pretty, pt. 2
some of the formatting on this is screwed, i know, itâs just a struggle adjusting things on a phone ):
n e way, enjoy!!
Megumi Fushiguro didnât hate Satoru Gojoâat first. It was more of a simmering annoyance, something bubbling under his skin, threatening to slip out and crash. Nothing too dramatic. Tsumiki liked the man enough so it caused Megumi to tolerate him.Â
âAfter all, he saved us. Imagine where weâd be now without him!â
Before his sister said that, Megumi uttered his first curse word in relation to Gojo.
And, after living with the man for about two months, an anomaly occurred. Typically, Gojo would be absent for about a week. Heâd say, âIâm just checking on something!â or âIâve got a long missionâIâll be back before you know it!â
Now, heâs been gone for a month.
Not that it really matters; the two siblings have a roof over their head and a surplus of food. Itâs not their business to be in Gojoâs business.
Itâs not Megumiâs business to be in Gojoâs business.Â
Thereâs a creak in the house at two AM. The only creak in this house is located in the kitchen, right in front of the refrigerator. Megumi only knows this because he was taskedâby Gojoâto find every creak in a building as a survival tactic. Just in case he was kidnapped.
Or, if he wanted to sneak some food in the middle of the night. Doesnât really matter the situation.
Megumi blinks and attempts to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The sound was minor, could easily pass as a tree scratching a window, but Megumiâs gut is twisting. It couldnât be Tsumiki, she never gets up at night, and it couldnât be Gojo because he always arrives back in the mornings.
So who is it?
He waddles to his bedroom door, toes twitching against the cold, wood floors. He presses on the lock, satisfied to hear a gentle click. Then, he pushes the door open. It reveals a dark hallway with several other doors in its walls. Tsumiki is just a few doors down to the left and Gojoâs room is the last room on the right. Megumiâs stomach churns as he looks to Gojoâs door.
âUgh, itâs so ominousâŚâ
He pushes through anyway. The floor is smooth against his feet as he slowly makes his way down the house. Just as he reaches the middle of the staircase leading downstairs, he hears a murmur. Alarm rings through his mind and his hands shake.
What should he do? Is this an intruder? Should he leave and take Tsumiki with him? Call Gojo? Fight? His technique isnât very refinedâGojo has been so busy lately that he wasnât any helpâand heâs never actually fought before. He could call for 911 tooâŚ
What should he do?
The murmuring gets louder, more audible. Megumi strains to hear from his spot, frozen, too scared to go up but still too scared to go down.
âMâgonâ kill thatâ- âwatch him chokeâ -â
Megumi leans closer by holding onto the handrail of the staircase while praying that it doesnât create a creak of its own.
â..sheâsâŚmine. Mine.
ââMegumi, ah, why are you awake?â
Megumi holds his breath as he stumbles down the stairs. He, surprisingly, doesnât feel the harsh impact of the ground against his bones. Instead, thereâs a feeling of warmth and the smell of a girl. Megumi pulls away immediately. Heâs quick to mask his face of fear, and instead, replaces it with a glare and a sneer. âGojo? Why are you here?â
âAm I not allowed in my own house?â His smile is slow going, just a bit wobbly, and rather empty-looking.Â
Megumi jerks back even further. âAre you drunk?â
âA question answered by three other questions,â Gojo says with the bark of a laugh. His breath smells weird. Obviously thereâs the stench of alcohol but thereâs something else there. Lingering.Â
Stinking.
âYou smell,â Megumi mutters. Gojo blinks down at him. âYouâre stinking up the air,â he says a bit louder while conscious of Tsumikiâs gentle snoring. Gojo grins again.
âAnd youâre drunk. Why are you drunk? Iâve never seen you drink.â
âAwh! Am I worrying you, Megumi-chan? But donât worryâIâm an adult, so I can do adult things like this.â Megumi cringes at the honorific and cringes even more so at Gojoâs use of âadult.â
âThereâs no kind of adult in you.â
â..okay! Time for bed!â
Gojo swipes up Megumi and quickly warps the two into the boyâs bedroom. Megumiâs stomach churns and he wants to puke.
But underneath all the smells of alcohol, thereâs a twinge of floral essence. It smells like the shampoo and perfume that Tsumiki uses. It smells like a girl.
Megumi opens his mouth to ask another question but then Gojo is gone.
âWhy were you awake last night?â Gojo asks as Megumi pours cereal into a bowl. Tsumiki blinks between the two of them, her mouth full.
âI was thirsty,â Megumi says lowly and glances up to his adopted father. Gojo has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a bit messy.
âIâm glad I didnât wake you.â His breath permeates the air; now the aroma of mint and toothpaste. His eyes twinkle and Megumi knows that he saw through the lie.
Change is a constant in life. Itâs so much of a constant that Megumi is accustomed to it. A new school, a new bed, a new lifeâŚ
It doesnât mean that he doesnât hate change, because he hates change.Â
He hates coming home to tiny little curses wriggling about. He hates the new craze in Gojoâs eyes. He hates how the hallways are dark at night. He hates the muffled noise coming from Gojoâs room.
He doesnât necessarily mind the new smell that tangles with Gojoâs cologne.
He still hates change.
Megumi wakes up at five in the morning. His stomach is killing him. Itâs twisting and knotting and spinning.
He moves to the hallway bathroom and is surprised to see the light on, shining beneath the door. Gojo is gone again and Tsumiki never wakes up at night.
âTsumiki,â he calls gently, holding his stomach. She doesnât reply.
âTsumiki, please let me in.â
Silence.
ââŚTsumiki?â
Thereâs a shift of a shadow, a disturbance to the light. Megumi recoils quickly and nearly smacks his head against the picture frame behind him. His stomach rolls.
He decides to use the bathroom downstairs, unnerved.
Tsumiki closes the front door behind them. The heat is nearly unbearable so the siblings scramble to remove their socks and shoes. Soon, they lay against the cool tile floors of the kitchen. Tsumiki is looking at Megumi and Megumi is looking at the ceiling.
âItâs hot,â she groans. Megumi nods in agreement. Both of their faces are flushed feverishly. Megumi wants to take a nap against the tiles so he slowly closes his eyes.
âHey, wanna get some popsicles?â
Megumi opens his eyes. âYeah.â
The two stand up. Just as Megumi reaches for his sandals, Tsumiki stops him, âIâll goâI have the money.â For proof, she takes her pocket in hand and shakes it. Change jingles loudly.
âHuh?â
âIâm gonna go. By myself. Just tell me what you want.â
Megumiâs eyebrow twitches. âBut I wanna go too.â
âJust tell me what you want.â
ââŚfine.â Megumi proceeds to babble about a specific ice cream before Tsumiki takes off. The last words to leave her lips are: âDonât forget to lock the door!â He dutifully followsâturning three locks until they clickâbut is then faced by another obstacle: boredom. He doesnât have homework assigned and he doesnât really have any chores that needed to be done.
Megumi lays against the tiles again. He sweats, heating the cold surface up, so he slides to another section of the floor. He repeats this three times until thereâs dirt and mini pebbles sticking to his cheeks. Tsumiki is not back yet.
The boy makes his way up the stairs and into his room. He can probably find something remotely interesting inside butâoh.
Megumi pauses. His hand that was raised to open the door falls to his side.
Gojoâs room is making noises. Itâs scratching and crying, almost like a sound for help. Megumi eyes the door with a tilted head. He takes a step forward and then he hears it.
Pleading.
Megumiâs guts twist and his fingers flex. Heâs struggling to breathe and heâs reminded of Tsumikiâs words of âIn through your nose and out through your mouth.â Itâs not enough.
He staggers backwards. The noises get that much louder with a few more scratches and a few more sobs. Megumi is torn between investigating and leaving.
He chooses to depart. He moves back to the top of the stairs, grasping the handrails so tight theyâll leave marks in his palms.
âbut what if this is urgent?
Megumi blinks and squeezes the handrail again and doesnât take any further steps.
What if they need help?
He turns back to the door. His mind is full of slush and heâs hot and sticky and he just wants Tsumiki to come back with a bag full of popsicles and ice creams.
What if Gojo is hiding something?
He places his hand on the doorknob. Heâs shaking. The scratches have subsided but Megumi can clearly hear a sniffle every few seconds.
The knob doesnât turn. The door is locked.
What is Gojo hiding?
Megumi squats. He presses his face against the floor and peers into the thin crack under Gojoâs door. A single eye and bloodied finger tips stare back at him.
He screams and screams and screams and runs to the bathroom to puke.
Who is Gojo hiding?
âMegumi! Iâm back!â Tsumiki calls from the front door. âAnd guess who I found!â She doesnât explicitly say who and, unfortunately, the response she receives is silence.
Then, thereâs loud crying.
âAhâMegumi!â Tsumiki hurries up the stairs with Gojo right behind her. The two find Megumi hunched over the toilet, heaving and hacking. Gojo approaches with open arms, a frown on his face.Â
âMegumi? What happened?â
Gojo barely grazes Megumiâs shoulder before heâs shoved away. Megumiâs glaring and sobbing. Tsumiki parts her mouth in shockâGojo tenses up right beside her.
As Tsumiki leans in to coddle her brother, Gojo stands, watching, eyes wide and fists clenching.
What did he see?
Megumi gasps for air as heâs slammed into the fighting mattress. Gojo stands above him, a simple smile on his face. It doesnât look real.
âI told you to bend your knees more,â Gojo says with a patronizing tone, âIf you had, maybe you wouldnât have fallen.â
Thatâs a lie. Gojo would have pushed him down anyway, it doesnât matter how much force he would of had to use.
âI just⌠I want to learn my technique more,â Megumi says lowly. He claws at a rip in the mattress. Slowly, fluff crawls out of it. Gojo wipes it away with his foot. Megumi huffs.
âTo master a technique, you need to learn basic fighting. How else did you think I became this great?â Gojo laughs obnoxiously and Megumi doesnât feel a tug of his lips or a happy beat of his heart or anything. Itâs all been stowed away since he discovered the person trapped in Gojoâs room. If thatâs even a person.
Obviously, Megumi has attempted to open Gojoâs room for a while yet. The time windows have been small, unfortunately. Gojo has stayed home for a while nowâthe scheduling of his missions have gotten more and more bleak. As if the higher ups donât need him. As if there are less and less curses.
That will never be true.
And besides, Megumi shouldnât be so worried about it anyway. He could just be seeing things, or itâs some kind a curse that Gojo just wants to specifically torture. (And, even at that, Megumiâs not sure if the thing is being tortured. Heâs not even sure as to what happens in that room.)
ââdespite the challenges, which youâll go through by the way, youâll always come out on top because you have me, Megumi! Oh, and⌠Hey! Are you listening?â
âNo,â Megumi replies before he spots a fist coming right for his forehead.
Megumi watches the two dogs zip around each other. They nip and preen and jump and yap. Their furs brush and mix and itâs pretty to look at.
Tsumiki watches too. She sits next to Megumi, playing in the grass with her toes. Leaves are falling and snow will be arriving soon, but Tsumiki is comfortable going around barefoot and wearing shorts and a tank top.
âIs it a lot of work?â she asks, âTo make them play, I mean.â
Megumi shrugs. The dogs freeze for a second, a moment of stillness, but then theyâre back to enjoying life.
âWellâat least itâs nice to see.â
Megumi agrees. He doesnât say that aloud.
Gojo has a girlfriend. She smells a little like Tsumiki.
Sheâs sitting next to him at the table, hands in her lap, head swirled in his direction. Tsumiki admires her a lot. Megumi shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Gojo spoon feeds her. Under the blindfold, Megumi can imagine the heart eyes.
Later, the couple settle onto the couch, deciding to watch a movie. Tsumiki and Megumi are instructed to go to bed.
âMegumiâŚ!â Tsumiki hisses when Megumi stops at the top of the stairs. âGojo told us to go to sleep. I donât want to be in trouble because youâre caught watching TV!â
âSheâs wearing gloves, Tsumiki.â
âHuh?â
âSheâs wearing gloves inside.â
âWell itâs fall and maybe she runs cold,â Tsumiki says, leaning against a nearby wall. âOr, maybe, she doesnât have her nails done.â Tsumiki sighs dreamily. âShe really is perfect.â
Megumiâs eyebrow ticks. âEw.â He turns back to look down the staircase.Â
Gojoâs standing there, hands on his hips. His lips are puckered in a pouting way. âI said go to bed!!â
Tsumiki laughs.
Megumiâs up in the dead of night.
He makes his way to Gojoâs room with expectations of the sounds of creaking and moaning and crying.
Thereâs nothingâeven as he crouches to peer under the crack of the door, whispering back, promising to help this time.
Thereâs nothing but faint scratch marks on the floor.
The girlfriendâyouâhas been around more often. Sometimes itâs babysitting while Gojo is gone (which, by the way, the siblings have never had a babysitter before, as per Gojoâs terrible parenting skills), but most of the time itâs while Gojo is around. The two of you stay in the bedroom for a majority of the visit, so Tsumiki clings to Megumi until you come out.
Currently, this is a babysitting scenario. Gojoâs been gone for two weeks and youâve been doing your due diligence for the kids. Cooking, cleaning, and playing house seem to be your specialty.
âYouâd be a great mom,â Tsumiki says. Megumi physically flinches and you pause your mindless surfing on the TV. Youâre still wearing gloves.
âOh, you think?â you ask rather awkwardly. Tsumiki nods.
âIâm just waiting for the day Gojo proposes.â
Megumi pops his mouth open, to tell Tsumiki to knock it off or something but then she stands up and announces that she will grab some snacks.
Megumiâs eyes immediately find yours after that. âIâm sorry. IâŚdonât know why she said that.â He feels miffed.
âItâs okay,â you smile gently. It appears that you want to say more but then stop. You curl into the side of the couch, on the complete opposite side of Megumi. You look almost sad, like something is missing in your eyes.
âYou donât have to stay here, you know,â Megumi says and you blink up at him. âI know that Gojo can be a bit pushyââ heâs under exaggeratingâ âbut he canât boss you around or anything. You guys havenât known each other for that long, right?â
Your lips part and just like before, you stop. Itâs frustrating watching you pause and struggle by simply not saying what you want to say. Then itâs awkward when your eyes dart up to the clock, waiting for your cue to shout I should head home now!
And just as Megumi gives up, slinking into his side of the couch, face pressed against the armrest, you talk.
âSatoru told me what you guys have been throughâso donât think Iâm upset about Tsumiki. I honestly thought it was kinda funny.â You grin a little and Megumi pouts back.
âShe still shouldnât have said that.â
âItâs whatever.â You shrug but still grin and thereâs a sparkle in your eyes that is similar to Tsumikiâs. Oh. Thatâs what was missing in you. Thatâs probably what made Gojo fall for you.
Youâre really nice looking.
Megumiâs face warms. He distracts himself by looking at your gloved hands. Like clockwork, you hide them in your lap, with an uncomfortable look on your face.
âIâve, um, known Satoru my whole life,â you blurt. Megumi realizes that you donât want him to question the gloves. âHe would visit the US during his holidays and he would find me.â
Megumi leans in and curiously questions, âFind you?â
âBecause he wanted meâusâto live here, in Japan, together,â you say and the sparkle leaves your eyes. Youâre not so pretty anymore. âAnd guess what happened.â
You and Gojo must have broken up. The teacher has been disturbed lately. He screams and breaks everything in his sight and he almost appears to lose control. (Of course, this is while the kids areâsupposedlyâsleeping. He wouldnât dare show unruly behavior to growing and easily-influenced children!)
Thankfully, he doesnât lose control, less Megumi be six feet underground.
And Megumi isnât sad. Your absence doesnât make his heart heavy. Doesnât make him want to cry and throw things too because thatâs how Gojo does it and Megumi isnât him. Megumi is simply Megumi. He doesnât want you back like Gojo does. Heâd just appreciate it if you visited once in a while. It would help the broken plates. It would help with the increased amount of curses.
âSensei.â
âSensei.â
âNo Megumi! Sensei.â Gojo corrects.
âThatâs what Iâm saying!â Megumi groans. âItâs not like Iâve never said this before. I literally go to school, Gojo.â
âYou mean sensei,â Gojo says with a sly smile. Megumi groans again.
Heâs growing up. It feels slow, like each day is dragging by. It doesnât help that Tsumiki has fallen ill, even to the point of bedriddenness. But itâs okay. Because Megumi is growing and heâs going to fix her.
Heâs going to fix everything.
âGeto Suguru.â Megumi looks up to his soon-to-be teacher. âYou knew him?â
Gojo shifts uncomfortably. âHe was my best friend! And now I have to kill him.â
âOh,â Megumi utters because thereâs nothing else to say. He looks back down to the sheet. He squints at a near familiar name. Shoko Ieiri. Megumi taps the small picture of her. Gojo grins.
âAnother friend. I donât have to kill her.â
âOh,â he utters again, because thereâs still nothing to say.
Just before school starts, just before Gojo officially becomes Megumiâs teacher, youâre back. Standing in a pretty outfit, beaming at the two from inside Gojoâs home. Megumi stiffens and attempts to meet Gojoâs eyes. His attempts are ignored in favor of you, however.
The two make it inside. Theyâre sweating, at least Megumi is, from the relentless practice. And he wants to ask what youâre doing here. Why youâve shown up out of the blue in a pretty outfit, smelling a bit like Tsumiki and not wearing gloves at all.Â
Heâs going to ask but then you place food in front of the two and Megumi canât say no to this.
So he eats.Â
Thereâs comfortable conversation for you and Gojo. Itâs weird not having Tsumiki sitting next to him, whispering, prying. She would be waiting for you to finish. Sheâd wait and wait and wait.
Megumi keeps eating. His mind feels like itâs running a little slow.
âOf course I would, Satoru⌠Why do you think Iâm here?â You say while smiling. It looks weird.
âFor me.â Gojoâs smiling too. His is easier to decode than yours. Itâs a simple cypher: right corner of his mouth is a bit down and his front teeth are gnawing into the flesh. Heâs not upset but maybe a bit annoyed at⌠something. Megumiâs not so sure. The teacher always carries a look like that when Megumi misplaces his foot. Or when the teen is up at night, creeping into the halls.
Just as Megumiâs head droops, his forehead hovering right above the countertop, he hears you gasp. Blearily, he looks to his two elders. Gojoâs hand is clutched around a wrist youâre attempting to tug back. The teacherâs face is bright red with his glasses slipping down his nose sloppily. âSatoruâŚ!â you whine and pull back.
Itâs terrifying how quickly Gojo leaps across the counter to get to you.
Megumi closes his eyes.
Itadori is a mess. He shouldnât be here. He shouldnât even be alive.
He shouldnât be in Megumiâs dorm room, but he is, and heâs poking and prodding around. He says things like: âWoah Fushiguro!! What is this?!â and itâs a book about psychology. When Itadori began to open Megumiâs drawers, a pillow was thrown to his head.
âAhhh Fushiguro, your room is so clean⌠Whereâs all the posters?â Itadori asks. Heâs peering over Megumiâs shoulder. Math homework peer right back at him.
âWhat posters?â Megumi attempts to shrug the other away. Itadori stays and gestures around the room. âYou know, like, really hot girls in bikinis! And big butts! Like Jennifer Lawrence.â
Megumiâs face turns red. âHell no!â And he finally swats Itadori away.
Megumi resumes his work for a few minutes longer before looking over to Itadori. Heâs, again, snooping around. Megumiâs eyebrow ticks. âPut that down.â Itadoriâs holding a picture frame before flipping it to green eyes. âWho is this? Your mom or something?â
Soon-to-be. Right. Gojo and you are engaged. Have been for about a month. The wedding will happen in about three weeks from now.
Feigning boredom, Megumi looks back to his papers. âGojo-sensei hasnât told you about her yet? I figured he would blab about her every second he could,â he mutters. Itadori appears a bit skittish after hearing that.
âI mean, he talks about his fiancĂŠeâŚâ
âYeah.â
âOh⌠OH!â Itadori jumps up and Megumi can practically see the cogwheels turning in his head. âSo she will be your mom! Wow, okay!â Itadori turns back to the picture frame. Suddenly, a mouth manifests out of Itadoriâs cheek and laughs.
âIâm sure sheâll make a great meal!â
Megumi barely suppresses the punch heading for Itadoriâs face.
A runaway bride is what you are. Fleeing the night before the wedding.
Gojo has held a stifling quiet for the past 32 hours. His eyes are dull. Megumi wants to reach out and offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he says simply, âItâs probably just some misunderstanding.â
Gojo doesnât look up. Doesnât react, doesnât move, and Megumi would think that he were dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.
âIâm tired of her running away,â Gojo says after a pregnant pause. âI know what she wants and she knows what I want. Itâs not like Iâm going to kill her.â
Megumiâs stomach rolls and it reminds him of being a kid, sneaking around and trying to get into Gojoâs room because he thinks someoneâs trapped in there. Itâs silly, looking back on it, but his stomach is rolling all the same again.
He makes his way back to the school. He dreams of his warm bed and warm shower and warm clothes. Heâs tired of the fighting. Heâs tired of Tsumiki not waking up and nagging him. Heâs tired of the looks of his friends, each exhausted and on the brink of death after each mission. Heâs tired of it all.
As Megumi passes a local store, he smells something like Tsumiki. Floral-ish, like flowers, like how most girls smell. It smells nice and comforting and like you.
He turns to the store. His heart seems to stop in his chest and his mouth dries.
You notice him back. Your eyes lock with wide green ones.
Megumi is right in front of you in half a second. His arms are stretched wide, a hugging gesture, but you donât take it. You shuffle, holding a wrinkled bag in your hands. Megumi drops his arms.
âHi,â he whispers. He doesnât know if youâre real or if itâs just the hysteria creeping into him. He wants to touch and feel, maybe poke and prod while heâs at it. You look like you, but are you really? You smell like you, but is this fake lying?
âHi Megumi,â you whisper back and Megumi hugs you. Youâre stiff (and you shouldnât be) but you manage to wrap your arms around his middle. Your hair tickles his mouth and he just hugs you closer.
âI missed you so much,â he says into the top of your head. He pauses for a moment to inhale. You tense up like youâre waiting for bad newsâand for good reason. Gojo-sensei has been in his quiet, anger mood for far too long. Megumi canât wait for it to end.
âWe want you back home.â He inhales your scent again. Sweet. Comforting. Home.
âI know,â you say into his jacket. (Despair.)
52 notes
¡
View notes
the cigarette dangles from his lips. one wrong move and itâll fall into the carpetânot that it will cause much of a fuss anyway. thereâs already dents and stains the the murky beige. the worst that it could do is light the shit-hole ablaze.
âwe should go tomorrow,â he says, cigarette tucked into the side of his lip, forcing a slur of his words. âi donât like staying in one place for too long.â
the best thing that could happen is the flames setting this place ablaze.
you hum lowly. the bed that youâre on is stiff and smells of an attic. last night, it slammed against the wall so loudly you were afraid it was going to break. you were afraid you were going to break.
the hunter turns around. smoke fills the room despite a small window being open for ventilation. âor we could go today,â he says. youâre surprised that his cigarette doesnât fall with the way his mouth moves.
âi donât care.â
ââkay.â he turns back around before tossing the cigarette out the window.
outside is a desolate place. cars have stopped moving, birds have stopped flying, and thereâs no longer electricity. things have truly returned to survival of the fittest.
your head tilts to the hunter. heâs big and tough looking. heâs your stereotypical âtop of the food chainâ type of guy. he could survive on his own. but he doesnât, because youâre here, dragging him down.
you donât know why heâs taking care of you (thatâs truly the most honest way to put it) and youâre too afraid to ask. the most the heâs asked of you is the opening of your legs and the aid of shaving his slow-growing stubble.
even now, while walking on broken pieces of gravel and tar, he carries your supplies with two shoulders. a lone cigarette pokes out from his mouth.
all you carry is a simple map.
âdo you know where we are going next?â you ask, peering at every location he has circled in red pen on the map.
âwhereverâs closest,â he mutters. you blink. his eyes are watching the ground. you watch him.
âthatâll probably be an hour or two more.â
âweâll figure it out.â more like he will.
but youâre content on following him through hell, so long as he keeps you bubbled.
you think itâs your birthday. itâs more of a feeling rather than fact. itâs the month you remember being born in, anyway.
the hunter somehow found cupcake mix in an abandoned house you two decided to take cover in. also, more generously funded by the higher powers, there was a generator filled with a lick of gasoline in the basement of the house. today must be your lucky day.
per usual, the hunter holds a cigarette in his teeth while you hold a pastry. there wasnât a candle but the smoke he emitted was enough to replace the item.
âi thought youâre supposed to make a wish,â he inquires softly. you shrug. âitâs not that important. and i need a candle to do that.â
itâs his turn to hum. his eyes seem to filter as he looks up. heâsâŚpretty. as pretty as an apocalypse can do to someone. he almost looks young, like twenty, like he was forced to grow up. everyone was forced to grow up after the bombs.
for youâyou donât even know how old you are now. itâs your birthday, but you donât know which year itâs for.
his eyes roll down to you. you stare right back.
he plucks the cigarette from his lips and places the bud right along the zipper of your mouth. âtake a drag and make your wish,â he says and pushes the toxin into you.
you donât do anything else but abide by the rule.
3 notes
¡
View notes
(sun and moon ((and maybe our son)))
tw: miscarriage
2017
Suguru stares at his ceiling. The rolling sound of the hamster wheel fills the silence. Julius Caesar. What an active little thing.
His eyes find the cage. The hamster appears to be running for its life.
How simple life would be: to run in circles and think that you are escaping.
There are more and more curses appearing each day. Suguru is getting tired. Satoru just seems to be over the moonâmaybe because youâre gone.
Itâs a good thing, Suguru wants to believe, that your absence will be beneficial in the long run. But so far, the side effects are a lack of sleep and quite a bit of silence.
âSuguru! Look at this bug I found! Isnât it cute?â
He turns to Satoruâs direction. Perhaps âsilenceâ isnât the correct term. And well, there is no possible way that âpeacefulâ is the word for it either.
â..Itâs odd that itâs orange.â
Content.
âDonât discriminate him..!â
No, thatâs not right either.
Dissatisfaction.Â
âLeave.âÂ
Suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.
âHuh, what?â
His heart racing and squeezing and thriving.
âLeave me the hell alone. Get away from here.â
Your lips twisting and thinning and cracking.
âI donât..understand. Oh, is this some kind of jokeââ
His eyes squinting. Your eyes flitting.
âI am going to kill you.â
He remembers your silhouette backing away quickly, near akin to the sun running from the moon.
âI will kill you.â
He remembers your tears dripping to the floor.
âPlease.â
He remembers you.
And, really, itâs always been the moon scaring the sun away.
Suguru is such a liar. To himself. His family. Satoru. His hands itch as he types into his computer with vigor. His eyes dart and squint at street names and Facebook profiles.
Heâs a liar because he wants to find you. Not seek you out, not even talk to you. He just wants to find you. Know youâre safe. Know that heâs not in reach of you.
A few clicks later and heâs finding your address and where youâre working at: Exotic Strip Club, Friendly Girls! He frowns at the name, his gut wrenching. He wants to puke but holds it down. Julius Caesar sprints from behind himâhe can hear the squeaks of the wheel.
Suguru clicks on a picture of you. Itâs your high school graduation photo. You had braces on thenâbright blue and clunkyâand fat Chucks that increased your height by one and a half inches. The photo is endearing.
His cursor slides to a newer photo of you. Youâre dressed in baggy jeans and a thick sweater. Anotherâs hand is on your left shoulder, but the person is cut out of the photo, unidentifiable.
After that, thereâs a picture of you standing in front of your new apartment, open for all to see. Suguru tastes the bile crawling up his throat in waves before he makes it to the bathroom.
In the quiet moments of his life, the man finds himself thinking about his baby. It would be a boy, most certainly, and it would look like you. He would want the baby to look like you because youâre you and Suguru is just Suguru. Heâd want the child to be beautiful.
Maybe the boy would have black hairâheâd be born with a head full of itâand long legs. Tall for his age. Heâd grow into a prodigy, have brains and a nice taste of humor. Suguru would want him to have your stupid humor and your dumb laugh and your teeth. Maybe the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the way your nose flares. He wouldnât be you at all, but heâd be comparable, the closest any being would ever be to you.
Suguru wouldnât want the baby to be like him.
And he thinks about it in the shower while watching the blood from the dayâs battles wash down the drain. He thinks about your face twisted into a look that doesnât suit you. A rage in your eyes but also a heartbreak. Your hands hold your stomach. Not in tenderness, but in grief.
Suguru thinks about the baby the two of you would have had if not for him.
Again, heâs a liar. He just wanted to know where you were, not find you in person. Thatâs it. Thatâs all he wanted.
(But is it? Stalking your exâis that what you want? Keep her tied to you, force her open, and take out all her insides? Take everything you want? Need?)
You're sitting in front of him. Oblivious. Reading out of a newspaper (despite your phone sitting right next to you) and sipping out of an oddly shaped mug. All of this is you. And Suguru thinks he wants it again.
You stand up, stretch, glance in his direction (his heart palpitates), before trekking out of the cafĂŠ. He follows, a wool hat over his head and a black coat tight around his shoulders in a quick attempt to hide himself. The whole plan was rushed; one moment he was feeding Caesar, the next he found himself catching your eyes in a coffee shop. And he doesnât even like coffee.Â
Besides that, why are you on this side of town? Why are you in town? You shouldnât beâyou must know thereâs a chance that your estranged husband lives here. That you used to live here. You moved away for a reason. Why come back? Why?
(For a momentâjust for a fraction of a secondâSuguru thinks that you came back to him with some kind of twisted news.
He thinks you want him.)
The questions are answered as you make your way to a familiar street but itâs not Suguruâs. Instead, itâs your best friend, who he assumed he already silenced and ended your connections to each other. Well, clearly not as he watches the two of you hug and kiss. Soon, you make your way off of the doorstep and into the house.
On Suguruâs way back home, he kills twenty curses, two of which bear the slightest resemblance of him and his struggles.
Gluttony and obsession.
The sun is gone and the moon controls the sky.
He wants you.
57 notes
¡
View notes
I love your writing style :)
THANKS SO MUCH!! IM SO SORRY FOR REPLYING SO LATE!! <3<3
0 notes
sorry i cant seem to find ur quotev ^^" is it okay if i ask what the user is?
omg yes ofc!!! itâs @/absolutetrash (ugly duckling). i post a bit more frequently on there :D
2 notes
¡
View notes
pretty
Your motherâs face is all you see as she tells you about the new house. âNew and exotic,â she says and her eyes sparkle. You like her sparkly eyes, so you repeat: âNew and exotic.âÂ
She smiles, bright and pretty as always. Your brother coughs beside you and her smile hides behind the pinks of her lips.
âNo, no, Kaju, be careful! Slow. In and out.â She exaggerates by adding a hand to her chest. Kaju watches, his chubby baby cheeks full and round, and he copies very slowly. You watch too, imitating with small movements.Â
Your mother sees you and squints. âNot you, baby. Youâre normal.â And then she turns back to Kaju, still squinting, her sparkly eyes gone.
You lean back into your car seat. Normal. Kaju is hurting, trying to breathe. Normal.
Kaju has something wrong with him. He coughs and maybe food comes out and Mom always says, âNo Kaju! Slow now!â in sloppy English. Sometimes she speaks in Spanish, but she wants Kaju to learn a lot of English so he can be a doctor. You want to be a doctor too, but when you tell Mom, she loses her sparkle eyes and squints.
So, you think about being an artist. Mom likes your paintings of dogs and cats. You only have a few paintings because thereâs not a lot of dogs in the countryside. Only long, tall grass and old trees. You try to paint the trees and the grass but Mom squints at them and Kaju does too.Â
So dogs and cats are the best. You want a dog and a cat to pet and paint. They are the best.
âMommy?â you ask as she prepares lunch. Her fingers are digging into rices and corns. She hums and her pretty face is glowing. âI want a dog.â
Her head tilts and she looks at you. Her eyes are wide and sparkly and you smile because sheâs so pretty.
âPerro? A dog?â Her eyes go wider and she smiles.
Kaju is at the table in his high chair. Heâs looking at you. You look back.
Kaju coughs just as you say you want a cat too. Mom goes to Kaju.
School is foreign, and as Mom likes to say, exotic. âIt is great for you and Kaju. Education is well,â she said once, fully in English. She seems to learn more each time you come back from church. Her friends are kind to teach her.
But you frowned when you heard about school. Older kids in church grumbled about homework. You were scared of homework.
Not anymore though. When you make it back home from school, your first day, Mom smiles and Kaju smiles. You smile too because homework is so fun!
You and Mom and Kaju look at papers your teachers gave to you. You donât understand much but Mom reads it quickly. âThis is good, baby,â she says before pushing them back into a pile. Kaju says, âBaby, baby, baby!â You grin because Mom is so happy.
âAnd soon, Kaju will be with you.â Mom glances at him and curls his hair around her fingers. Kaju still chants âbabyâ and you look at the papers.
âOh, Mom,â you say and she hums, fingers still busy styling Kaju. âI want a dog and a cat.â
âTwo?â Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle are her eyes.
âYes. Please,â you say the new word âpleaseâ that you learned in class and Mom smiles.Â
âKaju, do you want animals?â Mom asks him but he looks at you. His cheeks look a little smaller. Heâs getting big.
âDog! Cat! Baby!â he chants with glee. You feel glee too because you donât think heâs coughed yet today. And that Mom is happy. And that homework is easy.
Homework is not easy when youâre walking a dog. Times tables jumble up your brain and Perro barks a lot, ruining your thought process.Â
âPerro!â You whine and Perro gives you his big puppy eyes. âI gotta learn nines. Nine, eighteen, twentyâumâŚâ You glance at your fingers to count again.Â
Perro barks and tugs on the leash. âPerro!â you yell again. Heâs a fat dog and pulls really hard and your wrist is all scratched up from his tugging.
He pulls more, barks, and the leash breaks. Perro runs across the street. You move to followâthereâs never carsâbut you see someone standing in the tall grass. Perro trots up to himâa boy with white hair and shorts and a tank top. The boy extends a pale hand and Perro greedily slobbers all over it. He laughs and his head turns to you. He has dark sunglasses on.
âPerro!â you call rather weakly. Itâs weird seeing someone your age around here. Of course, Perro doesnât listen, and rubs his chunky body on the boyâs legs.
âIâm, Iâm sorry,â you stammer and walk across the street. Thereâs an embarrassing heat in your cheeks and you donât think itâs from the sun. But the boy tilts his head and gives you a smile. Itâs pretty, like your Momâs.Â
âItâs okay. I like fat dogs. They are cute,â he says and he has an odd accent. You know you have an accent too, but his is different. Before, you were thinking he was from around here.Â
You reach for Perro and hook the leash back in place. He huffs and finally turns around.Â
âHis name is Perro?â the boy asks out of nowhere. You blink. âYeah.â
âWell, what does Perro mean?â he asks and it comes out snappy. You shrink a little backwards and look across the street. You want to leave.Â
âItâs dog in Spanish.â
âSpanish,â he says just as you take a step. âYeah,â you say rather lamely. But you donât want to talk to him. He is odd and his hair is white and itâs all confusing. And as you take another step closer to the road, the boy is close to you. Heâheâs so fast you didnât even see him move.
âSo thatâs why you talk so weird.â He smiles and itâs not so pretty anymore. You feel a little offended and frown a bit. âYou talk weird too,â you whisper and you see his eyebrows shoot up above the sunglasses.
âIâm on vacation,â he says with a cross of his arms, âI donât live here. Iâm not like you.â
âThen where are you from?â Curiosity takes over your mind.Â
âJapan.â
âJapan?â you repeat and think about all you know about Japan. Well, nothing comes to mind except for a girl whose family vacations to Japan. Sheâs in your class and her name is Jessie.
âWhat! Donât tell me you donât know about Japan!â he says loudly but he doesnât sound angry. âIâve heard about Americans being dumb. I didnât think it would transfer to immigrants.â Youâre stunned and it seems Perro notices your mood change and begins to growl. The boy only smiles at you. Yeah, itâs definitely not a pretty smile.
âThatâs soâŚâ You donât know what to say, and with embarrassment thrumming throughout your body, you turn around.
The boyâs laughter leaves your head a mess and you forget about homework.
âWhat is wrong, baby? You have been different,â Mom says next to you. Kaju is on the floor in front of her, scribbling on a piece of paper. Today is Saturday, the best day of the week.
Because thereâs no school.
âNothing.â You hum and continue your painting of Kaju. His face is a little flat today and heâs more pale than usual. He has been coughing a lot.
âNothing?â Mom blinks at you. Her hands fidget. âIs it school?â
Thereâs really nothing bothering you. Middle school is just.. middle school. More homework, more classes, more people.
So: âNothing, Mom.â You look at her and force a grin. Her shoulders sloop down and she smiles back. âOkay, baby.â
You resume your painting of Kaju. You highlight the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chin. You detail his fingers, his pencil, the scribbles heâs making on that paper.
Kaju coughs. You pause and glance at Mom. Her head is facing the window next to the couch. Kaju coughs again. You watch Mom. She is looking outside.
Kaju coughs and makes a strangled sound. Spit trickles down his front and heâs holding his neck.Â
Mom turns and helps him then.
You close the front door behind you. Your painting is glossy in the sun as you lay it down on a small wooden bench. You can hear Kajuâs screaming. What you canât hear is Mom. You donât hear a gentle âslow, Kaju. In and outâ from Mom. Just Kaju. And itâs never just Kaju.
You walk away from the house. You do your times tables of thirteen. You do it past one hundred. And when you focus back to the world, you realize youâve crossed the street. Tall grass dangles around you and the wind curves them into waves.
âHey,â a voice says from behind. You turn and blink wildly at that white haired boy from years ago. Heâs most definitely taller and still wears dark sunglasses. It makes sense though. Arizona is hot.
Alas, you frown. âWhy are you here?â you ask.Â
He grins, boyishly. âI knew you were gonna be here.â
You tilt your head. âHuh? No way.â
His leg moves forward and yours moves back. His cheeks are tan and blushy. The grass tickles your knees. You want to leave.
âIâm on vacation again. You should come hang out at my house,â he says and jerks his head to the side, gesturing the direction of his home. You look on and see the endless green of trees and grass.
âIâm not allowed to leave,â you mutter. The boy shrugs.Â
âItâs not far. And who cares about rules? I donât.â
âWell, I do.â You wiggle your way through the grass and walk over to the dirt of the road. Rocks slide into your flip-flops and you cringe.
He grabs your hand. Heâs warmâburning and you try to pull away but he grips harder. You bite your lip and freeze.
His sunglasses are on top of his hair. His eyes are shock blue and shine and sparkle. This sparkle is different from your motherâs. You donât like it. You donât like anything about this boy.
âCome with me.â He smiles and your mouth opens but you blink and itâs not so hot anymore. His hand is still on yours and there are still rocks in your shoes but the sun is not beaming down your back. You blink again, and thereâs a bed in front of youâthe kind youâd see in moviesâwith long windows behind it. Instead of a shaggy green carpet touching your toes, there is a cold wood floor.
You shout and jump and the boy laughs. âYouâre fine! See? Weâre in my home!â He lets go of your hand and jumps onto the big bed.Â
âIn Japan?!â You shout again and feel a rock in your throat. But the boy shakes his head, a cheesy grin on his face. âOf course not. This is the vacation home.â He flattens himself against his bed. You stand awkwardly.
âYou wanna get something to eat?â You hear him ask.
âNo,â you say but your stomach complains by growling loudly. He snickers and you want to go home.
âOh my baby! All done with middle school!â Mom sings while driving. You continue drawing in your sketchbook and before long you have created large blue eyes and white hair and a boyish grin. Itâs, unfortunately, Satoru Gojo. He paid you twenty dollars the last time you saw him and he asked for you to create an image of him. Whatever. Easy money.
âMami! Iâm going into sixth!â Kaju yells, wanting attention. She looks at him in the rear view mirror. âAh, yes! Kaju is going into middle school. Donât you feel so old?â Kaju shouts something like âIâm not old!â and Mom laughs and you shove your earbuds further into your ears.Â
The drawing is finished. It looks like Satoru, unfairly pretty with white teeth. You think itâs kind of weird how you can draw him so easily without having him stand right next to you. You can only do that with Kaju and Mom because you know them.
âand you donât really know Satoru. Well, except for the fact that heâs one year older than you. His family is rich, maybe, probably, everytime he..teleports you to the vacation home, itâs grand on the inside. Not that youâve met any of his family members and not that he mentions any of them. Itâs all just a big guess on your part.
Satoru knows about you though. He knows about Kaju and Mom and how Perro died. He knows about your passion for art and your more secret passion for doctors. He knows what school you go to, where you live, and your favorite color. He knows so much and you trust him. Heâs really your only friend after all.
The car stops and you glance up. Home is ahead, small, tiny, and dirty all around. Itâs a trailer. Kaju and Mom are still talking so you climb out of the car and stretch.
Satoru is coming today for his summer long vacation. You hold the sketchbook close to you. You feel excited.
Satoru is there, across the street. Tall, pretty, and grinning. Youâre glad that your art piece matches him.
âHello!â He yells and waves and you jog over. His eyes look at the sketchbookâhe takes his glasses off around you now. You hand the pad over to him and watch his pupils dilate.
âLike it?â you ask and for some reason you feel a little shy. He nods wordlessly and cradles the sketchbook. Maybe he likes it too much.
âCan I keep it?â
âYeah.â Youâve never had anyone ask to keep a drawing of yours.
He looks up at you and his eyes are unreadable. âI wanna take you somewhere new. Youâll like it, I promise.â So you shrug and grab his hand and blink. New things can be scary, like starting high school and moving. You expect to be scared, Satoru likes pranks, but you blink twice and the air smells good and you see pink petals.
You look up. Pretty trees flow in the wind and you gape. Their leaves are pink!Â
âWhat are they?â You breathe out, still holding Satoruâs hand. He chuckles next to you. âCherry blossoms. Iâweâre in Japan.â You look at him and squint. âSatoru!â
âBut itâs okay! Iâll bring you back, I promise.â His cheeks are as pink as the trees. âI just wanted to show you.â You want to be mad at him, but as much as you try, you canât. So you look back up and smile.
Satoruâs head falls onto your shoulder. His breaths are quick and shallow. He sounds sick. He sounds like your brother.
âCan weâŚâ He starts but the words die in the wind. âWhat?â you whisper. His hand tightens around yours.
âI want us to be together.â
You giggle. Heâs joking, he must be. âWe canât, Satoru! I donât want to live in Japan.â At that, he shoves his face further into your neck, and you swear you feel his lips tremble against your pulse.
87 notes
¡
View notes
Hiii I really like your posts of crybaby and cute,cuddly and soft and I was wondering if you were going to do a part 3
iâve been thinking about that except iâm running out of ideas lol. i most likely will, but i donât know when. hopefully within two weeks. thanks for asking!
8 notes
¡
View notes
(lie)
You pretty thing with your twisting arms and arching back. The soft glow of the room creates nice lighting on your skin. The dress you wearâthe one that makes Akiâs heart raceârides up on your thighs as you walk up to him.
Puffy lips curve into a smile that has no emotions. âAki,â your voice greets the younger man. Heâs an acquaintance, but close enough that you call each other by first name.
Aki, in his brain, likes to call you other things.
âHello (y.n).â Aki looks around before his eyes land back on you. âThanks for inviting me. It looks great.â
The room is decorated to look like a formal party. A rich person gathering. Something Makima would attend, not Aki.
But you invited him, and you rarely do that, so Aki follows you into a room upstairs with a blank mind. Thereâs a large bed with soft looking sheets. The room is clean and lightly decorated, as if itâs for a short-timed stay. It smells good. It smells like you.
You sit on the bed, dress sliding up, straps slipping. Youâre mesmerizing, do you know that?
You must knowâyou must know what youâre doing to Aki.
His hands clench.
âAki, tell me how long you have left.â The sentence comes out sharp enough to stab him. It doesnât, but Aki flinches anyway. âWhy?â He presses back.
You frown. Your pretty lips twist in an ugly way and Aki feels bad so he says, âTwo years!â so you wonât get disappointed.
Your frown deepens. âWhy did you use the sword?â
Aki hesitates, feeling a burning in his eyes, but your dress slips more, revealing that youâre not wearing a bra. âTo save Himeno.â He blurts out. His gaze is heavy on your chest.
âYou have no shame, Aki.â You laugh a little, insincere. âDid you love her?â
âNo.â
The questions on your tongue stop. Aki takes a slow step forward and you let him. You look almost shocked.
âAre you lying to me, Hayakawa?â You whisper.
âI would never.â Aki breathes out.
You close your eyes and lean back into the bed. Itâs dark in your room. So dark, but Aki can see your dress slipping away, your bare skin, things heâs never seen before.
Lips stretching into a grin. Teeth shining. âYou donât love me, right Aki? Youâre not in love with me.â Itâs a statement Aki is supposed to agree upon, and he does so verbally, but heâs lying.
You donât want him to lie but he must so he can be close to you.
31 notes
¡
View notes
(oak tree)
this is not completed!! i have been working on this off and on for a while, but now iâm sick of it. i may continue if people actually like it ((not edited!!))
With the sun kissing your exposed shoulders, you haul chunks of wood into your metal bucket. The hand-made wrist brace you wear does not help your sprained wrist in the slightest. Carrying heavy objects is such a pain.
As you groan and huff, your little brother screams from behind you. âOlive is here! Olive!!â You spin your head around, ignoring the cracking your neck emits. Your brother is smiling with his arms stretched out above his head. âOliveâ stands behind an old oak tree. Your chest tightens.
âGet over here.â You snap at your brother. Either he doesnât hear you or he ignores you because he doesnât come, so you drop your bucket filled with wood to snatch him up. âWhy ainât ya listening to me?â You whisper and place him on your hip. Your brother continues to watch âOliveâ with a big, gummy smile. You frown before your eyes find the boy âOliveâ yourself, except no one is there.
Itâs just the big, old, oak tree.
âHeâs talkinâ about that boy Olive again.â Your father remarks. Heâs holding a newspaper to his face as if he can read, but he canât. Not one person in your family can read. No one has ever gone to school.
Unless you count Melissa, your brand new step-mom. Sheâs a pretty, former city girl. She acts all kind and wise but your stomach always gets sickly around her. The perfume she wears is too sweet and sheâs always smiling.
Like now. Cherry cheeks and pale skin. Her hands are soft and gentle as she sets them on your shoulders. Your bare shoulders, where her fingernails can dig into your flesh.
You want to throw up.
âIâve heard that too, Henry.â Melissa says. âIâve only seen Olive once. I donât know if heâs even a boy.â She makes it sound like a joke, and somehow, some way, your father smiles back.
Your father never smiles, not since your mother left.
Damned witch, you think and you grit your teeth so you wonât spit in her face.
You sit on a fallen tree trunk and chug some water. Your muscles twitch in pain. Itâs hard labour, but youâve always done itâat least since you were eight. You now work the fields and tend to the cattle. Thereâs something new every day so itâs not boring, but thereâs a want inside of you. A want of exploration. An education. Friends.
Well, thereâs that stranger boy that comes around sometimes. Your brother first spotted him and called him Olive because of his hair colour. âOliveâ stood behind the oak tree which is a mile from your house. Itâs where you and your brother would play.
Would play, because Melissa told you to grow up. She smiled after that and kissed you on the cheek.
Your stomach churns before you drink more water.
The sun is still out, the animals are cryingâyou always have work. So you stand and wipe the dirt off your clothes. Itâs been a habit since Melissa began nagging you about your hygiene. âClean freak.â You mutter in a quiet rebellion.
Heading back to work, you glance at the oak tree. Surprisingly, âOliveâ is standing there. Youâre closer to the tree than you were yesterday, so the boy appears to have a larger build.
Dirt is caked on his skin and he has scars lining his biceps.
You cringe.
âWhat are you doinâ here?â You ask, trying to ignore your pounding heart. As always, he doesnât say anything, only staring you down. Your face turns taut. âThis isnât your property. Get out of here before we shoot ya.â
You expect him to run for the hills, but he takes a step forward, no longer hiding behind the thick bole of the tree.
Heart now racing, you pull out a switchblade your father gave to you. Itâs light and fast but would probably break upon impact. It was in case you encountered a wild animal.
It was never meant for a human.
âI said get!â You yell. Your hands are shaking and your eyebrows twitch.
The boy looks on, but he begins to back away, a frown growing on his lip.
You scramble back to the house once heâs out of sight, tears bubbling in your eyes. Your poor lungs beg for air when you hike the mile to your safety.
Slamming open the front door, you collapse onto the dirty mat inside.
Melissa immediately comes to your aid. âWhat happened?â she asks, âWhat did you do?â
âDid you take care of those animals?â
Your head spins as you shake your head.
All you manage to do is throw up.
âIâm going to town.. would you like to come with me?â Your ears buzzed as soon as you heard âtown.â
Going to town was a foreign thing, as your family didnât have access to a car, and you had everything you needed at home. At least, thatâs what your father says.
Thatâs why youâre giddy once you see the large buildings. Your heart is racing once you spot street lamps and crowds of people. People of all kindsâyoung, old, black and white. You chew on your lips once you and Melissa get into a red streetcar.
Itâs all so exhilarating and exotic.
Itâs the high you wanted.
But once Melissaâs arms are full, and the sunlight is dimming bit by bit, you realize itâs nearly time to go home. You frown at the rocky path you must take and walk as slowly as you can.
School children walk the streets together, bright smiles and big book bags. You feel envy growling inside you. They can read and write, probably speak more than one language.
Before you turn your head forward to head into the forest, Melissa speaks up.
âDo you want to go to school?â
You spot her arms trembling from the weight of the items.
âNo.â
School makes you weak.
âOh, alright. Letâs go home then.â She smiles, beginning to walk.
Just as you turn around, you see that stranger boy, âOlive,â in that bundle of students. Heâs looking at you.
31 notes
¡
View notes
(stupid girl)
it pours outside. megumi pulls his umbrella out of a rack, shaking it slightly. he checks for tampering, but thereâs nothing. yujiâs pranks are so dumb sometimes..most of the time...
..every time.
he walks outside and his umbrella pops open. itâs a dark navy blue colour. he forgot where he bought it from. and youâre standing there next to him, hands shoved under the waistband of your skirt. he looks at you with a sour expression. quickly, as if pretending it didnât happen, your hands fly out of your skirt and hide behind your back, a wide smile growing on your face. he blinks back, under his umbrella, not exactly knowing what to think.
how stupid you are, is one thing that he could think about.
âjust..pretend you didnât see that..â you mumble, your blinding smile now straining your cheeks. megumi sighs. âmy mouth is shut.â
your smile drops.
the sounds of harsh rain doesnât cover up the silence, but megumi doesnât know what to say. itâs awkward standing with you, and he should be leaving, except he doesnât want to, not when youâre alone, just standing here in the pouring rain without a jacket. youâre so cold that you had even resorted to shoving your hands in your skirt. well, blame the designers for not giving skirts pockets.
megumi awkwardly coughs. âdo you..want to use my umbrella?â you shift a bit on your feet, body turning oddly warm. megumi turns warm too, and heâs sure that his neck is a bit red, but he shuffles to stand beside you, holding the umbrella up high so it covers both of your heads. âthanks,â you say, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. âdonât worry about it.â he responds before taking a step into the pouring rain.
your first step is in a puddle.
18 notes
¡
View notes
(nothing)
Like an ant on the ground, his shoe pushes into your body and kills you like itâs nothing. Like taking anotherâs life is nothing. Means nothing.
Youâre nothing.
Not without him, at least. Not without the pure gold he laces you up with, flaunting you about for others to see, and only see. Youâre a rarity just to spot, despite his taunts of showing you to the world. He does so, but only to few. His people barely hear the whispers of your name. And even then, itâs only at night, when children tell their horror stories with wide eyes.
âHe was enchanted by their pure beauty!â
âThey seduced him and drove him mad!â
âHeâs killed hundreds to find them!â
Each and every tale ends in tragedy. You either die, or he dies, or you both do. Like itâs nothing. Like death means nothing.
Heâs nothing.
Not without his status, at least. Not without the sheer amount of anger he boils up to make others fall. To make you, and himself, fall into the deep pit of horrors. For you both to scream and wail, kick and moan. Itâs pointless to struggle; heâs got you tied down and youâve got him scared to leave you. Heâs scaredâ so scared that when you first tried, when you first told him off, first stormed away from the disgusting emotions of rage, he broke down, turned red, felt so hot and so mad and so, so scared that he began to cry. He began to rush after you, blinded by his feelings, and gripping you so tight you both began to bleed. He breathed hardâyou did tooâas his hands curled up your body, squeezing so tight that your eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
He squeezed and squeezed and squeezedâ
Like an ant on the ground, his shoe pushes into your body and kills you like itâs nothing. Like taking anotherâs life is nothing. Means nothing.
Each and every tale ends in tragedy. You either die, or he dies, or you both do. Like itâs nothing. Like death means nothing.
You both mean nothing.
15 notes
¡
View notes
(crybaby)
ahhh, i could not get this out of my head...! just adding onto the shy/crybaby reader with pushy bakugoukxkxeididejsjsksoiss
âB-Bakugou, I donât think we shouldââ
âItâs Katsuki.â His voice cuts through yours. âAnd youâre..youâre dating me now, so we can order each other around.â He mutters the last part with a red face and furrowed brows. âThen I donât wannaââ Your voice is cut short when he pushes you into the janitor closet. Itâs cramped, and smells of bleach, and you feel Katsukiâs hands on your hips. His fingers begin to crawl upwards under your button up; blunt nails tapping your sides.
âI..I donât really like this..â You whisper. Your eyes are already brimmed with red. Katsuki huffs, âYou wanna touch me too?â His touch leaves for only a second to lift his shirt high enough to see his abs. His hands immediately climb under your shirt when heâs done. âN-no..!!â You gasp, trying to pull away. Your breathing begins to labour.
âWell, you feel..good. And soft. Nâ shit.â Katsuki blushes. His head falls onto your shoulder.
A whine crawls up your throat. Katsukiâs chin digs into your shoulder. âPlease Bakugou..please stop.â Of course, the hot-headed boy clenches his jaw in anger. His fingers dig deeper into your side when he pulls his head away. âStop? What the hell? And itâs Katsuki, (y.n).â His head pulls away even further to observe your face. âAnd youâre cryinâ?â
And you truly have a face full of snot and tears. âI... I...â You canât think, nonetheless talk as your self proclaimed boyfriend jams himself onto you. âYour... Your hands, Bakugou!â You wail.
His hands fall from your sides.
âOh, t-thank you, thank you..!â You hiccup, and fall to the ground in a heap of sobs. âThank you...thank you..â Itâs all mumbles because of your hands covering your face.
Things go quiet aside from your murmurs and cries.
â..whatâre you sayinâ thank you for?â Katsuki breaks the stillness. âI mean..you havenât even said my name yet!��� He says it like a joke. Like his hands are on his knees as he grins with glee. But his hands arenât on himself, theyâre on you. One cups your chin and the other hooks itself under your armpit. He lifts you with ease.
âNow move your hands.â He says, already doing it for you. âI donât know why you always try to hide your face. Itâs..itâs really..pretty.â His palm harshly wipes away your tears, but it only eggs more on. You cry fat, big baby tears.
Katsuki doesnât seem to mind it all that much when he embraces you. His fingers dance along your back, slowly inching downward. âI want you to say my name, (y.n).â He says into your shoulder. Itâs quiet enough that you canât hear it over your hyperventilatingâeven with your quirk. His fingers crawl further down.
âItâs one word. You donât have to be so damn stubborn.â
No, youâre not stubborn, Katsukiâs just winning a cheating game.
536 notes
¡
View notes
(him)
â..are you scared of me?â his thousands of mouths ask collectively. it echoes around your head, always bouncing back to inflict more pain than the first time. his fingers worm around your brain and squeeze your eyeballs. the fingertips melt into each crevice that is Your Brain. a mouth covers your face, miniature tongues fighting their way into your nostrils. you canât breathe, But You Can, at the same time. his body molds into yours like clay. he is clay. you are the model. his hair tells you to not be afraid as it clogs up your ears, curling and pulling and ripping and stealing your thoughts.
âno.â you gasp the little air you have left, inhaling salty tears and broken promises. your fingers claw away, tearing, bleeding, but thereâs no attention to the pain you cause. instead, everything becomes Him as he penetrates. your insides become mush as liquid fills you to the brim. more, more, more. it doesnât stop. youâre a liar. itâs Your fault.
âgood.â he sinks his teeth deep into your heart and your belly. heâs not done tasting you.
6 notes
¡
View notes
(cute, cuddly, and soft)
continuation here!!
Heâs not the gentle giant youâve always dreamt of. He canât smile without crooked teeth, or buy you your favourite flowersâlilacs. He doesnât know how to make promises and whisper sweet nothings.
Katsuki just canât be youâno matter how he tries.
Whenever he spares you a grin, your eyes bug out and you flinch, nearly curling into yourself. That time on Valentineâs, when Katsuki got down on one knee to ask you out, his hand that was so tightly clenched around the flowersâ thorns began to bleed. Of course he bought you fucking roses.
And poor, poor you, stuck with the beast on your doorstep. His red eyes practically stabbed you with how hard he glared at you. He would stutter on his words, but you would never notice. You were akin to a shaken leaf.
The skies must have agreed as they began to weep, for the sweetest thing in the world was about to be tainted.
âB-Bakugou...â You start but the words die in your throat as Katsuki begins to go into a deep bow. âBe my Valentine..â He mumbles, cheeks turning bright red. God, he hopes it doesnât match the colour of his eyes. Or the roses in his hand. Or the blood that is leaking down said hand.
âI, um, I canâtââ You stumble over your words too. As always, youâre absolutely adorable, and Katsuki knows this because he lifts his eyes to spot your face. Well, youâre like this always, but this is a special moment. Itâs his time to see you this vulnerable and speechless.
But, the more you stutter, the quieter you become, and before long, youâve stopped talking. âWhat?â Katsuki asks after a moment. âDonât like the flowers?â He observes the roses before crushing (and exploding) them in his hand. Before long, ashes slip through his fingers and make a pile on your doorstep. âBetter?â He gruffly questions, genuinely curious, because youâre still silent.
You look a bit peeved before you answer. âI just..didnât hear what you first said. Thatâs all.â You manage to squeak out, clammy hands and all.
Katsuki feels like an idiot. No wonder why youâve been so damn quiet.
âI said..go out with me! Date me! Whatever you fuckinâ call it!â He huffs. Like normal, you flinch with your hands already moving to cover your ears. âMyâMy quirk..!â You cry out. Crystal tears are already flying down your baby cheeks. Katsuki blanches. âDamn it! Iâm sorry! Sorry!â He canât help but yell and flail about as your emotions worsen.
âJust go, Bakugou!â You begin to slink back inside your house, eyes puffy and red. âBut..but..!â His hands reach out desperately. Luckily, his fingers catch hold of the door, immediately prying it open. âListen, Iâm sorry about yellinâ.â He says in a softer, more gentle voice. âCan you just be my Valentine? Iâll take you out and act all sappy and whatever. We can..hold hands..couple stuff like that...â He goes on, observing you all the while.
Skittish, a bit embarrassed maybe. Youâre still hiding in a little shell that Katsuki canât wait to open up.
And your fingers are still glued to the door. They tremble as they try to pull back. Itâs no use. Katsukiâs about a head taller than you. He could so easily break into your house right now and do whatever he wants. Thatâs why youâre trembling. Youâre goddamn scared.
âIâll treat you right. Youâll have anything in the world!â He pauses when you flinch again. â..sorry.â He whispers. His head falls down low enough to make proper eye contact with you. âI jusâ kinda want you, (y.n).â Intimately, like loversâalmost, his breaths fan your parted lips. âI really, really do.â
When your bottom lip trembles, Katsuki feels his heart stop beating.
Rain begins to pour.
309 notes
¡
View notes
(time)
It's 8:30 in the morning and he gets up. He moves to the restroom only ten seconds later; he's counting.
Pulling on short white socks, it's 8:37 AM when he makes a move to look over at the sleeping person in their shared bed. He watched their eyelids and how they moved briefly, opening, before falling back down in slumber. A dopey grin rises onto his face, but then his eyes land on his clock, and sees the time go from 8:40 to 8:41 AM.
He finishes cooking two eggs at 8:48, and slides them onto a clean plate before stabbing a fork into them both, taking a bite after. It's gross, like always. He never learned how to cook properly. He could only use some YouTube tutorials he found that actually went at his own pace.
It's 8:55 when footsteps are heard by the man. He pauses his eating briefly. It was surprising how fast he could eat; the two eggs were almost gone.
It's more surprising when he sees the person of his dreams staring at him in horror.
"...where am I? And who are you?"
He gently sets down his fork, too focused on the other to continue. Well, not too focused; he could hear the ticking clock from in the living room, reminding him that he had places to be. He could hear Lily, the orange tabby cat, licking away at herself. He liked that she focused on hygiene, unlike Eddie, the dark brown cat who seemed to laze away his days sitting in the sun.
He stood up slowly, "I have to go, honey." He didn't answer their questions.
He moved to the front door, grabbed a light tan jacket, and slipped his arms through both holes. Footsteps grew loud behind him.
"What? Where are you going? Who are you? Where is my dad?"
They were close to him; their morning breath was tickling the back of his throat almost in a sensual way, but it wasn't, and he had to keep his nasty thoughts to himself, because he had important things to do and important places to go.
"I'll be back before you know it," his voice turned chippier, and a light crisp laugh escaped him as his hands worked on unlocking the seven locks bolted into the door, and the few connected to the wall. Sweat was rolling down his back and he felt hot when a small hand landed on his shoulder. It shook him almost lovingly- but he knew it wasn't because they don't- *no one* loves him like that. It was impossible. Simply impossible.
"Please..! What is going on-?" He turned around so fast- too fast since he almost knocked them over. He whispered an apology in his head, but even it sounded insincere. "Goodbye, honey," he grabbed ahold of the hand that was on his shoulder, and placed a sloppy kiss upon it. His palms were sweaty and his mind was running a thousand miles per hour. He couldn't focus.
They pulled back, mouth agape and eyes bugged out wide. He didn't have time to console them, it was 8:58 and he was going to be late if they kept this up. So he turned on his heels swiftly, hands reaching for the tempting knob that had a sheen to it. It was his escape from this tight atmosphere.
"You- You can't leave me! Wait-"
It's 9:00 in the morning and he gets in his car. He backs out of his driveway ten seconds later; he's counting.
20 notes
¡
View notes
(smile)
Youâre sure youâre a bit younger than the guy standing in front of you judging by his broad shoulders and deep voice.
You probably shouldnât be judging right now. Thereâs a lot of blood leaking from your head that you donât exactly appreciate.
âUm, hey..excuse me?â You call out as gently yet commandingly as you could to the man. He turns, his own blood dripping down his lips. You bite back a gag.
âCan you...um, help me out here, maybe? Iâm..kind of..scared...â You continue to talk, but his eyes favour the sight behind you. âMove!â He shouts before running over and hauling you on his shoulder.
âDivine Dogs!â
Youâre able to lift your head the slightest bit to be able to spot the thing that was behind you. Located below, enormous animals growl, bark, and claw at it, except thatâs all youâre able to see before the man springs past them all with you on his shoulder.
âAre you all right?â His steps donât falter as he asks.
âYeah..I think. But my head hurts.â
âThatâs okay.â
Thereâs the slamming sound of a door opening paired with the sudden flash of light in your eyes.
The guyâs hands find themselves under your arms. They pull you off and onto the ground, where your knees nearly buckle. âCan you walk?â He asks. You twist and turn your head all around. Youâre outside. Huh.
â..well? Can you?â He moves his head so heâs the only thing you can see. âI..I think so. Yeah.â You turn away again and blink.
You canât remember the last time you've felt the sun.
Bandaged legs swing back and forth. Gojo looks on with silence.
âAre you..his teacher?â You ask, voice so quiet itâs a whisper.
âMegumi, right? Then yup!â Gojoâs voice is so loud in comparison. His pretty face makes up for it though. Pretty things always make up for ugly things.
âThatâs cool,â your face wrinkles when your voice cracks, âbut whad'ya teach? Whatâs all of that jujutsu stuff about?â Your body turns and thereâs a light in your eyes when you ask. You look like a normal teenager.
Not a victim.
Gojo smiles. âI canât tell you yet. How about you ask Megumi when he feels better?â
âAsk me what?â
Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.
Megumiâs voice is deeper than what you remember, and huskier. It doesnât sound right. And like you, heâs covered in gauze from head to toe.
Gojo stands with a long stretch of his arms, much akin to a lazy cat. âOh, you know,â Gojo hums with the corner of his mouth tugged upwards, âyour dogs.â The two stare at each other in silence before Megumi looks away with a scoff.
The three of you leave together. You lag behind for the most part, but the older teen steals glances at you from time to time.
He doesnât seem to be fond of you.
Thereâs haste in your steps as you exit your school.
âReady to leave already? Itâs only the first day.â Gojo jokes. His hand then slaps the roof ofâpresumablyâhis car. âYeah,â you say, sliding into the backseat with Megumi. He plays on his phone until you poke him. âHi.â You smile. His dark eyes glance up at you.
âHey.â
He looks back at his phone.
Gojo moves into the front seat. âIâm going to be busy today so..â His eyes flicker up beneath his glasses, gazing into the rear view mirror. Itâs silent but you donât decide to break it. Instead, you watch Megumi rise from his slouched position to stare back at Gojo.
They always have moments like this. Just staring as if that could speak enough words. Perhaps you could ask Megumi about that, too.
Speaking of, the boy leans back, pockets his phone, and gazes at you.
You try smiling.
He frowns instead.
âItâs...a room, I guess. You know, my room.â You look around, open drawers and the like while Megumi awkwardly stands by the door. âItâs cool.â You comment after a little while.
He shows you some other, currently vacant, rooms. âAre these only for people who go to your school?â You ask after peering into a room. âYeah. Basically.â He responds, arms crossed while seated on a bed. You choose to sit next to him.
âCan I go to this school?â Youâre so quiet Megumi almost doesnât hear you. But he does, and he actually thinks about the question. He thinks about what it would be like learning alongside you. What it would be like sleeping in the room next to you. Sparring with you. Fighting with you.
Itâs not exactly a bad thought, but thereâs honestly no pros about it. All heâd get was another person to talk to almost daily.
And...he just saved your life. Things would be too traumatic for you. Your mind is vulnerable right now.
âI donât think so. I mean, can you even see curses?â He cocks his head to the right. Of course, you look on blankly. You donât even know what curses are.
âLike..your..dogs?â
â..sure. Theyâre good curses, though. They help me. They hurt the bad curses.â
You nod, slowly, with your hair slipping in front of your face. âDo you think..you could show them to me?â Your voice is low again, and Megumi hears you again.
âDivine Dogs.â
The two animals appear right in front of your face. A black and a white one. âTheyâre..sorta cute.â You say, reaching out a hand to pat the fluffy creatures. âSorta?â Megumi asks as if he is offended in some sort of way. Giggling, you shake your head. âThey just look kinda...mean. Kinda like you.â Megumi huffs before he flops backwards.
Well, if youâre comparing them to him, you said theyâre cute, right?
â..what the hell do you mean I look mean..?!â
You zip through crowds of people to reach your schoolâs gates. You expect to see Gojo standing there with his car, having a casual smirk on his face. Instead, Megumi is leaning on a wall next to a bike.
âMegumi?â His head perks up from the sound of his name. âWhereâs Gojo?â
âBusy.â Megumi sighs. âSo Iâm here to pick you up.â
âWith..that?â You gesture to the bike. Thereâs only one seat.
âYouâll stand on the back.â Megumi takes a hold of your hand, guiding you to the two pegs that poke out of the back wheel. He sits himself on the bike and pats his shoulders. âHold onto me.â You do so, carefully.
âThis isnât bad.â You remark as the two of you glide down the sidewalk. Thereâs a gentle breeze that comes with the ride, and youâre able to see nature more clearly.
Megumi slips up once in a whileâstaring at you, that is. He observes your contentment, your brief smiles, your hands on his shoulders. It can almost make him smile.
Thereâs a quick turn of the bike that makes you gasp. âWhat was that?â You ask Megumi. He mustâve stifled a laugh because he covers his mouth when he answers.
âA rock.â
You turn your head around to spot the rock.
âItâs a pebbleâŚâ
Megumi chuckles.
âI only see a fewâŚâ You mumble dejectedly. âA few is better than none.â Gojo smiles. The curses are pretty ugly looking. Theyâre giant and tough. Theyâre also the first ones youâve seen since Megumi..saved you.
âNow, watch Yuji.â Your eyes find the cursed boy whose skin is inked in black. Eyes roll out of his cheekbones as a devilish grin stretches out his face. The curses turn to flee, but theyâre destroyed in seconds.
âThatâs who Sukuna is.â Gojo says quietly. You nod in false understanding. You donât know who Sukuna is. You just know that Yuji is a bit like you.
âAnyway,â Gojo turns to you with a beaming smile, âletâs go into town! I bet weâre all hungry!â He ushers you into his car first. You wait a little while before the others come. Megumi, per usual, takes the seat beside you. Nobara sits next to him and Yuji is buckled in the front. You watch how everyone interacts with each other.
Nobara is prideful. Yuji is energetic.
Megumi seems to always have a stoic face.
Except..when youâre alone together, usually in his room. Heâs a bit more chatty and not all serious. He relaxes but never really smiles.
Well, youâre in Megumi's room, right now, with busy hands tangled in his twin dogsâ fur. You decide to ask an odd question because you always think about it: â..why donât you smile?â Megumi, who was previously just laying back on his bed, leans up with a raised eyebrow. âWhy donât I smile..?â âYeah.â
Your question is so innocent and casual that Megumi doesnât know why he sits and stares at you for a bit. Your eyes glance back as you jerk your chin, inviting an answer that Megumi isnât sure he has.
âI.. I donât really know, I guessâŚâ He leans back into his bed with his hands covering his face. You continue to eye him before resuming your play with the animals. God, that was the lamest thing he could say. But he really didnât have an answer. Nothing came to mind.
Still, he could have thought of something better.
â..thatâs okay.â You whisper. He hears you, like always.
Sitting up, Megumi reaches for his dogs, copying you. âHave you ever even seen me smile?â He asks. You shrug, which makes sense, but thereâs a thing bubbling inside Megumi. He wants your reactionâthough heâs not too sure on why heâs so hung up on this smile thing.
âHave you been trying to make me smile?â Perhaps his goal is to rile you up. Probably make you seem as if youâre the desperate one, and not him. Itâs not entirely intentional, but as you turn to him with a twisted up face like that, his gut squeezes.
â..not really.â You mutter, your head moving to face a different direction. However, Megumiâs hand stops the movement. His fingers grip your jaw as he tilts your head back to him. He doesnât feel in control of his own body as his face draws near.
He kisses you so softly, so gently, you barely feel it.
Nothing really happens a few minutes after that. You both pull away. Your eyes are focused on the floor as Megumi feels your rapid emotions. Heâs just ruined the fragile thing called friendship you both took so long to make.
âI think Iâm gonna go get something to eat,â you quickly push off the bed to stand up, âdo you want me to get something for you?â Megumi slinks back to get a good look at you. Even though he just..kissed you, you still offer.
Youâre too kind. Youâre not built for this.
For him.
âUh...no. Thanks.â He mumbles with a tingling face. The dogs must favour you as they fall behind on your track to the door.
âWait.â Megumi calls just as you begin to close the door. âWill you come back?â
â..yeah.â You say with that quiet tone of yours. The door closes with a click.
Expectedly, the door doesnât open for the rest of the night.
153 notes
¡
View notes
what is the name of ur qoutiv
Cus I would like to check out some of ur work
absolutetrash (ugly duckling) is my main ((:
0 notes