Selena was one of them. She forgave me so many times and I treated her like shit. I am very aware of that and the truth is, I totally understand your concern. Hell, I am kind of glad there is someone who is protecting her. My actions were wrong and they were one of the reasons we broke up. We made a lot of mistakes and I get why you are so against this. So … I apologize to you. For being the reason Selena spend many nights crying and you having to hold her. I apologize for the way I behaved and I apologize for dissappointing you.”

Justin searched for any reaction, but couldn’t read her, so after giving her a few moments, he decided to continue.

“I cannot change what I did. But I am standing here today and I am telling you that the time we spent apart, I’ve been working very hard to change things about my life. I got rid of people that pulled me down with them, I spend months focusing on myself, trying to figure out who I am and … how I want to spend my life. I relearned my faith and it’s helped me a lot in this process. I proved myself to people I hurt during the last years, my mother, friends I treated badly, my manager, my family.

I know you do not approve of me being in Selenas life again and I am not angry or … surprised about that. The last time we saw each other I was a stupid idiot. But I love Selena. I never stopped. And I know that this time, I am 100 percent ready for this. I will do whatever it takes to work on this relationship and I will do whatever I need to do to prove myself to Selena - and to you.

So I am asking you to consider my words. I know Selena would never say this, but she’s so sad and hurt about people, and especially you going against us. I am not asking you to welcome me back with open arms but please, talk to Selena. She misses you.”

The look on Mandys face told him that she was at least thinking about his words and he thought about adding more to his little speech but instead he turned to the door, opening it.

“Thank you for listening.” He told her sincerely and he prayed to God that him being here would help make things better, not worse.

And before he closed the door behind him, he swore he could see a small nod of her head.

“Well … that was quiet some speech.” Mandy heared her husband behind her on the staircase.

“One can say a lot of things, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“For what it’s worth .. I thought he seemed really sincere,” Brian muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Maybe you should give him a chance to prove he means it.”

“He lied to me before. I don’t care what he says, I do not like them together.” Mandy argued.

“But you can’t deny that he was absolutely right about calling Sel. You feel terrible, too, I know it.”

The woman sighed, before nodding at his words.

“You know I would do anything to protect Selena but this is her life and I think it takes a lot for him to show up here, knowing that you are absolutely against him, and apologize for what he did.”

It took her a few minutes, but after a while Mandy eventually nodded. “Yeah that was … pretty decent.”

“He put himself out there because he saw that Selena is hurt by this and he was more concerned for her well-being than standing in front the person that hates him. I would say that already is a bit of prove that he has a good heart, wouldn’t you?”

“You’ll never believe what just happened.” Selena said after sharing a sweet kiss with her boyfriend.

“What happened, baby?” he asked, knowing by her smile and excited tone that it had to be something good.

“My mom called me,” she began and he felt himself stiffen. “And she apologized.”

“Really? That’s amazing! What did she say?”

“She said that she still wasn’t that happy about us,” Selena started, taking a step forward to let her hands run along his muscular stomach under his shirt, looking up at him.

“There’s a ‘but’ coming, right? Please tell me there is a ‘but’ coming.” Justin told her quietly, as he wrapped his arms around her back to have her close.

“BUT she also said that she would accept my decision and would give you the chance to gain her trust back so that eventually, she’ll be okay with you being a part of my life again.”

She had the biggest smile on her face.

“That’s so great, Sel. I am really happy you two are working things out. I will do whatever it takes to change her mind.” He vowed.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” She asked, her voice light.

“Me? No way.” Justin replied, a small grin playing on his lips that was soon covered by her lips, pressing down lightly.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely and he was relieved that she wasn’t mad about him talking to her mother.

“I’m glad it made a difference. I want you to be happy.” Justin told her, caressing her face softly and she sighed, enjoying the feeling of his warm hand on her cheek.

“I am happy, Justin. Really happy. Who would have thought that this is how things would turn out? You and me together and my health being so great now. I’m so grateful.”

“So am I.” Pulling her into his arms, he immediately felt her wrapping her arms around his middle before she snuggled her face into his neck, kissing the skin there softly. She truly was blessed.

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