#everyday some or other fictional character will have me by my throat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

previousloversandmuses · 1 year

Text

FREQUENCY: Episode 7 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY: A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 7: “Dead Man Walking”

WORD COUNT: 6033

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW) SMUT (spoiler sorry) (finally) P IN V UNPROTECTED SEX (pls use proper birth control in your everyday life) Mentions of suicide, depression, drug & alcohol use. Violence, stalking. Homelander and SB being themselves. Offensive slurs.

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns.

PLEASE DISREGARD SPELLING ERRORS AND FORMATTING ISSUES SOMEONE BROKE MY COMPUTER AND I HAD TO FINISH WRITING AND UPLOADING THIS ON MY PHONE. I WOLL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET HOME TMRW ON MY DESKTOP BUT I WANTED TO GET IT UP ASAP ILY

Masterlist | Taglist

Sure, he could have ventured downstairs and harassed Vought Security by now, but no. He wanted the satisfaction of guessing this. He wanted to know how well he knew her. He wanted her to know how well he knew her. That he would appear on her doorstep like a knight in shining armor. But right now, he’s convinced he doesn’t know her much at all.

He started with her birthday, which he didn't know, but neither does she-- at least, he didn’t think she did. He’s not sure when his birthday is either, and they were both raised in the lab, so. That makes sense, right? He tried her favorite color, which he thinks may be green? That would make sense? She likes the forest? But it also could be pink because she is a woman after all, and all women love pink. Celebrity crushes? Him, of course, but that doesn't work either. And he thinks he doesn’t have the emotional security to even try another name.

“ILoveJohn…”Johnandme”...“John123”… “john1234” … ”homelander” … ”ilovehomelander”...”green”...”green123”...”password”... “frequency3” … “frequency123”... “freak+john”... “freakandjohn”... “ilovepink” …

She has her real name too, not “Freak”. Her real name, her given name, her birth name-- which he's sure is beautiful and suits her well. He just has no idea what it is. He has scavenged every computer file attached to Vought for years trying to find out even a hint. It has always come up dry. Without a lead. He has brutally assaulted security personnel over it.

“How fucking hard is it to find a fucking name? A registered supe name?” He would scream.

They would stammer, and quiver, and beg for their lives. Saying some Vought files are strictly kept on paper, so they could avoid the possibility of a cyber attack. That, of course, was never good enough for him.

“And you can’t even tell me the location of the fucking file, at least? Are you that fucking incompetent and mentally retarded? How the hell did you idiots even get a goddamn job here?”

Then he would raid storage rooms all round the city. Data centers from here to DC, which contain the most sensitive information. Of course, he’d threaten them too.

The worst part of it all, the only person he’d met that knew her name, was her. And of course, she never, ever told him. She taunted him with it. He begged like a dog salivating over raw meat.

He works at it for a few more hours until he goes for help. He must've just spelled something wrong, or is having some sort of brain fart.

When he enters the security room, the intern from the other day is already there. She had the night shift tonight, he's assuming. Although he hopes she isn’t on the clock as she snores onto the keyboard in front of her.

He clears his throat, looking around awkwardly--which does nothing. He then grabs a pen from next to her, and pokes her with it. Still nothing. He rolls his eyes, then claps so hard her hair flies back in a gust of wind. She jolts awake. Disoriented. She grabs her ears in pain.

“What the fuck?” She cries.

“Move.” Is all he says as he pushes her out of her swivel chair and takes her place. He hands her the computer from over his shoulder like it's a piece of paper. She grabs it reluctantly.

“What is this?” She asks, rubbing the side of her head to self-soothe.

“You have eyes. I need you to unlock it for me.” He mumbles, peeking down at his cuticles.

She inspects the computer, then sets it on the table next to him. She squats down onto her knees so she doesn't have to bend over. Grabbing a cord from the computer, she connects it and then waits for her main system to boot up.

“I need you to move a little, please…Sir.” She grimaces, moving over his shoulder to begin working on unlocking the computer.

He sighs, craning his neck over to the left so she could squeeze in. She begins to type, pulling up some system he doesn't want, or care to know about. She taps her hand impatiently on the mouse until-

“A-ha,” She says smiling, leaning back over to the laptop and typing in the information. “There you go.”

She hands the open laptop back to him. He inspects it with hesitance. Almost nervous to see the contents inside.

“What was it?” He asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“What was what?” She asks, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“The password.” He presses, glaring at her.

“Oh, um,” She pulls at her collar. Was it getting hot in there? “It was uh, fuc….”

He tilts his head towards her in a feigend attempt to understand what the fuck she just said.

“I’m sorry, in fucking english please.”

She swallows the lump in her throat.

“It was, uh, fuckyoujohn…nicetryasshole…” She grimaces.

He nods his head. Right. Of course it was.

---

When a maaa-aan loves a woman

Can't keep his mind on nothin' else

He'd trade the world

For the good thing he's found

The club had gotten significantly more packed as the night went on. The two of them are squished together, her back to his front. He nestles his face into her neck as he sings along to the songs blasting through the speakers. They are both wasted beyond belief. Ama and Asher had bought everyone a round of drinks after the long awaited makeout.

If she is bad, he can't see it

She can do no wrong

And turn his back on his best friend

If he puts her down

This was it. This is everything he needed to feel better. It was like he was floating. Her smell was intoxicating. He had never been this close to her skin before. It radiated a bouquet of roses and vanilla, even through the sweat and cheap liquor. He would never admit it to her, but he thinks he was pining for her since the moment he saw her. Like a mirage. It was one of those moments where the breath is stolen from your lungs. Where you’re taken aback by the sheer intensity of the moment.

When a man loves a woman

Spend his very last dime

And trying to hold on to what he needs

He'd give up all his comforts

And sleep out in the rain

If she said that's the way, it ought to be

When a man loves a woman

He begins to think in his foggy, mashed potato brain, that maybe, just maybe, everything he ever did, everything he ever experienced, was to lead him straight to her. That his time hidden away, chilled to the bone, was the universe crafting her especially for him. Like she was a hot summer day, and he was a piece of ice thawing out on the hot pavement. That he got to spend thirty years in hell to reflect and remember and regret, so he could be ready for her.

I give you everything I've got

Trying to hold on to your precious love

And baby baby please don't treat me bad

When a man loves a woman

Deep down in his soul

But he could just be drunk. Lovesick after what felt like eons of being starved of affection. Maybe he was more drunk off the scent of her than the liquor. He used to be able to hold it much better than this. But as she sways, and sings, and keeps her sweet feet planted on the ground, he can’t help but imagine that this was all he was ever made to do. Gee, when did he become such a sucker?

On the other hand, she definitely doesn’t have the capacity to even think in abbreviations, let alone full, complex, and poetic run on sentences about how they quite possibly had been made for each other. She was so drunk, she almost called him John a few times now. I mean, like father, like son, right?

Ah- there it is. There’s the thing she was so eager to stow away into the deepest parts of her brain the moment she even began to feel an inkling of attraction to this ancient man.

Her hand flies over her mouth- she thinks she’s going to be sick. What a way to ruin a great moment.

She goes stiff in his arms, he doesn’t notice at first until he looks down and sees her clawing at Ama.

Her eyes are wild, nervous. She hates being sick like this. Vomiting was no fun for someone who not only was a germaphobe, but experienced the five senses tenfold. A simple puke in the toilet became something of midevil torture when you considered the sights, the tastes, the smells-

Ugh, why the hell did she take that last shot?

Ama holds onto her shoulders, cocking an eyebrow, visibly confused. That is until she sees just how cartoonishly green she is. Her skin is completely rid of all colors. Her legs giving out on the dance floor.

Ama yanks over one of the other girls from the res and peels Freak out of Ben’s vice grip.

“What the fuck?” He shouts over the music, watching as the two girls float her out of the crowd.

He follows them out, tripping over Amas heels.

“I was in the middle of using that!” He shouts.

Ama pushes Freak and her friend into the bathroom, and whips her head around to him, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, well that can’t hold its liquor and is about to spew chunks all over the place. So I’d recommend going back with Asher.”

“What?” He asks, trying to push past her and into the ladies room. “Is she alright? Let me through.”

“Oh no no no,” she says, stepping in front of him. “You can happily wait out here.”

A club goer leaves from the bathroom, her flaming, flamboyant gay as her accessory. She looks Ben up and down, scoffing.

“Pervert.” She sneers.

Her gay friend, who is wearing more makeup than she is, glares at him even harder. Ben watches them in shock as they go back out onto the dance floor.

“Was that a girl or a guy?” He grimaces.

Ama cocks an eyebrow, scoffing.

“Please go listen to NPR, or put on CNN, I’m begging you. For the good of the world.” And with that she shuts the door in his face.

Ama walks over to the stall Freak is currently knelt in. Their friend holds back her hair as she dry heaves into the toilet.

“J-John-“ she groans incoherently.

Ama and the girl look at each other.

“Who is John?”

She puked again. Coming back up for air, “John- he’s John…”

BLEH

The two girls turn back to freak, cocking their eyebrows.

“Right…John…” Ama says, reaching down to pat her back.

Freak pulls herself away from the toilet, wiping her mouth off, trying to turn around to them.

“No j-john… he- Ben..”

BLEHHH

The girls grimace as she hurls into the toilet again.

“Freak, what about Ben?”

“He’s his dad…”

“Who is who’s dad? What about Ben’s dad?”

Freak grips on to the sides of the stall now, trying to bring herself up to her feet.

“H-homelander,” She grumbles.

Now that’s a name they know. And a name they know that she knows very well.

“Wait, Homelander is Ben’s dad? How would that even work?” Asks the other girl.

Ama glares at her, then turns back to Freak.

“What about Homelander? Does he know you’re here?!” Ama is worried now, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her towards her face.

She looks half asleep. She doesn’t answer, just smacks her lips and feels around for some sort of water source.

“What about Homelander??” Ama cries.

“He-“ She hiccups. “Homelander is Ben’s son.”

Amas eyes widen. She lets go of freaks shoulders and steps back, hitting the door of the stall.

“I forgot- I feel like a pervert.”

Ama rubs her head, “No, no, you’re not a pervert.”

She squats down to get onto freaks level.

“He- I don’t know. This may change things. How angry would Homelander be if he knew you were going to screw his dad?”

Freak smiles, her eyes glossy and heavy. It’s a goofy smile, one that makes Ama grimace. There’s no way this girl had only four drinks.

“Let’s just hope,” she hiccups. “That Ben doesn’t find out I screwed his son.”

And with that she passes out onto the grimy tile floor.

-----

Her computer is exactly what he thought it would be like, organized and hard to maneuver. He didn’t understand her filing system, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask the intern to figure out any more of her offensive passwords.

As he looked around in the files, he noticed that almost everything had been wiped clean. All the folders were empty, just leaving the titles of what could have possibly resided in them before. Bringing his eyes up to the top of the screen, he sees the history tab. He thinks there is no way she wouldn't have cleared it, but it's at least worth a try. He brings the cursor up, and selects.

Yahtzee.

She cleared everything else but this. Quite possibly the most valuable information of all. Her search history.

He begins to scroll down, taking note of the last visited websites. Wikipedia, and mapquest. He goes for the mapquest link first. It takes him to coordinates that look to be in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. No buildings for miles. He sighs. Scrolling back up to the top of the screen, he then selects the wikipedia link. The color drains from his face. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

“Soldier Boy”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

----

A picturesque morning. The birds are chirping. The sun is shining in through the cracked windows. A stream crackles along in the distance. The smell of coffee brings her out of her slumber.

Ah, what a beautiful day.

She sits up slowly, stretching out her sore limbs. Cocking her head to look out the window, she is greeted by sun rays--only then to let out a rough groan, grabbing her head in pain.

Fuck, she thinks. What happened last night.

The memories flood back like a scrapbook. More like images than pieced together scenes. She can see hints of the night, the important parts obviously sticking out like a sore thumb.

She drops her hands into her lap, looking down at her palms with shame. Was that- is that blood? No, no. It’s lipstick. Okay, just lipstick.

Turning her head cautiously, she checks the other side of the bed. It wasn’t undone, so it obviously wasn't slept in. She nods, applauding herself for not doing anything too stupid. Peering down at her body, she notices she’d been dressed in her own pajamas. That’s also a good sign. She knows for a fact if Ben undressed her, he would've just put her into bed stark naked.

From what she can ponder through the ringing in her ears, and the relentless pounding of her head, she doesn’t think she regrets the acts of the night before. She knew the moment she stared into his eyes last night that she had obviously felt something for him the whole time. She wonders if it's the mutual trauma bond. Similar to the one she and John share. John…his son. Bleh, and there is the warranted nausea. She doesn’t even remember how the hell she got home.

Did Ben carry her? Did Ama and the girls drag her down the road by her hair? Judging by the Sinatra playing from the kitchen, there really is only one way to find out.

She stares at the door in deliberation, stretching one last time. Why is her heart racing? Taking a deep breath, she pulls herself out of bed and through her bedroom door.

He sits on the sofa, coffee in one hand, the paper in another. She squints her eyes at him, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry- are you reading the New York Times?” She gapes, cocking her eyebrow.

He turns back to her, taking a quick intake of breath. He smiles softly, setting his coffee down onto the table in front of him.

“I made coffee too.” He says smiling, like it was some huge feat

She looks around with her eyes, wondering what was so impressive about that. He notices her aloof response and sighs.

“I haven't made coffee in thirty years…and that one has a computer in it.” He crosses his arms.

He refers to the digital screen on the Keurig.

“Ohhhhh,” She says, grasping the importance. “It’s not a computer you idiot.”

“A small celebration for you and an all encompassing victory for me.” His ego was visibly bruised by her indifference.

She smiles at him softly. She thinks something would have been different. That maybe he would have lifted her off her feet when he saw her. Spinning her around and placing hundreds of little kisses all over her face. Enveloping her in their beautiful slow burn love story--unless last night was really just the heat of the moment. I mean, he was the player of the century after all. She looks down at him from her spot in the kitchen, and he meets her with the same eyes he always has. A sharp pain rings out in her chest, her heart sinking down into her stomach.

What a silly little girl, she thinks. A silly little girl to think something like that wouldve really meant something to him. The guy was out of his mind on any substance the facility had to offer last night. Nearly a gallon of liquor, for starters.

She looks down at her feet, then bends down to pick up one of her earrings she assumes fell out during her wrangle inside. She stares at it, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes are bruning. Are they- is she really welling up with fucking tears right now? Because she thinks some prehistoric asshole wouldn’t be willing to give her the time of day? She huffs, turning around and making her way into the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower.” She calls as she closes the door behind her.

He sits on the couch with a confused expression.

She looks in the mirror. God she looks awful. Her makeup smeared, her eyebags sinking deep into the pits of the socket. Her cheeks hollowing out. She looks grotesque, and gross. Obviously someone who is planning on being gone within the next few weeks.

Right, she forgot about that. The activities with him from the night before distracting her from her imminent demise. A distraction, right. Thats all he is. She doesn’t need to be wasting her time on a man anyway. The future was what was really important. Her end goal being the greatest win of all. The most satisfying feat.

She steps in the shower, letting the warm water cascade down her hair and skin. She cups the water, bringing it up to her face, rinsing off the night before. She sticks her hand out of the shower, grabbing her toothbrush from the counter. She makes quick work of her teeth, also making sure to properly cleanse the impurities from her face and body. She sticks her arm back out to place to toothbrush back on the counter. A hand wraps around hers, grabbing the toothbrush. She jumps in response. How the hell did she not hear him come in there?

He takes the toothbrush and sets it back down on the counter. She rolls her eyes at him.

“A knock would be nic-” And before she can finish her sentence, he rips the shower curtain wide open.

She jumps again, her wet body fully exposed to him.

“Ben-” She begins, going to cover her breasts.

“Don’t,” He says, stepping one foot into the shower, fully clothed. She stammers, objectively confused. He shakes his head, looking down at her figure, and then back to her face, caressing her pretty cheeks. He then leans in. She's reluctant at first, her eyes staying wide open. She still has her body covered. But he takes his arm and wraps it around the small of her back and she's putty in his hands. She melts into his embrace as her eyes flutter closed. His mouth and hers mold together as the kiss becomes heated and sloppy. She can taste the fresh toothpaste from her mouth inside of his. The waster rushing in between them making it hot, wet, and messy. The water is hard, tasting vaguely of minerals. She doesn't care. She pulls back a little, but his mouth follows the flow of her face. She takes in a quick breath, gasping for air.

“Your clothes,” she starts, through broken peppered kisses all over her mouth and face.

“So take them off.” He mumbles like it was obvious.

This was a new one for her.

His clothes are heavy and fully drenched. She goes to lift off his skin tight shirt but struggles. He just reaches up and pulls at the collar, the whole thing ripping in two from the middle.

She looks down at his now exposed torso, brining a delicate hand up to rub up the ridges of his stomach. He looks down at her with gritted teeth. He hadn’t been touched like this in a very, very long time. He thinks he feels his skin burning. He sucks in air into his parted lips. Her mouth is agape, admiring his chiseled torso. She drags her hand up to his chest, her nails digging into his skin. Bens eyes roll back into his head. She’s not sure what to say.

“I,” she starts, chasing the rest of the sentence.

He looks down at her through heavy eyelids, bringing his hand up to her jaw and gripping it tightly. He holds onto her awed expression. Searching her face for any sort of reluctance. He sees nothing, although she is hard to read. Such an intense gleam of bewilderment.

He takes her hand from his chest and moves it down to the front of his pants. He lets out a deep groan. She looks up at him with the innocence of a girl gone untouched for years. She palms him gently, trying to elicit some sort of verbal response again. She enjoys the sounds he’s made. No sex had ever felt this intimate before.

She grips onto him harder, wrapping her nimble fingers up and around the button of his jeans. He watches as her hands make quick work of the top of his pants, beginning to drag them down the length of his legs. She follows them down to the floor of the shower, now ending up on her knees. She stares up at him through her eyelashes, staring directly at his rock solid package, begging to be set free.

He steps out of his pants, she grabs them and throws them out of the shower. They plop into a puddle on the floor. Her reaches down and grabs her chin again, pulling her up to meet his lips. He slips a strong arm behind one of her knees, hiking it up around his waist, never once breaking eye contact. Their lips graze, never touching. He reaches his hand behind her and grips her ass, kneading it like dough. She tilts her head back, letting out a small gasp. He leans into her neck, leaving a trail of nibbles from her clavicle all the way up to under her ear. She writhes under each one, her body struggling to stay upright. He doesn’t mind of course, this was light work for him. She was light as a feather.

He drags his other hand up her chest and around her supple breast. He toys with her nipple, pulling and twisting at it. He watches her pleased face from the crook of her neck. Then moving his mouth down and wrapping his lips on one of her stiff peaks. He sucks on it, nibbling slightly on the top. She watches him from her spot on the tiled wall. Her hand moving up and into his hair, scratching up and down his scalp. She swears he’s moaning more than she is. His eyes have gone white, making a new home in the back of his head.

He pulls back, now hiking both of her legs up and around his waist. He pins her against the tiled wall. Their noses brush, their lips grazing over each other. Her womb aches, begging to be filled. She had never felt this way with John.

“I’m rusty,” he whispers.

“If this is rusty I’m scared to see you well practiced.” She laughs breathlessly.

He smiles into her, kissing her gently.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Better now,” she coos.

He chuckles, planting a kiss on her cheek. His hands massage her ass, pulling apart the skin. Grazing his fingertips around the spots she so desperately wants him to fill.

“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression this morning.” He starts.

She rolls her eyes, leaning her head back into the headboard.

“Is now really the time for small talk?” She asks, cocking an eyebrow.

He laughs again, moving one of his hands around to her front. He cups the soft skin of her pulsating heat. Teasing his digits around her swollen bud.

She moans, which in turn, elicits a big goofy smile from him.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me so bad.” He toys.

“I didn’t either,” she starts, arching her back off the wall. She gets in closer to his ear. “If only the V worked the same way on you. The only thing I could smell last night was how much I needed you.”

He groans into her neck, slowly inserting a long, thick finger into her dripping cunt.

“You feel that?” She asks.

“Fuck, do I?” He breathes.

He starts his slow assault on her pussy, rubbing his fingertips up and around inside of her. Massaging his augmented digits around until he can hear himself reaching the right spot. With her long, strung out moan, he can tell he’s gotten there.

From that, he inserts another, and begins to pulsate his hand in even, steady beats. She writhes against the wall, her stomach pushing into his. He kisses at her neck, biting and nipping, sure to leave a mark. All this talk of V has him forgetting how fragile she really was.

He pulls his hand out, and drops her legs. He steadies her as her feet slip around on the wet shower floor. He rips the curtain open. His hard cock standing at attention. Her mouth waters at the sight.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He motions his hand out for her to take.

She looks at it reluctantly, then he leads her into the bedroom.

“I’m soaking wet,” she starts, yelping as he picks her up and tosses her on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Mm, that’s an understatement.” He smirks, crawling up the bed and nestling himself between her thighs.

“What if I told you I need you inside me right now?” She asks, pleading with him to fill her up.

He smiles, leaning down to face her pretty slit.

“Then I’d tell you you’d get it right after I had myself a quick taste. I’m starving you know?” He rebuttles, only then licking a thick, wet stripe up her dripping hole.

She tosses her head back, mewling. Her legs going to clamp around his head. He grabs her knees, spreading them apart, and pinning them down to the bed.

“Keep these open.” He mumbles.

He dives in feverishly, like he hasn’t eaten in years, and all things considered, he hasn’t. He starts on her clit, drawing circles with his tongue. Going back and forth between kitten licks and long thick stripes. He makes audible slurping noises, lapping up her juices from her hole, only to spit back into it making it even sloppier.

She is writhing back and forth, shaking as she fights to close her legs. Not that she even wanted to. Her body and brain were disconnected in this moment. Her muscles constricting and spasming. Her altered touch sense doing a number on her reproductive organs.

She tries yanking him up by his hair. Obviously he doesn’t budge. Still going forward with his assault.

“Ben,” she moans, giving up on physcial methods. “Ben please, I want you.”

He mumbles what she thinks is a “you have me”, but she isn’t too sure. Either way he doesn’t stop.

“No,” she whines. “I want you inside of me, please. Need it so bad.”

He lets out a deep groan, rubbing his hard cock into the mattress. Doing everything he can to relieve the intense pressure.

He sticks his head back up, his face glistening with her sweet juices. She moans at the sight. Sticking her pointer finger up, she beckons him towards her. He crawls on top of her until he’s hovering over her mouth.

Their lips barely touch, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. She wraps her hands around his torso, digging her nails deep in his back. He sucks in air through his teeth. He lifts her knees up and over the bend of his arms, pushing them down onto the mattress. She watches from under him as he lines his angry, red cock right up to her slick entrance.

He sucks air in through his teeth as he sheathes himself inside of her hot core. His eyes roll back into his head. Fuckin A, he thinks. He feels like an addict getting their crack fix. He feels like a caught fish being thrown back into water. This was it. This is everything. Now he remembers why he was such a fiend back in the day. When good pussy was his only kryptonite. But pussy never came like this, he thinks. Pussy with personality, and similarities to himself, and beautiful eyes, and darkness, and light, and human. For once something he dips his cock in really feels human.

“Fuck me,” he groans, beginning to move into her slowly.

Her mouth is wide open, nothing coming out but strangled grunts. She takes it like a champ. Savoring every second his big meaty cock massages her deep, tight ridges.

He watches her face in awe, bringing one of his hands up and brushing strands of hair away. He kisses her lips, keeping his mouth there as he begins to speed up, hiking her legs up higher, and plowing into her sopping wet pussy.

The room is loud. Wet sounds and muffled moans fill the space. It’s hot, and humid. He swears the windows have begun to fog up. The two of them are ravenous. He tries to hold her down but she’s able to lift her hips up to meet his in a fit of impressive determination. This girl is a dream.

He readjusts, hiking her legs up onto his shoulders, admiring her smushed, fat pussy glistening under the flourecents. He watches himself disappear into her juicy folds, hugging onto him like a warm coat. Like a life vest. Squeezing him like a fucking blood pressure monitor.

He’s relentless now, pounding into her, and leaning down to suck her perky tits into his hot mouth. She gapes, her face contorted in pure ecstasy. No sounds leave her lips. Having the breath fucked out of her.

She regains it, letting out a shallow, strangled breath.

“Just like that,” she gasps. “Please, God, don’t stop.”

He smirks at her, wrapping a secure hand around her throat. Not squeezing, just simply for his own leverage. He goes harder, her poor legs definitely will be bruised by his fingertips tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shouts through gritted teeth.

His head flies back as he spills himself into her. She milks him for all he’s worth. He thrusts into her a few more times before collapsing on top of her chest out of pure exhaustion. He takes deep breaths, trying to catch his breath, which never happens to him. But this took everything. Something so pure and raw and good. A craving that had finally been satisfied. She rubs her hands into his scalp as he lays his head on her sweaty chest. He leaves cute, and quaint little kisses. This is it. He thinks. This is every reason to stay.

If only she felt the same way.

——

He stalks up to Ashley’s office, an unreadable look on his face. He barges into a meeting with her and some other Vought executive. Both of their heads flying up in surprise.

“Homelander, what a nice surprise.” She exclaims.

“Shut it, Ashley,” He presses, turning to the executive. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The executive looks at Ashley, and then scrambles away out the door. She watches him in horror as he leaves the room, the door slamming behind him. John doesn’t take his eyes off of her for a second.

“Why didn’t you tell me that the CIA had Soldier Boy's body?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

He gets closer, staring down at her with an intense gaze.

“I-,” she starts. He holds a hand out to stop her.

“And why the fuck didn’t you tell me that he had been fucking kidnapped from the bunker in upstate New York?”

She stumbles over her words as he glares at her. She can’t bare to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, first of all, we were under the impression that he had been eliminated.”

“Well, obviously he hadn’t been fucking elimated, Ashley!” He bellows.

She trembles, finally turning to face him. His nostrils are flared, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Let’s slow down. How do we even know he’s still alive? How do we know that he’s even escaped?” She searches for the right things to say. The way she knows to console him.

“Are you really fucking questioning me right now?” He scoffs.

She just stared up at him with big eyes, unsure how to continue.

He sighs, beginning to pace around the room. If Vought found out about Freaks' plan for the summer, they would surely kill her, which he didn’t want. Killing him? Obtaining Soldier Boy? That was fine. He’d happily fly him into the arms of the military and let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to him. But she was off limits. Anything that would happen to her would be in his own hands. He decides to not push it. Maybe just letting Ashley know about his disappearance was enough.

“You know what,” he lets out an ominous chuckle. “It’s fine. It’s fine! I’m sure he’s gotten himself out and is halfway through South America by this point.”

Ashley looks around, nodding her head. Anything he says goes. She'd rather keep her head than question what the fuck he had to say.

“Forget I even said anything.” And with that, he walks out of her office.

He’d take care of this himself.

Masterlist | Taglist

Taglist: @sl33pylilbunny @Lanassmarty @Sydneyyyya @1-800shootmeplease@muhahaha303@nancymcl@speedyrebelfan@ghh05ttt@agentorange9595@let-me-luve-you @peachytits @darkdahl @deans-spinster-witch @soggybasementfries @ladysparkles78 @madamthemoo @lyarr24@sadlittlecountess @mickaelly007 @mrscountryclub @vtheoneandonly @decadentanchorwerewolf @wonderland2022@buckybarnes-1917@rebeccathefangirl@daisy-the-quake @tiredbibi @greyish-wallpaper@previousloversandmuses@is-this-a-febreze-commercial@justrealizedimmascifygurl@broimamy@freewastelandstrawberry@breadsgalore@savagemickey03@franblaq6466@lustendreams@atinylittlebee @VtheOneandOnly

#homelander smut #homelander x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #homelander #soldier boy fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy oneshot #frequency: a soldier boy story

104 notes · View notes

riewritten · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER 2

WORKING TITLE: STUCK — DIRECTORY

ERWIN X FEM!READER, ERWIN X YOU, NO Y/N | modern & college AU, parallel uni, eventual romance & smut, crack treated seriously, literal reader-insert lol, typical isekai plot but come on! implied/referenced child abuse

SUMMARY: All the fictional characters you consume and know of seem to exist in one time and space. Unfortunately for you, you suddenly woke up in that world out of the blue. It is until your encounter with a disturbingly curious character that you realized you could still have your way out. Oh, what could go wrong? AO3 | FANFICTION

WORDS: 3k

As soon as both of you went down the bus and onto the seemingly abandoned orphanage, a surge of scenarios flashed alongside the wind. You propped a palm onto your head to contain the sudden overwhelming feeling.

It was a vast reading room with every kid—including the small you—wearing white hospital gowns. Every kid has a number; five of you have the number 42. You sat in an organized manner, just as if this was an everyday routine. The old man in front was holding a book with what seemed to be a doodle of milky way galaxy.

“Erwin,” you muttered out of nowhere, “you said the solar system is something we still haven’t discovered just yet, right?”

He nodded, “The elementary book I gave you was all for a joke but I actually hoped you read some of it.”

You walked subconsciously towards the building entrance which Erwin silently followed. He surely caught on to your sudden change of behavior right after seeing the building. Would it be possible for him to feel guilty, though? No way, you thought. He’s too curious to feel so, but he knows how to compensate as he’s all alert in catching you any moment from now—if ever a bad flash of scenario cripples you.

You came across an empty room that seems to be an old movie hall then it came.

It was still your toddler version wearing the 42 hospital gown along with your group. Flashed on the screen projector was a documentary series of Nat Geo Wild.

That’s exactly the alarming thing, though—all of you in the room, ages one to three, were forced to open your eyes and watch animals violently munching each other. The kids who cry would be ushered outside for a while, only to come back with bruised hands.

On the next day, they’ll read out the anguish in Edgar Allan Poe’s classics, then next they’ll have you watch movies imitating the exact scenes portrayed in The Cannibal Holocaust, and every stuff and personality existent only in your world. Your gut wrenched; a lump formed in your throat.

“You into gore movies, Erwin?”

“A bit, depending on the mood.”

“You know The Cannibal Holocaust?”

“What’s holocaust?” So it was a private screening intended to be watched by the foster kids alone. “Let’s go back now. Entering the premises wasn’t a good idea.”

“Huh? Why?” you turned around the area to examine if there was some sort of security guard signaling you out but, “Seems like there’s no one in—”

He placed two of his fingers on your neck pulse and you were silenced. It stayed for seconds until he instructed, “Take slow deep breaths.”

You realized what was happening then. You almost laughed but that would seem strange.

Following suit while unconsciously tugging on the end of his sleeves, Erwin was partly satisfied. When all was fine and he withdrew his touch, you leaned on the wall and chuckled tiredly.

“We seem to exceed your boundary this time. I apologize.”

“No, it’s actually not a big deal,” you pondered in confusion. “You know the feeling when you suddenly see an unsolicited graphic scene on the television? It’s just that on my part.”

“Children often separate parts of themselves that were exposed to very unpleasant things and—”

“Dissociating means that it is a part of me and my mind just opted to detach from it,” you cut him off, “but these memories aren’t mine.”

He respected that, although with a hint of pity. That face urged you to take the defensive until you realized that if anything, you feel the same pity for the person who used to have this body too.

“Thanks for that, though,” you shot him a smile and stepped out of the building. “I didn’t expect this to be closed. What info have you got in this place?”

“The previous owner faced trial against child abuse allegations. Recently, he fled to another country and settled as a literature professor. Given that the orphanage was able to deliver your documents not too long ago, I thought what we’d see here is a restricted building occupied by caretakers. This one’s been abandoned for years now, though.”

“I still don’t remember anything. It was just stuff concerning childhood.”

“You don’t have to force yourself. I realized that we might’ve been touching matters that your mind was forced to forget. Upholding the boundaries we’ve settled before, I suggest we leave your past out of this.”

“I told you that’s not the case,” you gave him a glare that quickly turned into a bit playful one. “Or are you perhaps intimidated by what we unfolded just now? The commander I saw in my dreams was a courageous one, how disappointing.”

“A courageous one lacking boundaries because of life-and-death circumstances,” he let out a strained chuckle, “the one in front of you is nothing but a curious man.”

“A curious man disturbed of seeing and feeling the same violent things.”

“That doesn’t make it your problem.”

“Even if I see it too?” His face changed at your remark; you let out a laugh then. “You seem greatly affected by the revelations that you forget our common ground, huh.”

“It’s more disturbing that you don't seem affected,” to be fair, he made a point. “And I’ll take priority on your welfare more than anything else. You’re a good girl. I don’t want to ruin what you’ve established for yourself despite your upbringing no matter how curious I get.”

Your brain filtered it out, though, because the only thing that registered was that you’re a good girl. You were reminded that this man is actually someone who takes the form of a character you really liked.

You struggled to hold back the small smiles before playing around, “Our investigation for today is fruitful, Commander.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I finally saw a dot to connect it with our recurrent dreams. We’re a step towards unfolding the secrets of humanity!”

You saw the edge of his lips quiver, holding back a quip. “I haven’t even seen you there. Neither a soldier nor a citizen.”

Still, you clasped your fists dramatically, “Slowly but surely, we’ll be able to conquer what was once our own. The walls that have bounded us in the depths of despair, the knowledge our comrades have forsaken their lives for, their—”

“Speak of it, soldier.” He defeatedly acquiesced to your tomfooleries.

Yes, he called me his soldier!

“Well…” then you realized that you don’t actually know how to put your discovery without revealing the whole picture.

“Don’t you dare lead me on,” he warned.

“I won’t!”

At this point, both of you were standing beside the bus terminal. Erwin’s the one to buy stuff because you don’t know how to. He gave you a hard stare then, silently saying that he won’t buy you a ticket back to town if you don’t spill whatever you have immediately.

You pondered in pressure, “The solar system and the holocaust—they’ve shown us these things that weren’t discovered, let alone happened in this world.”

“And? There are lots of conspiracies on the land of undiscovered.”

“If you were to lead research saying that there are planets aside from the one we reside in, that with all the planets combined we get a galaxy, and that there are actually millions of galaxies subsisting in space—you might get a Nobel prize!” He remained confused so you added, “Due to those memories, I can now attest that the things we’ve been seeing are true. I just need to recall the rest of it so our questions would be answered.”

“The world where I’m a commander charging soldiers to death is real?”

“It is!” you felt guilty that you nodded given how sullen his reaction was but still, “I don’t know how you’re able to see things but what I’m sure of is that my former home wanted its children to learn the existence and nature of other worlds. If there’s someone to answer our question, it will be no one but them.”

Slowly, you saw his expressions lighten. “So are you really okay digging deeper through your upbringing despite the possible revelations?”

“I am! I don’t even know why I forgot it in the first place!”

“And it might be for the better."

“But you said it as a commander, didn’t you? We have no choice but to move forward. If anything, you’re the companion most suited for me to do so—well, that is if you’re still comfortable unfolding things with me.”

He almost pulled out a sneer at that but chose to be silent and look all over your face for any hint of hesitation; as if that was the last signal for you to take it back because if anything, you’re the one who needs to think more about this arrangement. Being the main subject of his curiosity is a hard job—even mingling with the likes of him is a hassle at it is.

Your resolution didn’t change, though, and that made him smile.

He started walking away from the terminal booth, “I managed to get the profile of other orphans who went the same time as you. They live in a city not far away from this one. I suppose we’ll visit some of them tomorrow.”

“Hah,” you huffed at the realization, “so all this time you were planning to cut me off in this search? I thought you already understood my clarification earlier.”

“No,” his smile was guilty, though. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright with unfolding that with me.”

“I’m letting you take the lead but you must be transparent with your methods,” then a more important matter was brought up. “Where would we stay, though? You told me to pack extra clothes but I didn’t have cash ready for staying in.”

“I made a hotel reservation nearby,” he assured, but with your horrified look he had to clarify, “separate rooms if that’s what you’re bothered at.”

“No,” little does he know, you’re not in any way bothered by that, “the money!”

He rolled the papers he was holding and softly hit your head with it, “Read their profiles. You’ll be the one to do the talking tomorrow.”

“How about the money?”

“I told you not to worry about it,” he looked at his watch and added, “in exchange, tell me about the things you remembered throughout our dinner.”

“An hour ago it was a very touchy subject. A boundary that can never be invaded,” you mocked.

“I’ll order your favorite food.”

“At your service, Commander.”

“A new information was mailed to me just now,” he didn’t even bother to knock, perhaps the matter was too urgent. His face changed into a dead stare, though. “I told you to get ready in five minutes.”

“I overslept,” you yawned but quickly got on defense when his face didn’t change. “I was studying the whole night because of fear that Pyxis will fire me. He’s my most expensive benefactor in this world.”

“You really should fear,” he quipped blankly. “Apparently, the one who mailed your documents was named Oliver Everett.” then flashed you the phone containing his picture, “Familiar?”

You covered your mouth in aghast, “He gave me a tissue when I was crying at the police station!”

“I tried to find his whereabouts but after the police station incident, he fled to his father—Hugh Everett—who was also the owner of the orphanage. The onboarding was marked as urgent.”

“Would it be possible that he rushed to his father after hearing me spur shit about another world?”

“If that was me, I’ll subdue you instead. Maybe it needed to be heard personally by his father. That said, bring that up to the friend we’ll be visiting right now. Ask them about the process of releasing the foster into the cities, what they remember about the methods and more.”

Both of you didn’t realize that the task would be easier said than done. It brought you to a bit of horrifying revelation, too.

“I don’t remember anyone with that name,” said a young neighbor. However, when you flashed him a picture, he gasped in familiarity. “He’s a colleague at my part-time job!”

“Does your part-time job have many employees?”

“No, only the two of us working shifts. Sorry, I don’t know if my memory’s just been flaky recently but even my boss struggles in remembering him.” This time, his voice lowered as if wary, “And please don’t bother him on this but we’re scared to talk to him. He just seems so… dead. It might be due to his upbringing and I don’t want to pry in, but I just want you to be aware since it looks like this is the first time you’ll be seeing him.”

The young man bid farewell afterward.

You were unnervingly silent as you walked again; even felt a bit guilty for Erwin walking from behind. However, when you turned your back on him he had the same face.

Both of you realized it.

“This is his house, I think.”

“Would this be fine for you?” Erwin pressed the doorbell.

“I’m starting to feel very sad now but you have to answer my question afterward.”

“What question?”

“Uh… excuse me?”

You almost gasped; Erwin was a bit surprised as well. You didn’t even realize the man already opened the door. He was that unnoticeable. Moreover, his face was dead. He was staring at you but you couldn’t even reflect yourself from his eyes. It was too devoid of glint, too mechanical.

You had to gulp the big lump in your throat before speaking again, “Hello, are you the one who used to be in—” but cut yourself off at the sudden memory.

He was one of the kids with the same number 42 on their hospital gowns. As you can deduce, each kid is grouped by numbers to watch the same thing and listen to the same stuff.

With that in mind, you mindlessly barged in without saying more. His living room has the same layout as yours. You ran to his bedroom and opened his closet: the documents are all placed nicely in the very same spot. Further horror creeping your spine, you examined his bedroom. It has the same layout as your bed.

Only one difference: there’s a poster of the Korean alphabet plastered on the wall.

The concept of language let alone its barrier from nation to nation is something vaguely established in this world. No one—except you and this man, probably—would distinguish what type of writing this is.

That was enough confirmation. You covered your mouth and your knees dropped on the floor.

“What are you doing?” The man blankly asked.

Erwin apologized on your behalf and ushered you to stand up. Not that he didn’t sense the uncanniness of this man as well. He didn’t even flinch at you barging in his premises, nor aggressively urge the both of you to leave.

You pointed to the poster, “Do you know how to read this?”

Upon examining, he shook his head no. “I don’t remember where I got that,” he then turned to you again to blankly ask, “What are you doing?”

“Can we keep it, then?” It was Erwin’s turn to ask.

“Sure.”

Both of you just know that there’ll be no more talk to be done with this man. You spent all the energy visiting other orphans near the area, hoping there would be at least one of them possessing different characteristics.

Despite the conclusion being slapped right at your face, you still hoped to prove it as a bluff.

“That’s enough. We’ve visited ten of them already. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to gather more data especially because none of them remembered the existence of that home.”

“Let’s go back there, then. Maybe I’ll be able to recall more.”

“No. Let’s go home now.”

“This is imperative for our investigation.”

“I told you I take more priority on your welfare.”

“This is for my welfare.”

You both know it wasn’t.

“You realized it now, didn't you?”

“But maybe if we find more of them we could see that it wasn’t actually the case—that not all of us ended up being soulless beings, completely unnoticeable and not easily remembered. Maybe not all of us were mere faces you pass by on the way to work, bound to be forgotten on a busy day!”

He didn’t answer that. The commander knows better than to sugarcoat a bitter fact. Instead, he just asked, “You told me to answer a question.”

“I… I’m afraid to ask now.”

“Ask it.”

“Am I like that in your eyes before that day?”

“You were. In my eyes, Mr. Pyxis’, Pierre’s, Mr. Roy’s, everyone else’s.”

Your lips quivered in impending weeps. To hold it back somehow, you looked down at the ground and nodded with clenched fists. “...just wanted to confirm.”

“You know that it’s been different since that day, don’t you?”

You know, but why the bitter feeling, anyway? You don’t belong here at all. All these stuff for investigation are for getting leads so you could go back into your world.

However, you realized just now that in the moments you bonded with this man, as well as trying to fit in for Pyxis’ job, the horror caught up with you—to be forgotten, to be swept away, to be thrown into the unknown without having someone on your back.

Would you even manage to go back?

Erwin placed two of his fingers on your neck pulse, “Slowly,” he instructed yet again.

“This is getting pathetic now.”

“You are?”

“And all this fact-finding stuff.”

“Do you want to leave now? We could do that much.”

You heaved the long-awaited cry then, “But I don’t have any choice but to go further.”

“And you got a companion most suited for you to do so.”

“You might even forget me when tomorrow comes.”

He let out a sly smile, just as if he could prove every part of your argument wrong, "I thought you already knew better since you see that commander as well."

You must, indeed, as you have to remember that in a span of three days, he was able to deduce how strange your background might be—all in a setup where you're supposed to be a measly unnoticeable dust stuck in the corner of this world.

“Being the main subject of my curiosity is one of the hardest jobs you'll have here."

prev | next

7 notes · View notes

ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Everyday

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader, Rafael Casal (as Miles Turner) x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + , RPF. CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE IF YOU READ BELOW THE CUT. Cursing, drinking, allusion to smoking weed, fantasy, truth or dare, role play, SMUT, Graphic Depictions of Sex, oral sex (M/F receiving), a lil bit of bondage, established relationship, fantasy play.

A/N: I have no idea what is for trade in prison; sex packets are a made up joke. And I’m really into 90’s rap this week. Anywho, this fic is in response to the following request:

Anonymous asked:

Rafa!!!!! Maybe a fluffy smut where he’s role playing Miles for you? 👀

-------

“Ok, Dare.”

You steeled yourself from the query from Daveed.

“Which fictional character, real or animated, would you like to bone?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Real or ANIMATED????”

You were cracking up laughing and buzzed, feeling good surrounded by your crew of friends who were family.

“Ok, I will answer both.”

Rafa cleared his throat and settled back on the couch beside you.

You sat up straight and he watched the curve of your breasts underneath the Oaklandish tee you stole from him that morning.

“Rafael is getting swole! Don’t worry Rafa. She will still come home to your everyday ass.”

“Shut up, Ant. You always got something to say.” You rolled your eyes. “Everyday with Rafa is amazing.”

You leaned over and kissed Rafa’s lips, which were in a slight frown. He didn’t like that word, ‘everyday.’

“You good?” You whispered so only you two could hear.

He smiled at you, “No doubt. Answer the man’s question!” Rafa said a little louder, bravado on fleek.

“ANYWAYYY.” You shook your head at him as you straightened up. “Max could get it.”

“Max who?” Jasmine was confused. Then she realized, then leaned over Ant and Rafa to give you a high five.

“Max Who???” Daveed was curious.

“Goofy’s son. Max.”

Everyone erupted in laughter again. Daveed got up and took the bottle out of your hand.

“Enough of this.”

You battled him, jumping up and swatting around D’s head. You won your drink back and sat down.

“As far as ‘real’ fictional characters…” You took a drink. And smiled. All eyes were on you.

“Miles Turner could rearrange my guts.”

Anthony groaned. Rafa sat up straight. You took another drink .

“For Real. Ruffnecks kinda do it for me.”

“Gotta who? Gotta have a what?” Jazzy started rapping. You replied.

“Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck.”

You two started dancing, rapping and singing with your drinks in your hands.

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

I need it and I want it so I gotta get a ruffneck!

Rafael pulled you down to sit on his lap and Jasmine kept dancing, right in front of Anthony.

Anthony sucked his teeth, but was smiling at Jazzy’s ass.

“That’s cheating. I mean. That’s just Rafa. I mean, he bones you on the regular.”

Ant smacked Jasmine on the bottom and took a drink before she plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“You know it!” Rafa and Anthony toasted.

“But I ain’t Miles.”

Rafa took another sip of his Abasolo on the rocks.

“And it’s just a fantasy. Right baby.”

Rafael rubbed your back giving you a look that made you tremble. Rafa felt your warmth on his lap. He grinned into his drink.

“Trueeee!”

You smiled, trying to keep it light and calm the fuck down. Everyone always made fun of you two smashing in people’s bathrooms.

“You aren’t Miles. I didn’t know you when you were younger....”

You locked eyes with Rafael, and the green fire there did something to you.

“I think Rafa is Miles’s wasted potential.”

“Wow. That’s deep,” said Ant from a cloud of smoke.

You and Rafa were locked in an eye embrace as well as a physical one. When he arched his eyebrow, you had to look away, because you couldn’t take it.

“Y’all need to use my bathroom?” More laughter.

You and Rafa both flipped Daveed off.

“Nah, Diggs.” Rafa stood up with you in his arms. “We’ll use our own. We out.”

Your man carried you willingly out of the door.

-----

About two weeks later, you came home with some groceries, you were looking forward to a night in with Rafa.

You’d both been busy and tired lately, only available for maintenance sex.

Rafa was running around creating all of his creative shit, and you worked in the writers room of a popular series. Life was hectic.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands together on top.

He was wearing blue scrubs over a white Henley and had his face turned to the side, staring out the window. You noticed that his hair was different.

“Hey, babe. Did you get a haircut? What’s wrong?”

He turned his face toward you and that’s when you noticed two more things. Rafael’s eye was black, and there was a tattoo on his neck.

THAT California tattoo.

You were very concerned and a little confused. Concern came first in your mind.

“What happened to your eye?” He gave you a strange look, then he spoke.

“A mutha fucka sneaked me in the yard, that’s what happened!”

You stood still and had to register what was happening.

Rafa was wearing a grill, and his voice was different, in a lower register and with a long drawn out, almost southern drawl.

But it wasn’t southern. It was all Bay.

He stood up and walked toward you, and you noticed that his scrubs had “Prisoner” written in yellow letters down the right leg.

You suddenly realized what was going on.

Oh, Shit.

“Baby. You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a minute.”

You’d left Rafael in bed this morning. But it seemed that you came home to Miles.

“Hey,” was all you could say.

Rafael/Miles gestured for you to come over to the table. It was then you saw that he was handcuffed.

A strange feeling came over to you. He stood up, and you saw that his legs were shackled. You went close to him and looked at his eye closely.

“Rafa?”

His face was fine, up close, you could tell it was makeup.

“You been to see Galaxy today?”

You were peering at his neck and the Bay/California tattoo there.

He screwed up his face.

“Who tha fuck is Rafa? And what the hell you talking ‘bout space for?”

He peered into your eyes, then looked around furtively.

“Babe. Are you high?”

The drawl was a whisper now.

“These muthafuckas’ll kick you out if they think you got drugs on you.”

You smiled at him, pecked him on the lips and replied.

“No worries. I’m not high.” You sat down at the kitchen table and ‘Miles’ sat across from you.

“As for Rafa? He’s this guy I know. Had a nice… conversation with him the other night.”

You looked into his eyes to see if he would crack. But your man was a pro.

He huffed. “Psshhht. You MUST be high talking to another dude. What kinda name is Rafa anyway. Sounds like some hipster trash.”

He peered at you again, anger radiating off of him.

Damn, he was good.

“Tell me what the fuck you mentioning some other muthafucka to my face while I’m locked up in here! Every day.”

He pounded his bound fists on the table in front of you and made you jump. It also made you wet as fuck.

He gestured with both hands (because they were handcuffed) to the nice kitchen that you loved to cook in, but that you were now seeing through his performance as a prison visitation room.

But you were still shook.

“R, R, Rafael is a beautiful artist. He’s a poet. He’s gentle, and kind. And a wonderful lover.”

Miles glared at you. You stuttered again.

“I-I imagine.”

He gave you a menacing smile and leaned back in the chair, pushing his crotch up in your direction. Your eyes were drawn there.

“So you imagining fucking another muthafucka and decide to come visit me and tell me about it?”

You got into it.

“Well….I miss you Miles. But it gets hard. Not being able to be with you.”

He leaned forward, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t fucking tell me about it. Here I am jacking off with leftover chicken grease from the kitchen at night. Got my dick smelling like a Popeye’s chicken sandwich in this bitch.”

“Ew,” you said, disgusted, then you started giggling at the joke.

Miles pouted and sat back.

“ ‘S not fucking funny!” He looked out the window again.

“I shouldn’t even tell you about the surprise.”

You straightened up. “What is it babe?”

You put your hand on his and he caressed yours with his thumb. He looked at you, excited and mischievous now.

“I got us a conjugal visit.”

Your mouth dropped open, fully into it now.

“But I thought that was just for married couples, Miles…”

“I know, I know.” He leaned forward and looked around again. “But I got me a side hustle.”

He shifted his eyes as he scanned the empty room.

“I make sex packets outta the leftover chicken grease from my job in the kitchen. Make a KILLING in oatmeal cream pies, ramen noodles, cigarettes and other tradeable currency. I made enough to buy us a conjugal visit, girl.”

He leaned back, very satisfied with himself, his hands now on his lap, rubbing his crotch.

Your eyes were drawn there again and you found yourself irrationally wondering how big his dick was. He had you caught up in this fantasy.

“Let’s go to the trailer and I’ll make you forget all about this Raja guy.” Miles winked at you.

“It’s…” You saw the look on his face. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

He stood up again, and shuffled his way to the bathroom, you at a safe distance behind him.

He entered the bedroom and shuffled to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He gestured you to him and you went and stood before him.

He put his nose in your crotch.

“MMMmmmmm. I missed your smell Baby. It’s been too long. He lifted his hands and put them on the insides of your thighs. He pulled back and looked at you, green eyes staring into brown.

“The guards left the key over there. That is, if you wanna get me out of these.” He nodded toward the

He trailed his hands up to your pelvis, managing to hook one set of fingers into your waistband and still have another at your apex.

He ran his fingers over your jeans right where it counts. This kind of petting felt good and made you want more.

You let him play for a little while, but then pushed him back to sit and watch you.

You peeled down your jeans to reveal a white satin thong. Rafael loved white against your coffee brown skin, but tonight, Miles would benefit. You stood there in your button-down shirt, that was really Rafael’s.

Miles’s hands went to his crotch again as he eagerly watched.

“You seem to be doing pretty well all hemmed up, but let me see.”

You went to the dresser to retrieve the key, and you did, then turned around and put it in your mouth while you slowly unbuttoned the shirt.

Miles leaned back on the bed and opened his legs as far as the shackles would let them go, licking his lips as you disrobed.

You were wearing a white lace bra, your dark nipples and areola straining through the delicate material. You were very excited at the entire scenario.

The fact that Rafa was doing this for you because he remembered what you said on a drunken night weeks ago was the shit.

You dropped to the ground and crawled over to Miles’s feet jutting your ass up in the air as you unlocked the shackles.

You massaged his ankles and trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, where you rubbed the hardness there.

“It’s been so long that you’ve been locked up, Miles.”

You raised up on your knees, loving the feeling of his eyes sweeping over you.

“I’m gonna give you the world’s best blowjob.”

Miles smiled at you.

“Aw, baby. That’s so cute.”

“I’ll show you cute.”

You were about to give your own performance.

------

Five minutes later, you were gargling his cock, relaxing your throat and taking him as deep as you could, nose nestled at his base, and gently pulling and kneading his balls.

Someone moaned, and you didn’t know if it was Rafa or Miles. He bucked his hips up into your mouth while resting his cuffed hands in your hair.

“As much as I would love to … fuck baby… cum down your throat.. I need that… damn where’d you learn to do that?!... I need that pussy. Unlock the cuffs, baby.”

His cuffed hands were in your hair, alternating between massaging your scalp and pulling your hair the way you loved it.

The way Rafael invented.

You smiled around his cock with the knowledge that what you were doing was making him slip out of character.

You pulled your head upward, mouth open, allowing the saliva to trickle out with his dick.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe how nasty you were being. He was mesmerized. You looked a mess, eye makeup running, lipstick smudged, spit all over your face.

Your dream man loved it.

“Am I ‘cute’ now?”

“Fuck no. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You smiled and quickly reached behind you and unclasped your bra, taking your breasts in your hands and pushed them up around his dick.

“See, if you unlock these cuffs, I’ll handle things the way they need to be handled.”

You just smiled up at him while you manipulated your breasts around him, knowing that he could not control his hips fucking into your cleavage.

“I got it under control.” You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip as it neared your face, lubricating it with your saliva.

“Fuck, baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. It’s been so long…”

This entire scene was just about the hottest thing ever. You were breathless, dripping, and quivering with anticipation. But you didn’t want it to end so soon.

“How long ‘xactly?”

“Shit, 5 months of being here and jacking off to memories of you everyday. I need to see that ass and fuck that pussy, babyyyy. Please.”

Those eyes.

Those words.

The acting.

Miles.

You had to relent.

You reached for the key where you dropped it on the floor and unlocked the cuffs.

“Fucking finally!” Miles rubbed his wrists as he stood up, stripped his shirts off and his pants the rest of the way.

“On the bed, let me see that ass up.”

He smacked it about three times each and then rubbed it as you did as you were told.

Miles trailed his hand from your ass up your spine to your shoulder and then pushed your head down further into the bed.

“That’s a girl.” Your back had that perfect arch.

He got behind you and swiped his hardness up and down your slit, teasing you with the head of his dick.

He grabbed your hand and brought behind your back, and very swiftly the other, and before you knew it, your hands were cuffed behind you, head in the bed and Miles was entering you swiftly.

“Fuuuuck! How does it feel?”

You couldn’t speak. The thrill of Miles’ dick inside you and being cuffed had you ready to cum already.

His stroke game was on point, as if he was fucking you to a brand new rhythm- Allegro.

Strangely, it was different than Rafa had ever been.

That was blowing your mind.

Miles tugged on the metal restraints and the slight pain in your shoulders and wrists, combined with the thrill of this roleplay, made you release, all over him and the bed.

“Shit girl, you really are glad to see me.” That drawl got you ready to peak again.

“Oh fuck yeah, Miles, oh shit, oh shit.” Your pussy was clamping down on him at the thought of Miles Turner having his way with you.

“Shit, I’m cumming with you, hold up.”

Rafa tried to slow down, but you did that thing with your pussy and he couldn’t help it. His hips drove his dick inside you until it pulsed and started to flow, and then he pulled out.

“Turn over baby.”

You leisurely moved to turn over, and he motioned you down to the end of the bed, moving the pillow where he wanted your head.

“I need in between those legs, baby. I need to see you, I need to surround me with you.”

You positioned yourself at the end of the bed, your braids hanging over the edge.

Miles gave you a forehead kiss as he got between your thighs, and pumped himself a couple of times as he aligned with you.

He leaned down and pulled at your nipple with his mouth, moaning when you moaned, moving his eyes appreciatively down your body and keeping his eyes where you were about to join.

The look on his face when he entered you was very hot, and you found your pussy squeezing his cock in appreciation. It seemed magically somehow bigger, and all of your senses were alive as he started moving.

“That’s my beautiful baby. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t push me out, let me have the glorious pussy. Damn girl, this pussy, those thighs, your curves, these tits. What did a man like me do to deserve you. You’re such a fucking sweet princess for me…”

You were astounded. Missionary was far from your favorite position because you seldom came that way, but the way Miles was whispering praise in your ear and the total fantasy was getting you there.

Quickly.

He watched your face and adjusted his pace in response to your cries, and that knowledge made you start to come. When your eyes rolled back in your head, that’s when he knew.

He pulled your hair back and sucked the shit out of your neck as you came, and he released inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and held him as he shivered with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your lover rolled off of you and you snuggled into his arm. He lay there and held you as you tried to process.

“That was… wow.” You weren’t sure who to address, Rafa or Miles. Irrationally you felt you were in love with both.

He just chuckled at you, and gave you another forehead kiss.

“I’m going to enjoy a shower. Goodbye for a while, baby.”

You grinned. “Bye Miles.”

He pecked you on the lips and you watched him go into the bathroom.

You rolled over on your back and tried to organize your thoughts. How would you write this?

Thoughts of writing this scene chased you into sleep.

---

You woke up to Rafael, grill and tattoos gone, freshly out of the shower and in a towel, gently trying to pull you from sleep.

“C’mon.”

You let him get you up and into the bathroom to a hot bath. You let him tenderly clean you up and then get you out of the tub and dry you off. You were more tired than you thought.

“You hungry?” You walked into the kitchen in a towel behind him.

Rafa had put the groceries up and was holding up takeout menus. He was truly magical. You smiled, nodded and told him what you wanted.

45 minutes later, you were in his softest Oaklandish tee and you were curled up on the couch in the living room together, food containers spead out on the coffee table.

You felt totally in sync with this amazing man.

“I loved tonight.”

He smiled softly back at you.

“Had to give you your fantasy since you help me live mine. Every day.”

He leaned over and kissed you. He looked you intensely in the eyes. Those green pools had you trapped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rafael.”

Your fantasy had been Miles, but your reality was Rafael.

And that was fantastic.

Everyday.

-------

Tags:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @janthonystan-blog @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @einfachniemand

#rafael casal #rafael casal x reader #bay boys #jasmine cephas jones #jasmine x anthony #rafael casal angst #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #rafael casal fluff #rafa imagine #rafael santiago casal #rafael casal smut #blindspotting starz #Blindspotting #miles turner #Daveed Diggs

119 notes · View notes

kaeyas-beloved · 3 years

Text

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

-------------------

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough.

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will.

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry…

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit.

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned.

Levi had other plans though.

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard.

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too…

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before.

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat.

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it!

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days.

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

-------------------

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

127 notes · View notes

mintymiknow · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall - Ch. 4 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: As you accompany some of the boys to “investigate”, you all discover things to aid your work. But it also throws you into situations you never imagined, you also find yourself falling into a deeper spiral of confusion, and you don’t know if you can trust your own heart.

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 8.6k

Warnings for this chapter: Content involving black markets (usual crime stuff), let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Well, this was longer than the previous chapters, and I might have gotten carried away with it. Again, I’m sure a lot of things here don’t make sense or are a bit off, but it is fiction hahaha. More swoon-worthy moments, but we’re still a bit far from where it really should be *smirks*. Feel free to drop messages/asks for any comments or questions! Enjoy!

Your group of five pile into a car with Chan driving and Minho in the passenger seat. You’re squished between Jisung and Changbin, staying silent during the duration of the trip. Though you’ve technically zoned out, you can vaguely hear Jisung going on a very detailed explanation on the various chemicals and substances the test results yielded from the stuff you brought back the other day.

“Right, y/n?”

You don’t register Jisung directing his question at you until he lightly taps your arm. You blink out of your daze and snap your head to the male, “What was that?”

You hear Chan chuckle as Jisung grins brightly, “I was just telling them that sulfuric acid can turn sugar black and when it reacts, it actually fizzles and ‘grows’ into something that looks like very thick charcoal.”

You nod your head, responding softly, “Oh, yeah. That happens.”

“Is it wrong that I want to see that happen?” Changbin adds, laughing as Minho snorts.

Jisung chuckles, “I mean, I can show you in the lab one of these days. Might stink for a while though.”

“No thanks.” Minho laughs lightly.

“So, Dr. Song.” Changbin then turns to you, “What’s the lab like in Gimpo?”

“Well...it’s just a lab, I guess. Like every other medical and scientific facility. It was originally used as a research facility, but over the years, it became Korea’s prime supplier for certain chemicals and substances.” you explain.

“What kind of organizations or people are exactly allowed to be there? Or purchase from them?” Minho asks next, craning his head to look at you from the passenger’s seat.

Your eyes automatically meet his eyes, and despite the sudden shot of intimidation, you reply with a quiet voice, “Government organizations, specifically those in health departments like the Ministry of Health. Larger hospitals and medical or scientific research facilities are permitted as well, mainly for research and study purposes.”

You then turn to Jisung who is still grinning before looking back to Minho, “I have a permit because I worked in Gongjak, which is Seoul’s largest hospital. Jisung and Seungmin probably have theirs because they’re one of SKZ’s head scientists and doctors.”

Changbin chews his lips, furrowing his eyebrows as if in deep thought, “Did you have a permit when you were in SKZ?”

You shake your head slowly, shrugging in nonchalance, “Someone...someone else had it. I wasn’t in a very high position at that time, unlike Jisung and Seungmin.”

“So what did you do while in Gongjak?” Jisung asks with a tilt of his head.

“Um...tend to patients, most of the time. What any other doctor would do.” you hum, choosing the right words, “I’ve always specialized in pathology and pharmacology, so that explains why I was given the permit upon working in Gongjak. I did a lot of lab and medication tests so that the hospital could tend to patients more efficiently and effectively.”

“Lots of scientific words, but cool.” Changbin nods in approval.

Jisung then goes on about his experiences as a science major back in his university days and how he nearly burned down a lab once. While listening to his vivid narration, you hear Changbin let out a heart laugh while Chan shudders in horror. You slowly turn your gaze to Minho who is surprisingly looking at you.

“What?” you mouth with an obvious scowl on your face.

“Hmm.” Minho responds, his eyebrows raised in what can only be called a cocky manner, lips curled into a feline-like smirk at the corners.

And then he turns around without another word, eyes now watching the road ahead. You deflate in your place, sticking your tongue in the inside of your cheek as you burn the back of the male’s head with your glare.

Scientists loved studying the unknown...the mysterious. But right now, you certainly were not enjoying the mass of mystery that was Lee Minho.

It made you uneasy, and you hated that.

Well, it wasn’t his fault you saw it that way. Maybe you needed to be more open; more willing to open your eyes and explore the possibility that Minho was an individual of pleasant surprises waiting to be unraveled.

If only you could trust again and take that leap of faith.

Neither your heart nor your mind was ready for that, unfortunately.

After some time, your group approaches the lab where the guards stop your vehicle. Chan rolls the window down, flashing a million-dollar smile even before one guard gets to say, “State your business please.”

Chan’s smile doesn’t fade, “Yeah, um, we’re here to inquire about certain supplies for our research lab.”

The male then twists his body to face you, “Hey, Doc.”

You clear your throat, leaning forward to look at the guard, “Yeah, I called in a few hours ago and told Dr. Choi that my group would be visiting.”

“Name and permit, please.”

“Dr. Song.” you state before reaching for your wallet and pulling out a license-looking card that basically indicates that you were permitted to enter this particular lab.

“Alright, move along.” the guard salutes before gesturing for Chan to drive along.

Another guard then assists and guides your group to the parking area. Once Chan parks the car, he turns to everyone, “Ok, let’s go. Jisung and Dr. Song, do your thing.”

Jisung excitedly gets out of the car, and you follow after. The five of you then follow the guard to where he leads you to the “front desk” of sorts, and they do more of the mandatory checking and scanning. After clearing your group, the woman at the front desk tells you that you may proceed to the supply room which somehow functions as the “store”. The three agents simply scan the shelves with boxes of vials and bottles, eyes wandering at the familiar yet unknown chemicals.

Jisung on the other hand is walking around, reading the labels to each item as if he were on a grocery trip. “Well, here’s some hydrogen gas.” he says to no one in particular, pointing at one of the vials.

You nod, looking at another shelf when a voice enters the room. “Dr. Song?”

“Ah, yes, that’s me.” you bow in greeting.

A male bows as well, offering his hand for a handshake. He seems slightly older than you, and the exhaustion in his eyes are evident, but the smile he puts on is still very bright and friendly. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Dr. Kang.” the doctor chuckles, “I’m Dr. Choi. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Ah, I see.” you let out a small smile, “Hyunbin - I mean, Dr. Kang was the one who referred you as the person to contact. I still have my permit, but I wasn’t sure if that was enough to let my whole group in.”

Dr. Choi looks around, greeting the other boys with a warm smile before nodding, “Ah, yes. Technically, one permit per person, but since you did mention that this was government-related, we let it slide for today. Besides, you also said someone else had a permit?”

“Oh, that would be me.” Jisung raises his hand with a smile, “Scientist specializing in biochemistry and all that.”

“That’s great. My sister does that too.” Dr. Choi laughs, “Anyway, do you need help with anything or are you fine by yourself?”

You shake your head and offer a smile, “We’ll manage, thank you.”

“As expected from the person Dr. Kang thinks so highly of.” Dr. Choi teases, his eyes crinkling when he laughs.

You let out a small chuckle before you feel a hand circling around your upper arm. Your eyes widen as you feel your back collide with something firm, a pair of lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Ask him about any recent acquisitions of nitrogen, hydrogen, chlorine and sulfuric acid.”

You crane your head to look up at Minho who was looking at you with a dead-serious gaze. You raise an eyebrow, whispering your reply, “Wouldn’t that be too obvious? Suspicious?”

Minho leans closer, and you almost took a step away if it weren’t for his hold on your arm. “Just ask it, Dr. Song. We’ll handle whatever excuses and explanations.” Minho says much more firmly this time, still keeping a hushed voice.

You let out a sigh before nodding, prompting Minho to let go of your arm and taking a step back from your personal space. You aren’t exactly sure why it feels so empty and cold all of a sudden.

“Um, actually, Dr. Choi.”

“Yes?”

“I was…” you swallow the lump in your throat, turning your head to look at Minho. The agent nods in a poor attempt to encourage you, but you still continue speaking nonetheless, “We were wondering if you’d know anyone who ordered nitrogen, hydrogen, chlorine and sulfuric acid recently.”

“Hmm…” the male doctor thinks for a few seconds, “it’s not everyday people come in here for those, but I’m sorry, I wouldn’t know. I’m actually here to just monitor operations and to make sure no one blows this lab up.”

“Is there anyone we can ask?” Minho asks sharply.

Dr. Choi tilts his head as if to ask the obvious question of “why”, but he merely hums, nodding his head, “Dr. Park might be of assistance. Wait here, I’ll go and get her.”

You and your group nod, and Dr. Choi leaves the room. Changbin turns his attention to all of you, keeping his voice low and quiet, “Are they really just going to do that? Give us information on previous purchases? Organizations like these would be big on data privacy.”

You shrug, shooting a quick glare at Minho, “It was Agent Lee’s idea.”

Chan chuckles, putting one hand on your shoulder while the other one was on Minho’s, the image resembling a person trying to get his friends to stop fighting. “Ok, ok. We’ll just play it by ear, alright?”

Jisung grins as well, “I can always use my charms.”

“You aren’t Hyunjin or Jeongin.”

“Shut up Agent Seo. You don’t know me.”

“Han Jisung, I swear- ”

“Anyway,” Jisung laughs, “Who’s Dr. Kang, y/n?”

“Oh…” you start dismissing the question with a wave of your hand, “just one of my co-workers in Gongjak. We…”

Jisung fakes a gasp, “You are or were dating?”

“What? No!” you choke, “We’re colleagues. Just...we always...it’s nothing important. He’s just a work friend.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, looking at both you and Jisung with a stern look, “Are you both done? We’re still on an official activity here.”

“Right.” Jisung chuckles sheepishly, but you just look away, gluing your eyes to the various boxed chemical vials on the shelves.

“Hello.”

Your group then snaps their heads towards the new voice, everyone bowing in greeting. The woman who entered flashes a very small smile before speaking, “Dr. Choi says you had purchase questions?”

“Yes.” Chan answers with a smile, “Specifically, questions on specific chemical purchases.”

“Hmm, I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.” the doctor explains, “Follow me.”

The female doctor then leads your group through parts of the lab facility and into what seems to be a more office-looking room. There’s only a desk, a few chairs and various shelves and drawers, so you assume this was her personal office. The doctor then takes a seat, leaning back on her chair, “Dr. Choi said you needed to know if there were any recent purchases or orders for nitrogen, hydrogen, chlorine and sulfuric acid, right?”

You all nod your heads. Dr. Park places her elbows on the desk and leans forward, eyes narrowing, “But may I ask why first? I am very sure that you’re all aware of how...this facility values privacy and security.”

Chan nods his head, putting on a very sincere and gentle expression. “Yes, we are aware of that, Dr. Park. The reason we’re asking is because we need to verify if one of our researchers made an unauthorized purchase on behalf of our lab.”

Dr. Park tilts her head inquisitively, “Oh? Well, that would be vexing.”

“Very much.” Minho adds, his calm expression never faltering, “Which is why we were wondering if you could give us any information on said purchases. It’s...crucial for the sake of accountability.”

“Your lab should do better jobs at screening who gets permits for this place then.” she says a bit harshly, her voice sharp like a knife.

Minho puts on a very humble-looking smile, but a certain twitch on the corner of his lips can tell you how insincere it was for him. “We’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Park. Don’t worry.”

The female doctor then sighs, pulling her laptop across the desk and typing away. Through the reflection on her glasses, you can all see her going through a bunch of records and data, scrolling fast as if she were used to this. You felt sorry for her eyes.

“Nitrogen, hydrogen, chlorine…” Dr. Park trails off, “...ah. Here. The most recent order for those substances was two weeks ago. Under whose name...it just says Dr. Bae Wonhyuk from Gimpo MedTech Laboratories.”

You can tell Minho is glancing at you, a silent question of “do you know him”. You shake your head definitively, clearing your throat. “Just him?” you ask.

Dr. Park nods, “Just him. All other orders from the previous weeks and months are hospital-related items.” she then furrows her eyebrows, “Although this is a bit odd...considering Gimpo MedTech Laboratories put a halt to their research activities due to economic and financial reasons from what I recall from a colleague.”

At this, Changbin takes the opportunity to speak. “Would you happen to know anyone from there that we can speak to?”

Dr. Park shakes her head, offering an apologetic expression, “None, sorry. Besides, since their activities were supposedly put on halt, it would be very likely that their facility is closed or off-limits.”

“I see.” Chan nods in understanding, “Well, we’ll have to sort things out with our lab, but thank you for your help, Dr. Park.”

“My pleasure.” the female bows her head, “Thank you for coming.”

An hour or so later, your group sits on one bed, having regrouped in a small drive-inn hotel for the time being. Chan is on the phone with Felix, relaying the name “Dr. Bae Wonhyuk” and asking the younger tech agent to dig up whatever information he can. Meanwhile, Jisung is on his laptop with Changbin, searching up articles and information on Gimpo MedTech Laboratories.

You feel the spot next to you dip when Minho takes a seat, leaning back on his hands as he lets out a yawn. You turn your head to face him at the exact same moment he does the same, both of you just staring at each other’s elusive eyes for a good three-seconds. Most times, Minho looks like a ferocious and intimidating feline in your eyes, but right now, with his head tilted and a few stray strands of swept-back hair sweeping across his forehead, he looked like a gentler house cat.

“Are you sure Dr. Bae Wonhyuk doesn’t ring any bells?” he asks carefully.

You shake your head, breaking eye contact with him as you opt to stare at the rust-colored, carpeted floor, “I told you. I did everything I could to forget about before, so I’m almost certain that I don’t know him.”

“Being ‘almost certain’ is very different from being ‘100% certain’, y/n.” the agent starts, “That difference would make a big impact in cases like this.”

You ignore the fact that he uses your first name instead of addressing you as he usually does despite you not exactly telling him to do so. You take a deep breath and release it, closing your eyes, “I’m sorry, Agent Lee.” you then open your eyes to look at the male, an apologetic tinge in your irises, “I really don’t remember.”

Minho nods his head in understanding, giving your knee a quick pat before standing up to go to where Chan is. You watch the two males talk with each other, Chan gesturing to his phone as Minho nods. You can vaguely register Jisung and Changbin typing on the laptop, but your attention is solely on your knee; specifically, the part where Minho had lightly patted.

What was that for?, you’d ask yourself, unconsciously bringing your hand to the said knee and squeezing it.

You hated being this confused.

Minutes and minutes pass, and soon, you notice that the sun was about to set and usher in the night. By now, Chan had returned with a take-out dinner for everyone. While eating your meals, Jisung speaks up, “So, what Dr. Park said about Gimpo MedTech Lab was true. They did officially announce a ‘break’ of sorts because they were struggling financially. They’ve been on hiatus for about seven months already.”

“The lab’s a fairly small one compared to all the larger ones we’re more familiar with.” Changbin adds, “They even had to let go of some scientists and researchers prior to going on hiatus.”

“When things like that happens to labs…” you say, but when all eyes land on you, you lose the words you were meaning to say and shake your head, focusing on the food in front of you.

“Dr. Song?” Minho prompts you, raising his eyebrows as if to prod you to continue.

You sigh, “When things that happens to labs - hiatus and financial difficulty - they tend to sell their research to larger or more capable firms. The research can be completed or ongoing, but if a firm is interested and willing to continue it, they will buy the works and all the rights. I’m just guessing that maybe Gimpo MedTech would do the same…just...I just wouldn’t know if they’d have research that Cle would be willing to buy. They did say Dr. Bae was from Gimpo MedTech.”

Chan nods, leaning forward as he places his phone on the empty spot on the small plastic table. “Lix, tell us what you got.” the eldest says, his usually warm and bright eyes now dark and serious.

Felix’s voice is heard from the phone as he greets everyone, “Hi guys. Ok, so Jeongin and I dug up some stuff and found out that Dr. Bae was certainly a researcher and scientist in Gimpo MedTech, but they had to let him go even before the financial struggle incident.”

“Changbin said they let go of some scientists before the hiatus as well.” Minho says, “Was he part of that?”

“No.” Felix answers, “I wasn’t able to find a 100% reliable source, but rumor has it that Dr. Bae got involved in some black market transactions while still under employment in Gimpo MedTech, and when they found out, they fired him.”

“Black market and chemical research.” Jisung clicks his tongue, “Bad combination. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Minho nods, eyes on the eldest, “Lix, anything else?”

“There are many black markets out there, but the biggest one is known as the District Trade, and it seems to be pretty notorious for being visited by researchers, doctors and scientists from...well, more credible labs. That’s what the talk of the town says, anyway. Jeongin says he’s pretty sure someone mentioned that before when he was snooping around gang districts.”

“And then for Gimpo MedTech…” Felix continues, “They haven’t made any groundbreaking, life-changing research but they were supposed to launch a research program that was initially to develop a formula to instantly kill cancer cells. Pretty basic research stuff, but according to one of their databases that I hacked, they were going to make use of studies from, and I quote ‘SKZ’s research works’.”

Changbin mouths “bingo” as Jisung snaps his fingers. Minho rubs at his temples while you chew on your lip, knowing full well what those “research works” were about. Chan thanks the younger tech agent before hanging up, turning his attention back to the group. “So, that’s what we have right now.” he starts, “And if I’m being completely honest, we can take the night to rest, and then early tomorrow morning, we can go undercover in the District Trade black market.”

Changbin agrees immediately, getting up from his seat, “I’ll find their location.”

He then leaves the room just as Chan looks at you with a softer gaze, “I know you aren’t cut out for this, Dr. Song, but I’ll need you and Jisung to come with us just in case we need to verify the more medical or scientific stuff.”

“I’ve never been to a black market, Chan. I don’t think it’s wise for you to bring me.” you reason, crossing your arms.

“We’ll be in and out, I promise.” the agent smiles warmly, nodding his head towards Minho, “Minho will be by your side always, so you don’t need to worry, ok?”

You simply nod, your eyes not quite meeting Chan’s. With that, the eldest agent gets up, instructing Minho to come with him so they could check if they can book another extra room in the drive-inn hotel. When Minho leaves the room with him, Jisung pats your shoulder before cleaning up the take-out packaging and throwing them in a bin, flopping onto the bed nearby right after.

They just keep pulling surprises.

As the night crept in, Chan, Jisung and Changbin went to the room next to yours so that they could get their rest as well. And despite your adamant refusal and opposition, they agreed to have Minho stay in the same room as you.

“I’ll be fine by myself since you’re all in the room next door.” you told them, but Chan reasoned that it was to be “extra safe” since you were the only girl.

After Jisung making a speech about how it was best, you eventually relented as long as Minho promised not to get on your nerves or to try anything funny - he didn’t really understand why you said that, but he promised nonetheless.

You now sat on the bed rather stiffly, cheeks puffed out as your eyes were glued to the floor. Minho comes out of the bathroom water dripping from parts of his bangs after having washed his face. He looks at you quizzically, asking “Is something wrong, Dr. Song?”

“I’m just uncomfortable…” you start, choosing your words wisely, “...sleeping without having a bath and a change of clothes. It feels weird.”

“You’re free to take a bath and wash your clothes in the bathtub and leave them to dry outside. But, you’re going to have to wear just the stupid bathrobe in the bathroom since we don’t usually bring clothes to field work.” the agent explains flatly as if this were a normal conversation to have.

“Your choice.” he adds before lying down on the couch, sighing in relief.

You make a “tsk” sound before kicking your shoes off and positioning yourself on the bed, burying yourself under the sheets. A long silence fills the room, and you’re about 99% sure you can hear the soft snores escaping from Minho’s lips. The room is dark, and the irritatingly bright neon lights outside are the only source of illumination, yet you can still see how dainty Minho’s features were in this state. You sigh, suddenly feeling bad for treating him poorly in the recent days.

Guilty but the wall was still there.

Nonetheless, you grab the pillow you were laying on - quite disappointing there was only one pillow on a double-sized bed - and pull off the sheets, lightly tiptoeing over to the sleeping agent so that you could gently place the pillow on him. Clearly, you don’t take into account how these agents are very aware of their surroundings, so despite being asleep…

You nearly yelp in surprise and shock when Minho’s eyes dart open, one hand grabbing your wrist to switch places with him so he was pinning you down. His other hand clamps over your mouth, his eyes sharp like a beast’s as he glares down at you for a split-second, but as soon as he realizes it’s you, they soften in an instant. He removes his hand from your mouth, standing up and pulling you up along the way.

With you seated on the couch, he sighs and rubs his eyes, “Sorry, that was out of habit.”

You put your hand over your thumping heart, gulping as you nod, “This one was my fault, sorry.”

He then takes a seat next to you, asking, “Did you need anything?”

“Oh…” your eyes trail to the pillow on the floor, “I was just going to give that to you.”

You stand up and dust the pillow, awkwardly and stiffly holding it in front of the agent. Minho looks at you with curiosity as if he were the scientist and you were the subject. His gaze burns you, and you feel heat rising to your face. After pursing your lips and debating over what words to say, you finally mumble, “Your neck’s going to hurt in the morning if you sleep on the couch without the proper cushioning.”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions.” he says nonchalantly, positioning himself on the couch once more, “You should use it.”

You narrow your eyes, “No, but I have the bed.”

“Dr. Song.”

“Agent Lee.”

“Y/n.” he nearly smirks.

“Min - ” you stop yourself, clearing your throat, “Agent Lee.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, y/n.” the male says, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“I’m not worried. It’s just the doctor in me; as you said…‘out of habit’.” you roll your eyes, taking a step closer to shove the pillow near his face, “I’m not leaving you alone until you take it.”

“You ever thought about being a field agent with a specialty like Hyunjin? Expert negotiator?” Minho deadpans as he rolls his eyes, groaning as he finally grabs the pillow from you.

He then props the pillow under his head, lying down with a sigh as he grumbles, “Happy?”

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘happy’, but I’ll take it.” you hum.

Minho rolls his eyes, “Now get some sleep, y/n. I’m waking you up early tomorrow and I don’t want Chan up my ass for being late.”

You return to the bed in silence, wrapping the much-too-fragrant sheets around your body. You aren’t aware of the fact that you instantly fall asleep with an ever-so-subtle smile on your face, and you surely aren’t aware of the fact that Minho shifts around the couch and cranes his head to take one glance at your sleeping form, an indescribable yet amused twinkle in his eyes.

The agent is much more quiet and sneaky, getting up from his spot to walk over to the bed. He sees the rare and peaceful expression on your face, unable to hold back a smile. He releases a deep breath before whispering, “They’re such fools to have messed you up.”

And before he knows it, he’s reaching out to lift your head, cradling it in his arms as he slips the pillow back underneath. He doesn’t say a word as he fixes the strands of hair all over your face, gingerly sweeping them away and tucked behind your ear. He doesn’t say a word as he returns to the couch, shutting his eyes as he falls into slumber.

The next morning, you wake up just as the sunlight cracks into the sky. You sit up, looking at the pillow suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed as if presented with the most confusing puzzle ever. You then look at the couch, the male agent long gone, so you scan the room for any sign of him. Just in time, the door to the room opens, Minho already up and about. “I was just about to wake you up.” he says plainly, “Get ready.”

“Yeah, seeing as to how we slept in our clothes from yesterday, there isn’t much getting ready to be done.” you say with a sigh, using your fingers to comb your hair and rid it of sleepy tangles.

You grab your phone and stand in front of Minho, nodding your head as if to say “let’s go”. However, the male looks you up and down before removing his jacket without a word. Your eyes widen when he drapes it around your shoulders, suddenly conscious of yourself. Was something wrong? Were your clothes dirty? Did you smell?

“What?” you blurt out, embarrassed.

Minho offers a small smile before becoming poker-faced again. “We’re going to a shady place, so you kind of have to look the part and not…”

Beautiful and attractive.

“...like this.” Minho settles for that, hoping you get his point and not argue, “Your blouse screams privileged and good-natured.”

“Oh.” you hum, looking down at the simple white blouse you were wearing but the agent did have a point; it looked to clean and pristine, “Ok.”

With that, the agent ushers you out of the room where you regroup with the three other boys by the car. Chan and Jisung wave at you and greet you good morning while Changbin flashes a small smile. You bow your head before standing next to Jisung. Chan then nods, “Let’s go. Remember to keep a low profile. Don’t cause any trouble or engage anyone. Jisung, stick with Changbin. Y/n, with Minho.”

When everyone nods and states they understand, you all pile into the car, and Chan starts to drive off.

District Trade was apparently located in Gimpo’s slightly more rural area. Chan had to park the car somewhere else as the whole group walked a few kilometers to a rundown compound lot with towers and towers of container van apartments littered across the place. There were also small kiosk-like booths as if it were a wet market. Except this place wasn’t bustling with people; everything was quiet and discreet like they already knew how the trade worked. No noisy haggling, impatient old ladies and people doing their vegetable shopping - just very experienced traders buying and selling things that aren’t on the market for everyone.

Chan walks through the crowd calmly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks here and there. Changbin does the same, his buff appearance and intimidating expression helping your group blend in. You see Jisung whispering something in Chan’s ear, pointing at a stall with suspicious-looking bottles; Chan nods and gestures for Changbin to “mingle”.

Your group stands in front of the stall as Changbin pretends to inquire about the chemicals, Jisung by his side to listen to the merchant trader’s answers. Chan and Minho are also listening in, eagle eyes observing the trader’s body language. While they do that, your nose picks up on a particular smell coming from a few feet away, specifically in one of the container van offices. You know better than to use the name “Agent Lee” in a place like this, so when you tug on his sleeve, you whisper with a “Minho”; it feels foreign on your tongue.

When Minho turns his attention to you, he slightly bends down to lend his ear. “I think we should check that container van too.” you say quietly.

Minho’s eyes then trail over to the said container van, trying to peer inside. His gaze then trails over to a group of merchant men nearby, snickering and looking at you with sleazy smirks. The agent then wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. Before you can react or protest, he whispers in your ear, “We’ll go after Changbin finishes here. For now, stay like this, trust me.”

And so on a rare occasion such as this, you nod your head and listen to the male’s words, allowing him to hold you close to his side.

You felt safe for some reason, which wasn’t something that often happened.

Maybe it’s just this situation since I am in a sketchy place, you tell yourself.

Yeah, that was probably it.

After Changbin finishes “talking” with the merchant, Minho informs Chan about what you said. With a nod of his head, the eldest male walks ahead followed by Changbin. Jisung walks beside you and Minho, lowly whispering, “That merchant used to supply the chemicals we’re looking for, but ever since a new supplier came in, he stopped because there was competition. He’s stopped for about a year and sticks to just trading less dangerous substances like...street drugs.”

“I see.” Minho responds, “Let’s hope this one gives us answers.

Your group arrives at the container van, opening the flimsy door and stepping inside. By the counter-like desk is the trader with another man wearing a cap. The cap-man side steps to let Chan stand in front of the trader. The merchant raises an eyebrow, and Chan puts on an easy smile. “We’re looking for nitrogen, hydrogen, chlorine and sulfuric acid.” he says directly, voice confident and calm.

The merchant nods, retreating to the other side of the room before returning to the counter with some vials. He says, “These are our only stocks. This fellow here took the rest.”

The capped man nods once, eyes busy looking at the other stuff in the “store”. Chan pretends to inspect the vials, raising an eyebrow as he asks, “I have to ask...where did you source these?”

“You don’t need to know buddy.” the merchant scoffs with a smirk, “That’s for me to know. You just gotta pay.”

“We aren’t paying if we don’t know.” Chan shrugs, an easy smirk on his lips.

The merchant scowls, raising an eyebrow as he responds, “Are you new here? We don’t just give away trade secrets, bud.”

Minho interjects with a haughty raise of his eyebrow, “We know, but our boss is really particular with the stuff we get. He only wants the best of the best. If he finds out that what you sold us isn’t the best, he might as well have your head.”

You stare at the agent, chills running down your spine as you see the vicious color in his eyes, eyebrows knit together in faux irritation. Before the merchant can even reply, the capped male chuckles at the side, turning to face your group, “Don’t worry, lads. This trader gets materials from very excellent sources, I can vouch for that.”

Changbin crosses his arms, “Where then?”

The stranger smirks, “A credible lab. That’s all you need to know. Take my word for it or not.”

With one undecipherable look from Chan, Minho and Changbin nod their heads. The eldest agent chuckles lightly, bowing his head, “Alright, we’ll take your word for it. If you’re lying, you owe us big time.”

The man laughs in a very fake yet very heart manner, “Oh, definitely.”

Minho fakes a smile as well. The man then says, “But don’t worry, I’m somewhat of an expert. Experts like me would know the good quality stuff from the bad ones…” he then turns his attention to you, raising his eyebrows excitedly, “...right, darling?”

You unconsciously take a shaky step back, Minho steadying you with a firm hand to the small of your back. You play it off with a small smile, “Right.”

The man then chuckles before bowing towards the merchant and your group. He then takes whatever pouch he had with him, leaving the container van. Chan subtly taps Changbin’s arm, and the buff male nods. The next thing you know, he heads out as well. The merchant doesn’t seem to care, much more preoccupied with whether or not Chan is going to purchase the chemicals.

Chan offers a sweet smile, slipping a few bills over the counter, “We’ll just take half then.”

The merchant groans and grumbles something incoherently before packing a few vials into a secured pouch. He hands it over to Chan who thanks him, and soon he leads your group outside. “Was that Bae Wonhyuk?” Jisung whispers to Chan.

The older male shakes his head, “Not quite sure, but he’s a target. The merchant said he just purchased the things we inquired about.”

Minho nods, “Changbin’s tailing him. We should probably split up and tail him from different angles. Meet at the rendezvous point later.”

“I’ll take Jisung, you take y/n.” Chan instructs, and Minho nods immediately.

Soon, Chan and Jisung walk ahead, taking a different path from when you first entered the market. Meanwhile, Minho looks at you, raising an eyebrow in concern, “Do you want to hold my hand or are you fine walking beside me?”

“I’m not a child...Minho.” you put an emphasis on his first name, “Let’s go.”

He hums in satisfaction, walking side-by-side towards the exit of the market. Outside the gated compound is a large open space where the cars and vehicles of the other black market traders are parked. Minho’s phone beeps with a message; Changbin informs him that he’s successfully tailed their target all the way to an abandoned cargo sea port nearby.

The agent turns to you, eyes serious and almost as if they were pleading, “Whatever happens, you need to listen to what I say, alright?”

You nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. You don’t fight back or protest when Minho takes hold of your hand, walking much faster than before, making sure you’re still able to keep up.

After a few meters, you arrive at the abandoned sea port, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Chan and Jisung a few feet away, navigating through the empty cargo containers. The waves of the sea nearby are roaring, some part of the concrete being submerged in the water. A few rusted and decrepit cranes and lifts are scattered around the port, resembling ghosts that refuse to part from this place.

Everything is eerily silent save for the sound of waves; it’s creepy and definitely the type to send chills through your every nerve. You don’t even realize that you’re gripping Minho’s hand much tighter than you intended. But when you hear a gunshot in the distance, your heart freezes and you find yourself clinging to his arm. Minho instantly pulls his gun out, the gunshot sounds echoing in the empty port. It sounds like it's coming from everywhere, and Minho’s eyes scan the entire area. His gaze stops somewhere to the side, narrowing even more when he spots a figure.

In a split-second as soon he fixes his eyes on the figure, a bullet is fired, barely missing both you and Minho. You yelp in shock, and Minho is quick to move. He grabs your arm and drags you away, running with skill as he spots an empty container and all but shoves you inside. “Don’t move.” is all he says before running off.

The thumping of your heart somehow drowns out the sounds of gunshots as you fall on your butt, sitting in the empty container. You can vaguely hear shoes scuffling outside on the pavement and a few banging on the metal containers. It feels like you spend forever inside the container, when it’s only been less than 30 minutes.

You grab one of the broken metal bars laying around in the container, but just when you stand up, you hear footsteps approaching. Your throat runs dry and your muscles tense so much you feel like a statue. Thank the heavens, it’s just Minho who reveals himself, expression nothing short of confusion as he sees the metal bar in your grip. “I…” you cough, “Self defense.”

Minho sighs, “No one’s going to harm you. We all promised you that.”

The agent walks over to you, gently prying your hands off the metal bar and letting it fall to the ground with a clang. “Are you ok?” he asks for precautionary measures, looking you up and down as if to assess any injuries.

You merely nod your head, following the male as he gestures for you to go outside. When you regroup with the other boys, Changbin is carrying the capped man - now unconscious - over his shoulder. Jisung is sifting through the pouch the man originally carried, but Chan is nowhere to be found.

Your unvoiced question is answered when a black car soon arrives, coming to a halt in front of all of you. Changbin opens the back door of the car, carefully laying the unconscious man down. As he busies himself with tying the man up and putting a cloth around his mouth, Minho tells you and Jisung to go inside. After a minute or so, Changbin and Minho get inside the car as well, and Chan quickly drives off.

Jisung is on another ramble over the chemicals he sees inside the capped man’s pouch, but you don’t really pay attention, adrenaline wearing off and suddenly feeling very much exhausted. You barely remember that Minho made you wear his jacket before heading to District Trade, so right now, in the safety of the car, you idly grip it tighter as if hugging the material closer. It feels like warmth and familiarity in ways you can’t comprehend, but that was your life now.

Confusing and incomprehensible.

Your eyes fall shut, your head eventually leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder who isn’t too shaken, chuckling instead and telling Minho that his “partner” was now asleep. You don’t hear Minho reply with “let her, she needs it.”

And that would mean you don’t see the endeared smile on his lips as Chan chuckles lightly and Changbin smirks to himself.

When you all return to the headquarters, you and Jisung separate with the other boys to head to the lab department. While the three field agents go to the main building, you and Jisung meet with Seungmin in one lab room. The doctor drums his fingers on the table, “What did you get?”

Jisung carefully empties the contents of the pouch, revealing the vials the capped man purchased from the black market. A few particular vials catch your attention, the copper-colored liquid standing out from the rest. Jisung then claps his hands once, “The stuff we discovered previously...and maybe new stuff. Hold on, I’ll just get my gloves.”

Seungmin nods, moving to one of the shelves to get his own gloves too. While the two males are getting their things, you swiftly grab one of the suspicious vials, making sure to secretly shove it into your jacket - or more specifically, Minho’s jacket. You then walk over to the shelf to get your gloves and lab coat, flashing a small smile to the two males, “Let’s run those tests.”

After a few minutes, the three of you successfully analyze and observe the chemical substances, now on standby to await the results of the tests itself. After Seungmin clears the area, he turns to you and Jisung. “These will probably take a few more hours.” he states, “I’ll keep watch, so you two can go to the interrogation room or something.”

“Interrogation room?” you ask.

Jisung nods, looping his arm around yours, “Minho and the rest are probably there. Let’s go.”

And that is how you end up being dragged by Jisung to the main building, his arm still looped around yours happily. Once in the main building, you take the elevator to several floors down. It opens to reveal a darker, more quiet and chilly area, the white fluorescent lights quite painful to the eyes. An agent behind one of the desks further into this floor looks up from her papers, tilting her head, “Yes?”

“Oh, are Bang and the rest done with interrogations?” Jisung asks.

The female agent shakes her head, “Not yet.”

“Is it possible for us to go in their room?” Jisung almost pouts his lower lip, “We were involved in this operation.”

She nods, gesturing towards the hallway behind her, “The last room. Just watch, don’t disturb them or interfere.”

“Yes, thanks.”

You and Jisung then descend the hall, the male making light knocks on the last door. A few seconds later, Changbin slightly opens the door, peeking through the small slit. Once he sees you and Jisung, he opens it wider but whispers, “If you’re gonna ask questions, ask Minho first.”

You and Jisung nod, entering the room when Changbin ushers you in. Minho is sitting on one of the chairs lined up by the wall while Chan is in another room separated by a large glass window. Across the metal table opposite of him is the capped man - cap now gone to reveal his full features. You see a small bruise blooming on his cheekbone. Changbin remains standing, watching Chan interrogate the man. Jisung heads over to Minho, so you follow suit; you both sit on opposite sides of the agent.

“What have you guys found?” Jisung asks.

Minho chews on his lip, “He’s not Bae Wonhyuk.” the agent continues, “In fact, it’s highly plausible that Dr. Bae is dead.”

Before you or Jisung can ask anything else, you hear Chan ask more about Bae Wonhyuk. The capped man speaks, and you all hear it through the speakers in the room. “Bae Wonhyuk was desperate to continue his research career after what happened to the Gimpo lab.” the man laughs, “His desperation led him to us, but he didn’t expect to be working on the things we are working on now.”

Chan sighs, “The human testing for some super serum?”

“Whatever you wish to call it, agents.” the man snickers, “We are working on life-changing discoveries, something you hypocritic fools wouldn’t understand.”

“Why did Cle kill Dr. Bae Wonhyuk?” Chan ignores the man’s words.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Whatever reasons they wanted.”

Chan puts on a sickly sweet smile, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “Cle can’t save you and definitely won’t go out of their way to look for a missing henchman. So, tell us. Why?”

The man scoffs with a shrug, “The doctor thought Cle was doing research on medical cures and whatnot. When he eventually realized that wasn’t the case, he wanted out. But by the time it happened, it was too late. The fool sold Gimpo MedTech research to us already and even allowed his permits to be used for sourcing materials. When he threatened to alert the government, well...you know what happens to snitches like that.”

You involuntarily shudder, but when the man snaps his head to your direction, eyes swimming with a twisted amusement, you feel fear seizing every inch of your body. Minho and Changbin narrow their eyes at the man while Jisung tries to study him. Chan taps the metal table, speaking with a firm voice, “Hey, they aren’t the ones talking to you. Look here - ”

But the man cuts him off, ignoring the agent’s commands, “And speaking of snitches...you’d know what happens, don’t you, Dr. Song?”

You tense up, jaw clenching as you refuse to give a reaction or utter a single word. Chan furrows his eyebrows, using his palm to bang on the table much harder now, “Hey - ”

“What are you doing here in SKZ, dear doctor?” the man snickers, “Were you not part of the people who conducted experiments behind Jung’s back?”

You feel Jisung and Minho’s eyes on you, but you still can’t manage to form a decent response. The man takes the opportunity to keep speaking, “You’re the perfect addition to our team! Maybe you should come over!”

You finally gulp, shaking your head. Despite the shakiness in your voice, you deny, “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t part of that group.”

“Stop lying to yourself, Dr. Song. We both know you were there every step of the way.”

By now, your eyebrows are furrowed, fear replaced by anger as you stand up from the chair, “I said I was not! Whoever your bosses are are the ones responsible for it, and I had nothing to do with those events!”

“Dr. Baek would care to disagree. Hmm, change of heart?”

You swallow hard.

“Dr. Baek still remembers you very clearly.”

Your eyes fill with a violent red, nerves ablaze with anger. You don’t see anything but a rush of red, making a move to step closer to the glass window. The man attempts to walk over to the glass window as well.

“Do you remember him too?”

It all happens in a flash - the screeching of a chair when Chan abruptly stands to stop the man from speaking or moving, Changbin entering the interrogation area to assist Chan, Jisung’s often sunny stare turning into a glare, Minho’s arms around your body as he drags you out.

You vaguely hear the man yelling words about how you were involved in that incident, how Dr. Baek wants to see you again, or how things didn’t end well for “snitches”. But his yelling is muffled out when Jisung closes the door and Chan and Changbin restrain the man.

His yelling is drowned out when Minho all but pushes you to the other interrogation room next door. There, he nearly slams the door and pushes you against it, hands quick to cradle the sides of your face. You’re just as quick to grip his wrists, staring at the agent with wide, glassy eyes.

“I don’t know him. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I really don’t!” you breathe out, voice nothing short of pleading as you repeat your words frantically, “I don’t!”

Minho shushes you, steadying your figure against the door as he speaks with a firm yet soothing voice, “Dr. Song, calm down. It’s alright, just calm down and take a deep breath.”

“He’s lying.” you breathe out, holding onto Minho’s wrists tighter.

“Yes, yes, alright.” Minho nods, sparkly eyes looking down at you earnestly. His thumbs lightly brush against your cheekbones in an attempt to calm you down. He doesn’t know if it works, but your breathing somehow evens out, your frantic babbling coming to a halt. You’re now just staring back at him, tears welling in your eyes; when you close your eyes, the tears eventually trail down.

A blur of memories you’ve repressed rush into your mind; you don’t pick out the details as it literally just blurs past, but they still somehow manage to shake you.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper.

Minho sighs, loosely circling his arms around your waist. If he feels the bump of the vial you put in his jacket pocket earlier, he doesn’t say anything. He notes it in his head, but he doesn’t say anything.

He then unwraps his arms from you, taking a small step back. “You should go back, ok? Lounge, lab, your room - whatever. I’ll have Jisung go with you.” he says, lacing his fingers with yours.

You can only nod, following the agent outside the room. He still has your hand in his as he makes you wait in the hallway, calling Jisung from the interrogation room. When the scientist steps out of the room, Minho gives your hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

The next thing you know, Jisung’s arm is around your shoulder as you both begin to walk away.

In the interrogation room, Chan and Changbin are both in the interrogation area, watching over the man. Changbin leans against the gray concrete wall, arms crossed across his chest. Chan sits on the metal table, looking at Minho expectantly before turning to look at the man with a borderline-haughty look.

Minho’s eyes narrow like sharp knives as he takes definite steps towards the man.

“‘You know what happens to snitches’ you say?” the agent smirks, “Well, do you know what happens to liars?”

154 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 3: You Look Taller

Summary: Steve is transformed into the world’s first Super Soldier, but after a bomb is detonated in the SSR lab, he is soon putting his new found strength to the test.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count- 7.5k ish

A/N: I might have taken a few liberties here with the way things worked in the Army in the 40s but, let’s face it, no more than the MCU did! Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

Steve didn’t sleep a wink that night. His mind was in overdrive, his body spiking with just about as many contrasting emotions one could possibly feel all at once. Excitement, fear, pride, concern, uncertainty, determination…and then there were his thoughts about Katie and what they’d done last night. He was conflicted about that as well. On the one hand it had been so wrong, to have rubbed one another to release through their clothes, without even courting so to speak. It went against everything his Ma had taught him about treating a dame with respect, instead he’d gone head and behaved just like Bucky normally did when he paraded around in his uniform, using it to pick up any woman he could.

But on the other, nothing had ever felt so damned right to him before in his life.

He still couldn’t quite believe it, although the evidence it had happened was plain to see in his pants which he’d hastily changed and hidden in the bottom of his trunk. What he was having trouble processing was why. Why a dame like that had picked a guy like him. He still wasn’t completely convinced she wasn’t acting out of pity. Pity that he was about to undergo some transformation and had never been touched that way before.

But then she’d admitted that she hadn’t either. “What was it you said about waiting for the right partner?”

Maybe she did actually feel something for him. And whilst it hadn’t been the most conventional beginning, perhaps it might morph into something else?

With a groan he shook his head, who was he kidding? It was June, 1943 and they were in the middle of a war. He was about to be injected with some kind of serum that was either going to turn him into a soldier with enhanced capabilities or…well, he didn’t want to think about the 'or'. Either way, he knew what should be at the forefront of his mind, and a relationship with Katie Stark was not it.

He went about his morning routine as normal. Thanks to the SSR’s programme being covert, most people on the base completely ignored him as usual, which suited him fine. The last thing he wanted was people asking him questions about how he was feeling, because he simply didn’t know. This time, once he was dressed he ensured all his belongings were packed ready to be taken to his new barracks, wherever they were going to be and no sooner had he done that the door opened and he snapped to attention, saluting the soldier that had arrived along with Agent Carter.

“Hello Steve," she smiled at him.

“Good morning, Ma’am.” He said, his hand, dropping to his side and he relaxed as she instructed him to be at ease.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Good, follow me then.”

Grabbing his hat he headed after her, walking in silence through the camp, his eyes focussed directly ahead. Eventually he was led around to the main office buildings, outside of which a car was waiting. Peggy walked around one side where the driver opened the door for her and Steve snapped himself out of his thoughts and climbed into the other side, shutting the door behind him.

The two or so hour drive from New Jersey to their destination was quiet. Agent Carter made a little small talk, but for the most she was silent or conversing with the driver. That said, it seemed to fly by in comparison to when he had taken the trip the other way a little under a week ago. As he glanced at the buildings passing them by, one by one they started to get familiar.

“I know this neighborhood," Steve said absentmindedly as he looked out of the window. “I got beat up in that alley.” He continued watching his finger pointing out of the window, his eyebrows raised as he spotted another familiar landmark, “and that parking lot.” Another pause as his head dropped slightly, eyes on his hands which were clasped on his lap, “and behind that diner.”

“Did you have something against running away?” Peggy asked and Steve took a deep breath, shaking his head as he remembered his Ma’s words to him.

“You start running they’ll never let you stop.” He explained, once more glancing out of the window, “You stand up, push back. Can’t say no forever, right?” He gave a shrug and once more his eyes fell to his hands. He stared at them, and the longer he stared the more he thought back.

Hands that had last night traced the soft curves of Agent Stark’s hips, breasts. The vision coming in so clear, nearly like a picture show and it caused him to swallow a little, his throat and mouth feeling dry and he couldn’t help but wish that it was Katie in the car with him, not Agent Carter. Whilst the pretty, British woman sat on the seat beside him had always been pleasant enough to him, there was something about Katie that just kept him grounded if there ever were a word to describe the way she made him feel. He never once felt jittery in her presence yet now, as he sat there being quizzed on something that was actually quite personal, he was starting to feel a little angsty.

“I know a little of what that’s like. To have every door shut in your face.” Peggy spoke gently as she looked at him and Steve met her gaze for a second before she looked forward once more, and his mind strayed back to something Katie had said last night.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked down at his hands. “Katie…I mean Agent Stark told me about how people weren’t exactly open to the pair of you joining the SSR or the Army.”

“She did?” Agent Carter looked at him, her brown drawing ever so slightly into a frown.

Steve nodded, “last night.” And no sooner had the words left his mouth his eyes widened as he realised he’d outed the fact Katie had come to his barracks. Peggy looked at him, an immaculately shaped brow arched slightly, rouged lips curling up into a smirk at one side as Steve began to babble out an excuse. “She came to check on me, along with Dr Erskine. I mean, well, just as he was leaving that is. There was…we just…”

“You don’t need to explain. What you and Agent Stark do is nothing to do with me,” Peggy shook her head, the corner of her lips twitching as Steve hastily looked away, out of the window, his cheeks burning. “I do know one thing though...."

“What’s that?” Steve’s head whipped round to look at her.

“She’s soft on you.” Peggy replied simply “That’s why she’s been torn ever since you got picked to be our candidate.”

“Torn?”

“In case it goes wrong.” Peggy shrugged, "Or you change in more ways than physically which means you’re no longer the man she…” Peggy trailed off, licking her lips taking a deep breath before she continued “…the man she clearly cares for.”

Steve met her eyes for a second before he looked away, his stomach now twisting in knots that had nothing to do with the procedure he was about to undergo. But the warmth and excitement he had initially felt at what Peggy had said died all too fast because of course it would be just his luck to finally meet a gal that enjoyed his company, liked him for who he was, a gal who he felt comfortable with and attracted to, just as he was about to undergo whatever the hell this procedure entailed before he shipped off to goodness knows where.

Fate was a cruel mistress sometimes.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, and it wasn’t long before the car pulled up at the side of a fairly busy street and Steve frowned, following Agent Carter’s lead, climbing out of the vehicle. He took a quick look around. There were plenty of people on the sidewalks in the summer sun, going about their everyday business, none paying him any attention.

“This way.” Agent Carter spoke and he spun to follow her, taking a look up at the fairly non-descript shop called ‘Brooklyn Antiques’ which she was leading him towards.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Follow me.” Peggy completely ignored his question and instead walked into the shop, Steve behind her, placing his hat on his head. The bell above the door rang as Peggy pushed it open, Steve pausing to shut it behind him as Agent Carter strolled into the dimly lit, crowded shop. It smelt of old leather, wax and furniture polish and was crammed full of all sorts of intriguing items that Steve would normally have found fascinating.

But as it stood he was just plain confused.

Peggy stopped still as an old woman with grey hair, clad in a floaty dress and a pink cardigan emerged through a set of heavy drapes and stopped, smiling at them both. “Wonderful Weather this morning, aint it?” she spoke.

“Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.” Peggy replied.

At her words the woman gave an almost in perceptible nod and moved to the desk which held the cash register. Steve heard a faint buzz and then Peggy gently gestured once more for him to follow her. He did so as she walked through the drapes the woman had emerged from into a crowded store room of sorts which held photos, heavy gilded frames, basically everything his Ma would have labelled junk. He stopped besides Peggy as she looked at a huge book shelf which covered nearly the entire back wall and then to his absolute astonishment the book shelf simply opened towards him revealing that it was actually a set of solid steel doors.

Steve’s mouth dropped open as he was now facing a huge corridor which was in use by a number of military and medical staff walking by. Agent Carter stepped in and he did the same, following her down, glancing every so often to his side at the Military Police Officers and soldiers, trying to figure out how the hell all of this was hidden from public sight on the outside. Eventually they reached a set of double doors which were pulled open and Steve found himself on the mezzanine balcony of a huge circular room filled with machinery, some kind of pod in the middle of the chamber he was looking over. It was full of doctors and technicians, all dressed in white lab coats and the entire room fell silent as everyone looked up at him. He immediately spotted Katie, stood by Dr Erskine. His eyes locked onto hers and even from the distance he was away he could see they were shining in the light of the lab.

Agent Carter took a deep breath and tuned to her right, Steve hastily following her down the metal steps to the lower part of the chamber. He strode over to where Dr Erskine was waiting, file in hand besides Katie who smiled at him.

“Hi.” She said gently and he smiled back at her, swallowing a little as his attention turned to Dr Erskine as the doctor spoke.

“Good morning.” He smiled, shaking Steve’s hand when suddenly a camera flashed as a photographer who Steve hadn’t noticed snapped a shot, causing Steve to blink a little. “Please, not now.” Erskine protested and the photographer made a hasty retreat, ushered away by Peggy as she followed him from the chamber, directing him away from the equipment and up the stairs to the side.

Steve turned to his right, looking at the pod, his eyes roving all the dials and the various components, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” Katie asked softly and Steve nodded his head, turning back to her.

“Good.” Erskine spoke. “Take off your shirt, your tie and your hat.”

“Maybe the hat first.” Katie quipped, pointing out the order Erskine had said the clothing items in was a little awry and Erskine looked at her, sarcastically. She met his stare with an equally sassy one of her own, a cheeky grin on her face as she shrugged.

Steve did as he was told, handing his items of clothing off to a nurse who smiled, taking it away before Erskine directed Steve up the steps to the left of the pod. He climbed up, shuffled around slightly as Katie watched him lay down, his head on the leather headrest at the top.

“Comfortable?” Katie asked him.

“It’s a little big.” Steve joked, smiling and she gave a soft chuckle, reaching out to touch his arm. Her hand was surprisingly warm and she left it there for just long enough before she pulled back as Erskine appeared by her side, smiling. “You save me any of that schnapps?” Steve looked at him.

“Not as much as I should have.” Erskine almost grimaced, “sorry. Next time” at that he stepped back. “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

Steve glanced to his left and for the first time caught a glimpse of Katie’s brother up close as he strode towards them, clad in a smart pair of slacks, white shirt, tie and waistcoat.

“Levels at 100%.” Howard replied as he stopped besides his sister, taking a look at Steve. Now they were side by side, the resemblance between the two was clear to see. Same nose, cheekbones, but Katie’s hair was a lighter shade, her eyes a warm, striking green where Howard’s were a deep brown.

“Good.” Erskine turned away as Howards eyes roved over Steve a little.

“We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready,” Howard smiled, “as we’ll ever be.”

“He’s not a damned fish in a bowl, Howie.” Katie nudged her brother as he was still staring at Steve. Howard turned to face her, his eyebrow arched, before he gave Steve one last look and headed off towards some kind of machine in the far corner of the room.

“Ass.” Katie shook her head before she glanced at Steve. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” She dropped her voice, “If you’re having any…” “I’m not.” Steve shook his head.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and for a second looked as though she was going to say something else but she was interrupted by Erskine.

“Agent Stark? Don’t you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?”

“Oh, erm, yeah, of course. Sorry.” She nodded and turned once more to look back at Steve. Again, she made to say something, but clearly decided against it. Instead she reached out, gave his hand a soft squeeze before she walked away. Steve watched her go and, as she approached the stairs, she stopped and looked back at him, her face softening once more into an almost shy little smile before she turned away again.

Steve’s head rolled back round, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His heart was racing now, and he wasn’t quite sure whether that was all down to the procedure or the fact that her hand on his had jolted another memory of their time together the previous night. Luckily, before he had time to dwell on it too much, there was a loud booming noise as Erskine loudly tapped a microphone.

“Do you hear me? Is this on?” Satisfied that it was, the doctor turned and looked up at the small group gathered to watch in the glass walled room on the level above the atrium. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace.”

As Erskine spoke two nurses pulled down the large rectangular shaped pads at either side of the chamber, laying them flush to Steve’s chest.

“We begin with a series of micro injections into the subjects major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change.” Erskine continued as the nurses retrieved the vials of blue coloured liquid, slotting them into the appropriate receptacles along the side of the chamber by Steve’s hips. “And then to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays.”

Erskine walked back to Steve’s side as a nurse approached him with a syringe. She inserted it into Steve’s shoulder and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as she pulled the needle out of his skin.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Steve spoke, pleasantly surprised at how easy that had been. He wasn’t a huge fan of needles, having spent most of his childhood one way or another being stabbed by them for his various ailments, but he’d learned to cope with them.

However, his relief was short lived.

“That was penicillin.” Erskine looked at him and Steve felt not only apprehension creeping back into his system, but a deep embarrassment at being so dumb as to think it would be that simple.

Erskine then cleared his throat and spoke once more to the others in the room. “Serum infusion beginning in five, four…” at that two further pads like the one on his chest lowered, cuffing his arms a little “…three, two…” Erskine gently patted Steve’s shoulder “…one.”

Steve felt the sharp cone-like spikes of the pads attached to his body piercing his skin and he could actually feel the serum as it flowed into his body. It was cold, like he’d dipped each limb into an icy lake, and the shock of it forced his eyes wide open.

“Now, Mr. Stark,” he heard Erskine say and, after a second or two he felt the pod move into an upright positions, the sides and top parts enclosing him inside. He gave a snort as he realised that the glass screen at the front, designed for whoever was in here to be able to see out of was a good 6 inches too high.

Steve took a deep breath and then there was a little knock on the outside of the capsule.

“Steven, can you hear me?” Erskine asked.

“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Steve joked, making light of what was happening, the sweat already beading on his brow. And, if he was honest, he probably could have happily peed right then, more out of nerves than anything else.

“We will proceed.” Steve heard Erskine say and then a few seconds later the capsule he was in was flooded with a warm light, as the Vita Rays were turned on.

“That’s ten percent.” Steve could hear Howard’s voice. “Twenty percent. Thirty…that’s forty percent.”

As the count increased so did the intensity of the light and heat. What started off feeling like a pleasant dose of summer sun was rapidly becoming unbearable. Even the brightest sunlight he’d ever been in on Coney Island during the summer was nothing compared to this. He skin felt like it was on fire.

“That’s fifty percent. Sixty. Seventy.”

Despite his best attempts, the burning was simply too much and Steve couldn’t keep the yell of pain from bursting out of his mouth any longer as the vita rays washed over him. He was hot, hotter than he had ever been before. His skin was bubbling almost as if his blood was boiling similar to a kettle of water. He was vaguely aware of voices outside the chamber and herd Katie’s loud yell as it rang around the air.

“Shut it down.”

Erskine’s voice hit his ears as the doctor banged on the chamber he was in “Steven!”

“You heard her, shut it down!” Agent Carter’s voice was clear and then he heard Erskine once more as the Doctor frantically shouted.

“Kill the reactor, Mr. Stark! Turn it off! Kill it! Kill the reactor!”

“No, don’t!” Steve yelled back, finally finding his voice. There was no way he was quitting, not after he’d come this far. He could take this. Pain was nothing, he felt it every day of his damned life. “I can do this!”

Famous last words. The heat increased, the pain increased, it was too much. Every muscle in his body was searing in agony and it felt like someone was lancing him with red hot needles over and over again…

But then suddenly it went dark. The pain was gone, the heat was gone and all Steve could feel now was an overwhelming sense of calm and tiredness even, like he’d just been on another one of those damned runs with the unit. His chest was heaving as he gulped in air, his head falling to the side as panted, waiting for his body to recover. After waiting, for what seemed like forever but was in reality mere seconds, he heard Erskine call out to Howard again and then the doors to the pod opened, the cool air hitting Steve’s perspiring skin.

He stumbled out of the pod supported by two people, he had no idea who, as his eyes were screwed shut, his head bowed as he took deep gulps of air. His legs felt heavy and he was a little unbalanced, as if his centre of gravity had changed somewhat, but as he took a shaky step forward he noticed how clear his chest was. His breathing wasn’t wheezy in the slightest and with every breath he took he felt stronger, less lightheaded. All in all, despite feeling completely overwhelmed he felt good.

“I did it.” He panted a little, his eyes still closed as he took a shaky step forward.

“Yeah, yeah. I think we did it.” Erskine’s voice came from his right, followed by Howard’s from his left which was laced with pride.

“We actually did it.”

“How do you feel?” Another familiar voice spoke and with a deep breath he straightened up and looked down at Katie before he glanced around the chamber and realised that for the first time in his life he was looking down at people.

“Taller.” He answered a little facetiously, glancing at Katie as she reached out to touch his chest, swallowing a little as she hastily withdrew her hand.

“You look taller.” She handed him a T-shirt she took off another member of the nursing staff. Steve took it with a thanks and moved to pull it over his head, his breathing finally evening out and he turned to face a doctor who approached him a little nervously.

“Mr. Rogers, we just need to-“

But whatever it was that they needed Steve never found out as at that point there was a loud explosion from the room over the atrium, showering them in glass. Instinctively, Steve pulled Katie towards him, curling his body around hers to shield her from the debris before he stood up tall as he heard Erskine yelling.

“Stop him!”

Then there was a gun shot and, as he wheeled round, he saw Erksine drop to the floor. Katie pushed past Steve whipping a gun from her hip taking aim as the culprit ran up the stairs with the two female agents in persuit.

Steve knelt beside Erskine, his eyes locking onto the doctor's as he struggled for air. Erskine opened his mouth, but shut it again, and Steve realised from the blood that was pooling around the doctors body, there was nothing he could do. Erskine raised his right hand, and simply prodded Steve’s chest gently, right above his heart, similar to the way he’d pointed at him the night before.

“Not a perfect soldier, but a good man…”

The words echoed in Steve’s brain as he watched Erskine’s eyes close as his head rolled to the right, his breathing stopped. Steve took a deep breath of his own and felt another heat radiating through his body, this one out and out anger as he raised his head slowly to look at the stairs the suspect had run up mere moments ago. His jaw clenching he sprang to his feet and ran off, taking the steps two at a time.

As he sprinted through the facility he could hear gunshots and explosions from the street and as he emerged into the street he saw the woman from earlier led on the floor, not moving, a wound to her chest. Vaulting over her he saw Katie to his left tending to someone who was down on the sidewalk, whilst Agent Carter was stood in the road, un-moving, arm raised as she shot at a Yellow Taxi which was driving straight for them. He threw himself at Peggy, taking her out of the path of danger as the car sped past

“I had him!” Agent Carter said with an air of annoyance as they both climbed to their feet.

“Sorry!” Steve yelled as he started to run after the car, surprised momentarily at the way his legs just seemed to move with little or no effort, covering far more ground than he was used to. He picked up the pace, tracking the car as he went, taking a short cut down a road to his left. But he was going too fast and, as he rounded a corner, he lost control over his new power and crashed straight through the window of a Bridal Wear store, taking out the display. He jumped back up, straight onto the street, tossing another apology over his shoulder as he cut down a narrow alleyway with a chainmail fence at the bottom.

The fence was ten feet tall, easily, and Steve picked up speed a little more with the aim of jumping as high up it as he could get before scrambling over the top, but as he took off from the floor he realised that he was going to clear it. He was going to clear a ten foot fucking fence.

Tucking his legs up, he landed easily and ran out onto a street full of cars, his hands held up, protests of “woah, whoa, whoa” slipping form his mouth automatically as they all skidded to a stop trying to avoid him. He spun to his left, spotted the cab and continued his chase as it weaved itself in and out of the traffic.

He was gaining on it now and he dug a little deeper, realising he had a lot more energy in his tank, his bare feet slapping the wet concrete of the ground. As he drew closer to the car he knew that the only way to get the vehicle to stop was by getting inside it, and to do that he needed to physically get hold of it first of all. An idea suddenly came to him as he saw a car in front of him and he approached he hopped up onto the trunk then the roof, and then to the car in front before jumping onto the back of a truck. With a final leap he flung himself at the yellow taxi landing flat on the roof, his hands gripping either side of the sills above the doors as it began to sharply weave side to side. It took a sharp turn to the left, then right, then left again, forcing Steve to adjust his hold as it tore down a narrow street before emerging on the road which led to the pier. This gave Steve a little time to steady himself and he rose tentatively onto his hands and knees before there was a loud bang and a bullet shot through the roof of the car. Another few shots came, Steve dodging them all as he slid down the side of the car, wrenching the passenger door open. But before he could climb in, the man shot at him, meaning Steve had to let go with his right arm to avoid taking the bullet straight in the chest, but by shooting at him, his target had taken his eyes off the road, meaning he hadn’t noticed the two trucks emerging in front of him. The taxi crashed straight into them and flipped over sideways, beginning to roll and Steve let go, tumbling forward onto the floor before he came to a stop.

Steve rose to his feet and headed forwards as his target crawled from the car. He watched as the man stood, pointing his gun towards Steve and shot, missing him, the various people screaming as the gun went off. Steve picked up the door of the car which was lying in the road and held it in front of him as the man shot twice, the second bullet coming through the door and grazing the left hand side of Steve’s abdomen. As he peered round the side of the door he noticed that the man had now taken a young boy hostage, his arm pinned around his chest as he dragged him backwards, the boy’s mother screaming and begging for him to stop. Steve tossed the door to the side, following him, his right hand clutching at the wound to his left.

“Get back!” The man warned with the boy dangling in his arms as he backed away. Steve dodged another bullet, flattening himself against the wall. The man ran off towards the dockside and Steve followed using a large iron buoy as shield from another incoming shot. He hastily followed, keeping his back to the damp brick of the shipping company building, and as he peered round the arch he saw the man raise his gun and press the barrel to the boys head.

Steve’s blood ran cold, “wait, don’t! Don’t!” He protested, approaching with his arms up. At that the man pointed the gun at Steve and pulled the trigger, Steve automatically flinching as he awaited the shot that never came because the gun was empty. As he had nothing else to do, the hostile dragged the boy towards the side of the docks and Steve realised what he was intending to do.

“No! Don’t!”, but it was too late. With a shove the kid went flying into the water and the man turned, sprinting away. Steve ran to the edge to see the kid treading water, looking up at him.

“Go get him! I can swim!”

Decision made, Steve sprinted after his target who had disappeared, but as he ran he noticed to the right in the water some kind of sleek, black submarine pulling away. With a spring off the edge Steve dove into the icy, cold water, swimming in the vessel's slipstream. Whether the sub wasn’t going that fast, or if it was his ability to simply swim faster, Steve had no idea, but he caught it easily, punching straight through into the cockpit, flooding it with water. He then wrenched the canopy open and pulled the man sharply upwards sending him flying straight out of the surface and onto the cold stone of the dockside where he landed with a thud.

Steve followed quickly, climbing a set of steps out of the water and as the man got up, Steve saw the flash of a blade in his hand. With a reflex that was purely automatic, he dodged out of the way aiming a kick to the man’s chin which sent him sprawling backwards. The knife flew from his hand, but so did a familiar vial which Steve suddenly realised was full of Erskine’s serum. It shattered on the floor, the blue liquid pooling on the damp cobbles as Steve gripped the lapels of the man’s jacket, pulling him harshly forwards.

“Who the hell are you?” He demanded.

“The first of many," the man spoke in a thick accent. “Cut off one head-” at that he popped a tooth loose and swallowed it, looking at Steve, his jaw set, “-two more shall take its place.”

Steve frowned, perplexed as none of that made any sense, until he spoke again, through the foam that had now started to bubble from his mouth.

“Hail HYDRA!”

With that the man gave a little grunt, his pupils completely dilated as he grew heavy and limp in Steve’s grip. Steve let go, the body falling to the ground as he straightened up, his chest heaving as he stared at the dead man on the floor.

Steve couldn’t help the disappointment flooding his system at the fact he hadn’t managed to capture him alive. But that said, whilst he hadn’t managed to find out who he was exactly, he now knew who he was working for and at least they’d managed to stop the serum from falling into the wrong hands.

The serum.

At that Steve glanced down at his hands, which were both significantly larger, then to his forearms where the muscles flexed as he opened and closed his fists. With everything that had happened he hadn’t had chance to appreciate the extent to which the procedure had actually enhanced him. He’d run with a speed he had never thought possible, his lungs had stretched to a capacity that now, he thought about it, stunned him, his ability to swim the way he had, leap, the pure athleticism he had displayed in that short ten minute chase was astonishing.

His hands flew to his stomach to find a hard set of abs, his fingers tracing the definition of the planes of muscle under the wet t-shirt which clung to his body. His hands moved upwards almost tentatively, reaching the hard curve of his pecs and it was at that point a voiced broke through his stunned thoughts.

“Steve!”

He looked up to see Agent Stark running towards him. Behind her, Agent Carter and a few other soldiers and police officers were working to keep the now assembled crowd on the pier back. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

Steve glanced down at his shirt and noticed for the first time the blood on the white material. He shook his head.

“He shot me but it's just a graze, I’m fine.” He jerked his head towards the guy on the ground by his feet. “More than can be said for him…”

She glanced down at the body on the floor, blinking as if she was seeing the dead man for the first time before she dropped to her knees, her fingers pressing into his neck checking for a pulse.

“Did he drown?”

“No.” Steve said, and he quickly explained about the submarine and pulling the man from the water. As he explained about the vial of serum, he saw Katie’s eyes flick to the broken glass on the floor before her face darted back to Steve as he told her about the man having loosened his tooth and bit something. “I’m not sure what it was but…”

“He bit something?” Katie’s entire face changed into a look of shock, her eyes darting side to side as she wrenched the guys mouth open, her fingers jamming straight inside.

Steve grimaced. “What…”

“Son of a bitch.” she pulled her hand back and knelt back on her heels, wiping her hands very ungracefully on the side of her skirt.

“I’m not…”

“Cyanide capsule.” She sighed, “a lot of the intelligence organisations provide them to their undercover agents and they keep them hidden in a false tooth. If you’re caught, you can effectively kill yourself before you’re taken and, well…”

“Tortured?” Steve finished for her. Katie took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Questioned was the word I was going to use but…” she shrugged, looking around. “He was clearly a Nazi Spy.”

Steve looked at her, nodding. “He was HYDRA.”

“HYDRA?”

“Heil HYDRA.” Steve looked down at the dead man, “last thing he said before he died.”

Katie bit her lip, “fuck,” she mumbled, before she looked up at Steve. “Sorry, just, well Erskine warned Phillips not to be complacent about Schmidt but Phillips was adamant that Hitler was the big threat.” She bowed her head a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve took a deep breath as he realised that the Doctor was no longer with them having died in his arms little over ten minutes ago. It left him feeling hollow, sick even and from the looks of it Katie was feeling just as bad.

But now wasn’t the time.

“I err…” Steve cleared his throat a little, composing himself. “I’m not following? Why did Erskine differentiate? I mean, I thought HYDRA were Hitler’s deep science organisation?”

Katie glanced down once more before she turned her pretty face back to Steve, “Yes, they are. But Erskine always said Schmidt had ambitions beyond Hitler’s. Something Peggy backed up from her time undercover.”

At that point she made to stand and automatically Steve offered her his hand. She took it and he made to pull her up, but with his new strength he was far more forceful than he had meant to be and she gave a little yelp of surprise as she was jerked straight into his chest.

“Easy Soldier.” She gasped, her hands falling to his biceps as she steadied herself.

“Sorry," he hastily apologised, his own hands settling gently on either side of her ribcage, the rough tweed of her uniform jacket prickly under the pads of his fingers. “I’m not used to…” He trailed off as he realised that not only was he looking down at her now, but his new large frame completely dwarfed hers.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice was equally breathy as his, her eyes still on his face and she gave him a little smile before she moved one hand upwards, gently cupping his cheek, almost as if she was checking something, which to be fair, she might have been. Steve had no idea what he looked like, he hadn’t seen a mirror yet. The only parts of him he’d managed to get a glimpse at so far were his arms and legs.

What he did know was that her touch was blazing on his skin, more than it had been the night before. He could hear her breathing too, and he could see every single detail on her face and her eyes. Not only were they green, but they were the most gorgeous shade of green he had ever seen in his life. He could see the dots of brown speckled throughout and the slight ring of amber surrounding her irises, reminding him of the sun. Full of warmth and power….

“Hey, you okay?” Katie frowned.

“Yeah, erm, I just, I can see better.” Steve replied simply, as her hand gently curled in on itself as she dropped it to her side. “Has it…” he began to ask and Katie smiled, shaking her head.

“Still handsome.” She smiled, and Steve felt his neck flush with heat again before a voice cut through their moment.

“Did you get it?” Colonel Phillips was striding towards them. Katie moved back from Steve, turning towards her Superior, steeling her composure.

“No,” she shook her head, before gesturing to the shattered vial on the floor.

“Shit.” Phillips exclaimed with a groan.

“But neither did they.” Katie looked at him, before she turned to look at Steve once more, “And there is one upside to all this…”

“Don’t you dare tell me to look on the Brightside, Stark.” Phillips glared at her as she took a deep breath, realising her head, chin jutting defiantly towards him.

“At least we know it works," she said simply.

Phillips looked at her, then to Steve, before he gave a snort. “One isn’t enough.”

Steve inhaled deeply, his frustration mounting but it was Agent Stark that spoke next.

“Well, one is all you’ve got. I suggest you start treating him with a little more respect seeing as he just chased down a damned HYDRA operative through twelve blocks of Brooklyn, pulled him out of some underwater craft and took a bullet for his troubles.”

Phillips’ jaw twitched at the way he was being spoken to and Steve grimaced slightly in anticipation of the incoming dressing down Katie was going to get, but it never arrived.

“HYDRA?” Phillips blinked and Kate nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

The man took a deep breath and then turned to Steve, his eyes travelling up and down his body “Rogers, you hurt?”

“No, Sir.”

Philips inhaled again and then turned to Peggy “Agent Carter, I want a recovery unit down here for this so called underwater craft. You two…” he spun back to face Steve and Katie, “back to the lab so the Medical Team can assess you. If you are truly the only super soldier I’m getting, then the last thing I want is you to drop dead of complications.”

“That means he cares," Katie looked up at Steve who glanced at her as he saw a smile tug at her lips.

“You’re gettin’ on my nerves,” Phillips pointed at her, before he gave her a filthy look and turned to leave.

“Is it authority in general you got a problem with or just him?” Steve asked after a moment or two and Katie let out a little chuckle.

“Believe it or not I actually like Chester.” She smiled, “I just enjoy irritating him more. Come on, we’re attracting a bit of a crowd so…” She gently squeezed his hand before she began walking the same way Colonel Philips had done a few moments before, Steve following, pausing slightly as he felt a tug on the side of his T-shirt. He stopped and turned to find the kid who he’d last seen bobbing up and down in the muggy water of the docks grinning up at him.

“That was swell!” The kid laughed and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“That’s not exactly the word I would use…”

“No, but the way you ran and jumped in and then threw him outta the water like BAM!” The kid smirked and Steve felt his neck growing warm at the praise, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “What’s your name, Mister?”

“Err Steve.”

“Marty!” A voiced called and the boy turned, Steve following his gaze to see a woman who had been stood talking to a police officer, hastily making her way over. “Come on.”

“Ma’am.” Steve greeted her as she stopped in front of him, taking a breath.

“You saved him.” She said, her voice cracking.

“Oh, no, I…”

“Thank you,” she stood on her toes and kissed Steve’s cheek before she dropped an arm round her son’s shoulders and turned him away, gently talking to him.

Steve stood stock still for a moment, swallowing, before he turned to see Katie watching him, her eyebrow arched a little, smile spread across her pretty face.

“A regular superhero,” she teased and Steve rolled his eyes at her as he fell into step besides her.

“Hardly.” He scoffed, “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Katie stopped and turned to face him, shaking her head, “you still don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” He frowned as she began to walk again.

“How many other kids from Brooklyn do you know that would have just done what you did?”

“Well its hardly a fair comparison is it?” Steve pointed out as they walked down the side of the building, Katie nodding to Agent Carter as they passed “How many others do you know that just got converted into…well, a Super Soldier or whatever the hell they’re calling me?”

“You had no idea what that serum had done, other than make you taller,” Katie shot back as they moved back towards the entrance of the pier. “But you took off after that guy, without so much as a second thought for your safety.”

“I just did what anyone would have done.” He sighed, a little uncomfortable at her praise.

She stopped at the side of a black car and turned to face him, her face soft, “no, you did what that kid from Brooklyn would have done.” Her eyes remained locked onto his before they were interrupted by an Army official who handed Steve a blanket. He took it with a thanks, wrapping it around his shoulders, despite the fact that he didn’t feel cold in the slightest, in fact he felt a pretty strong sense of warmth.

And as he watched Katie climb into the car he was pretty sure that wasn’t solely attributable to Erskine’s serum which was now coursing through his veins.

**** Chapter 4

#Stark Spangled Rebirth #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #Katie Stark #mcu #mcu fanfic #CATFA 10th anniversary challenge #chris evans #chris evans characters

77 notes · View notes

dumbdemonslayertexts · 3 years

Text

random excerpts from black girl time travel kny au

Pairing: rengoku / oc

note: lots of angst mostly. forgive me for this not being y/n format i have to work up the chops to be graceful enough to write that

tagging @dudeandduchess and @adoriable and @tengens-bunny bc they sparked the greatest muse i’ve ever had to write fictions since i was like 14 literally wtf you are my queens???!?!

even with her mind working double overtime to secure her discomfort, the serenity if the rengoku estate could not be diminished. imene tried her hardest to remember any time prior to her time shift where she saw the moon so brilliantly illuminating the earth below it. each blade of grass, every stone in the garden reflected its glow; the whole of her surroundings were accented with such a pure silvery lining, giving a beauty distinctive to the night alone. it was tranquil enough for her to eventually draw a cleansing breath through her lungs, which finally released some of the staleness of doubt and second guessing that had filled her self image lately.

“you are awake still, imene-chan?”

that voice struck her in her chest, shooting sparks of heat and flutters in her stomach. and the fact that she was hearing it meant he was home. safe. and home.

“imene,” she softly insisted, making him smile as though he were being teased.

“imene.” his voice was warmer when he said her name, she would swear to it. and it stirred in her heart almost painfully with the need to hold him forever.

“i couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged off her dilemma, far more preoccupied in the happiness of seeing him, falling into those gorgeously untamed eyes and sweet smile again… “i’m happy to see you!”

“kyojuro.”

when the depth of his rich tone interjected his name, it caught her by surprise. and, true to form, he hadn’t needed her to say a word before reading her thoughts and emotions with complete accuracy.

“wh–?”

he lessened the distance between them, tucking his chin to sustain her eye contact where she sat, “imene… would you say it for me?”

the shadow of pessimism in her brain was shouting. he was easing the lines of formality as a kindness—-it was his vibrant character and nothing more. why was she so dense as to not even understand that? why did a simple name make her world feel brighter, and have her smiling to him, lovestruck?

“kyojuro.”

he smiled. with utter bliss, he smiled at her, exhaling like she’d lifted a weight from him. “ah… i prefer that, i think… don’t you?"

just like that, the playfulness was back in his voice and eyes. though, another element felt as though it had been added unto it. one she was far too daunted to even hope to name. so she changed the subject.

"how’re you feeling..?” she asked, lifting herself to stand, “you’re not hurt anywhere, are you? did you get any sleep or did you come right–”

she’d closed the remaining space between them as she fretted over him. ginger, worrying hands grazed butterfly touches up his chest, and the moment she’d made the mistake of tenderly cupping his face, his grin vanished… along with the delusion of pleasant standing she had dared hoped for with anyone there. it took so very little, but reality struck her like frozen lead.

the subtlest way she could, imene lowered her touch away from him, even as she felt stony ice fill her stomach at his reaction. she could feel how he’d stiffened just before she took her hands away. so then, at that very second with how clear things had become, finality settled into her. still, she wished he would have just lunged his blade through her gut instead; the pain would have been so much less.

“i–” kyojuro tried his best to play off the disgust, to turn the awkwardness in any other emotional direction. the poor thing even had the courtesy to look remorseful—-very convincingly, at that. god, how noble could one man be to still be kind and gentlemanly even now, trying to play off repulsion as he so obviously was? “no, i am not injured, i am feeling well! but i wished to return home as quickly as i could once i’d fulfilled my assignment. so, yes, i made the decision to return directly. i hope you haven’t been up out of worry for me.”

he was even back to beaming a smile by then, close-eyed and cheerful. she could only give half the heart in her attempt to smile back, barely nodding to acknowledge his answer. the bolt of dejection was still scalding in her chest, trying its best to well tears into her eyes.

“what is it?”

he asked after she’d broken eye contact with him for a time. imene had needed the privacy to blink down the urge to cry.

“i’m …ready to go back to oyakata-sama’s estate. but i was kind of worried of how much trouble it would be to ask if he would take me in a second time… i didn’t know if it would be rude to him,” she tried to sound as casual as she possibly could, asking softly, like it were nothing more than a passing thought over an inevitable eventuality instead of a conscious decision of hers. but from the look on kyojuro’s face, she may as well has torn a hole through him.

“has something happened?”

he was so concerned. kyojuro sounded so hurt and concerned that the prickling of tears threatened her lashes again. even with his aversion to her, she could not stand to see someone so sweet and kind be hurt. “no…”

“please, imene, if you were upset by anything that happened while i was away–”

“i wasn’t, kyojuro,” she insisted, pleading.

“are you unhappy?” he asked. and it broke her heart to hear just how willing he was to remedy whatever issue she may have experienced just by the tone of his voice, especially after just returning from a mission, “you don’t have to hesitate to tell me if I have failed to host you well.”

“you haven’t failed anything. i’m not unhappy. but I can–” dread made the words catch in her throat, but it was too late for her to retract anything now, “feel that I’m making everyone uncomfortable."

she waited for him to say something, but the flame hashira only looked at her in pained confusion, stunned and churning his brain to unravel her meaning.

"your father does not want me in your home, kyojuro. i’m a stranger to him—-in fact, I’m pretty sure he can sense that i don’t belong here,” she explained. he was faintly shaking his head, but even with the urge to protest, kyojuro could not deny that truth. “and senjuro–”

“he adores you,” kyojuro desperately interjected. her lips parted to negate it, but he continued before she could. and suddenly, there was a visible glimmering in his sunborn eyes, “he’s told me. many times, everyday we spend together. you…” his face softened from the accosted state she’d frozen it into earlier, and he paused his hurried explanations, “ease him. from our father. even though it is nowhere in your responsibility, you comfort him.”

“him liking me is just going to strain things between the two of them even more,” she shook her head, trying physically to mash the stress out of her temples, “that can’t be worth it, i don’t know how long I’ll even be in this time!”

“you would be surprised at its worth, imene."

her conscience screamed at her to look at him, and she refused for as long as she could… just for knowing how gutting it would be to do. decency prevailed over her to finally grant him enough to at least meet his eyes, though. and the way his soul cried out to her through them left her destroyed.

"i’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable in my home. you needn’t worry about speaking with oyakata-sama, that is my responsibility, i will take care of it.”

he was resigned and sullen. It was almost impossible to tell with how genuinely he retained a positive outlook despite anything, but imene could see the sadness shining in his fiery stare, even with how radiant his grin was. she could also note how the sure grip of his sword had lessened to self-soothing strokes with his thumb at its hilt. “In the morning, I’ll make the arrangements for you. …I hope you believe me, imene, about senjuro. It’s been some time since he’s had …a loving woman around him. he isn’t likely to remember our mother well. what you’ve given with your presence is precious to him. priceless, I would say.”

he gave her an elegiac curve of his lips, and the water blurring her sight conquered her at last, dripping tears so heavy they fell straight to the ground, without a trace left on her cheeks.

“as for our father… he has been this way for a while. it is him. or, it’s what he has become, not a result of your being here. his callousness falls onto senjuro and myself normally, but I suppose you provided a new outlet for it …” he sighed, “it doesn’t excuse my negligence, but i will speak to him, you have my word.”

when she swept her eyes free of more accumulating tears, she felt kyojuro’s palms encircling her arms. it was a touch she had been desiring from the moment these feelings for him had begun to surface, yet when she felt it, she recoiled as if she were burned.

“imene,” he begged quietly. she still tried to keep her tone even.

“but you, kyojuro.”

confusion seeped into the misery soaking his expression, and his brow curled again to search for some hidden meaning in her words. his hands were away from her, though, the instant she showed discomfort.

“you’re the most uncomfortable around me of the three of you. you’re disgusted when i come close to touching you, you can’t even stand to be near me, in the same room, you’re always double checking to see if i’m up to something down every hall and in every room, and around your brother—-i can’t stay here and make you feel like that in your own home! especially when you’re out saving people and risking your life constantly! why would you even want me here if i make you so ill at ease—why would you want to come home to that kind of feeling after all you do!”

she hated how much heat she could feel under her skin–behind her eyes, in her cheeks and nose, at her ears. even more, she hated the pinched and congested whine her emotive state rendered her voice to, like some indignant child. it was humiliating to say aloud to him—-to verbalize just how awfully her self-regard had been eaten away, and to at last face it herself. now her cheeks and chin lay adorned with sheening wet streaks. she couldn’t hide any of it any longer. stillness followed after. not a word spoken, only the amplification of her breaths rattling and struggling to calm against rengoku’s measured silence.

when she could bear to raise her head again, imene could see him in what looked to be a deep epiphany. a terrible one. like his actions had only know processed into awareness for him, and had left him reflecting in horror.

“imene.”

he lifted his eyes enough for her to come into view, and his own lashes were starry now, blacker with the moisture accumulating at their base, in spite of the soft grin he wore, “i’m afraid i have to correct you. you said i haven’t failed in caring for you well. but i have done exactly that.

"would you come and sit with me,” he propositioned when she said no more. he’d expected nothing less when she could only look away from him with clenched, leaking eyes, so clearly pained that it ripped his heart to shreds. kyojuro was patient to await her answer, and held out his arm for her when she surprisingly accepted. imene had assumed that they would both share the space on the engawa she’d taken before his return. instead, he lead them to a more secluded area of the estate’s garden, on a stone bench that provided ample view of the night time, and allowed an unstifled breeze to cool them both that she greatly appreciated.

“i must apologize.”

“you did already.”

kyojuro glanced over his shoulder, hearing her delicate assurance. it surged through him, littering his skin in goosebumps.

out of consideration of how small their shared seat would be, he had crowded himself at the corner by her side. it allowed them both room for their legs, considering how widely his sat apart, but he could admit there there was a high element of shame that made it more difficult to face her. “yes, and it is not at all adequate for how i’ve hurt you.”

every time he spoke, sounding like he cared, she could do nothing but weep more. somehow, in spite of everything, his sympathy hurt more than anything else. and made her feel horrible for not being acceptable. “you can’t help how you feel, rengoku-s–”

“kyojuro."

his eyes met hers with stone solid conviction that she couldn’t understand. for someone who disliked her so palpably, he was intent on establishing friendly casualness between them that gave her a migraine trying to comprehend. his next words went far enough to bring a knot to her brow. "you’re right, i can’t. but to have acted on those feelings so poorly is shameful."

"acted on them poorly?”

“you were manifested in oyakata-sama’s estate. a refugee he deemed to have been brought here for divine reason. he is our leader in this fight we have undertaken against evil. he is the head of our organization, to be honored and respected.”

“it seemed that way,” her faint voice commented.

“yes. for that reason, and more i can’t explain now. understand, if my master says to me that you are precious, to be cared for, i wouldn’t ever dishonor that, nor you.”

now he’d given her her own shocking epiphany. it was slow to unravel itself with how meticulously he explained, frustratingly peeling away with the more he revealed to her in this less than receptive state that her mortification left her in.

“i wished to fulfill the role of your caretaker as best as i could. but as a hashira, i am frequently called away for extensive periods,” he gradually began to turn himself round, now diagonally beside her rather than perpendicular, “you are out of my direct sight for so long that i force you to tolerate my overcompensating once i return. i want you adjusted well, to not be overwhelmed or confused, or grieved with being alone. i wished to watch over you closely in case you were to need me.”

“oh…”

“and your nearness…” he began again, “imene, you were brought here under my protection. not only for me to oversee your healing wounds, but for your safe keeping all together. you are my charge. but i took this upon myself before knowing you—-i was not prepared for you to be so gentle and loving, and to possess warmth that i have not felt in so many years. you emanate affection–your spirit could even bring out playfulness in tokito-san. and your strength is one i have only seen in one other in my life."

she wanted to cry again, now. and was well on her way, hearing this perfect man speak of her so glowingly. out of nowhere.

"your peculiar beauty was something i was prepared to disregard. i am from a family of uncommon features; i willed myself to overlook the uniqueness of your eyes as many do mine, and to not be stricken with the comeliness of your hair, or with the beauty of your delicate complexion—-one i have never seen, and that i now will never forget. i convinced myself of it only being the allure of one sent from the heavens. i was mistaken, and then overcome."

"you—-” her voice broke, weighted with the sobs fighting to bubble out of her chest, “i don’t understand…”

“you are the most beautiful woman i have ever set eyes on, imene. my dreams could not even create anyone nearly as bewitching. and i swore to ignore it, until you showed yourself equally as beautiful in your soul.”

▷▷ part 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba

53 notes · View notes

babyspacebatclone · 3 years

Text

All right. So, there is a serious discussion under the cut, but this occurred to me while outlining it and I’m sure at least some of my mutuals will find it funny.

Gender: Writer

Pronouns: Brilliant/Idiot

tl:dr:

I identify as a ciswoman, but am semi-agnostic about gender. I just cannot understand why anyone would - care? Which made it hard to understand why anyone would be willing to undergo the stigma of presenting as transgender. So I thought about what I consider my identity, and, well, the above.And a better sense of empathy.

So, yeah. Gender, what even is that? I mean, I get that it’s a thing for others, but I just can’t understand why.

Hence chosing “agnostic” as my description:

broadly : one who is not committed to believing in either the existence or the nonexistence of God or a god (Merriam-Webster)

I’m not going to argue it’s not an important thing for others, but it just isn’t something I see as part of my life.

And that made relating to the trans experience hard. I knew it was something important enough to some people to be willing to risk utter social rejection over - but I couldn’t understand.

So I started trying to think about different elements of my own identity, and what would be that important to me to be perceived as.

Someone: You’re a guy.

Me: With D cup boobs? Ok, yeah, sure, whatever.

Someone: You’re a horrible day care teacher.

Me: O-kay? I mean, I personally think you’re wrong, and so does my boss, and so do my kids, but I could get another job and survive.

Someone: You’re a lousy writer.

Me: *having already broken the nearest thing to have something pointy to hold to their throat* You. Take. That. Back.

So, yeah. While my primary identity being “Writer” isn’t a surprise, just how important I would expect someone to view me on that identity kinda did.

And it is not comparable at all. I completely recognize this. I don’t go around every day saying “I’m a writer!” and I don’t care if the majority of people never know this about myself.

But being a writer, and sharing that identity, isn’t an everyday experience in our society. It isn’t something that comes up too often outside of Tumblr.

It’s not something people would kill me over - and it’s not something anyone can take away. Whether I’m “transcribing” or not, I’m always writing.

Writing fiction is how I cope, even silly little daydreams while waiting for a red light. Writing is how I process my life, outlining the events of my day like a narrative.

And that is when I started to understand gender - as a lens through which I perceive the world (one of several, but a major one). When I think about my past, I think about it as a writer. When I consider other people, I go through my studies in psychology, but how I understand psychology is directly related to writing tropes, cause and effect, and character archetypes.

And while I can’t understand using gender in that way, I can understand that another person would use their understanding of gender, especially their own, as one of their lenses of understanding and viewpoint.

So, yeah. Something I was thinking of, and because it was me thinking if it it got organized into an informal essay.

Main thesis statement is: Everyone has core parts of their life that they define themselves by. Just because different people think different elements of themselves are more important than how you view them, doesn’t diminish that importance or the need for respect.

#writer’s life #my identity #writer #writing #lgbtqia+#understanding people #gender #gender semi-agnostic #rambling

10 notes · View notes

tarteausuga · 3 years

Text

Not Like This

In which you’re caught in a situation where no one can be happy

WC: 3K

CW: Jungwoo x Reader (x Mark vaguely) angst, a lot of angst. Cheating, unhealthy relationship, mild manipulation. Usual disclaimer that the characters are purely works of fiction and are not directly correlated to their namesakes in any way.

Prompt: “We can’t keep this up forever.” Part of the Candy Hearts Collab (click link for other members) hosted by @127-mile

Outwardly, the last word you would use to describe Jungwoo was “exhilarating” but he always had a way of surprising you. He was amazing. Amazing in his ability to show anyone exactly what he wanted. He had you fooled for a long time as well. Soft spoken, unassuming, funny Jungwoo who was polite to everyone he came across, put a smile on everyone's face and was the perfect boyfriend to his girlfriend.

He treated her like a princess. At least from what you could see. Watching them was pure agony and it didn't help that he had the audacity to occasionally take a glance at you with that conniving smirk on his face, all while with his girlfriend. Were you jealous of her? Rarely. Pity is what you felt whenever you passed by her but more than anything, guilt was the heaviest weight of all.

What am I doing here? You questioned yourself whenever you were with him. He was nothing like how he was with his girlfriend or friends. At least not with you. But who could deny late night adventures with him? Who was he to you anyway? A friend? He couldn't be your boyfriend… at least not now. You felt ashamed to know that you were an accomplice to infidelity. They looked so damn perfect. But were they?

[2:34AM] jungwoo: hey, you up? I'm outside your place.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as they adjusted to the light from your phone.

[2:36AM] you: I am now?? It's so late, what are you doing?

[2:37AM] jungwoo: not sure, let's find something together :)

[2:37AM] you: I'm not wearing pants…

[2:38AM] jungwoo: is that an invitation? ;)

[2:38AM] you: shut up, I'm coming down now.

You begrudgingly pull on a pair of track pants and throw on a hat to cover your bed head before leaving to meet up with Jungwoo. If it were anyone else, you would have pretended to not see the text at all. There always seemed to be this inescapable pull towards him whether you liked it or not because those moments where it was just the two of you in the dead of night made you feel like time slowed down. The way he accepted you into his arms and pulled you in to fit perfectly into his ever so perfectly proportioned frame - it felt like home. He kissed you ever so softly but deeply enough to make you believe that those kisses were meant for you and you alone.

But you knew that they weren't.

The tricky thing with Jungwoo is that he made you feel like the most important person to him while also feeling like he didn't want to be seen with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't call you when most of the world was asleep. You wouldn't have to sneak around behind everyone's backs. You wouldn't have to fantasize about the simplest things like holding his hand while he walked you to class.

And yet, it was worth it to you. For some bizarre reason, you were just happy to be with him and didn't care under what circumstances.

"Hey baby," he pulled you in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Sleepy?" He smiled as he lifted your head up by your chin. The sleep was apparent in your eyes but that softened him even further. The layers of his outer persona melted away and suddenly you were left with Jungwoo in the purest form.

"What are we doing?" You hold back a yawn. He was so warm, so comforting, you just wanted to fade into him.

"I don't know yet but I'm sure we can find someone, right?" He smiled and reached out for you to follow along.

Night and day, that was exactly how Jungwoo behaved. The daytime version was this upbeat guy that made everyone laugh. People gravitated towards him naturally. He was the sun and you were Pluto. At night, the real Jungwoo would come out, the Jungwoo you fell in love with despite your best efforts to distance yourself when you found out he wasn't single. But something about him was irresistible. It could be the way he confided in you. His fears, his dreams, his most obscure thoughts that didn't fit into his days so he expressed them to you in his nights. Maybe that's why he wanted to keep you in the dark but that didn't make things any better.

Even so, with the guilt locked away in the back of your head, you happily spent the dark hours with Jungwoo. It was never anything extravagant. You often bought convenience store food and sat on a random park bench, talking about anything and everything. You took turns sneaking into each other's apartments in efforts to not wake your respective roommates. It was tradition to leave before daybreak so you often woke up by yourself, wondering if the night before was a dream.

There were times when you questioned your own sanity. Did Jungwoo only exist in your dreams? When it came to the Jungwoo you see everyday on campus, he was a different person. The extended periods of not seeing him for weeks at a time convinced you that maybe it wasn't real at all. The quiet glances you exchanged during the day were purely coincidental and your dreams were just dreams.

But when you least expected it and you had begun accepting that Jungwoo was just a dream, he would pull you away at random points during the day to remind you that he was very much real. Is this what love feels like? The rush of pure elation when you're with The One? The cliche feeling of time stopping? Or was this the excitement of getting caught and maybe worse, the everlasting awareness of how wrong this was that you tried to keep tucked away in the darkest parts of your mind.

---

It had been almost a month since Jungwoo last lured you out from the warmth of your bed. A month since you last felt his lips on yours. A month since he made you laugh until your sides ached. Maybe he finally realized this wasn't right for either of us. You conceded. It was time to move on. And though you kept waiting for him to find you in the halls to pull you into an empty office or lecture hall, it didn't happen. Instead, you felt the pull of someone wanting you both day and night.

Mark had been your friend for a while. The two of you were in the same group for orientation week and for some reason, you kept in touch. He often joked that it was because you are both perfectly awkward to the point where you combined to make one functional person. No matter the reason, he was a good friend but you were still surprised when he asked you out. You could say you saw it coming with your best friend constantly saying how Mark could never stop asking about you but it never clicked in your head to be true. Likely too caught up in Jungwoo's world, you never stopped to experience your own.

So you said yes.

Things felt so easy with Mark. It was nice to not have to sneak around to go out with someone you kind of liked. He walked you to class, held your hand and did the simplest things to make your heart flutter. Mark never pulled you away for no reason. He didn't take your breath away but he certainly made you feel safe and warm. You tried your best to forget about Jungwoo and it was starting to work. Eventually, Jungwoo became an afterthought with Mark around but as always, Jungwoo always had a way with you.

Walking to get lunch one day, you felt a sudden pull on your wrist. Turning, you see Jungwoo. Your brain told you to pull away at risk of Mark seeing you but your heart wanted to follow Jungwoo. And follow him, you did, into an empty classroom with the lights off. The moment you entered, Jungwoo closed the door behind you and pulled you into his arms.

"I missed you." His voice nearly broke.

"Where have you been?" You melt into his body.

"Things got a bit complicated…" he looked down, staring at your lips.

"Tell me." You stared back.

Before either of you could say anything more, you kissed each other desperately. A craving you didn't know you had was being fulfilled and it was truly intoxicating. You were addicted to him. As your mind finally caught up to what you were doing, the thought of Mark being hurt by what you were doing flashed into your brain. The guilt got caught in your throat and you pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" He said, offended that you would reject him at all.

"We can't keep this up forever." You say as you gasp for a breath.

"What do you mean?" He tries to pull you back into the kiss.

"This, Jungwoo!" You finally push him off and motion to the

"Can we not do this now? Please." He reached for your hand but you pulled away. As much as you missed him and wanted to dissolve into his arms again, it was too much.

"We do this now or we're done. We're hurting people and it's not okay anymore." You cross your arms.

"What? You really want to be with Mark? Yeah right, like you're not just using him to-" he was cut off by the ringing of your phone. He tries to snatch it away from you but you pull away before answering the call.

"Hey Mark." You try to sound as normal as possible.

"Hey, I thought we were meeting up after class. Are you okay?" He says.

Jungwoo is now glaring at you and the waves of jealousy were more apparent now than ever but you continue your conversation, "Yeah, sorry, I had to talk to my professor about something. I'm heading over to meet you now."

The call ended and you wished that would mark the end of your confrontation with Jungwoo. "Don't go." He sounded like he was begging.

"This isn't going to end well for anyone. We need to just end things before we can't turn back." You sigh as you collect your bag. It took every ounce of your being to not plant a kiss on his cheek to say goodbye like you usually did. This was likely the last time you would have this chance but you pass in favour of just cutting things off completely.

You tried to forget about Jungwoo. You really tried. You wanted to have the same feelings that you had for Jungwoo with Mark but it wasn't sitting right at all.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked from across the table at the cafe you two were studying at.

"Hmm?" You responded.

"You seem really spaced out. Did something happen?" He said with honest concern.

"No… well yeah but… it's complicated." You struggle to explain.

"What's going on?" He held your hand but you instinctively pulled away, leaving him confused and mildly offended.

"You're going to think I'm a terrible person."

"You think peaches are better than watermelon, how much worse can you get?" He smiled and you reciprocated.

Why does he have to be so nice and cute? You cursed at yourself.

"Peaches are a more practical fruit than watermelon." You joke back and the two of you chuckle but it didn't make things any easier to say.

"Whatever it is, I'm your friend. I know I asked you out and I'm not quite sure what we are at this point but I like you no matter how bad you think what you're doing is." He assured you and you once again, curse yourself for what you're about to do.

"Hypothetically…" you say slowly and he listens intently. "Hypothetically, let's say you're seeing someone but they're already someone's boyfriend or girlfriend…"

"Hypothetically that would be messed up." Mark concludes.

"I'm not done." You glare at him and he shrugs. "But hypothetically, let's say the person you're seeing is more real and raw with you than anyone else. And you feel a stronger connection to them than anyone else."

"I think hypothetically," he emphasizes for your sake, "it's still wrong. Everyone would just end up hurt in the end no matter what happens." He sits back in his chair, waiting for your response.

"Yeah, I know. Why do I have to have a conscience?" You bury your head into your crossed arms across your open textbook.

"Is that what's happening?" Mark leaned in.

"Yeah but I broke things off." You say with your head still hidden from the world.

"For me?" Mark smirks but you look up to glare at him.

"Partially for you but mainly because I'm fully aware that it's wrong." You sigh.

"I'll be honest, I like you a lot. But I think with the way you talk about this person, you're still attached to them."

"I'm sorry, Mark." You pout at him.

He holds your hand again, lifting it up to place a kiss on your hand. "I'll be alright. I just hope you will be too.”

---

"I don't get why you broke up with Mark. That guy is like… The ideal boyfriend." Your best friend ranted over the phone.

"We weren't together so we didn't break up." You clarify as you squeeze the bridge of your nose. She had been your best friend for 15 years so, naturally, she had an amazing talent of giving you headaches with little to no effort.

"Are you even aware of how many girls who are absolutely in love with that guy? And you broke up with him?" She practically yells.

"I'm aware and once again, we didn't break up!” You remind her.

"Whatever. You're the one whining about being alone on Valentine's Day."

"No, you're the one who called me to whine about Valentine's Day and you're the one with a boyfriend. What? Jaehyun only got you one dozen roses except for two?" You chuckle.

"We've been together for two years. It makes sense to get two dozen."

"Alright, alright. Go talk to him about it, I'm sure he'll make it up to you in other ways." You say suggestively and you swear you could hear her blush over the phone.

"Shut up! Oh my god. Please call Mark and ask him to hang out. You're too cute to be alone today." She said before you hung up on her.

You tossed your phone onto your bed before doing the same with your body. Maybe I should call Mark… But I'm the one who ended things… I could call him but he's probably with his girlfriend. You groaned in frustration as your best friend's words resonated in your head. She's right though. Mark is the ideal boyfriend but so is Jungwoo… If he were single. Why is this happening to me?

A knock came from the front door of your apartment. Your roommate was out for the night with her boyfriend so you were puzzled about who would be coming to visit.

"Hey." A slightly disheveled Jungwoo greeted you when you opened the door.

You try to harden your expression for him but he's truly your weakness. Especially in this state where he's looking like he hadn't slept in who knows how long. "What are you doing here?" You finally ask when you let him in and he collapses on the sofa.

"I'm here to see you." He says but you roll your eyes.

"Okay but why? Why aren't you spending Valentine's Day with your girlfriend?" You interrogated him.

"Oh. We broke up." He said nonchalantly.

"You what? When?"

"A week ago… I was trying to call or message you but I couldn't get through." He says and you tell him you blocked his phone number. "That's harsh… but what about you? Why aren't you with Mark?" He throws the ball back in your court.

"We stopped seeing each other…" you say quietly and Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes.

"When?"

"Right after I broke things off with you. Things just didn't feel right." You explained but realized you had done a terrible job at that.

"I see…" The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you heard him say quietly, “she was cheating on me the whole time.”

Shocked was an understatement for the flood of emotions you were suddenly experiencing. “That doesn’t make what we were doing any less wrong.” You resolved to say.

“I know. I don’t really know why I didn’t just break up with her…”

“So… what? You just used me to make yourself feel better?” You accused him.

“What? No! I care for you more than I have ever cared about anyone else.”

“Then why didn’t you leave her? Why did you choose her?” You stood up, demanding an answer.

“I…” He started but hit a wall in trying to come up with a reasonable answer. This wasn’t how he was planning for this to go. This wasn’t how he played this out in his head. What could he possibly say to make you less upset with him? How could he fix this?

“It’s funny because I thought that we really had something and I was delusional enough to think that we could work…” You started and he stared at you intently. “But I’m still just your second choice.”

“You’re not…” he said, sounding out of breath.

“I am! You wouldn’t be here otherwise. You wouldn’t have started anything with me if I was your first choice. You wouldn’t keep me in the literal dark. You wouldn’t sneak away with me. You wouldn’t keep this a secret.”

“Hold on. I thought you liked that stuff.” He stood up in order to tower over you again.

“It was fun but so was dating someone in public… like normal. Not having to feel like I’m doing something wrong anytime I look at you or think about you.” You said, stepping away when he tried to pull you into his arms.

“You make it sound like I was the one doing something wrong?” He started to sound angry.

“That’s not what I’m saying. We both were. I knew it was wrong too and that guilt was just too much.”

“So… what now?” he asked

“We’re done.”

#jungwoo angst #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo imagines #jungwoo scenario #jungwoo imagine #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct imagine #collab

64 notes · View notes

glitxhwayventeen · 3 years

Text

Ghostin

Seungkwan: Chapter 1 (Jealous)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, blood mentions, genocide, runaways, death mentions, mental illness, loved one loss, torture, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: Please note that this chapter is very heavy in violence and in torture. I tried to tone it down as best as I could, but it’s probably still pretty bad for some people. So PLEASE don’t read if it could upset you. Also, I recommend listening to Jealous by Labrinth. It was a really good song that fit this chapter’s mood.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

Ghosting Master List

Chapter 1: Jealous

You had mixed feelings about this whole “imprinting” thing. I mean, your feelings for Seungkwan, you came to know, were incredibly strong and hard to ignore. But on the other hand, you had another mate. He took care of you and protected you. You still thought about him everyday. You still dreamed about him every night. You missed him more than anything in this world, but now, you had another mate and you weren’t sure what to do.

He offered you his room to stay in while you healed. At least, that’s what he told you, he was really hoping you’d just stay with them from now on. Though, given that you still seemed very skeptical of it, he wasn’t gonna push it. You, being tired of sleeping outside in the cold on the forest floor, agreed and thanked him. But you felt bad, it was his room after all and you didn’t know how long it would take you to heal. You knew he was your mate, everyone did, and so, despite your misgivings, you told him he could stay in the bed with you so long as he kept his hands to himself. And he never ever wanted to put you in a bad place or make you uncomfortable, so of course he obliged with no problem. He had never really done anything like that before so he didn’t really mind.

You were both sleeping in his bed, you on the left and him on the right closest to the door protectively, when you suddenly started whining. Immediately, Seungkwan’s eyes darted open and his attention went straight to you, disregarding his sleepiness completely. You were still out cold, but your face was moving, like it was in pain and the sounds you were making such painful sounding noises. He swore to you he wouldn’t touch you without your permission, but here you were crying in your sleep. How was he supposed to just let his mate cry and not do anything about it? So he picked you up gently and wrapped his arms around your small body, holding you close to his chest so you could heart his heart beat. Your tired form moved your hand to his chest instinctively, and right as your hand made contact with his skin, suddenly all his surrounding changed.

He was now in the middle of some sort of village square, watching something. The town didn’t look like the one they went to, the symbols on their flags were different, and the colors of the buildings weren’t the usual gray he was used to. There were unfamiliar people all around him. And they were speaking and murmuring in a different language, it sounded like Chinese based on what he’s heard from Minghao and Jun when they had spoken to each other in the past, but he wasn’t 100% sure. He thought maybe he had suddenly fell asleep, but the colors and sounds were far too vibrant to be a dream to him. He could smell and hear every little thing going on. This couldn’t be a dream, could it?

And In the center of all the commotion, there was a taller man tied to a wooden pole with a few people with weapons scattered around him. It felt like he knew the tall man for some reason. He could sense he was in trouble and Seungkwan wanted to help, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He could feel the man’s fears and his anger.

“For such heinous crimes against our country” a man projected to the crowd, “this man is sentenced to the slowest, most painful death possible. Death By A Thousand Cuts!”

As the man let out the last part, the people around him cheered with joy. That sounded terrible. Why would they enjoy watching that? More importantly, why would they ever DO that to someone? He was so confused, it felt like his head was full of concrete, it made his head feel like it would to topple over at the slightest possible movement. The man was struggling, not wanting the silver sword to be grazed on his body, but the ropes tied his hands behind his back. He could do nothing. The man looked around. Soon after scanning his surroundings, he halted his actions, almost as if he had seen something in the crowd that changed his mind about fighting.

Seungkwan wanted to go. He wanted to run as he saw the blade get closer to the man’s body. He couldn’t help but squirm in his spot as it made the first cut, he could hear the sizzling sound from the man’s skin. He must’ve been a wolf too.

“Just tell us where the other one is and we’ll let you die quickly dog!” The man holding the sword yelled. “Just give the other up and you’ll be free” Other one? Other wolf?

Seungkwan had to get out of there. But, as his fight or flight instincts kicked in, he recognized a face in the sea of people. It was you.

You looked slightly different than the you he was holding in his room moments ago. You had a scarf wrapped around your head, hiding your hair and you were dressed in very plain looking clothes. And your face looked… somehow younger, even though if he were to look at the you he was holding, you’d probably physically still look the same. It was an aura that you have off, it as innocent in this place whereas at home, it was more tired and fragile. Almost like you were trying to not stand out among the people.

Still, Seungkwan could always find you. You were his mate. And You were looking at the man captured in the middle of the square with watery eyes. You were shaking. He didn’t understand what was happening or why he was here, but he remembered you telling the pack something about your powers. You had told them you could always feel what the people around you were feeling, so he chalked it up to the man in the square being the one that wanted to cry and you were just feeding off his energy.

But when Seungkwan turned his attention back to the wooden pole, he noticed that the man now had a stone cold face, like he wouldn’t give his murderers the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. He no longer felt any feeling really coming from the man other than concern. It couldn’t be from him.

When he found your figure again, you were silently crying into your hands. He felt his heart breaking as he watched you stand there with your tears falling down your face and to the ground below you. You weren’t making a sound. You seemed too afraid to. A voice started booming in his head, though no one around him seemed affected or to have been hearing it.

“It’ll be alright my love, you’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me” it said with a slight wince at the end, just in time for another lash to have been struck on the male attached to the stake.

Your tears turned into full on sobs with every word he heard. And that’s when it hit him: you were the one who was being spoken to. This was in your head, this was your dream, your memory. It was why you were whining in your sleep. This was a nightmare or a horrible memory and you had somehow managed to pull him into it and show him everything you were feeling and seeing. But why?

Lash after lash was given to the man. His skin bleeding and bubbling at the silver caused wounds. He didn’t even look human at this point, he was a cut up bruised mess. More kind words were given between the voice’s whines.

“I love you.” Slice “Don’t forget about me.” Slice “They’ll never find you.” Slice “I won’t let them.” the voice spoke again, in a deeper male voice. “I told them nothing.” Lash “And I never will.” Lash Lash “This isn’t your fault.” Lash “I dont want you to stay and watch me die.” the voice quivered as you let out a loud cry and turned your back away from the man on trial.

And it clicked again: the man on the stake was the one speaking, and he was speaking to you. He was trying to comfort you as he was dying. He was trying his very best to protect you with every last word he had. Just as Seungkwan would if he were in that situation. And he was a wolf. Was… was he your mate?

“Last chance wolf!” Screamed the torturer, “Just tell us what we need to know and this will all be over!”

“Please tell them where I am. PLEASE! They’ll stop this torture!” Your sweet voice let out in Seungkwan’s head in a pleading manner.

“No. I won’t tell them anything. I love you. Keep yourself safe okay? Try to be happy after I’m gone my love. You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I know that you’ll find happiness again some day” the voice said one last time before one final slash of his throat made it fall silent.

“No.” You softly let out loud, tears stained your cheeks as you started shaking you head. “No.”

From here, the villagers started attacking the wolf’s body, in the most vile ways possible. You ran, probably not wanting to see your mate in such a state, probably from heartbreak. Seungkwan wasn’t sure. He didn’t understand. You had another mate? But you never told him that. Why wouldn’t you tell him that? He tried to catch up with your running form, but you were too quick, and before he knew it, you were gone. He was so disoriented, his heart hurt, his head was spinning, his feet were burning. What just happened?

Suddenly, he was ripped away from the village and found himself back in his bed with you in his arms. You had woken up and in doing so you brought him back with you. You quickly realized where you were and though part of you wanted to stay in Seungkwan’s warm arms, you jumped out of them out of respect for your past mate and the memory of him that was still fresh in your mind.

“What- what are you doing??” You questioned him, grabbing the blanket closer to your body while wiping your tears away, hoping he wouldn’t notice they were there to begin with.

“You… you were crying in your sleep. I was just trying to help you. But then I-” he tried to explain himself before you rudely interrupted him.

“But then what?? I told you I didn’t want you to touch me and I meant it!” You snapped, “You had no right!”

“I know. I’m sorry! I just thought that holding you would help but I didn’t know you were dreaming of that- that memory!” He defended, trying his absolute best to get you to see that he meant no harm to you.

You stayed silent for a moment in thought. That memory? Does that mean he knew what you were dreaming? Did it happen again?

“… What do you mean that memory?” You quizzed, praying to any god that was listening that he didn’t actually know what had happened.

“I dont know. I just know that one minute I was pulling you on my lap to calm you down and the next I was watching some poor guy get killed by an angry mob. I dont know how I saw it, but I did” he spoke softly in a quite traumatized voice.

“You mean you saw it too?” You asked meekly, shocked that you had shown him in your sleep without realizing.

“Yeah. I thought it was just a really bad nightmare at first, but it felt too… REAL to be a nightmare. I figured it must have been a memory of yours… I don’t know how I saw it…” he trailed on, looking down at his hands and playing with his nails, too scared to look you in the eyes.

“… I did it” You responded, “I showed you”

“You can do that?” He questions gently, not wanting to upset you.

“Not by choice. It’s just… sometimes when someone’s around me and I touch them, I can share what’s in my head with them. I must have done it in my sleep. It’s why I told you not to touch me!” You punctuated the seriousness of your statement by pointing you index finger to his chest. “But you went against my wishes anyways.”

Seungkwan looked to the finger attached to his chest, then to your face. You looked so tired. You looked so sad and depressed. You were trying to look tough, but he was your mate, he knew how much you were really hurting.

“I know. I’m sorry. But I was just trying to help you. I didn’t know” He said while looking deep into your icy blue eyes. Why did he have to be so kind when you were trying to be angry?

You let out a defeated sigh and continued “Yeah Seungkwan, I know. I just… I didn’t want you to see anything I see in my sleep. And out of all the things you could’ve seen, that was one of the worst.” You looked down, wanting to hold back any tears that were now burning your eyes as much as you could.

“Who- … Who was that?” Seungkwan asked in a whisper, barely loud enough for you to register what he said.

“That was… Cyrus. He was my mate…” You whimpered out, nearly tearing Seungkwan’s heart in two.

“Oh… Is that- is that what happened to him?” He wondered aloud, attempting to hide the hurt in his voice.

“Yeah… a long time ago… he died protecting me.” You cried as you put your hands over your eyes and sobbed into them.

Seungkwan quickly pulled you back onto his lap and into his chest, rocking you tenderly in an effort to bring your sadness to a halt.

Seeing you so hurt cracked him, but knowing you were so hurt over your mate is what broke him. He hated that he felt that way. Was he seriously gonna be Jealous over your DEAD mate when you were still a complete wreck over his dead? What’s wrong with him? It was his job to protect and love you, even if it meant hurting himself in the process. And that was exactly what he was gonna do. Even if it killed him to.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N). I can’t even imagine how horrible that must be for you” he hushed out, wanting nothing more than to kiss your pain away.

“It’s not your fault. He died a long time ago. I’m just… I’m just not okay. He was the only person in the world who loved and took care of me, and it cost him his life” you cry into Seungkwan’s chest. “I didn’t mean to come off as cold and distant to you. I just- I just didn’t know what else to do. It’s just unfair for you to have to deal with me being sad over him when I still love him.”

Seungkwan had to suppress a growl that wanted to make its way to his mouth. It hurt like hell that you just admitted that you loved someone else. You were his. But, as much as it got under his skin that you were still in love with him, he knew it wasn’t your fault. If you were to die, he’d be the same way. He’d just have to get over his stupid primal possessive instincts and help you as best he could.

(Updated 7/28)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #boo seungkwan #svt seungkwan #seungkwan

13 notes · View notes

m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Rantarou Amami x Ultimate Writer - FLUFF

Request: Hi! Your writing is incredible ^^ I was wondering if you could write Rantaro with an Ultimate Essay Writer s/o, maybe comforting them when they're up late writing? I hope that's okay, and thank you :D

Hey! Sure I can do this! But, I wanna make it just the Ultimate Writer. I’m an english writing major myself IRL, and I have to write essays, non-fiction, emails, resumes, letters, instructional guides, graphic novels, fiction, poetry etc. so they will definitely have essay-writing skills anyway. Ultimate Writer just makes it easier. I hope you don’t mind :) - Admin Kokichi

"Nnnn!" You gritted your teeth in frustration, "NNNGGHH!" Your arm was stretched to its extent, reaching up with all your might. The shelf above was just out of reach. Your fingertips scraped against the spine of the thick brown book above you, but strain as you might, it wasn’t budging, firm and snug against the others on the shelf. "Gah!" You puffed in anger, clenching your fists. Why did the books you wanted from the basement library always have to be so high up? You needed this particular text as a reference for your next piece.

It was going to be a throwaway letter, a confession written to express your feelings then set them free by burning it later. It didn’t matter, really, what you wrote at this point. Anything to get your mind off of all of… this. In this killing game, your writing was the only thing that brought you comfort. You stayed up every night scrawling until your wrist cramped up. Your Monopad had a notes section to type in, but you much rather stick to the traditional ways. The lack of sleep and endless output of creative thought was starting to weigh on you, and now it looked like you weren’t even getting this damn book today, “Man, this blows…” You sighed deeply. "AH!" You jumped, startled when a large, ring-clad hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, bracelets jangling in your ear. Soon, you felt someone's broad chest against your back. The hand grabbed the book you wanted and brought it down. You turned around with your hand on your chest, still a little jumpy. "Oh, phew… Rantarou, it's just you."

"Yeah,” he chuckled gently, “here ya go Y/N." There stood your crush, the rich playboy with a heart of gold. You felt your cheeks go warm. He was often in the library, and you relished every moment you got to spend glancing over your shoulder at him while we has up to his usual antics of planning traps or researching new ways to interrogate your classmates until someone was spooked into admitting their position as the mastermind. Once in a while, he would read for pleasure, and at first you felt like an asshole for being surprised by that. You judged him too early on, seeing a flawless face and a suave personality and assuming he would be the popular kid archetype you’d seen in many an awful young adult novel. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed himself to be highly intelligent, well-rounded, considerate, empathetic, and extremely attractive.

"Thanks, Rantarou," you looked down, placing the book under your arm.

"No problem… it's not everyday I get to do something useful for someone else here," he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. You laughed too, looking him up and down.

“That’s not true!” you countered. “You’re always helping us all out. You give great advice, too!”

“Well, I try to help, but I’m sure it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that none of my plans have really... taken off,” he gestured, moving his hand in a soaring-upward motion. “Also, with me not rememberin’ my talent and all… I kinda have become the expendable background character, yeah?” His eyes crinkled closed with a kind smile.

He laughed again to fill the silence of the dark, empty library. You giggled. You always thought it was cute how could be so humble, looking the way he did, sounding the way he did. He had been that way ever since you’d met him, and are far as you were concerned, it seemed genuine. You couldn’t really trust anyone in this killing game, but you trusted Rantarou. Even in the library past midnight, where no one would know if you ended up dead, you trusted Rantarou.

"Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you," he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed.

"Nah, it's fine. You helped me out, so I forgive you..." You joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He smiled a bit sheepishly, an expression you didn’t see often in the confident male.

"Yeah I… haha," He fiddled with a book nearby," I didn't think anyone would be here. I always come at night. Surprisingly, it's pretty boomin’ here during the day, so I come later on to avoid the hassle of a crowded space." You understood completely. Rantarou was always secretive about his plans.

“I know, I see you here sometimes,” you mused.

“Oh, really? I usually sit behind the back shelves, so I guess i didn’t notice you. You’re pretty quiet, huh? Maybe I should be watchin’ my back for you, huh?” He snickered

"I was having the same thought, isn't that weird?" He looked at you with alarm. “I’m kidding!” To that, he relaxed a bit. "So, watcha reading?"

"Oh, um," He gestured behind him to the aforementioned back shelf "I’m set up back there reading. It's just some old, boring, textbook information on one of the small countries I’ve visited. I thought it'd be interesting, but..."

"Yeah, sounds like it," You looked at him with genuine interest, and he smiled in appreciation.

"Wait, really?!"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I think it’s super cool that you’re well-traveled. I guess that’s why you and Korekiyo get along so well, huh?" His feet shuffled in silent excitement at your shared enthusiasm. He bit his lip playfully, and your eyes grew shiny in admiration. He was so adorable.

He noticed your change in expression and coughed, frowning a little in embarrassment. You tried to change the subject, to make him comfortable again.

"H-hey, Rantarou?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from the ground eagerly.

"You're gonna be up reading all night, right? Well.. I will be, too, and... it’s harder for someone to kill us with four eyes on the lookout..."

"Yeah?"

"So, you wanna maybe sit with me here at my table? The vents reach this side of the library better so it’s a bit warmer... haha, it's... it's kinda cold in here," You pulled your uniform’s turtleneck tighter around yourself, shaking a little. Rantarou immediately accepted. He wasn’t about to pass up an invitation from his crush.

“Hell yeah, sounds great! I’ll go grab my stuff, but, hey, I’ve noticed I hardly ever see you in the dorms… you know you gotta sleep, right?” He had a concerned look on his face, and your heart of course fluttered at his attention to detail and knowledge of your habits, but you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had his own safety to look out for.

“Well, I appreciate the concern, but I’d much rather spend time with you than be in my dorm alone worrying.” He seemed to blush at your words, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far, until he agreed, and rushed over to grab his reading material.

You sighed deeply, a yawn slipping out once or twice. At least two hours had passed since you and Rantarou set up your little corner and there he still sat, in the wooden chair across from yours, never looking up at you from his book. A peaceful, relaxed look glazed his face. He had been that way almost the whole time, but you could sense him becoming a bit antsy. Maybe he was just tired?

You were both fast readers, so by now you had already read the best sections of your own books and switched. He now sat reading the yellowed pages of the book you selected: an eclectic compilation of 16th century romance literature, and you were now five chapters into his text on the different ethnic groups of some far-off land.

“Hmm… heh,” he shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Your head shot up anxiously, fearing he was judging your choice of genre.

“It’s just... some of this is extremely cheesy and cliche. You’d think the old masters would have done a little better.” He lifted the book in a referencing gesture.

“Ah, yes, I noticed that as well. I was hoping for a little inspiration, but… it seems Monokuma isn’t the best curator of quality literature.” He nodded in agreement, seemingly stuck on a thought. You could see him stare into space for a second before continuing.

“Inspiration for what… may I ask?” He pressed, waiting with bated breath for your reply. You felt your feathers start to ruffle, the borders of your comfort zone being invaded by the enemy. You didn’t know if you should answer honestly. The letter was a throwaway for a reason…

“I was going to write a letter…” it slipped out, and you quickly regretted it. Apparently, your brain had decided to take the lead for you. You never recalled yourself being so forward or brave.

“Why do you need sonnets and romance novels to write a letter? Planning to sweet talk Monokuma into freeing us?” He chuckled somewhat teasingly, but his haughty words slowly faded to silence upon noticing the wet shine in your nervous eyes, the way your fingers played with the corner of the book as a distraction for your discomfort.

“No…” You coughed, clearing your throat. Rantarou looked away, running a hand through his green shaggy locks. He knew what the letter was for, of course, who it was for. He was a bit nervous, too, eager to play off the tension in the room with humor, but it wasn’t working. He was wondering why you were so apprehensive, so sullen at his inquiry. You two flirted almost every day… did you seriously need to worry about his reaction? Did you think he didn’t like you back? “I-It’s… well it was going to be a um… a confession of sorts… just to get my feelings down on paper and off my chest. Then I was gonna burn it afterward to set those feelings free!” You smiled weakly, betraying your lack of confidence.

“Nah, you should give it to him- them!” He corrected himself, dropping the most obvious hint he could. You still didn’t look convinced, a bit oblivious.

“Y-you think so?”

“For sure, no doubt. Whoever that letter is meant for,” he leaned in to you, clasping his calloused hands around yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact, and you were left speechless, fearing any words spoken now would come out as idiotic babbling, “they are gonna love it. Trust me.” His eyebrows rose with emphasis, and he shot you one of his iconic, heart-melting smiles.

140 notes · View notes

jungcity · 4 years

Text

𝟓𝟎𝟓.

GENRE: crime, romance, slice of life

PAIRINGS: bandit!hendery, sacristan!female reader

WORD COUNT: 27,632

SONG PROMPTS: Godless - BANKS, 505 - Arctic Monkeys, Some Unholy War - Amy Winehouse, Robbers - The 1975 | [full playlist here.]

WARNINGS: Please observe proper discretion for this story deals with themes of adultery, orphanhood, child abuse, child neglect, deaths, violence, manipulation and suggestive stuff.

NOTE: This is a part of the crime!au collaboration held by @neovisioned. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Please be aware that this story would have references that revolves around Catholicism. I am by no means wish to be exclusive to those who has the same religion as I. Upon pondering the plot of this story, religion would be a mandatory part, hence I chose mine since it is what I know best.

TAGLIST: @legendnct @cloudysuh @eyypeach @mjlkau @cherub-vivi

i. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth…

Trails of white smoke circled the candle as you snuffed out the fire from the matchsticks. The heavy rain raged on, with the branches slapping the gothic windows of Father Ben’s chamber. The priest sat on a rocking chair near the aperture, watching the thunder and lightning as they continue to battle for dominion over the heavens.

“Father,” you called out softly. He hummed but did not turn to face you. Over the months that you have worked and helped Father Ben tend to the church, you noticed how particularly silent he could be whenever the clouds are pouring. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” you asked.

For the past few days, Father Ben would tell you about shadows prowling around the church. Two boys, he claims. Sometimes they are three. Bandits, no doubt.

“Be careful on your way home, hija. Bring my umbrella so you won’t get soaked.” And that has been the last words he spoke.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. There would be no point forcing the priest. Perhaps he does not want your mother to worry about you.

You closed the door of the priest’s chamber and made your way down the creaky staircase. The church hadn’t been renovated since the middle of the pandemic that had swept across the whole world. This structure hadn’t tasted new paints and new rivets yet for ten years.

Father Ben resides where the choral sings everyday. Since Father lost all his relatives to the pandemic, he made it built for him. Perhaps that was the reason why he was too quiet. You haven’t lost anyone to it, but you knew a lot of people who died because of it and have friends who had lost their fathers and mothers, even siblings, to it.

You fastened the latch of every door inside the church before you walked towards the main door. Laying the lamp on the floor, you unlatched the wooden door. The blustery and frigid wind flows through the opening, misting your feet and right arm as you leaned to grab the lamp and struggle to open the umbrella.

By good fortune, the rain softened as you departed the church. Bougainvilleas wrapping the façade of the structure made eerie shadows as the moon casted down its light to it. You made your way to the small village you live in.

“Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy…” echoes the praying mothers and daughters in front of their altars.

You cannot not help but be fascinated by the orange lamp lights in their homesteads, as you saw the women of every family kneel and make their prayers. Ever since the end of the pandemic five years ago, your village has been humming novenas every six p.m. or eight p.m. at night. You heard it was the same for the neighboring village, too.

“Hail our life, our sweetness and our hope…” You heard the little voices of innocent children as they tried to copy the words. It made your heart flutter. “To Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To Thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.”

Until you reached your street, prayers echoed. Your house loomed as you turn left. Gathering your skirt, you hopped over a puddle of mud and continued walking.

“Mom, I’m home,” you declared upon stepping your feet inside.

Mom was on her usual place near the fireplace, knitting new pillowcases with the dim light from the fire. She turned her head to see you, then pulls down her reading glasses to examine your slightly soaked skirts.

“I thought you’re sleeping in the church?” she asked as she twiddled the needle with her fingers.

“Father Ben won’t allow me,” you simply answered as you trodded towards the kitchenette.

There was only one light inside the house. It was located between the kitchenette and living room. During the pandemic, all energy had been used to fuel hospitals as well as quarantine facilities for the affected citizens. Energy had been lacking ever since.

You went back to the living room with a plate in hand. Food has been scarce in this part of town. But your mother has a little vegetable farm in the backyard. So it’s vegetable salad every night.

“Tomorrow is the first Sunday of the month,” she began, “Did you prepare anything?”

You munched while watching the needle pierce through the fabric. “Mayor Rosales failed to give us sponsorship. But we have gathered some money from the houses nearby the highway.” Those people who live near the highway were what you could call the richer ones. They have convenience stores lining up, and they pretty much sell anything a villager might need. “Father wants to feed the children this time.”

“Would that be enough? The money?”

“We’ll make do,” you sighed.

Mother hummed. “Bring the vegetables tomorrow, then. I’ve harvested enough for ingredients.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

ii. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…

He came into your life like a fog in the dawn; mysterious, hazy, and cold. The boy with the secret of the universe in his eyes, and danger playing along his boyish smile rang your door in the year 2040. When hope has only started to rebuild itself after the terrors of a sickness nobody had been able to see.

Easy smile, childlike laughters and soft hair— that has been him.

Your first encounter had been outside the church. Where he leaned in a big motorcycle while puffing smokes from his cigarette.

“Kids, please line up according to your height,” you told the children softly. Big innocent eyes stared back at you with excitement.

When suddenly, Lucy, the other sacristan, gestured to you to come over the front line where the food is located. “No pushing,” you warned the kids before leaving them with Rei, another sacristan.

“What is it?” you asked.

Lucy motioned her puckered lips towards the exit. “Could you tell him to smoke somewhere else?”

You followed her gesture. And your gaze landed straight to him as he blew out smoke from his lips. He playfully inhales from the cigarette bud and puffed it carelessly in the air. He was looking straight at the spot where you were currently glued at. Both of you held each other’s eyes, and you felt lost in those mysterious orbs for a good second until Lucy cleared her throat to gather your attention.

Spontaneously, your brows immediately shot up in vexation. It was forbidden to smoke inside and around the church’s vicinity. You gathered your skirts and sauntered up to him. As you near closer to him, you have caught a sight of a black patch plastered on the side of his neck.

The boy cocked a brow as he saw you nearing. You ignored his reaction and cleared your throat. But your breath seemed to be sweeped out of your lungs yet again when you realized that the black patch was a tattoo. It reads the word pervivo. “Mister, it is not allowed to smoke around the church. Could you please take that somewhere else?”

Instead of tossing his cigarette, he took a long sip from the bud and blew the smoke to your face. Shocked and absolutely disgusted, you fanned away the smoke frantically while coughing out the chemical that has succeeded to reach your nostrils and throat.

“What the—”

“Fuck?” he finished. The smoke slowly dissipates, revealing his dead set of eyes staring at you. He, then, threw the bud to the ground before crushing the ashes with the tip of his boot. “Can’t really cuss in here, can you?”

Such audacity! Your nose flared while trying to collect the little patience left in your system. Boys like him never failed to irate you.

Smoothing out your skirt, you straightened your spine with as much dignity as you can muster. “Blowing smoke—”

For the second time, the boy interrupted you by waving his hand high up in the air. “Father!” he shouted. The boy jogged the distance towards the line of children in front of the church to clap Father Ben’s back. Frozen on your feet, you stared at him in horror.

“Do you know him, Father?” you motioned your head to the boy who was casually smiling from ear to ear beside the priest. As if he didn’t deadpan at you earlier.

Father Ben stretched his lips into what you could call a small smile. “Hendery’s from the city. He’s to be our new sacristan.”

There was literal ringing in your ears by what you have heard. Hendery? A new sacristan? “Wait…” You let out an incredulous noise. “What?”

“I’m Hendery Wong. I came here to be the new sacristan.” The boy stretched out his hand to you. You look at it with reluctance evidently etched through your face.

“I don’t understand,” you managed to say while shaking Hendery’s hand. He has been surprisingly calloused, juxtaposing his soft and pretty face.

“I know you will soon, hija,” Father Ben said, “And I trust you to help Hendery adjust to the work here. Can you do that?”

Hendery’s smile never left his face. It was as if he was relishing to the predicament that you were in instead of being friendly. However, you couldn’t really turn down Father Ben. And it was not right to jump on your prejudices. Cigarettes and tattoos doesn’t mirror someone else’s personality. Hendery deserved the benefit of the doubt.

So you sighed. “I can, Father. Rest assured that I’ll show Hendery around.”

Father Ben tapped your shoulder lightly before joining Lucy to prepare the food for the children, leaving you with the new boy.

“So,” he began, garnering your attention. When you turn to look at him, Hendery’s demeanor has already changed. Or perhaps it was only your judgment getting the best of you. But there was a spark of something dangerous in the way that he looked at you. As if his eyes were the tip of the cigarette he inhaled mere minutes ago. Flickering— with a promise of charring if you ever come close. “Shall we begin?”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, you sighed deeply. “Could you wash and sanitize first? You know, you actually held a cigarette and we don’t wanna contaminate the food, right?”

His smile grew wider, erasing the enigma he exuded seconds ago. “Do you have a mask? You know, I’ve sipped a cigarette and we don’t want my spit to fly towards the food, right?”

You looked at him sharply. “Yes, we do have a mask. It’s become pretty mandatory since twenty years ago.”

Hendery stretcheso out his hand to let you walk first. From the long table on which the food has been placed, you grabbed a surgical mask to give to Hendery. When you turned to face him, he held up his hands suddenly.

“I haven’t yet washed my hands. I’ll appreciate it if you’ll put those here,” he said while pointing at his ear.

He really was something. And you have found it oddly… endearing. You haven’t known ice and fire could co-exist in a single person. Until you have met him. You gulped— and you have no idea why— as you draped the strings of the mask around his ears. His mouth and nose disappeared, but that failed to decrease his beauty.

What is happening to you? In your whole existence, you have met boys with stars in their eyes but this has been your first time to see the whole universe in someone else’s irises.

You shook your head as Hendery departed in front of you to wash his hands.

Pretty boys are only boys until you try to make a verselet out of them. That was the line you have never wanted to cross.

Hendery would only be a word. Not poetry. Or would he?

iii. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary…

When you were amongst the poor during the pandemic, your survival rate would be extremely challenged. Luckily for you, your father had run a small business that successfully provided for your family during those trying times.

Five years ago, the world made its reset when it came to economy and livelihood. Almost all businesses shut down. The luxuries and opulence of the year 2020 had been vanquished completely.

Billionaires finally witnessed that they weren’t the gods they once thought they were as the claws of the sickness reached their thrones and destroyed their castles.

Regardless of the Internet’s power, trade fell. With it the Internet celebrities in YouTube, Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter— you name it.

Notwithstanding, the 2020’s pandemic hadn’t been the only one to devastate the Earth.

There had been multiple environmental issues, like the raging of wildfires in sundry forests across the globe. World War III also threatened to break out of its cage as countries fought for dominance over lands they clearly had no business to claim.

Police brutality rages on. Their authority had been used for mayhem other than peace. It has breached the lives of people, especially to that of the black community. Everything went clusterfuck because the authorities think some people are inferior to them. They harmed rather than serve.

Chaos. Death. Fear. Those three things have managed to leave a blotch of bleakness that now blanketed the Earth.

The death toll exceeded that of the Black Plague that had swept across Europe hundreds of years ago. Hospitals transformed to that of a colony— the patients as the ants. Total panic enveloped everyone. Especially the poor, whose only shield against it had been a little bottle of alcohol.

Great Depression two-point-o, some would call the economy right now. Minimal jobs were offered, but the salary won’t be enough to feed a family of four.

Poverty’s poison didn’t fail to contaminate the globe. It strengthened its hold to the third world country, and flowed slowly to those in the upper level of society. Despite it all, everyone collapsed on its feet: adults with dreams for the younger generations. Teenager with dreams for the future. And children who were only starting to build their aspirations.

With it, the hopes of the seven-year-old boy who has the constellations in his eyes and a promise of tomorrow in his innocent face. It had all been obliterated because of heartache and neglect.

Hendery witnessed it every night; the shoutings of his mother, and the hopelessness in his father’s face as yet another job had turned him down. His bedroom walls didn’t muffle the sound— the silence only intensified it.

“You are a useless piece of shit!” her mother would scream.

Despite that, Hendery’s father would only cover his face with his hands. He would absorb every nag and every hurtful words his wife would throw at him. Because tomorrow would be another day to fight and he couldn’t afford losing the battle now. At least, that was what Hendery believed.

Never once did he hear his mother ask about his sake. Never once did he hear the words, “What about Hendery? He would starve!”

Starve he did.

A lanky seven-year-old, his neighbors would call him. Salt and rice every night. You only have to close your eyes and eat. Wash down the taste with water and sleep.

The home that was meant to give him comfort had turned his own hell. Its unfavorable walls would suffocate him every day. Its dull and dirty carpet would be his only friend for the days that would come.

And as if the world wasn’t done throwing knives and rocks at his back, Hendery found something that had completely deteriorated the little boy in him.

One day, when he was returning from their neighbor’s house— full and a little bit energetic— he found his mother’s clothes littered over the floor, with it were pants and shirts that didn’t belong to his father.

With his boy heart and still developing mind, Hendery sat in the kitchen. The noise of his mother’s adultery echoed across the whole house. Hendery patiently waited for it to stop, sitting there with his feet dangling from the chair.

Then the door clicked open, revealing his mother and the man he didn’t recognize. From his position to the kitchen, his mother failed to notice him. But Hendery could see everything unfolding before his very eyes. The unknown man picked up his clothes. When he was completely dressed, he fished for his wallet and handed Hendery’s mother money.

That night, there were sausages and eggs in the table. His mother was enthusiastic, but there was a dull spark in her eyes. His father, too, despite the smile on his lips, was a flash of apology in his orbs.

Hendery slept soundly. A tear escaping his eye.

“Why are you crying?” You crouched in front of a boy named Kristan. Snot and tear has already mixed up in his face to create dirty splotches. You held his hands softly to put beside his body.

Kristan sniffed. But did not answer.

“Kristan, tell me what happened,” you gently asked. His head bowed down deeper, as if he was embarrassed and scared to tell you anything. Kristan, he was one of your favorites despite his silent comportment and shy eyes.

Ever since Father Ben decided to teach the children from the village basic education at the church, you have been curious about Kristan. There was something about the boy. Sadness. Melancholy. Loneliness.

“I am here—” You were interrupted by Hendery, who also crouched beside Kristan. “What are you doing?” you deadpan.

Hendery ignored you, as he focused on Kristan. He puts his hand on his shoulder and pulls down his mask. “Tell me who among these kids beat you up,” he whispered, “Was it him?” Then he pointed towards the other boy who was curiously watching the three of you.

The slightest shock adorned Kristan’s face. He looked at you warily, obviously perturbed by Hendery’s presence.

You smiled at him to tell him it’s alright. And that he doesn’t need to be cautious around Hendery. Although you didn’t know about that yourself. Hendery was still a mystery.

“They… didn’t hurt me,” Kristan said through his snuffles. “Thank… you, Miss Y/N,” he added, then he looked at Hendery, “And to you… Mister…?”

“Hendery. Call me Hendery.”

“Mister Hendery,” Kristan said, practicing the new syllables of Hendery’s name. Kristan bowed before walking towards the line of boys again.

Concerned about the well-being of the boy, you sighed. When you turned to go back to packing the foods, Hendery walked up towards Kristan again.

“What is this?” he asked while slightly pulling up the little boy’s sleeves. There was a purple mark right on his arm. Something that definitely resembled a contusion.

When Kristan realized what was happening, he flinched away from Hendery.

You hurried beside him once more, brows furrowed. “Kristan, what is that?”

His eyes were fervent, lips quivering while wriggling free of your hold from his arm. Because of the fear that you might hurt him, you let Kristan go. He ran away.

Father Ben rushed towards you, robes billowing like waves against the pavement. “What is happening?” he asked.

You shared a look with Hendery before answering, “Hendery and I saw something in his arm— something like a bruise,” you explained. “Father, I think there’s something going on with Kristan, and I am deeply concerned about his well-being.”

The priest listened and nodded his head. “Follow me, the both of you,” he commanded before pivoted on his heel.

Without offering Hendery a glance, you followed Father Ben inside the church and to his chamber. When all three of you were secured inside, Father Ben locked the door.

You couldn’t help but observe Hendery as he roamed his eyes around the room. As if he was searching for something. Something valuable. But when he looked at you, he smiled and all your doubts vanished in a blink. How could happiness and sadness co-exist at the same time in someone else’s body?

The sound of papers shuffling woke you from your reverie. Father Ben raised up a paper, and studied it with his reading glasses.

“Here is Kristan’s birth certificate,” he announced. “His mother died giving birth to him. Kristan is being taken care of his father, his alcoholic father, at their house in the southeast part of the village.”

You listened carefully to each word. You already know that Kristan’s only living parent was his father. But never once did Father Ben shared the reality of him being alcoholic. Goosebumps crawled onto your back as realization slowly weaved its way through your mind.

“His father’s hurting him,” Hendery pronounced beside you.

Father Ben hummed. “That, we do not yet know. So it’d be really helpful if the both of you would venture to their house and check for your own eyes. I would’ve gone myself but I won’t be able to fight his father if it ever comes to that,” Father Ben continued, “He’s quite well-known as an aggressive man.”

“And… I suppose Hendery could fight him off?” You raised a brow. Hendery’s built wasn’t like that of a body-builder. He definitely belonged to the species of boys with sad eyes and skinny bodies. Dangerous. Utterly dangerous.

He chuckled— a quite rumbling sound that could stir butterflies inside a woman’s stomach. “I’m quite a fighter, Y/N,” he said.

You sighed. “Let’s just hope that it won’t come to aggression.” Then you focused your attention back to the priest. “What of me? What can I contribute, Father?”

Father Ben placed the paper back to his drawers. “You have your wits in you, hija. Convince his father to give us Kristan for a while until he gets his life on the right path.”

After Father Ben’s instruction, the both of you made your way down the stairs. You still couldn’t understand why Father Ben asked Hendery to come. He was from town after all. Townspeople weren’t so used to life in the countryside. In their towering factories and buildings, they still pretend that they have the glory of the past.

“Are you really from the city?” you asked, turning your body to face him. He descended the last step while you stood on the second.

His steps halted at the question, then he tilted his head quite a bit too see you. “What of it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Having someone journey here from the city’s pretty unusual.” You descended the stairs and walked ahead of him.

“Having villagers in the city’s never been heard before,” he snorted.

Your brows furrowed. Was that an insult? Or was he simply baiting you? Whatever that meant, you halted. “What are you implying? That we don’t have the means to go to the city?” When Hendery shrugged, you puffed out your chest and held your chin up high. “Well, must I say to you that it’s pretty decent living in here than pretend to have riches in the city.”

He only chuckled, driving you irate even more. “We don’t pretend, Y/N.”

You have decided not to answer for your own well-being. He was truly a city boy. Arrogant. Condescending. Too full of himself. And you mustn’t bother yourself with him. Hendery was on the other side of your own spectrum. There was no point understanding a boy you have just met.

“Oh, wait.” You halted when you finally reached the exit door of the church. “I’ll ask Lucy if you could borrow her bicycle.” When you turned to leave, Hendery caught your wrist. Everything about you stopped functioning by the touch. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to boys holding you— but yes, you could say that.

“We can ride my motorbike,” he suggested, “Much more convenient, don’t you think?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. If the year 2020 had learned its way towards openness and liberty, well, 2040 failed to adapt to that. “No,” you simply answered.

“No? What do you mean no? You’ll only ride behind me, then we’ll take off.”

You groaned. “City boys.” If anyone would see you riding a big motorbike, they would curse you as if you were the demon. You despised the notion yourself. And it was really tempting to try new things once in a while. Perhaps you were only being stupid— or naive. There was no harm riding a big black and shiny motorbike, right? You heaved out a deep sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

Hendery’s confused visage turned to that of a bright one when he, once again, flashed you his pearlescent teeth. He jogged the distance towards his motorbike. Without any word, he hopped and snapped the pedal with his right foot.

“Hop in,” he said.

You raised a brow. “Helmet?”

“Church girls,” he groaned. You opened your mouth to speak, but Hendery once again cut you off, “Where is the fun in riding a motorbike if you’d wear a helmet?”

“Hendery, it’s a safety protocol if you aren’t—”

Once again, he groaned, “Where’s the fun in ‘safe’? Hop in.” He tilted his head to the side, encouraging you to finally hop in his motorbike.

“I think I’m gonna ride—”

“Y/N,” he firmly called, “Sometimes, you also have to taste the danger.” Then he reached for your hand. You would have flinched away, but the warmness of his palm hindered you from doing so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Trust? Mother says don’t talk to strangers. It has been a mantra of every little girl as they grow up. But you aren’t a little girl no more.

Other than his melancholic eyes, his name is all you know about him. And how could you trust the swirl of danger in his irises? However, humans are vexatious. They don’t always follow the rules.

When you are fed with deprivation of something extraordinary, you grow hankering after it.

You took Hendery’s hand. With your heart thudding inside your chest, you grasped your skirt and pulled your body upwards to sit on his motorbike. Hendery revved the engine, twisting his hand around the accelator.

“Please, slow down—!” Your chests collided against his back by the impact. Hendery chuckled, but he did not heed your cries. He rode through the road ahead, shoulders still rumbling of his laughters.

Skirt ballooning out, you prayed to God that you won’t meet your doom today. This has been a bad idea. A very bad one at that. What would people say if they witness a sacristan— a sacristan woman— riding this black motorcycle? With her skirts billowing out in the open? Oh, no. Your mother would whip you to shreds.

“Where are we going?” Hendery shouted.

You clutched on his front shirt tightly, afraid that the wind would surely swoosh you away if you do so much as to slacken your hold. “Where are we now?” you shouted back. Because you refused to sit up straight, you shielded yourself with Hendery’s body. And now your position shielded you away from seeing anything other than the road beneath the wheels.

“Y/N, please sit up straight.” He laughed. Oh, this boy relishes to your suffering. He really was. “We are currently entering a village…?”

You willed yourself to sit. Surely, it won’t kill you. You have seen actresses ride behind their own James Deans in big motorcycles such as this one.

“Alright, alright, I’ll slow down.” But Hendery’s words were muffled by the air. However, you felt the wheels roll slowly as it enters your village. Your village. Oh, no.

“No, please don’t! Faster, Hendery!” When he refused to rev the accelerator, you pinched his sides.

“Aw! Alright, alright!” Without another word, Hendery drove through the houses.

You obscured our face as much as you could. You couldn’t afford having someone recognize you. It won’t happen.

“Y/N, where are we going?” he asked for the second time. “We’re away from the houses. No one can see you here but the grasses,” he taunted.

You opened your eyes and saw the ground below, as well as the grasses. It only means you were well away from your village. You exhaled and sat up. “Turn left.”

“Left? Is there life at the end of this road?”

You deadpanned, “City boys.”

“No, seriously?”

“Yes, there is Hendery. It’s the most isolated part of the village— please look at the road,” you reminded him when he attempted to face you sideways.

“Kristan’s from here?”

“Apparently.”

He nodded his head. “He walks this distance every day?”

“Yes.”

It was somehow weird to talk about life in the countryside with a city boy. If Hendery was, indeed, from the city. You have no idea about the city ever since the pandemic. This has always been your home; the trees, the grasses, the kind neighbors, and a pious village. The liveliness of the wen— if claims were to be trusted— has been no more than a thing left in the back of your mind. It was almost a name you have no idea how to pronounce.

“You, too?” Hendery asked. A question you didn’t expect to hear.

“Uh-huh.” Then a chuckled. “We’re left with no choice since we have no resources when it comes to vehicles.”

“How do you go to the city, then?”

“We don’t go to the city. Unless it is needed.”

Hendery hummed. “And how do you go?”

“We ask the chieftain to lend us the ambulance.”

“The ambulance?” he asked.

The road becomes bumpy because of rocks, so you hold on him tightly once again. Hendery chuckled at your action, but did not bait you.

“Yes,” you answered. “Oh, we’re here,” you announced as Kristan’s village looms ahead. It was shielded away from your eyes because of the trees circling the whole vicinity.

“Do they sleep with snakes here?” There wasn’t any jeer to his voice, only curiosity.

You snorted. “Why don’t you stay for the night to try?” You gathered your skirt then planted your heel to the ground. With a swing of your leg, you hopped off his motorbike.

“I’d like to.” Hendery fished out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He pressed one between his fingers and lit the tip with a lighter.

“Is that necessary?” you asked.

People in this part of town weren’t welcoming. That was why it didn’t come off as a shock to know that Kristan’s father was alcoholic. It simply was the way of living here: alcohol, cigarettes, cards. That being said, having an outsider such as Hendery venture here could provoke the most hard-headed fathers and boys alike.

Hendery sipped then blew smoke out in the air. “What are you scared of?”

For a minute, you caught a spark in his irises. It was as if he didn’t ask about your fears— but your insecurities. And of the things you wanted to try but couldn’t. Or perhaps it was only you, digging deeper into the simple question.

“God,” you simply answered.

“There is no god,” he retorted.

That caught you off-balance. An aspiring sacristan wouldn’t say that. “Father says you want to be a sacristan. How could you? When you don’t have any faith?”

Hendery stopped for a second before blinking. “There is no god but God the Father Almighty in heaven.” Then he flashed you a smile. You furrowed your brows. “Shall we?” he asked, throwing out his cigarette to the ground.

You shrugged.

Different sets of eyes pierced your bodies as you and Hendery trodded the dusty road. Mothers with their youngest born straddling their waists peered through wooden gates. Fathers with their cigarettes and beer bottles scrutinized you from head to toe. You were covered from your neck down your heel, but they look at you as if you were naked.

Hendery beside you exudes indifference. Shoulders straight and chin up high, Hendery stared every man down. You didn’t know if that’s a good idea or not. The last thing you need was a brawl between him and the juveniles surrounding you.

Finally, you have reached Kristan’s home. It ws made of cement and sawali, just like most of the houses you have just passed by.

You smoothed out your skirt before knocking. One, two, three knocks before his Father greeted you with a grunt.

“What d’ya want?” he asked in a rumpled voice.

Hendery stepped beside you. “We’re here to talk.”

Kristan’s father wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t have anytime for you—”

“It’s about Kristan,” Hendery stated, jaw clenching.

To be honest, you didn’t expect him to make the talking. You could do it yourself. But you were still thankful that he was with you right now.

Kristan’s father rests his body against the doorframe. “What about my son?” Yes, he did ask about his son. However, there wasn’t any trace of concern in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Father Ben wants to take care of Kristan for a while, until we’re sure that he’s safe living here.”

You heard the crashing of his beer bottle first, before you felt the tightening of your throat by the way he grabbed your collar.

“No one tells me what to do—”

Your first instinct had been to lash out on him, but your anger got the best of you. Before you could act out on your own, Hendery wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist. With force, he pushes him away and twisted the bone.

You stared in horror as Kristan’s father screamed in pain while holding his broken wrist. “Hendery!” you shouted as he sauntered towards the man. Hendery grabbed his head and slammed his knees against his nose, once again cracking the bones.

Thunderstruck beyond comprehension, you flew towards Hendery. “Hendery! Stop!”

Kristan’s father was on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose. Hendery towered over him with clenched fist, ready to pounce at any given time. Before he could swing yet another blow, you already lay hold of his arm.

“What are you doing?!” you asked, out of breath.

“Beating the shit out of him,” he said in nonchalance.

“That— isn’t what Father Ben asked as to do,” you reminded him, despite the fact that Father Ben indeed expected a brawl.

Hendery’s muscles relaxed nonetheless. He pointed a finger towards Kristan’s father who’s still on the ground, glaring at the both of you.

You grapple for words— anything. “Did you hurt your son?” you ask.

“What of it? You don’t have a child so you won’t understand how it is to discipline one,” he answered.

Hendery crouched. You grabbed hold of his back collar. “You fucking hurt your son again,” he spits, “I will kill you.”

“Father, I’m home— Miss Y/N?”

The three of you turned your attention towards the little boy who entered the house. Kristan. He was holding a plastic of what you could tell was a bag of vegetables.

Kristan’s eyes turns to Hendery, and to his bloodied father. “Mister Hendery? What are you doing here?”

“You’ll come with us for a while,” Hendery said.

“What is happening?”

You crouched in front of the boy and lay hold of his shoulders. “Father Ben asked us to take you back to the church. Where you’ll stay for a while until your Father learns how to be a good one.”

“Really?” Kristan asked in relief.

Has this house been his hell that it’s a relief to be away from his father? You frowned at the thought.

“But… Father— he’s going to be alone.”

“Ask your Father. We still need his approval after all,” you explained.

Kristan walked towards his father, who was standing and padding his pants. Hendery crossed his arms over his chest, watching the man warily.

“Father, is it okay if I’ll leave for a while? Will you be fine?” the little boy asked.

“Go! Do what you want! Don’t come back!” he shouted.

However, Kristan didn’t flinch. It was as if he had been to used to this kind of treatment. “Alright, I’ll come back. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” Then he hugged his Father’s hips.

You looked away, unable to watch the scene unfolding before your eyes. It would seem as if Hendery couldn’t take it in himself, for your eyes crossed as he looks away, too.

“Take care and be good. I love you, Father.” Kristan turned his back against his Father. He smileed at you and took your hand. You held his hand tightly and spared his Father one last look.

He turned his back the same time his tear slid down his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat before bowing slightly as a goodbye.

iv. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried…

Pandemic and poverty, it truly was a wonder how Hendery survived such dreadful times. Perhaps there was really a god, lurking somewhere, ready to grant the wishes of the people during those awful times.

Yet as far as Hendery was concerned, nobody prayed for him when the pandemic striked him. Right, this lanky seven-year-old’s suffering didn’t end after he found out about his mother’s adultery.

At first, Hendery brushed off the heaviness of his eyelids together with his parched throat as a common sickness. He never told his mother or father about it, for the fear that it might fruit into something their financial stability won’t be able to answer for.

But then hours had gone by, with Hendery’s air passage slowly closing in on him. As if a boulder was placed right in on his lungs, demanding his life by choking him. Cough dry and head aching, Hendery twisted and turned on his bed, unable to think clearly. He felt as if he was dying— dying in the most horrible way possible.

Thereafter, he believed that he had gone in and out of consciousness, or perhaps it was only his vision going blurry from the ache his body was trying to fight off.

Hendery failed to recognize his father as he leaned to check his son. And he failed to recognize the feeling of being scooped up from the bed, with his father shouting for help as if his life depended on it.

Blotches of darkness swam in his line of sight. The cries of his mother as well as the panicked shouts of his father were muffled by his coughing.

Would this be the end? Was this the life the gods had planned out for him? To die young? To die without a fight? How do you accept this fate?

For once, he wanted to see the end of this pandemic. He wanted to witness the rainbow after this storm. For once, he yearned to see something beautiful. Just once.

Hendery fully succumbed to oblivion.

When he woke up, it was the white light that filled his vision. Was it heaven? Hendery tried to make sense of his surroundings, but no noise could be heard other than the beeping of machines around him.

His eyelids fluttered open completely. The ceiling to where his hospital bed was located flashed above him like a canvas of nothing but white. There was a tightness in his nose, and he realized that he was breathing through an apparatus.

Hendery tried to move his fingers. They were mobile, albeit frail. It’s the same with his feet. Perhaps it was the incessant ravaging of the cough against his lungs that made him sick to the bones. He would’ve thanked whoever there was to be thankful for, if not for the uncertainty that was still stretching out in front of him. The pandemic wasn’t a one-night killer. It would render you infirm for weeks— it’s only up to the doctors and your own antibodies if they won’t collapse and give up on you.

And Hendery’s feeble state, as well as his age, failed to give him much hope.

He would die, right there— alone. God has shunned him away. He refused to cry, since no amount of tears could appease the loneliness inside him.

Hendery closed his eyes again.

The second time he woke, the doctors were smiling in front of him. The nurses guided him out of his bed. They even helped him get dressed in new clothes. Baffled was an understatement for what he felt that day. Was he out of danger? Could he truly live now? With his mother and father once again?

For the first time since his life went downhill, Hendery smiled. There wasn’t a reason not to. If he could, he would jump from happiness. He did it. He survived.

Hendery excitedly roamed his eyes around him from the wheelchair, hoping to finally meet his parents after weeks of being separated from them. Yet no familiar faces greeted him when he reached the exit of the hospital.

A clawing feeling rested in his stomach, but he couldn’t afford to cave in his fear. Hendery remained smiling until a middle-aged woman stood before him.

“Are you Hendery?” she asked.

“Yes. I am,” Hendery answered without looking at the woman. He was busy searching for his parents.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my niece. I’ll forever be grateful for your service. I’ll take him from here,” the woman announced.

“Wait—” Hendery turned around to see the woman taking the wheelchair from the nurses. “Where’s my Mom? My Dad?”

“Hendery, I’ll explain once we reach the house,” his apparent aunt said.

Hendery pursed his lips together. “Is Mom and Dad—”

“Be quiet,” the woman said softly.

Hendery had been quiet thereafter.

Hendery looked up to see the stars in the skies. How pretty they truly were. He won’t blame those who wishes upon these twinkling white lights. But he would feel utterly stupid himself to whisper his dreams to these scintillating lights that would die later on.

Supernova, scientists call it. It is the dying of a star. It is its return to atoms, particles, or whatever shit there is in the universe even before matter and time took its place.

Hendery let the liquor grate his throat as he took yet another swig from his bottle. Liquor and unwanted memories? Sign him up. Deep conversations with himself? He might be heartless in the eyes of many, but Hendery knew how to contemplate things. Too bad that he didn’t have anyone to share his thoughts with.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Oh, perhaps there was.

Aghast by the fact that there were empty bottles littered all around him, you gazed at Hendery.

It had been a week since he arrived at the church, telling everyone that he wanted to be a sacristan. So far, so good. He was a fast-learner albeit not showing any interests when it came to talking about the Bible. You still had your doubts in the pockets of your skirts. And seeing him drinking himself right behind the structures of the Church only intensified your wariness.

But the boy faced you with a smile. “Drinking,” he answered with a shrug.

“I know you are drinking,” you seethed. “But why are you drinking?”

It was past six p.m. already. You had completed your duties to the Church, and had also tucked in Kristan to the sacristan’s quarters just below Father Ben’s own chamber.

“To let off some steam.”

You stomped towards him with your chest puffing out of irritation. “First, you smoke on your first day. Then you drink on your first week. What on earth is wrong with you, Hendery?”

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while?”

You flew your arms to the air. “You are unbelievable.”

Hendery leaned back. “Aren’t you curious about me?”

“I am—” You closed your mouth. The words slipped out before you knew it.

His smile only widened . “Father Ben’s secured in his chamber. There is no need to fret.” He motioned his head down the space beside him. “Sit.”

They said drunk men speak the most truth. If you could squeeze anything out of him by joining him tonight, you would. With a heavy heart, you sat beside Hendery. The acrid smell of the alcohol whiffed your nose like a whiplash instantly.

“Now,” he began. “Ask me anything you want.”

“Where are y—”

Hendery pressed a finger to your lips. “In one condition: drink.”

You swatted his hand away with a frown. “I’m going.” But before you could stand up, Hendery held your wrist.

“I’m kidding,” the boy said with a chuckle.

There. That smile. That chuckle.

“Seriously.” You sat comfortably again. “Where are you from?”

“The city,” he answered. “I was born in the city. It’s all I’ve ever known ever since.”

“The pandemic hit the city hardest,” you commented. It was true, though. Because of their lifestyle and opulence, the pandemic moved way faster in the city compared to the villages.

“Yes, it did,” he whispered before downing the last gulp from his bottle. Hendery burped softly before tossing the empty bottle to the grass.

“One, two, three, four—” You scrunched your nose. “Five bottles. Now tell me, where did you get these?” you asked, pertaining to the liquor.

Hendery looked at you as if you beguile him to the fullest. “Convenience store. You have it here.”

You shot up a brow. “And you decided it best to consume them here? In the Church?”

“If it wasn’t obvious, yes.”

“I don’t have anything against you, smoking and drinking, but we shall set a good example to the children.”

Hendery quirked a brow. “Do you think smoking and drinking are bad examples?”

“Personally? No.” It was true. You didn’t think they were bad examples. It was always the person. But the church-goers were mostly children. They still don’t have the capacity to balance the right and the wrong for their age. Eventually, they would know. However, it was your duty to protect their innocent minds as best you could. “But there are children here. We must guide them.”

“They’ll learn to smoke later on.” He shrugged.

You hummed. “That, we aren’t sure of. Until then, let’s guide them first.”

“You’re truly devoted to being a sacristan, aren’t you?” Hendery asked, his head looking up to the skies.

You watched him in silence. His side profile was undeniably beautiful. You have never seen such soft features, to be honest. “Yes, I am.”

“Is that your dream?”

You tilted your head up to see the skies yourself. The stars were sprinkled like white sands against the darkness of the heavens. You smiled. “I have a lot of dreams, though. Like the stars above, they are somewhat implausible.”

It was his turn to look at you. If he was to be honest, Hendery found your face marvelous. He had never seen your likeness in the city. “Why do you say that?”

Perhaps someone would find it funny that you were opening yourself up to this boy. A boy you just met one week ago. However, there was a space in your heart that tells you it’s alright to tell Hendery all your dreams and worries, your aspirations and your doubts. Strangers couldn’t judge you.

You sigh. “I am… stuck here. I’ve never been anywhere else but here.”

“Not even in the city?”

You shake your head.

Hendery hums. “Well, it’s not really different. If not, it’s worse.” He chuckles. “Everyone lives as if it’s the end of the world tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” You hugged your knees closer to your chests. “I’ve always wanted to experience a night like that.”

Hendery snorted. “It gets tiring. And it’s not really convenient when you don’t have the money.”

“For what? Can’t you enjoy without it?”

He strayed his eyes towards you. There was a spark of amusement dancing in his orbs. As if he found your question fascinating. “You can’t. What about drugs? Alcohol? Cigarettes? You can’t buy those without money.”

Oh. Of course. Hendery’s talking about parties. He looked like that kind of boy at first glance. Yet upon hearing his snorts and the dissent on his face, you have realized that perhaps both of you were yearning for something you weren’t been born to reach. You, the city. Him, the peace of the countryside.

“I wasn’t talking about those,” you said. Hendery fixed you with a curious look. “I’m talking about the city lights above the rooftops. The blare of the cars. The life outside this town.”

Hendery threw his head back, contorting the tattoo on the side of his neck, and laughed softly. “Of course.” His laughters ceased, like smoke slowly dissipating into the air. “But there is more to that.”

You stood up and smoothed out your skirt. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t you want more?”

With that, you looked down at him to flash him a small smile. “I’ve always wanted more. Perhaps there is more to the world than this little town. Perhaps I deserve to see it one day.”

Hendery didn’t break eye contact when he said the words, “There are millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.”

In which you didn’t have any answer for.

v. He descended to the dead. On the third day, He rose again…

Hendery waited. For hours, days, months, but he’d never seen his parents again.

The roof above him and the floors underneath his feet were a place he had never seen before. Wherever he looked, the unfamiliarity of everything would hit him like a tidal wave. From the couches to the television, to the doorframe and the windowsills, no one could deny that this house had seen better days.

Hendery sleeps in a cot of hard wood that leaves his back aching every morning. He eats in a kitchen with mice crawling in the corners and cockroaches flying in different directions. Nevertheless, there was food and somehow it was all that matters.

What happened to his Mom and Dad? Hendery was left with puzzles of an answer himself. After he survived the pandemic, he was met with yet another obstacle: orphanhood.

His aunt, Lilia, said that his father died. He died because of the pandemic, too. Hendery wept for days on end, refusing to believe what had befell his loving father. But as Lilia showed him the death certificate, Hendery’s world collapsed to shreds. That had been the time when he felt utterly alone, with no one to guide him and no one to tuck him in his sleep but the coldness of the world and the loneliness of the night.

His mother— no one knows what happened to her. They say she was in an asylum. They say what had betided her husband and son shattered her mind. Hendery tried to gather information. He tried to ask his aunt about his mother’s whereabouts. But whenever he does, he’s met with a slap on the cheek.

Aunt Lilia was a kind woman— she really was. But there had been times when she would talk to no one in the windows, or would cry with unknown reasons on the kitchen floors. Sometimes, she would sing lullabies to help Hendery sleep. Sometimes, she would whip him until he was crying and begging for help.

No one saved him.

One day, when Aunt Lilia was fast asleep and snoring on her couch, Hendery tiptoed to the door. It’s time for him to leave this godforsaken place. It’s time that he finds his mother. He was twelve years old.

According to the doctors themselves, you become immune to the pandemic once it has already hit you. Hendery braved the pandemic with a single mask and a little bottle of alcohol. And for months, he would live in the streets.

You sang your favorite song while walking. It was eight p.m., the road was almost empty, save for a few workers going home to your village. Fortunately, it didn’t rain tonight so there were no need for umbrellas and tiptoeing through the mud.

Hendery remained in the Church, to do what, you hadn’t bothered to ask. He offered to take you home, but you politely declined. After a series of convincing Hendery that you were going to be fine on your own, his shoulders finally slumped in approval. Your mother would collapse on the ground if she ever sees you riding Hendery’s motorbike.

You didn’t take him for a gentleman. However, there were still a lot of things you didn’t know about the boy. After your conversation with him on the grasses, perhaps he’s allowed you to slip through his visions, even just for a little bit.

As you neared towards your house, elders and children alike scattering around your street drew you in a halt. What is happening? A bad feeling rested in your stomach, but you sent a silent prayer that it wasn’t what you were thinking about.

Your mother was also one of the villagers out, so you sauntered straight towards her with your forehead drawn in a crease. “What’s happening, Mom?”

Her lips were pulled in a tight frown. “Bandits!” she seethed, as if the word had been the cruelest of all curses. “They took Loira’s money that she hid under the dresser.”

“How? Are bandits that skilled?”

As far as you could tell, Aunt Loira’s home was barred from ceiling to floor. She doesn’t go out of the house without locking all the possible holes that bandits might slip through.

“Evil knows no bounds,” your mother once again spat. “Yes, they are that skilled and heartless nowadays.”

The village chieftain as well as the other tanods circle Aunt Loira’s home with their lamps and flashlights. But you’d doubted that they would acquire evidence. Bandits had been pillaging your village as well as the neighboring ones for years. No one could ell what they look like. However, some elders think that the men from Kristan’s village were the ones responsible for the robbery.

“But Aunt Loira literally bars her whole house whenever she leaves for the market, right?”

Your mother made a strange noise through her nose. “She forgot to lock her back door when she left earlier.” Then she wrapped a hand around your wrist. “Come, the food’s getting colder.”

With one last look at Aunt Loira’s house, you let your mother lead you away from the mayhem.

You have been a victim of the bandits yourselves. Once, when you were ten years old. And it had been of your own fault. Father and Mother went to the market that day, and being the only daughter that you were, you had no one to play with whenever they were away. So you hopped out of bed, with your morning glory still stuck in your eyes and hair like the nest of birds, you hadn’t bothered to lock your house and flew straight to your childhood friends.

When you came back home, Mother was frowning at you. She would’ve had you whipped if not for your father, who kindly stood between you and your mother’s diabolical punishments. The money from the old refrigerator was stolen. It was the money for the renovation of your own room. Because of its looting, you still stare at the blotches of rainwater on your canopy every night until now, praying that it won’t collapse on you.

As you lay on your bed, silent contemplations ravaged your mind: the conversation with Hendery, the bandits, your unattainable dreams— are they though?

You have always dreamed of traveling the world. See the wonders of it for yourself. But how could you do that if you have been stuck here ever since? You have no idea what the city looks like. Mother said you were born in the city, but before the lockdown had taken place over the whole country, Mother went back to this village. Apparently, the isolated places were safer during the pandemic.

The pandemic has been over for five years now. Surely, there was more to life than this quiet town, right? You love this village with all your heart. However, you feel as if there were a lot more waiting for you out there. As Hendery said, there were millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.

Dare. What an audacious word. It made you feel dauntless just saying it.

You sat up and stared at the view outside your windows. What could truly happen if you dares the world? What could happen if you step your foot out of this town and dare?

vi. He ascended into Heaven, sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty…

“He’s not from here,” the other boys whispered.

Hendery continued ransacking the trash cans under the bridge. It had been exactly two weeks since he escaped Aunt Lilia’s hell house. And he wasn’t fairing well. The coins he stole from Aunt Lilia’s dresser were beginning to sound nothing in his pockets despite the fact that water was all his body consumed ever since escaping.

They say you could survive without food, but you wouldn’t survive without water. So he drank and drank until his stomach became bloated. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Hendery would buy at least one bottle of water with the stolen money and would consume it for two days. Sounds impossible for other people, but Hendery made it to two weeks of not fainting on the ground by that.

“He looks like he’s from here, though,” the other boy commented.

Hendery paid them no heed, for he found a bag of chips in the trash. It tasted like ashes in his mouth, but he couldn’t complain. He’d never complain.

Hendery fished for yet another chip when the boys snatched the bag away from him. They sneered. At long last, Hendery looked at them. And they were exactly like a mirror of him. Greasy hair, acrid smell, tattered clothes— and that something in their eyes: despair.

“Where are you from, boy?” One of them asked.

Boy? He didn’t look older than Hendery. However similar their situations might be, he had no time to linger around them. He needed to find his mother. So he turned his back and walked away. Not even a few steps ahead, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The boy smirked before landing a blow at his nose.

Hendery staggered backwards, aghast and angry at the same time. He touched his nose, and found it bleeding. Fueled by hunger and lost and a shit ton of problems, Hendery let his backpack fall to the ground and charged towards the boy.

They rolled off the ground. Hendery had him by the collar, and all the boy did was to choke. If no one would intrude, Hendery could surely kill him. But when they rolled once more and Hendery got on the boy’s stomach, he raised a fist only for someone to wrap a viselike grip around his wrist.

Hendery shot him a glare, but he answered him with a kind smile. That was when he noticed there were at least five of them there. Six, if Hendery was to count himself.

“There is no need for us to kill each other,” the boy said. “Stand up.”

Hesitant, Hendery wriggled free before standing on his feet. Once again, he turned on his heel to walk away.

“Why are you leaving?” the boy asked. “We have food here. And a shelter for the night.”

That sounded like a dream. Hendery had never heard of that for two weeks. Not even experienced any of that. Still, he didn’t turn.

“I promise we won’t harm you.”

He continued to walk away. If Hendery had come to a realization, it was that he could survive on his own. He’d experienced a lot of shit already being with people.

“We can help you!” the boy shouted.

With that, Hendery gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. He didn’t know if it was out of luck, or the boy really hit something that made his consciousness stir. If Hendery wanted to find his mother, it’d be better to have companions he could rely on.

He turned to face the boys again. “Really?” he shouted back.

They looked at one another before trodding the distance towards Hendery. The taller man stretched out his hand, with a smile he said, “I’m Kun.”

Hendery stared at the hand before taking it. “Hendery.”

“We can help you,” Kun said. “In one condition.”

You stared at your reflection on the mirror. The glass had a lot of brown blotches because of its age. But your reflection could still be seen.

Another day, another walk, another face to greet.

It’s Sunday already. The third Sunday of the month. You once believed that if people would pray day and night in the churches and in their houses, the bad things crawling in the world would somehow lessen. You were mistaken.

Bandits, bandits, bandits. They were everywhere these days. Mother even refused to go to the market in fear of being robbed. That left you with no choice but to go on your own. How? You exactly have no idea.

It was always best to visit the market at dawn, for the vegetables and meats were still fresh. You could still buy something after noon, but it won’t be as worth the money as they were in the gloaming. And the bandits had left yet another fiendish mess at Uncle Gino’s house. Your mother had been a cursing mess for hours since they stole a precious heirloom from Uncle’s treasure chest.

You sighed. Why is your village always prone to bandits? It wasn’t as if your chieftain never does anything for it, if not, he’s hands-on searching for the robbers. With no luck at all. Bandits disappeara like a bubble everytime they come close to capturing them.

At the church, everyone else was busy when you arrived. Save for one person; Hendery. He was leaning on the door frame of the sacristan’s quarter, watching everyone pass by him.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” you asked when you reached him.

“Ah, my dearest Y/N,” he sighed. “How I’ve missed you dearly.”

You deadpanned. “We met yesterday, Hendery.”

“Then? Am I not allowed to miss you?” He raised a brow.

You compressed your lips in a tight line. Three weeks since the boy arrived and in some way you have found a common ground together: talking about your dreams. Well, it’s you who’s always doing the talking. While he listened and snorted whenever he disagrees with you. It had been somewhat challenging, having someone disagree with you.

“Let’s go,” you sighed. “The mass is about to start.”

Thankfully, he was already donned in his white robes. No matter how holy the color might be, it failed to make him one. If not, it had only intensified the danger lurking within him.

Hendery yawned all throughout the mass, resulting in you nudging his ribs with your elbow. You couldn’t still comprehend his goal for joining the church. He seemed disinterested about everything. You have to find out his true intentions or else you will lose your mind thinking.

And it was not right to think about anything but the Lord while the mass is going on.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…” The churchgoers starts to sing. They clasped their hands as if in prayer while singing. Father Ben already practiced the right way in singing the litany. No one holds hand any longer.

You clasped your own hand. “Holy be Thy Name— what are you doing?” In bafflement and shock, you hissed louder than what you intended to.

Hendery took your right hand to clasped with his left. He didn’t answer you, though. He kept on looking straight at the altar. “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done…” he started to sing along.

Flustered on where you stand, you roamed your eyes around you. Lucy and Rei were busy singing their hymns, oblivious to the way Hendery was breaking Father Ben’s rule.

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was viselike. It’s disrupting the mass for you. With a heavy intake of breath, you let it go. “On Earth as it is in Heaven…” you sang along.

When he heard you, Hendery slackened his hold. You looked at him the same time he looked at you. And there he was, smiling like an idiot. “Give us this day, our daily bread…” he sang as he focused on the altar again.

You blinked, heart doing somersaults inside your chest. “And forgive us our trespasses…” you sang.

Everything had come at once. The echoes of the singing churchgoers, as well as Hendery’s.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us…”

The beating of your heart was wild. For what reasons? You have no idea. It was just there, beating stubbornly inside your ribcage.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

After the mass, and when all the churchgoers finished asking for Father Ben’s blessings and advice, he gathered all the sacristan inside the church.

You sat between Rei and Lucy, while Hendery sat behind you. He still has that infuriating smile on his face. Truth be told, and no matter how hard you tried, you also smiled a little yourself.

“I’ve heard the concerns of the people,” Father Ben announced. “For years, we have faced the bandits.”

You straightened up. In his own ways, Father Ben had been a huge help for the people. You won’t call him rich, but he’s always ready to lend money to those who fell to the bandits’ wrongdoings. You have seen his treasure chest once, and you believe you had been the only one allowed to see it.

“As much as I would like to financially aid everyone, my coffers couldn’t hold everything,” he added.

Lucy intruded, “It is alright Father. You’ve been helping us since you came here in the village. And for that we are thankful. But you need not bother yourself for our problems.”

Father Ben smiled. “I am the priest of this town. I need to preserve peace just like the chieftain. It’s been a pleasure to help with my own ways.”

You cleared your throat. “How can we help, Father?”

“Ah, yes.” Father Ben placed his hands behind him. “I need you to be vigilant. Not only for your own sakes, but for the well-being of others, too. Help in your own little ways. Be it helping the townspeople pick the strongest barriers there is in the market, they’d appreciate that. I trust you all. And don’t forget to pray for your village and the neighboring ones, too.” Father Ben makes a cross in the air. “May God bless us all.”

“Amen,” you said in unison.

Father Ben returned behind the altar to check up on Kristan, more likely. As for the little boy, he was comfortable, he said. His father also tried to visit him, but found it hard to face his son. Kristan said it’s fine, and that his father deserved time to think.

You stood up together with the other sacristan with a sigh. Bandits are such headaches. It gets tiring having to deal with them. It feels as if dealing with the wind. Invisible. And there was yet another headache you have to face: going to the market.

If you were lucky, you could reach the market at one p.m.. But vehicles during this time of the day were rare. Not to mention the village was isolated.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hendery asked as he stood in front of you.

You sighed a pensive one. He’s your third headache of the day. “Please, Hendery. I’m thinking.” You started to walk away, but he followed beside you.

“Perhaps I can help.”

You drew in a halt. Mayhaps it was a blessing in disguise— him. Hendery has a motorbike. You’d get there and come back on time if you would ride with him. But courage was a luxury you couldn’t afford, so you shun the thoughts.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Your tongue ached to say the words. And your body yearned to feel the wind on your face, too. It was not everyday that a chance opens up like this in front of you. Dare.

You straightened your shoulders. “Can you take me to the market?” The market isn’t as far as the city. But going in there is a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity you couldn’t afford to miss. It was a step, no matter how small.

Hendery raised a brow. “What business do you have in the market?”

You played with your lower lip with your teeth. A fleet of a moment, and a moment you had surely missed: the way Hendery looked at your lips when you rolled it between your teeth. “Well,” you said, “I need to buy some food. And mother wouldn’t leave the house in fear of bandits robbing us.”

“Understandable,” he said. “But I have a condition to make.”

“Forget it—”

“Kidding.” Then he laughed. “You are one hell of a heartless woman, do you know that?”

A ghost of a smile painted your lips. “It is not right to say ‘hell’ inside the church. And why do you say that?”

“What about my wage?”

You blinked. “Oh, I— I didn’t bring any extra cash—”

Hendery placed his hand on the top of your head. “I’m just kidding.” Then he pivoted on his heel, his keys dangling between his fingers.

You followed.

“I thought you didn’t have a helmet.” You shot up a brow to your forehead upon seeing one helmet resting on his accelerator.

Hendery shrugged. “It’s for you.”

And there it wasagain, the wild beating of your heart. As if it was an animal begging to be unleashed to the world. “That’s… kind of you.” That had been the only thing you were able to say. “But how did you know to bring one?”

He disentangled the helmet from the accelerator. “Because I am always waiting for you.”

“For me? What do you mean?”

“I’m always waiting for you to ask me to take you to the city.”

Without giving you any time to comprehend his words and form coherent answers, Hendery fixed the helmet to your head. But before he could fully lock it under your chin, you stopped his hands.

“I think I’ll prefer to feel the wind.”

Hendery smiled, but continued to lock the helmet nevertheless. “Not today. I drive relatively fast, and the road to the market’s pretty bumpy. You won’t enjoy it.”

“I appreciate you, bringing this, but—”

He tapped the head of the helmet. “No buts.”

Hendery climbed his motorbike, then nudged his head to invite you to hop in. Just like the last time, you pulled up your skits and climb behind him. He revved the engine and you rode together.

The feel of riding behind him had become a reflex inside your body. A peaceful one, despite the blare of his engine and the harsh slap of the wind on your face.

“Hold on,” he reminded you before he accelerated the engine yet again.

You wrapped your arms around his torso. This was the second time you rode a motorbike, but the feeling compared to last time has drastically changed. There was no fear now. Only fascination and curiosity of what lies behind everything you have ever known.

If you’d only dare.

An hour before the clock strikes two, you have finally reached the buzz of the market.

When the pandemic ended, the livelihood didn’t go back automatically to normal. There were millions of protocols and reminders from the government. Because the pandemic didn’t really disappear like a bubble in the air. It was there, still. But after the years of its ravaging, the human body slowly adapted to its hazards.

It became just like the flu. More dangerous, yes. But less hazardous now.

“Wait for me here,” you said to Hendery.

“I’ll come with you.”

You stopped. “Are you sure? It’s quite chaotic inside. And… city boys are city boys.”

A playful laugh resonated from him. “I’ve been here before, sacristan. I’ll be fine.”

When he said that he’d be fine, it was true. Hendery jumped from vendor to vendor to help you buy all your needs. Be it meat, poultry, vegetables, or fruits. Father’s coming home in two days after weeks of being away, so Mother wants to cook something special for him. And you, too.

“Is this all?” he asked when you finished. Hendery insisted on carrying everything, which you politely declined. But he didn’t stop bugging you about it until you gave up and handed him everything.

“I need to buy onions over there, across the street. Could you hold this for me? I’ll be quick.”

Hendery nodded. You fished for your wallet inside your pocket. Halfway across the street, someone bumped into you.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said. But the man ignored you as he continued to walk away.

Five steps ahead, you noticed something. Your wallet was stolen. Before you could shout, Hendery was running for the boy already. Shocked and confused, you did the first thing that occured to your mind; run for them.

The wallet didn’t have much money, but it was given by your mother on your birthday. And you have been utterly sentimental when it comes to gifts. The boy can take the money, but he needs to give back your wallet.

Hendery ran pretty fast that you almost lost him in the maze of people and stalls alike. He turned left. You pulled up your heavy skirts and follow him. When you finally reached the alleyway he’s run off to, you have found out that it was a dead end.

Hendery was sitting on the boy’s stomach, and he had him by the throat. Few steps away from them, your wallet lays on the ground. You gulped and sauntered up to the two boys.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hendery?”

He knew Hendery? How come?

“Dude, you need to let me g—”

Hendery punched him straight. You gasped. The boy’s eyes rolled before his head collapsed to the ground. And he was unconscious.

Hendery stood up and picked your wallet. He didn’t look at you when he handed it back. “Let’s go home,” he says.

You stared at the boy with your brows narrowing. Is he a bandit? How did he know Hendery? Gripping the wallet tightly, you pivoted on your heels and walked away.

Something wasn’t right.

vii. From thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead...

“I say I beat the shit out of him right now,” Xiaojun seethed upon seeing Hendery enter the room.

Kun, while sitting on the table, raised a hand to stop the other boy from attacking Hendery. He had always been like that; the middle man. Yet Hendery could sense the disappointment as well as the inquisition in the air. This is going to be one hell of a night.

“Sit,” Kun announced as he stretched out his hand to the empty chair on his left side.

Xiaojun, Hendery’s comrade, had his fist clenched while sitting on the window sill. The punch he landed on his face has left a contusion to the bone right below his eyes. Hendery didn’t feel sorry. Not even a little bit.

Kun’s ‘office’ had been stripped off any furniture saved for a table and two chairs. There was only one light hanging from the ceiling. It casted off an orange hue to everything it touches.

If Hendery spends so much as an hour here, he would lose his mind. However, Kun has managed to make this empty place his abode whenever he plans out another robbery or crime. It was comparatively fitting, if he was to be honest.

When Hendery had made himself comfortable on his seat, Kun stood up. “I’ve heard entertaining news today.” He smiled. It would come off as a kind one if you were looking in the surface, but Hendery knew the depths of the edges of that smile.

Nevertheless, Hendery hasn’t been the one to be scared of anything. “Is it about me…” Hendery strays his eyes towards Xiaojun. “Punching someone?” The smile he casted after had completely set his comrade’s blood on fire.

Xiaojun jumped, attempting to attack Hendery once more. Kun gripped his arm in a firm hold. Xiaojun slouched back on the other chair, panting heavily.

“You’re fucking dead to me, Wong,” he spat.

Hendery leaned closer. “Bring it on.”

“Shut the fuck up, you both,” Kun sighed while massaging his temples. “Or just go ahead and get your guns, shoot each other in the head and be done with it.”

Tempting was the offer, but Hendery took it as a warning. However, it had been pretty effective. Hendery leaned back to his chair, hands dangling on his sides. “What’s the matter?”

Kun chuckleed. “You.” He licked his lips while pointing his finger at Hendery. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

“Well—” Hendery stumbleed and fell from the chair. That, he hadn’t seen coming. Kun had always been strong when it comes to boxing someone’s ears. Before Hendery could stand up, he spat blood on the cold floor.

Hendery wipeed his mouth with the back of his hand. It was his turn to chuckle. “I really am.”

Kun wrapped his hand around Hendery’s collar, then he slammed his back against the wall. Sight obscured because of of the hair falling down his eyelids, Hendery felt the blood flowing from the side of his mouth to his chin.

“Why did you do it?” Kun asked.

“What did I—” Hendery fell to the ground as his face met Kun’s fist. His vision blurs, causing him to blink languidly. Perhaps he heard Xiaojun’s laughters, or his sniggers, he wasn’t sure.

Hendery felt like a sack of cotton as Kun hurled him up with his back collar. His back was against the wall again. Now, he feels two warm liquid flowing from the sides of his mouth.

“Why did you do it?”

His mouth twisted in a leer. “None of your business.”

Hendery’s stomach caved in as Kun landed a punch to his guts. Air left his lungs for a moment, and he found it extremely hard to breathe. Hendery had always hated being punched in the stomach.

As he tried to catch his breath, he watched as Kun’s feet started to pace the space in front of him. Hendery continues to blink. Then Kun crouched.

“Who is she?”

She. Hendery stared at Kun. The years of them together flashed in his eyes like a projector in a wide white screen: the day he met his gang of bandits, his first time holding a gun, robbing a store, and shooting someone plays right in his eyes like a movie on repeat.

“None of you fuckers are going anywhere near her,” he stated in a voice so cold even the demon stared back at him in horror.

Kun was silent for a moment. Eyes hard staring at Hendery. Then he asked, “What the fuck is happening to you?”

Hendery realized that he had no answer to the question. But the thought of you, falling in danger feels like rotten food in his stomach. It made him want to retch.

Nobody had seen it coming, that was for sure. This feeling inside him— this wriggling feeling whenever he was with you. Whenever you smile at him. Whenever you tell him your dreams.

Hendery stood up and looked straight at Kun and then at Xiaojun. “Don’t fucking dare,” he warned before he pivoted on his heel.

Two steps away, Kun stated, “I’ll let you swim in your foolishness but don’t fuck this up, Hen. Remember why I sent you to the church.”

Hendery waved his hand. “I remember.”

He’d gone straight to his own room and tended for his own wound. Hendery sat on his bed, meditating over his actions earlier.

For years he had been one of Kun’s best bandit. Ever since he met him under the bridge. Xiaojun landed his fist straight to his nose that day, too. And that had been all Hendery had known. To fight, to survive. Even if it means licking the edge of the knife.

The time Kun handed him a gun, Hendery knew his hands trembled. For that he missed his first aim. But as the days went by that all he’d ever held was a bullet, a magazine, and a gun, Hendery became as sharp as a pointed knife when it came to mowing down.

He stared at his calloused hand. The rough palms stares back at him, as if in insult. He’s lost count of the stores he’s robbed. Of the houses he’d stolen from. Of the individuals he pointed the barrel of the gun at. Is this what he has been born to do?

All he ever wanted was to meet his mother again. To hold that hateful woman in his arms. To tell her that her son survived and there has been an aching hole inside him ever since she disappeared without a trace.

Years of searching for nothing, Hendery thought he’s already turned every stone in this country upside down searching for his lost mother. And it all went in vain.

Hendery doesn’t know who to blame: the pandemic, his mother, or his own self?

You chewed on your bottom lip while walking the long road towards your home. The scene from the market, and the robbery that had taken place refused to leave your mind. You sigh, since those weren’t the only things trying to penetrate your brain. Hendery refused to leave, too.

Perhaps you should be thankful that he somewhat saved your money earlier. Bandits are heartless. The boy could’ve been carrying a pocket knife and Hendery would’ve been in grave danger. Yet he braved the possible risks and ran for the boy nonetheless. Worries aside, you cannot help but feel perturbed of the way the bandit called Hendery’s name.

Are they related? If yes, how?

Before entering your house, you straightened your back. Mother senses even a slip of your composure, and she’d never let you go unless you tell her what’s wrong.

You raised your fist to knock, then a familiar face greeted you when the door swung open suddenly. The bags you have been holding fell as you squealed and jumped to hug your father. “Father!” you exclaim.

He laughed as he wraps his arms around you. “My baby girl,” he chuckled.

“Dad!” you retorted, but laughed nonetheless. There is time for that endearment. “When did you arrive?” you asked as both of you pulled away.

“Earlier,” he saied as he muffled your hair. “I didn’t tell your mom, either.” As he said that, Mother occured from the kitchen with a spatula in hand.

“Time for dinner,” she announced with a smile.

Ah, that rare smile from her lips. Father was the only living thing who could pull up the edges of her mouth like that. It was refreshing to behold.

Father picked up the bags from the ground. “You carried all these by yourself?” he asked.

You automatically flustered. The image of Hendery carrying all you have bought earlier flashing back in your head without permission. “Y… yeah.”

It wasn’t as if they are illiberal when it comes to boys. But it was a topic you haven’t discussed with any of them yet.

“Hm, we really ought to buy a motorcycle, don’t you think?”

You turned to face him. “It would be convenie—”

“Who would drive? Me?” Mother interrupted. “Our daughter?”

Father placed the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Yes. Y/N is a fast-learner. She could defini—”

“I’m sorry but it is a no.” Mother smiled again, but there was an edge to it. “It is inappropriate for a lady to drive—”

“Who says?” you groaned. “It’s 2040, Mother.”

Mother crossed her arms over her chests. “And where would you go once you learn how to drive?”

You pursed your lips. Saying the word would only extend the argument. But it needs to be heard. “Perhaps then I could go to the city—”

“What?!” she exclaimed.

“... and study,” you finished.

Father cleared his throat. “That’s a good idea, actually.” He turned his head towards Mother. “Don’t you think?”

Mother made out an incredulous noise from her nose. “No, I don’t think so. The city is still contaminated with the virus and hedonism. There is no way I’m letting you—”

“Develop on my own?” you asked.

It had always been an argument: your dreams. And Mother always says no to every step you’d attempt to achieve them. You loved her dearly. But sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed of her decisions when it comes to your life. You were an adult— a capable adult. And yet you felt as if someone had clipped your wings before you could fly. It hurts to know that that someone was your own mother.

“Y/N!” she hissed, her eyebrows knitted together.

Father held up his hands. “There is no need for us to raise our voices. We can discuss this in peace,” he said.

But Mother wouldn’t back down. “There would be no discussion. I won’t allow it.” Then she turned on her back to finish preparing the food.

You looked down at the floor, eyes suddenly breaming with tears. This conversation had never failed to put you to misery.

“Cheer up,” Father whispered. “We’ll find a way.”

No. You will.

The next day, you couldn’t help but frown upon your reflection in the mirror. Same robes, same skirts, same hairstyle. There was nothing new.

You loved being a sacristan. You have devoted yourself in serving God and His Son, Jesus Christ. You have never missed a mass. It was a part of your life that won’t ever disappear. But duty and dream aren’t the same thing.

You have your duty to God, that you diligently and wholeheartedly accomplished for the last few years. But there was your dream, hanging like a blank canvas on the wall of your bedroom.

The village was your serenity. But the city holds everything that you have ever wanted.

Dare.

You harshly brushed your hair and fix your robe. The bones under your skin are unstoppable. You only have to dare. So with a deep intake of breath, you departed your bedroom, kissed both your parents’ cheek, and ran towards the Church. Where everything was going to happen.

Seeing Hendery casually sipping on his cigarette while leaning on the tree has put your rushing feet in a halt.

This boy. Always so alluring, always so mysterious, always so stubborn.

Hendery remained staring at the ground when you sauntered up to him. It would feel as if you were back on the day you first met him. When he exuded such obscurity that you found him irritatingly blurry yet interesting.

What happened yesterday still lingers in the back of your mind. Perhaps you should talk to him about it to quench your interest. “Hey,” you greeted.

When he looked up, you covered your mouth with your hands in utter stupefaction. “What happened to you?!” you blurted out.

There were purple patches on the bone underneath his right eye and another on the side of his lips. Did the bandit get back to him yesterday? The thought made your stomach lurched.

“You look devastated,” Hendery commented.

You blinked. It was him who looked like an absolute wreck right now. How could he tell you that? “No. You are.”

“You are.” Hendery toucheed your chin to lift up your face. You let him. “See? It’s missing,” he said while staring at you.

His stare made you nervous. But you couldn’t look away. “What is?”

Hendery let his hand fall before he answers, “The fire in your eyes.”

The fire in your eyes. For the second time, you blink at him. You were a lover of poetry. Hearing this boy talk as if he had the verses of the universe in his tongue perhaps set your heart in a panic.

Sad eyes, bad guys, and a mouthful of verselet. You once thought someone like him won’t sweep you on your feet. Knowing that you were mistaken has left a bittersweet taste in your tongue. It was, indeed, beautiful to feel this way. This feeling you have for Hendery was a flower beginning to turn into a fruit. So fragile, yet so heavenly.

Would it be ready for the plucking?

You gulped. “Did the bandit get back to you yesterday?”

“This is nothing,” he said. “I found myself in a brawl yesternight. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You raised a brow. “I am not worried.”

That was his cue to laugh before puffing his cigarette again. “One hell of a heartless woman.”

“I am not heartless.”

Hendery looked affronted. “Really? Prove it, then.”

“Prove it?” You let out an incredulous sound. Then you crossed your arms over your chests. “How?”

“Admire me back.” He tossed his cigarette bud away. “Simple as that.”

Admire me back. You gaped at him, unable to form lucid words. What was that? Did he really ask you to admire him… back? “Is that…” you paused, “Is that a confession?”

Hendery placed the tip of his pointer finger against your forehead. Then he pushed lightly. However, he didn’t answer, he only walked past you. “You’re pretty unique,” he added. “I like your fire.”

“Wait!”

You ran for him. You have no idea what it was, but talking to Hendery has stirred the emotion you once felt earlier before leaving the house. The extreme drive to do something you haven’t done before and prove your mother that you are worthy of being left alone with your decisions.

Hendery turned to you. “What? Have you reciprocated my feelings alr—”

“Take me to the city,” you panted.

His smile grew wider. And the stars in his eyes shone, rivaling the blare of the sunlight above. “That’s better.”

viii. And His Kingdom would have no end…

A month ago, you would never have imagined yourself going out of the village. But here you wee, riding with a boy you only met four weeks ago, in his black and shiny motorcycle that was like a much safer version of a Harley. However, it didn’t lessen the agitation in your heart.

After years since you were born, this would be your first time to see the world beyond your village. You didn’t expect it to be beautiful. Since a global pandemic has swept through the continents twenty years ago. But you could say it was something you didn’t expect to behold either.

Copse of trees became a blur of brown and green as Hendery picks up the pace. There was nothing to see but the unending stretch of tall grasses and trees and the isolated road ahead. There weren’t even streetlights to guide you back later.

The wind slapped your face, with it the grimy feeling of running at 60 kilometers per/hour, and sniffing Hendery’s virile scent.

Hendery sure drives like the road was his and he’s alone in the world.

For this adventure, you refused to wear any helmet at all. It took minutes of disagreement, but Hendery had come in peace with it. If this was the first time you were riding towards the city— a place as strange to you as anything in the world— you wanted to caress it with your whole body. After all, this was an event more special than your own birthday.

As Hendery revved the engine faster, your grip on his torso tightened. Nonetheless, you bite your tongue to stop the squeal that was threatening to come out of your mouth. You will brave this ride. And there was nothing that would stop you from relishing this feeling.

All your trust and all your hopes of a safe travel were in Hendery’s hands today. And if you were to be honest, a sliver of doubt still flows in your veins. It has to be normal for a village girl to feel this way. Hendery could be infuriating at times, and he sure has this mysterious secret in his eyes, but he’s never done you anything hideous. Or perhaps you were only a naive girl, too blinded by ambitions and the overflowing courage in your heart, that you walked right into the devil’s trap.

You sent a silent prayer to God to guide you safely despite breaking the rules of your parents.

Slowly, the copse of trees became an expanse of water. Then you were traveling on a bridge, with a river below you. Busses, cars, and motorcycles alike run along the bridge, adding much to your adrenaline. You couldn’t remember the last time you have seen a bus. Perhaps it was when the students from the city took a trip to your village.

You turned your head to see the water. Few birds were flying as well as diving into the water to catch some fish. The wind coming from it was briny and sticky. But you loved it nonetheless.

Then the tall buildings loomed ahead, at the edge of the bridge. You cannot help but gape at it. How isolated have you become to marvel at tall buildings? Embarrassed as you were, you didn’t let it douse out your excitement.

Hendery slowed down as you meet the highway. On the pavements there walked the passersby. Some were hurrying, some were jogging with their dogs. Inside the coffee shops were lovers laughing while sipping on their drinks.

Despite the pandemic, the city felt alive. It thrummed with an energy you haven’t experienced before. It made you feel dizzy with excitement.

“It’s two p.m.,” Hendery stated before parking his motorcycle in a dead alley.

You hopped off. “Won’t you get in trouble parking here?” you asked, roaming your eyes around the two buildings covering the alleyway. In the village, there would be no problem parking your car wherever. But as far as you were concerned, city policies were different.

Hendery snickered. “Nobody would dare.”

By that, you raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Nevermind.” Then he faced you with a smile. “Where do you wanna go?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not from here. You’re supposed to show me around.”

He feigned laughters. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. But—” Hendery raised his pointer finger as if in warning. “May I warn you that I’m not a ferris wheel type of guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m adrenaline embodiment.” Then he grabbed your shoulder softly and guided you towards the buzz of people.

As you walked with Hendery on the side streets, you looked up to the sky. It was gray but bright nonetheless. The type of weather wherein you wouldn’t know if it would rain or the clouds were only keeping the sun away.

Different honk of cars resonated everywhere, with the giggles of students as they walk home. There were teenagers sitting on the narrow alleyway, their clothes black and their pants ripped. You regarded them with narrowed brows. Then the two teenagers kissed.

“Oh,” you gasped as you cover your eyes. It felt private, albeit the fact that they were kissing in a public place.

Hendery chuckled. “That’s like, level 0.1 of the things that happens there.”

Before you could ask him what did he mean for the nth time that day, Hendery held your hand and tugged you. “See that sign up there?”

He stood extremely close to yours. Strands of his hair flew towards the sides of your face. You gulped before following his pointer finger with your eyes. He was pointing at the sign across the street. It was surrounded by different types of people, but students dominated the whole entrance. Above their heads was a huge sign board that says ‘Wonderland’.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “What is it about?”

“It’s a circus,” Hendery said as he turned to look at your face, “Last to arrive pays for the tickets. Deal?”

“Wha— wait! That’s not fair!” you shouted when he bolts away.

Hendery took a look at you while laughing. His hair obscuring his eyes. “Run!”

You exhaled sharply before gathering your skirts and running towards him. As your shoulders slammed to different bodies, you shout apologies on your wake. If this was a normal day, you would have to stopped and say your apologies with a bow. But this wasn’t a normal day. And Hendery didn’t even bother to stop even if he had to push students out of his way.

However, he drew in a halt as a little girl suddenly appears from a boutique. Hendery was still ahead of you by five steps, but because of the circumstances, you tapped his shoulder and run past him.

At last, it was time for you to cross the streets. The streetlight says red. You muttered, “Green, green, gree—”

“Didn’t take you for a… runner,” Hendery breathed with his hands on the sides of his waists as he stood beside you.

You ignored him. Then the lights went green. You stormed away from him, dodging the elders crossing the street. Hendery laughed behind you. And he was extremely close.

With one last force of a leg, you jumped the one meter distance from the pavement to the entrance line of the circus. “I won!” you shouted in triumph.

Hendery shook his head, disbelief visible in his face. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered.

“A ticket for two,” you taunted, displaying two fingers in front of him. “The deal is the deal.”

Hendery sighed and fished for his pocket. Perspiration trickled down your back as you follow Hendery towards the ticket booth. After he received the tickets, he handed you his kerchief. “For your sweat.”

You immediately raised your hands. “Oh, no! It’s okay!”

Hendery tilted his head to the side. “You are sweltering like a waterfall. Here, let me,” he said before pulling you and patting the kerchief to your forehead.

You looked away blinking, unable to form words as you felt the fabric pressing softly on your skin. As if you were a thin, breakable glass he feared that might break if he wasn’t careful. “Thanks,” you whispered when Hendery finally folded back the kerchief to his back pockets.

Both of you turned and faced the entrance of the circus.

The door opened, revealing two little person wearing brightly colored jumpers. Their faces were made up to copy the image of a clown. Both of their heads look up, then they scrunched their noses, clearly irritated of a customer.

“Come in,” they blabbered in unison.

You looked at Hendery. He had that same smile on his face when he walked through the turnstile.

The hallway that displayed itself in front of you were made of corrugated roof ceiling and walls. You felt as if you were in a box.

Different posters of performers adorned the corrugated roof walls. There is the two little person, on their jumpsuits, balancing themselves on a large ball. At your right side, there is the image of a mermaid. Of course, circus such as this one would have a fake mermaid. Then there is an image of a man playing with fire.

You cannot help but stare in awe. You have a knowledge of circuses since you have read books and watched movies to have a distinct image of it in your mind. However, you haven’t really experienced one.

Hendery walked beside you, not bothering to see the posters plastered on the wall. That gave you a hint that maybe he has been in Wonderland already. He was born here in the city after all.

“How many times have you been here?” you decided to ask, voice echoing through the hallway.

“Too many times to count.”

The two little person opened another door. You gaped in astonishment as you take in the picture of the whole circus. Lambent lights hung in different trees, giving the whole area a soft glow.

There wre families resting under the trees and students hopping to different food carts to another. It was a whole new world in the middle of the city. And it was so lively that you feel the energy thrumming in your veins.

Hendery stared. Not at the circus, but at you. Pure amazement adorned your face. And perhaps your eyes twinkled brighter than the lights, too. Hendery couldn’t help but smile. It was somewhat fulfilling taking in your expression. He took you for a woman difficult to impress. Yet he was mistaken. There was that glow in you that he hasn’t seen before in anyone else’s eyes.

And for the first time in twenty years, Hendery has seen the rainbow he was waiting for. It wasn’t in the end of the pandemic. It’s in you.

When you craned your neck to look at him, Hendery blinked and looked away, his heart thudding madly inside his chest.

He couldn’t believe it. This feeling. For someone as sinful as him, Hendery had never expected to feel this type of… fondness.

“I thought you weren’t a ‘ferris wheel’ guy?” You lifted a brow while quoting the air.

The ferris wheel was located at the very corner of the circus’ vicinity. As if on cue, Hendery’s childhood memories weaved their way back to his mind. The laughters of his father and his own giggles whenever they would ride the said ferris wheel.

After seconds of being taciturn, Hendery answered, “I’m not.”

“Really?” you teased. “You needn’t deny it!”

Hendery placed a hand above your head and ruffled your hair. “Come, I’ll show you around.” Then he stretched his hand to you.

Clearly flustered, you stared at his outstretched hand for a minute. You wrapped your hand with his. Taking his hand felt as if a manifold of experiences in itself, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

Both of you entered the tent where the mermaid perfoms. Of course, she was fake. But the craftmanship of her tail almost made you doubt your own eyes. It was simply marvelous.

Next that you visited was the fire-breathing man. The thing was, he was extremely talented and… cute. However, when you mentioned it to Hendery, his amazement deterred and he pulled you out of the tent.

Now you stood in front of a food cart, trying to pick between corndog or fries. You chose fries with lemon iced-tea. Hendery preferred the former.

“We need to go home,” you said while looking up at the sky. There wasn’t any brightness in the heavens any more, only darkness. The stars were hidden in the clouds, which give an ominous sign that it might rain.

And you couldn’t afford to rain. Your mother would go nuts. But then you thought how you have already defied her. Might as well enjoy the night, right? You heaved a sigh. No. You have to go home.

“Yes,” Hendery sighed. He was looking at the heavens, too.

Contemplative of the adventure you have experienced today, you looked at Hendery. Four weeks ago, you have resented his presence in the church because of your own preconceptions. But if this boy beside you didn’t arrive, you wouldn’t have the courage to defy your mother and finally go to the city.

In spite of everything, the saying proves true— that someone could go rebellious if ensnared for a long time. Yes, it was not pleasant to flout parents, but this freedom… you almost felt like a bird with its wings spread wider.

Hendery shifted, then he turned to face you. “Just one last destination.” He spoke the word with a certain anticipation. How could you deny him the chance?

Then you departed the circus.

“Is this safe?” you asked Hendery while you climbed the stairs of an unknown building near the alleyway where he parked his motorcycle.

“Yeah,” Hendery hummed. “This seems empty but trust me, this could be a party place.”

When he said that, you noticed the littered cigarettes in the corners. There were candy wrappers… and some rubber that you had no name for.

“This place is creepy,” you announce when you reach the last set of stairs.

Hendery’s laugh echoed through the empty place. “It’s not,” he said before pushing open a door that leads somewhere.

“A rooftop,” you stated as a-matter-of-factly. Your boots made a clocking noise against the pavement as you walk towards the railings. You stared in awe as different lights from the stores below twinkled like fireflies.

The darkness intensified the colors of everything. The city wasn’t perfect, but was beautiful at this time of the day. With the wind softly nuzzling your face, you breathed a sigh of relief at everything.

“This is beautiful,” you said in utter adoration.

Hendery leaned and grabbed the railings. His floppy hair dancing with the wind, once again falling down his eyelids. “It is,” he breathed.

At the horizon, some far away land stared at you, probably wondering of your unfamiliar face, too. There were mountains and there were also lights flickering from it. The sky was a darker shade of magenta turning black. It’s a pity that there were no stars to grace the heavens.

“Thank you, Hendery,” you whispered.

Hendery looked at you, a smile adorning his lips. “For you.”

Your shoulders brushed against each other, sending your heart into a marathon again. Then you sighed a heartful one. “I want to live here.”

“Really? This was only a façade, though. Bad things crawls out in this city.”

Bad things. There were bad things all around the world, though. “In the village, too,” you muttered, “Bandits. Everywhere.”

“Yeah. Bandits,” he repeated with the same contemptuous voice.

“What do you like most about this city?” you decided to ask. He’s from here. And he won’t stay if he doesn’t find anything beautiful here, right?

Hendery’s eyes were looking at the horizon while he answered, “My…” Then you notice the curvature of his throat as he gulped. “The memories of my family.”

Something inside you insisted to ask him further. So you opened your mouth to speak. “Where are they?”

Hendery displayed a painful smile before a chuckle resonated through him. “My dad died because of the pandemic, and my mom… she’s missing.”

You tasted something bitter in your mouth by the revelation. You shouldn’t have asked. Then you placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” The boy tried to smile when he looked at you. But an old pain still sparked in his eyes.

People tend to say it’s okay even when it’s not. You supposed it’s one of the ways for them to cope. Instead of forcing Hendery, you tried to smile for him, too.

“And your mother.” You cleared your throat. “Just ask me if you need any help.”

“Thank yo—” Hendery’s words were interrupted by the large pitter patters of the rain.

You gasped and shielded your head. Hendery does the same. Then the both of you run towards the building. The ravaging of the rainfall could be heard against the ceilings. It was the sound that pierces the ears. And you were afraid that it’s not going to stop any sooner.

“We have to go home,” you said while biting your nail.

“We can’t,” Hendery pronounced with a shrug.

You sighed deeply, forcing your knees to stand still. “My mother would kill me.”

Even though there was absolute dread to the words, you couldn’t feel any regret. You would’ve done it all over again if given the chance.

“You can call her,” Hendery suggested. “There’s a payphone down the next block.”

She would go absolutely unhinged once she knew about your whereabouts. But you have to at least tell her. Or lie about it. There was no other choice.

You mentally memorized your mother’s cellphone number. She has one, to contact father whenever he’s away. But she barely uses it.

“Let’s go,” you said.

While descending the stairs of the abandoned building, you thought about ways on how to dodge your mother’s possible questions. Lying has left a burning sensation in your chests. But it was the only way. And if it would somehow save you from the doom of being whip to shreds, you’d gladly do it.

Hendery offers you his leather jacket to use as an umbrella. You would have refused, but the rain was falling heavily. You cover your head before running.

When you reached the payphone, Hendery was drenched from head to toe. Due to some miracle that you couldn’t describe yourself, your corsage remained dry.

You delved for a coin inside your pockets and slid it with shaky fingers. Trying to squeeze himself inside the payphone, Hendery stoof mere inches away from you. Your chests too close to each other. Flustered, you focused on the phone still ringing against your ear instead of your bodies’ proximity.

You heard the click of the phone from the other line then the sound of your mother’s voice. “Hello?” she answered.

Running a damp hand through your hair, you gulped and said, “Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N?” You could see her eyebrow raising in your mind. And that made you even more agitated. Mother wasn’t easily convinced. You would need to slid through a needle’s hole if you ever wish to successfully lie to her.

“Yes, Mom. I’m here— at—” You bit your thumbnail as you realize that you cannot truly deceive her.

“Where are you?” she asked, “Why is it so loud in there?”

Shoot. The harsh sound of the rain was, of course, loud. And it probably wasn’t raining that hard to the village or not at all. You needed to think.

“Mom— I— I have an errand to run for Father Ben,” you lied. “And… well… I am in the market. And—” You take a deep breath. “I don’t think I would be able to come home tonight—”

“What?” she said with a voice louder than the rain. “What errand? And why aren’t you coming home?”

“Mother, it’s strictly confidential!” You added just enough panic to your voice to make your deceit more convincing. “And Father Ben told me not to tell anyone—”

“Well, I am your mother so I deserve—”

“Hello? Mother? Mom? I can’t hear you!”

“Y/N—”

“Alright, Mother. I’ll take care! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You dropped the phone immediately, not letting your mother say a word any more. Drawing ragged breaths, you let your back rest on the cold glass encasing the payphone. Then a laughter seized your attention. It was Hendery.

Baffled, you raised a brow. “What’s funny?” you asked, but you had a feeling that you know the answer to your own question. He found it amusing, your panicked conversation with your mother.

Hendery tried to shrug despite his laughter. “I just find it amusing,” he says as his glee receded. You glared at him, but the boy only pointed his finger right in front of your nose. “Now, quit being so strung up.”

“I am not,” your affronted reply. But he was right, your stomach was still tied in knots after the conversation. It was as if your mother would appear in front of you out of nowhere.

You looked at your surroundings. The buildings still towers over you. The road was drenched with rainwater and it didn’t seem to stop any time soon.

“Where do we sleep?” you asked Hendery, embarassed of the realization that you have no idea about the city and where you were supposed to sleep now that you were stuck in an unfamiliar place.

“‘We’?” he teased, “That sounds nice—”

“Hendery!” You hit his arm lightly, eliciting yet another fits of laughter from him.

“I know some place,” he said, “Don’t worry.”

You shrugged. “Well, aside from the fact that I wasn’t from here... and it’s my first time venturing to the city— yeah,” you sighed, “I really shouldn’t worry.”

He seemed not to sense the sarcasm lying within your words for he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got me. I won’t let anyone harm you, alright?”

Ah, the vulnerability in a rather cold façade. It’s marvelous to behold. You couldn’t help but smile. Romance books were true, after all. Once an aloof boy shows some affection, it really feels like lying in a field of cotton.

“You have to promise,” you said. Hendery opened his mouth to speak his oath, but you offered him your pinky finger instead. “Lock it.”

Hendery stared at your hand for a good minute before exhaling a ruminative sigh. Then he placed his pinky finger against yours. The both of you entwined your finger in a lock.

“Ah,” he sighsd at the sight of your coiled fingers, “You really are something else.”

If he was talking about the pinkies, you weren’t so sure how did he consider it something else. It was probably childish, yes, but on other spectrum of things, children rarely lies. That somehow strengthened his promise; the childishness yet purity of it all.

“Yes,” you said, a bit proud of the compliment, “I really am.”

You were in an unknown place, hugging the torso of a boy as you rode with him on his motorcycle. The lights of the cars the only lambency there is in an isolated road.

It should bother you— this unfamiliarity clinging in your bones. But all you could feel was the burning sensation of thrill as it flows in your veins; this strange freedom.

The night was a cacophony of rainwater splashing to everything it touches. With your body pressed against Hendery’s back, both of you braved the unforgiving rain. It was surely the night that would go down to your own history.

“Where are we going?” you asked, giving way too little acknowledgement to your soaked clothes and clattering teeth.

A new empty alleyway greeted you as Hendery turned left with his engine the only noise in the dead of the night. White street lights flicker as he slows down, then you come to a halt in front of an empty gasoline station.

Irradiant glow of pink and orange LED lights adorned the signage plastered above the store. At the sides of the vicinity, rows of motel rooms could be seen. Hendery killed the engine, then both of you hop off his motorcycle.

“Wait! I... I don’t have the money—” you tried to argue, but the boy only flashes you his most beautiful smile.

Still smiling, Hendery held your hand and you both ran to the columns of motel rooms. He roamed his eyes everywhere. When he saw no one, Hendery tugged you softly towards the stairs up to the second floor.

Now, there was no light adorning the second floor of the motel. But the glow of the moonlight casted its illumination towards the place, making a slanted shadow on the walls.

“How do we—”

Hendery turned to you and quickly placed a finger to your lips. “Shh,” he shushed.

There was something about the glint in his eyes that made you agitated and even excited. If both were possible to feel at the same time. Mischief oozes its way out of his body as Hendery pulls a piece of a metallic wire from his pockets. He, then, curled the wire with his fingers. Once done, Hendery inserted the wire to the doorknob.

“Hend—”

For the third time, he cut you off. “Trust me.”

In his eyes, something stirred. You caught a glint of it because of the moon. Hendery knows what he was doing, and it looks as if he’s done this a million times already.

You pressed your mouth in a thin line. Rubbing your hands against the skin of your arms, you look around while Hendery works his wonders to the door.

505, that was the number plastered above the doorframe. The room number.

Within a few minutes, there was a click. Then the door opened in front of you to reveal a typical motel room.

There was a bed near the blinds, then a bedside table. A 1960’s model of RCA television sat at the edge of the mattress, with a single ottoman beside it. The room had also been illuminated by a single deep yellow bulb.

It was 2040. Whatever remnants of 2020 remains, it doesn’t look like this. Motel rooms were a thing eighty years ago. However, you couldn’t complain. You have been wanting to sleep in a room such as this one. People can call you hopeless romantic, but that was the truth. There was a certain vintage love surrounding motel rooms which you yearned to experience yourself.

You looked at Hendery, who was currently standing beside you with a rascal grin on his lips. He was definitely proud of what he did. Notwithstanding of the circumstances, and of the fact that you have just sneaked into a private property, you couldn’t help but grin yourself.

This was way out of the rules of being a sacristan. And you would get a whole mass worth of scolding if Father Ben knew about your adventures today. Despite all of that, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of happiness and pride in doing what you did today.

“I assume this isn’t paid?” You raised a brow.

Hendery shook his head with a small chuckle. “Obviously.”

“Aren’t we gonna get in trouble doing all... this?” you asked him, voice laced with skepticism. Bold as you were, the thought of going behind bars in an unknown place still gives your heart a little bit of a jolt.

“We’re already in trouble,” Hendery said nonchalantly, “Might as well enjoy it.” He placed his hand on your shoulders as he searched for your eyes. “Besides, this doesn’t happen all the time.”

You stared at the depths of his orbs. There seemed to be a permanent mark of roguishness dancing in his eyes that you only notice now.

What devilment in an angelic face. Bemusing as it was, you loved it. This Hendery.

“To me,” you said, “But you’re from here. And from

the looks of it, you’ve done this a million times before.”

Hendery’s shoulder shook from his laughter. He laughed so much for someone with sad eyes. “Yes. I won’t deny it. But this isn’t for me, though. This adventure is for you.”

It’s funny how a stranger could give you all you have ever wanted in a single day. By that alone, you knew that you would forever be grateful of this boy in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “So much, Hendery.”

You didn’t know what it was, but Hendery lost his composure as his mouth gaped open a little bit. The sincerity of your voice moved him and made his knees weak.

This has been the first time he heard the words from someone. All he had known were the frightened prayers every time he would point a gun to someone, the muffled cries, the tear stained cheeks. It’s his first time to see sincerity to someone else’s eyes that was meant for him.

Perhaps you have seen it, too— the perplexity in his expression, the slight glitch of his demeanor. And it made your heart happy to see that you have affected him as much as he has affected you.

Hendery leaned closer, his face utterly close that you could make up your reflection in his eyes by the dim light of the light bulb.

He gulped, you did too.

It would deem as if no one amongst you had the experience of this... intimacy. No one had come close to your defenses but him. It rattled your bones underneath. And perhaps the world stilled when your lips met his.

It’s exactly like those in a romantic movie. It wasn’f rash, it wasn’t blistery. It’s soft... it’s heavenly. The kiss would compare to cotton touching another cotton. Both of your eyes were still open as you tried to savor the kiss. You were still thunderstruck beyond comprehension, but your lips were glued to his and there seemed no turning back. Not that you’d like too, anyways.

Hendery cupped your cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes. In the blink of a moment, the kiss went wild. Now you would compare it to a sea under a storm. Raging and unforgivable.

You hadn’t noticed how your back had come into contact with the bed. But the surprisingly soft mattress hugged your back as Hendery lays you down slowly.

Your heart had its own business thudding harmoniously wild inside your chest with the kiss.

Hendery pulled away. You felt your plump lips and his had been red, too. With a second of eye contact, Hendery leaned and kissed you again. With the same fervor, with the same hunger.

Your hand shot up to his hair. The sound of someone kissing and your attempts to catch your breaths against the kiss, the only thing that could be heard inside 505.

His hands started to roam your body. His touches were like that of devotees; careful, with little prayers in every friction.

Lips a mere inch from each other, Hendery whispered with a raspy tone. “May I?”

You were here, and you were ready to do whatever this kissing ends up to. So you nodded.

He smiled while the moonlight caressed half of his face.

Then he brought his fingers to the laces of your corsages. With deft motion of a hand, Hendery pulled, the laces had come free, opening your collar bones and upper chests for him to see. The reveal of the skin made your breath hitch.

Hendery brought his fingers to the open skin, then he trailed— slowly, oh so slowly— downwards. As if your skin was Braille.

He kissed you. He whispered his confession in your ears. He touched you like he longed for you. He cried your name in a euphoric bliss.

That night, you weren’t a sacristan. You were a saint. Worshipped by a boy with the devil in his eyes.

But nobody— not even the moonlight slipping through the windows — told you about the doom that awaits your blooming love.

It was past four in the morning when you wake up. The room was dark, with the heavy light from the skies illuminating the floors through the blinds.

Hendery lied on the bed beside you. The light casted parallel lines on his bare chests and stomach. While you laid on your side, your hands between your thighs and a smile on your lips.

Hendery leaned to trace your shoulder up to your cheek, sending goosebumps down your back. Then he whispered the words, “You’re so beautiful.”

You would’ve hit him with a jest, but your breath seems to clogged in your throat. Pure words for someone with jagged edges. Then you suddenly noticed his tattoo. You still didn’t know what that meant. So you reached out your hand and traced his skin.

“What does your tattoo means?” You asked him.

Hendery held your hand that was tracing his tattoo when he answered. “Survive. To live.”

ix. I believe in the Holy Spirit...

“You really don’t have to, Hendery,” you timidly stated.

Hendery sighed, but his smile never disappeared. “You know I won’t let you go, right?”

It’s six a.m., the both of you have already finished donning your clothes. Some parts of the fabrics were still sodden, but nevertheless wearable. You picked up a lone thread from your skirt before standing up and facing the window. The dream was finished, and you needed to wake up now.

A sigh went past your lips as you stared at the horizon displayed before your eyes. You weren’t sure when you would experience this kind of freedom again, so it was better to seize the remaining moments of not being trapped into a cage that was your own house by taking in the view of a small part of the city.

Hendery stood beside you, his eyes far away. “How do you feel?” he asked.

A sudden heat crept up in your cheeks by the question. The unbidden imagery of last night threaded its way back in your mind. Did you regret doing it with Hendery? Not one bit. Some might call you stupid for falling in a love supported by unspoken promises and confessions, but the union with Hendery have made you feel whole somehow. Like you were in the skies, and the stars were about your reach.

He made you feel powerful. He made you feel worthy of devotion. He made you feel utterly you. No inhibitions, no pretense.

The honesty slid smoothly from your lips. “I feel incredible,” you answered. You turned sideways to face him. Hendery’s face was ethereal in the night, especially when his lips were parted, sweats trickling down his face. But as the early light of the morning hit his features, you couldn’t believe that he could even be this more beautiful.

“How about you?” you managed to ask.

A chuckle. Your heart made the familiar jump at the sound. “I’ve never felt this happy for years.” And it was the truth. Hendery thought that the money and power a banditry offers would give completion in his life somehow, that it would serve as stitches for his tattered life. But as he recalled everything that has happened since he met you, he might be stupid, but he knew real happiness when it’s staring back at him in the wee hours of the morning.

He would’ve bottled the sound of your pleas and your cries if he would, he would’ve kept your laughters in a treasure chest buried someplace else he only knew, he would’ve given you everything and anything— and perhaps he did— if he could. As he stared at your face, so goddamned innocent and peaceful, Hendery knew one thing: you would break him into pieces, and he would let you.

A smile painted your lips, erasing the agitation of what this new day would bring. “I wouldn’t have experienced all of this if not for you,” you told him.

Hendery laughed. “You wouldn’t have experienced all of this if you didn’t dare.”

That was him: the beam that was supporting your life. He’s never failed to make you feel as if you could do everything despite the odds.

Your smile widened. “But now we have to go back.”

“Yeah, unfortunately—” Hendery’s words were cut off by the sound of the bedroom door clicking.

Your eyes widened, but he kept a cool façade. Then it swung open, revealing a middle-aged man carrying a broomstick and a dustpan. His forehead creased as he saw you standing near the window, then realization hit him. “Who are you?!” he shouted.

Hendery gripped your hand, then he dashed for the door, pulling you behind him. The helper was too dumbstruck to even say a thing again, let alone stop you from sprinting away. Hendery was laughing all the way down the stairs, while your forehead was coated with little beads of sweat.

When you reached his motorcycle, Hendery let go of your clammy hand. “That was... incredible!” he gleefully stated.

You tried to catch your breath by gulping large bouts of air. “That was scary!” you told him after steadying your breath.

Hendery fished for his keys from the back pocket of his jeans while still laughing. “Sacristan girls,”

he muttered teasingly.

Rolling your eyes heavenwards, you crossed your arms over your chests. “You don’t have to be a sacristan to know what’s scary or not.”

Once again, the roar of the innkeeper echoed across the gasoline station, bringing you on a hurry to climb Hendery’s motorcycle. With a chuckle, he ignited the engine and revved through the day.

The city was deserted early in the morning. And it was undeniably dull. The paint from different buildings were chipped, and they could really use a renovation. You were baffled at how you didn’t notice the dullness yesterday. Perhaps it was your excitement getting the best of you. Humdrum as it was, this city would forever hold a special place in your heart, along with the man you have traveled here with.

The ride back home was enveloped in utter silence, not that you could hear each other over the loud blare of the motorcycle’s engine. And as you neared to the village, your heart couldn’t help but thud abnormally inside your chests. You felt as if your throat was constricting, air passage clogging. It would deem as if there was an apocalypse waiting for you back home.

No. You have to trust your intuitions, no matter how indistinguishable it was. Your mother knew you were safe, there wasn’t anything to fret about.

But you knew better than to calm down. Your father was a lot easier to convince than your mother, you let your heart loosen up by that fact, even just a little bit.

With the empty and bumpy road ahead of you, the familiar stillness of the village welcomed you back home. A sense of familiarity splashed on you at the sight of tall trees and green meadows. This has been what you have known all your life, you were coming back to it after a night of pretermitting.

“Stop right there,” you said in a voice so low even you had a hard time hearing the words.

Hendery knew that you would never allow him to be seen in the village, much worse with you. But after last night, a slight stab in his heart bloomed at the thought of you, not being able to introduce him to your parents just because he rides a shiny-black motorcycle.

And as if you heard his thoughts, you cleared your throat before Hendery could kill the engine on the side road. “Or... you could take me home.”

It was stupid. Imbecilic. A voice inside your head whispered that it was a bad idea, but upon seeing how Hendery’s lips turned to a smile by looking at the side mirror, all your fear had been vanquished. Suddenly, you were ready to face the world again.

Your grip on his shirt tightened as you entered the village. It was mid-morning. There were a few elders fanning themselves in their verandas under the blistering weather. They squinted at the sight of you, a sudden contempt in their lips which they conveyed as a frown.

“Turn left,” you mumbled, praying that he heard you just right.

By the silence that was unusual of Hendery to exude, you have contemplated that maybe he was nervous, too. The thought made you slightly giddy and anxious at the same time. You have never brought a man home. Not even introduce a boy friend to your parents. Just when you thought that last night would be a history of your own, this morning has proved you wrong.

Your stomach was empty, but you felt like retching in the bushes as Hendery stopped the engine in front of your house. Mother was tending to her flowers when you hopped off the motorcycle. Father was nowhere to be found.

You looked at Hendery before sauntering towards your mother. The rustle of your feet against the grasses garnered her attention. She looked up to see you, then to the boy beside you.

You walked up towards her to kiss her cheek. Mother stood still as your lips made a friction against her skin. She was looking straight at Hendery, who had a polite smile on his face.

You cleared your throat. “Mother, this is Hendery.”

Hendery stretched out his hand to your mother. “Hendery Wong, pleased to meet you.”

Mother stared at his outstretched hand for seconds. Your knees started to wobble. Then Mother took Hendery’s hand. “I’ll prepare the food,” she said, the tone unfathomable.

When she attempted to leave, Hendery quickly raised his arms as if to stop your mother. “It’s fine, Mrs. I just dropped Y/N off.” He looked at you and nodded his head. “See you at the Church, Y/N,” he said.

Your lips coiled in a frown. The atmosphere was thick, and there was no doubt Hendery felt it. Your mother could’ve been warmer in greeting him, but you knew better than anyone else than to force the time when it obviously wasn’t ready.

With a tone of both reluctance and slight disappointment, you mumbled, “See you.”

He nodded one last time before turning his back and getting on his motorcycle.

The same time Hendery revved the engine once more, your father went out of the house with a glass of cold water in hand. “What’s that about?” he asked.

The garden shovel your mother was holding was dropped as she focused her attention towards you. You braced yourself for the imminent storm that was coming. And there it was, in a voice so loud even the houses nearby grew hairs and got goosebumps, your mother cried out, “What on earth are you thinking?!”

Father sipped on his water, his brows arching above the rim. There was no accusation in his eyes, only interest and confusion.

“What do you mean, Mother?” You tried to make your voice sound strong, but it came out as a breathy question.

“What do I mean?!” she roared. “Where were you last night? Tell me the truth.”

Truth be spoken, you were utterly rebellious to neglect your mother last night. But the wanting to experience something greater for once has overcome all your senses. Was it really abhorrent to experience such freedom?

You could feel your veins popping up your temple. Your breath was becoming ragged. And the stubbornness that was trying to envelope you didn’t help. It felt like a bomb ready to explode at any given moment.

“Where have you been—”

“The city!” you screamed back. “I went to the city with Hendery!”

Mother looked at you with a tormented face. From the way her mouth hung open with her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, you could tell that she’s beyond horrified by the revelation.

“How dare you?” she whispered, “How dare you lie to me?”

Father was on her side instantly, laying a gentle hand on her back. “We all need to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Mother turned to face him. “You’d expect me to calm down when my own daughter defied me?”

You bit your lower lip. What was the big deal? What the fuss was all about? It wasn’t as if you didn’t come home. Here you were, safe and sound.

“I’m sure Y/N could explain herself, right?” Father raised an encouraging brow at you. His lack of judgement pierced your heart with a throb.

“Yeah,” Mother said with enough scorn to make you recoil. “Let her narrate everything!”

You tried to catch your breath before forcing your face to look up to your parents. “What’s so wrong about going to the city?”

“Oh, you are one naive girl,” Mother stated as she made noises in her nose. “You could’ve been infected! You could’ve brought danger into this home!”

“Mother!” you hissed. “The pandemic has already disappeared! I want to live a normal life now!”

Mother looked at you as if you weren’t her daughter but a mere stranger she’s picked a fight with. “Why are you so foolish and stubborn?”

“Why can’t you let me live my life?” you retorted.

“That’s enough,” Father warned with a commanding tone. His jaw was pulled taut. One more push and the three of you would burn right where you stood because of vexation.

Mother heed no warning for she continued to look at you as if she was contemplating to push you back to her womb. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” You could almost laugh. “I don’t want safe.” I want freedom. I want danger. I want the sin. I want the rush.

“That’s enough talking back, Y/N. Return to your room and change,” Father commanded.

Mother’s lips were compressed in a tight line. You’ve expected her to say something, but no words were heard from her as Father guided her back to the house.

You were left alone in the garden, with your neighbors peeking at their fences to catch gossips.

You wish this world had been a little bit forgiving, a little bit welcoming for boys like him. He wasn’t cruel. He was kind... he was protective. And he was a tether to the dreams that you tried so hard to achieve. Without Hendery— the only person who believed that you were meant for greater things— you wouldn’t know what to make of your life anymore. Sure, you would get back on your feet. But you would never want to feel alone in the battle again. You didn’t want to start empty again. And you would never wish to be parted from Hendery. Ever.

x. The Holy Catholic Church…

“Oh, look who’s finally arrived,” Kun uttered with a shit-eating grin as Hendery appeared in the abandoned building Kun made a rendezvous in the outskirts of the town.

For weeks, they stayed and made their camp here. With Kun occupying the last and only good-conditioned room in the building. There, he’s beaten by Hendery for apparently mowing down Xiaojun’s jaw.

The grin Kun had on his face intrigued Hendery, but he wouldn’t let it show on his face. With inquisition was an annoyance Hendery didn’t know where he came from. It was just there, crawling on his skin. Perhaps it was his encounter with your mother, and the lack of warmth in her welcome.

But could he blame her? Not one bit. Hendery didn’t even think of meeting someone else’s parents and being introduced as a lover, but after getting chummy with you, his aspirations in life went a little higher than what he deserved. Hendery knew that it was a bad thing to be zealous, but that was what he had known after joining Kun’s banditry.

“What’s going on?” he asked, albeit not having the heart to inquire in the first place.

After a day and night with you, Hendery yearned for one thing: sleep. He just couldn’t close his eyes when you were lying on his side, with your peaceful face and soft snores. Hendery wanted to capture every moment, to memorize each line of your face, to be drowned in the serenity of the night.

His other comrades were nowhere to be found which was new. At this time of the day, all of them needed to report their sleuthing of a certain area assigned to them. Kun wanted to know everything.

Kun’s grin only widened. “How’s your job, Hen?”

Hendery ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still trying to make my way onto the priest’s chamber.”

Kun sat up on the swivel chair and placed his feet on the table laid before him. “If I’m not mistaken,” he started, “It’s been months since I sent you to the Church. And until now, you still don’t have anything useful to tell me.”

Hendery’s jaw twitched. He hated how he’s inclined to answer every Kun’s calls. And he had never felt this way before towards his work, that was if you could call banditry a job. He was always the best. That made him Kun’s favorite. But that was before he met you.

Meeting you really had changed most of his beliefs about life. He’s almost convinced to let go of his wretched ways and have a normal way of living— a life he could be proud of. And a life with you.

“Father Ben’s strict,” Hendery lied. The priest was as kind as a deer. If Hendery wished to enter his chamber, he’d gladly let him out of his trusting nature. And that would be the end as well as the start of everything. Hendery still wasn’t prepared to drop the new life he has, because that would mean he has to let you go, too. The mere thought made his stomach recoil.

“Strict?” Kun asked as he raised a playful brow. “But you’re my best asset, Hen. There is no ‘strict’ when it comes to you.”

If these were normal times, Hendery would’ve smirked by the compliment. But he knew what Kun meant. And he’s heard the warning even if it was unspoken.

Months ago, Hendery and Sicheng started searching for places to rob in the isolated villages near the local market. Until they had come across the Church. Upon their nightly visit and hawkshawing, Hendery found out that Father Ben has a golden necklace. The thing has become their target ever since. However, you wouldn’t see Father Ben taking the necklace off. Hendery won’t be able to steal it without violence.

He would’ve finished the work sooner than intended. Besides, he knew brutality like the back of his hand. It had become his armor through the years. And Father Ben didn’t hold a special place in his life, no matter how nonjudgmental the priest was. He could easily wrench the necklace away from his neck without any remorse. But he feared you.

The thought of failing you, of disappointing you, and of showing Hendery’s true colors to you has left his courage dwindling.

What cowardice. He would’ve punched himself unconscious if he could. Hendery wasn’t familiar to this kind of weakness, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Hendery shifted on his seat, shaking off the tension from his body. “The priest was surprisingly guarded,” he lied once more. Father Ben was as permeable as the Church itself. It was Hendery’s own choices that the work has slowed down.

Kun hummed. He withdrew something from his drawers. Picture, Hendery noticed, but he was too tired to even think about its connection to the current discussion. “Perhaps you need some boosters to help you do the work.” Then Kun slowly placed the picture flat on his table. Hendery couldn’t see the image well for he was leaning back on his seat. Kun waved his hand. “Look.”

He knitted his brows together. Whatever it was, Hendery had a bad feeling that once he leaned, there would be no turning back. Nevertheless, he didn’t have much choice, did he? So he leaned, like a good boy that he was, and stared at the image.

Hendery bit back the sound which tried to echo from him at what the image displayed. It was his mother. On a hospital bed, looking withered and close to death. She was too frail. Too weak.

Hendery swallowed a sob. “How...” He gulped a few times before willing himself to continue. “How did you find her?”

Should he be rejoicing? He should be happy, right? But why did he feel miserable now more than ever?

“I told you. I’ll help you find her,” Kun said.

Hendery kept looking at the picture, afraid that it might disappear if he blinked. “Where is she?”

Kun chuckled then stood up. Hendery fought the urge to grab him and punch his face. “You act as if you don’t know how to play this game, Wong.” Kun’s fingers grabbed the edge of the picture. He tucked it inside his pocket, his grin never leaving his face.

Hendery bit the insides of his cheeks. Of course, he knew how this game works. “I’ll bring you the necklace tomorrow.”

That night, Hendery washed away the sleep by downing cups of coffee. The liquid takes its root inside his system, pumping blood in a pace that would keep him awake.

He sat on his made-up bed, with a lamplight beside him, providing little to no warmth against the cold. With a white silky towel in hand, Hendery wiped his handgun. It had been a while since he last pulled the trigger. And the weight was dead in his hand.

Perhaps there was no more redemption left for his torn soul. Perhaps he was only fooling himself in believing that his life could be better. Perhaps he was glued to violence and not even you could save him from it. No matter how hard he tries to believe that you could.

xi. The communion of Saints. The forgiveness of sins…

A knock on your door woke you from your trance. You realized you were looking at your reflection on the mirror mindlessly.

“Come in,” you said, clearly indifferent to the possibility that it might be your mother standing and knocking on the other side of the door. But you knew better. She would never raise the white flag for her daughter.

With one last sweep of your hands along your robes, you waited for your father to finally enter. When he did, he went straight to the bed and sat. He’s cornered you, there was no escaping from it now.

“Spill it, Father,” you mumbled, trying to sound as friendly as possible. It was enough that you have stretched your mother’s irascibility. You didn’t need another enemy in this house.

“You do know why mother’s angry with you, right?” he asked. Before you could answer, he continued, “It’s not just about the fact that you went home with a boy. And that you went to the city without telling us.”

A sighed. Then you whirled to face him. “I don’t understand her need to be angry. I am safe. And if she’s talking about the pandemic... I am alright, Father.”

It was Father’s turn to sigh. “I don’t have anything against you going to the city. I know your dreams, your aspirations. But you must understand that your mother’s protective of you because she loves you. And the pandemic isn’t gone. It’s there, we just don’t see it now since its effects have died down.”

You looked out the window, feeling as if your tears might betray you anytime. “I just want to experience life.”

Father walked up to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I know. Hell, I want you to live life to the fullest, too. Have fun, have mistakes. Kiss boys. Be crazy. But it isn’t the time. Your mother’s still not ready.”

With tears brimming, you looked up to your father. “And when would she be?”

Father smiled his kindest one. “Soon, darling.”

—

Your walking towards the church was occupied with birds chirping in the branches, and flowers blossoming in the meadows. Perhaps it will be a bright day despite the darkness of yesterday.

Hendery never left your mind, even though you have a lot to think about. He was etched in your brain, like some sort of a tattoo you wouldn’t be able to erase. That made you think whether he was thinking about you, too.

You shrugged the thoughts away as you arrived at the Church. It was unusually silent when you arrived. At this time of day, the other sacristan should be running around and helping clean the surroundings. It didn’t settle well with you.

“Kristan!” you called out when you saw him running towards Father Ben’s chamber. Is the priest sick?

Kristan halted to wait for you. You huffed a breath as you laid your hand on his shoulder. “Where is everyone?”

The little boy bit the insides of his cheek. He didn’t meet your eyes when he said, “At Father Ben’s chamber.”

“What are they doing there? And what’s that for?” you asked, regarding the white and clean towel he was holding. Instead of answering, Kristan held your hand and pulled you towards the priest’s chamber.

The little bedroom was jam packed with the sacristans occupying most of the spaces. Father Ben was sitting on his rocking chair, with what you could tell was an ice-cube inside a clean towel being pressed on his left cheek by Lucy.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “What happened here?” you asked particularly no one.

Father Ben winced. “I am alright, hija,” he said. But he looked nothing like that.

Lucy glared your way. Her eyes were full of accusations. “Hendery did this to him,” she practically spat out the words with venom.

Now you couldn’t even feel your heart anymore. Hendery did this? How? Why? Despite feeling numb, you stepped closer to Father Ben. “Hendery... did this?”

How... Why... Gods, why? Father Ben looked at Lucy’s way, then the latter pursed her lips. She washed the cloth into the nearest basin, therefore allowing you to see the cut in Father’s cheekbone.

“He... punched me earlier,” Father Ben said in a low voice. He was undeniably pained by what happened. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, let alone react to something other than a thunderstruck expression. “And he stole my necklace.”

By that, you grabbed the nearest chair and sat. You placed your hand between your chest. This is all too much. Your bones felt like collapsing. “The... the necklace your mother gave you?” you asked this without looking at him. It was hard to do that when you feel responsible for everything that has happened.

No, it isn’t right to hurt yourself like this. But Hendery has been with you since day one. If he planned something as horrible as this, you would’ve known. You should’ve known. How could you be so stupid?

“Yes,” Father Ben breathed as he absentmindedly reached for his necklace. As far as you could tell, the necklace was given to him by his mother when he was little. It was an heirloom of sorts. A treasured legacy.

“How could he do this?” Lucy interrupted. “We welcomed him here. Believing that he was good.”

“It was another thing to steal. And another to hurt someone to rob them,” Rei added.

You really couldn’t blame them. You were in absolute shock to even argue and pretend that Hendery was better than this. They wouldn’t tell you he was the culprit if he wasn’t, right? God, you couldn’t breathe.

“I think he’s a bandit,” Lucy stated once more.

With that, you looked up at her. “That is a grave accusation to make, Lucy.” Now, you are even making excuses for Hendery. You could laugh from your own imbecility.

“Yes. I know,” she said. Then she stood tall. “But what would you have me call him? A grave man deserves a grave name.”

“Perhaps he has his reasons.” Your voice sounded uncertain. For you have no idea what could be the reason behind all this..

Lucy sniggered. “I used to think you were reasonable, Y/N. Don’t stoop so low. He’s hit Father Ben. He’s robbed him. Whatever reason he might have, it was wrong.”

You fell silent. Lucy speaks the truth. Hendery has done something hideous. He could be a bandit all along. He could be the one who’s been robbing the villagers off their small riches all this time. And yet… how? How could he smile at you like he could replace an angel in heaven? How could you be so naive and stupid?

Without your own realization, you have run away from the Church already. To where? You have no idea. But you needed to free the tightening rope inside your chest— you need to salvage your heart off a heartache. Seeing Father Ben dispirited, as well as your co-sacristans, have shot a bullet to your heart.

You felt ashamed and wounded. But before mending your own wounds, you have to search for Hendery first.

xii. The resurrection of the body...

Million thoughts ran in Hendery’s mind as he looked at the emaciated body of his mother lying in a hospital bed. A glass separates them both, but he felt far away to her now than before. She was looking so frail— as if her bones would snap if you did so much as to hold her hand in a featherweight touch.

Her situation pierced Hendery’s heart with a sword. It didn’t matter that he’d found her now. He doesn’t feel happiness for this accomplishment. Misery. Hate. And that hole of missing his mother for years were the only things he could coax himself to feel.

Perhaps he was too far gone because of his loathsome heart. Or perhaps it was because of the teenager standing beside his mother’s bed, sobbing his heart out, while a middle-aged man pats his back to soothe him. As much as Hendery didn’t want to admit it, he could see the same nose and lips that he’s got from his mother in the boy to even deny the truth. He’s his brother. Half-brother.

He balled his hand into fist. Sudden heat coated Hendery’s tear ducts. He swept the lone tear away with his jacket-sleeve. He’s accepted the truth before— he’s made peace of the fact that his mother abandoned him. But why does it hurt to look the truth in the face? She’s cared and loved another son while Hendery longed for her embrace. She’s fed another mouth while Hendery starved in the streets.

Why must the world be cruel?

Hendery stepped back and sat on the chair beside the glass window. He made himself as unimposing as possible until the father and son departed the room. Hendery gathered himself and walked towards the door, towards his mother.

“A... Alec, is that—” Her mouth abruptly clamped shut as she realized who was standing before her. Without another word, her shoulder shook and there were tears in her eyes.

Hendery looked up, biting his lip. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. “Come on, mom,” he stammered. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me for a long time, right?” Then he looked at her. She was coughing and sobbing now. Hendery had to help her sit up to give her some water.

“Is that really you?” she asked, thin fingers crawling at Hendery’s cheek. Her hand was cold. But it gave Hendery the warmth he was searching for. “Son,” she choked, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice was too weak. Hendery felt like he shouldn’t let her talk. So he shushed her instead. “I...” he stuttered, “I hate you, mom.” That’s it. He won’t hold back. He needs to say it. “I hate you so much. You left me. You left me to die.”

If her mother looked thunderstruck, her sunken eyes didn’t show it. “Hendery, son, I didn’t—”

“I became a bandit to survive. I kill now, mom. I kill so I can live. I kill so I can find you. I’ve asked myself a million times whether it was your fault I became like this.” Hendery snorted at the end. “But it was of my own choice so I couldn’t really blame you, could I? I chose this path to survive.

“I learned how to hold a gun because I need it. I’ve robbed people for money. For my own glory. For you. You left me in the dust. And all my life I’ve wondered why. Why did she leave me? Didn’t she love me? But I’ve thought about it and realized that I don’t need answers. I just need to see you.”

Her mother sobbed again. “I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry— I was scared.”

“Scared,” Hendery repeated. “We would’ve been fine together, mom. You and I.”

“I know,” she choked. “But when your father died— I was scared of the reality that we were alone. During a pandemic. The both of you were hanging on for your lives inside the ICU. And I’d nearly lost my mind.

“When he died, I didn’t have the chance to say good bye. They took him and burned his body. I was alone. Alone, thinking that you could be the next one they’d burn and I won’t have the chance to see your beautiful face for the last time. Instead of facing it all, I called your Aunt. When she came, I left.”

Hendery wanted to tell every abuse he’s gone through with his Aunt. But he didn’t want to remember those times, and he didn’t want to add into his mother’s guilt.

“I’m dying, son,” she whispered.

That, Hendery could tell. There’s a pang in his heart, yes, but he knew that there won’t be happy endings for bad people like him. All of us die in the end, however.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said, “It’s all I’ve ever wished to God every night.”

God. Is this what it feels like to know that someone has been praying for you? He felt... empty. Like everything is too late. The wound has been crawling with worms and there’s no more gauges to stop the pus.

“Do they... know me?” Hendery asked, voice low.

Her mother pursed her lips together. “No. I haven’t told them about you.”

Of course, Hendery muttered in his mind. He stood up, smoothed his shirt with a forced smile and looked down at his mother. “I’ll better be going, then.”

“Where are you going? Hendery, son...”

Hendery placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I am fine.” Far from it, but you didn’t need to know that, he thought.

His mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, thus accentuating how sunken they’ve become. “Can you... give me a hug?”

Hendery blinked as he did not expect such favor. But he leaned forwards absentmindedly, and hug his mother tightly. He first heard his own sob before realizing that he was crying like a little boy in his mother’s arms. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind. He thought they could still reunite and make a life together. Be away from people. Hendery thought he would take care of his mother until she’s grey and old.

But life has other cruel plans. The path has been twisted years ago. And whatever he could get from this hug, it is enough.

It would be enough.

With an empty mind, Hendery drove through the night. He didn’t know where to go. His mind has been blank since his visit to the hospital.

What does he feel? Fuck, what does he feel? He felt ashamed. For everything that’s happened today. From the way he cornered and punched Father Ben just to get his necklace. He wanted to blur and erase the shame. He wanted to disappear.

Hendery revved the engine. Faster and faster, he drove without destination. The wind got harsher, the night still dangerous. He couldn’t take his mind off Kun’s smile when he finally handed him the golden necklace. Kun tapped his back and congratulated him, his eyes twinkling like stars. Hendery never wanted to see the same sparkle in the man’s eyes anymore.

Then his mind drifted to you. Knuckle white around the accelator, Hendery bottled up the scream that has threatened to explode from him. You. With your kind smile and angelic face. You’re so good. And Hendery let you down. For once, he met someone who was willing to accept his flaws and every bad thing about him. But he answered you with claws.

So after all the disgrace, why did he stop in front of your house?

The village was quiet. No more lights could be seen inside the house. A further indication that you are already asleep. Despite that, Hendery found himself walking towards the small alleyway leading to your room. There’s a tree, beside your window. Hendery hesitated for a moment whether he would knock on your window to wake you up. Besides, he has been reckless with his decisions and he didn’t need you to think of him as a creep.

However, he stood a few meters away from the window. And there, all his muscles strained. He was locked up in his place as his eyes met yours. Donned in your nightgown, you stood there looking outside. Your own eyes turned wide as you realized that Hendery was standing if not in front of you.

He gulped, then quickly pivoted on his heels to walk away. No. He isn’t ready to talk to you tonight. The shame was too overwhelming for him to ignore.

“Hendery!” you screamed, and that would’ve been enough to wake the whole house.

Hendery’s steps faltered.

“Wait for me,” you uttered just enough for him to hear.

He sucked in a breath. No. He couldn’t do this. But before he could decide to run away, a hand tugged him. Hendery faced you. You had your hand in your chest as you tried to calm your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispered. Here you were, standing in front of him under the pale moonlight. Everything would’ve been romantic if not for the circumstances.

“Hendery.” You say his name like he’s good. Like he deserves forgiveness. Why?

“I…” he stammered, “I did something hideous.”

He expected you to accuse him. To shout at him. But all you did was to hold his hand. “Why?”

Hendery’s hand abruptly trembled. He bit his lower lip so hard, it bled. “My mother,” he choked. “Y/N… I saw her. Everything is for her.” He couldn’t stop his sniveling no matter how he try to stop it. In between sobs, Hendery told you what happened, his hand never letting go of yours. The shame that he’s felt has been obliterated clean. He didn’t even care about the tears rolling down his cheeks.

After he opened himself up to you, you reached for him and hugged his body tightly. Hendery fought the urge to cry again. So he hugged you back instead, drowning in your scent.

When you pulled back, there’s a lone tear sliding down your cheek. Hendery wiped it away with his thumb, cupping your cheek with his cold hand.

“Now. This is what we’ll do,” you began.

xiii. And life everlasting…

You paced in front of the altar, trying your hardest to contain your heart inside your chest. It’s been at least twenty-four hours since you last saw Hendery. Your mind would explode thinking of what could’ve happened to him now. He’s supposed to come back an hour later.

You started to think that maybe it was a stupid plan all along. But you couldn’t blame him. He wanted to redeem himself to Father Ben, albeit it’s hard doing so. And he really didn’t plan to do exactly that. Hendery only wanted to return the necklace.

After his visit last night, where in he told you all that has transpired between him and his mother, you told him how important the necklace was for Father Ben. It is an heirloom, given by his mother.

You tried to coax Hendery that he should go to church and ask for Father Ben’s forgiveness. And yet he insisted that he would return the necklace. No matter what happens.

No matter what happens. That didn’t sit well with you.

In the end, you couldn’t argue with him anymore. He was determined to prove himself: that he’s worthy of good things and of forgiveness. Such raw emotions. It made you cry.

You agreed to meet here in the Church. Hendery says it’s safer this way. It is still the house of God, according to him. No one would attempt to harm you here.

You faced the altar and knelt, but before you could chant the first prayer, the latch of the door sounded. Hurriedly, you stood up on your feet.

In the dark, the silhouette of Hendery was drawn. He limped towards you while clutching something in his hand. You ran towards him, relief flooding your system. Tears pricked your eyes by how at ease you’ve felt by seeing him.

“Hendery!” you squealed and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled weakly before pulling away. “Here,” he says. “For Father…” Then he coughed. He coughed. With blood spurting out of his mouth. Your heart dropped on your feet. No.

Before you could think, Hendery fell to the floor, kneeling. Bouts of cough attacked his throat.

“Hendery,” you sobbed, “What happened?” You knelt in front of him, holding his shoulders to support his frail body.

“This is nothing,” he tried to say, but the world were muffled.

Panicking won’t help. So you strived to remain calm although your heart was beating jarringly inside your ribcage. And in the end, you sobbed and cried. “Help!” you cried out with all your might. “Help us! Hendery!”

You locked Hendery’s arm around your shoulder and hurled yourself up. But his weight was dead and he doesn’t seem to be doing well. “Hendery, please!” You were a crying mess. Vision blurry, throat wrapped up in pins and thorns and needles. You placed your arm around his waist and tried to hurl him up for the second time, but Hendery screamed in pain as you made contact with his side.

He fell to the ground.

And there was too much blood.

Blood. You stared at your trembling hands.

“No!” you screamed. “Hendery!” You sat and scooped him up in your arms, tears streaming down your face to his. “Stay with me! God!”

Hendery’s eyes were drooping now. They look like crystals, frantic and wild. “I…” He coughed. Blood came out of his mouth again.

You shushed him, brushing away his hair sticking to his forehead. His skin was feverish. You choked again and again, trying to gulp down your cries. “Stay. With. Me.” You give emphasis to each word. “Hendery! No! No! Stay awake! Please!” You even started to slap his cheeks just to keep his eyes open.

Then his bloodied hand found your cheek. You sobbed as it made contact with your skin. “You…” he uttered under his breath, “you’re... so beautiful.” Hendery flashed you a smile. His teeth coated with blood.

“Please.” You bit your lower lip. “Stay with me.”

Hendery stared at your face, tears streaming down from his eyes. “So…” he whispered again, drawing circles on your cheek, “... beautiful.”

Then his hand fell.

Hendery spent his last breath with you. In front of the altar. With God your only witness that night.

Amen.

119 notes · View notes