#and that's cause i did something stupid on the first drawing: MERGE THE LAYERS THEN SAVE IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Note

scenario request: enemies to lovers au! w atsumu, ✨ thank you 💛

paper daisy chains — miya atsumu

5.5k words | genre/s: fluff, a little angst, enemies to lovers!au | warning/s: language, lots of arguing | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader

↪︎ in which three hours of detention leads to your hatred for your former best friend to fall apart all due to a kiss

a/n: you had me at enemies to lovers anon 😏 ngl tho this is not my best work considering i procrastinated on writing this and i needed to post something today ✨

in a mere afterthought—after everything had gone to shit already, it was then you had some forming recuperation of the situation you were in despite always finding a chance to snake your way out was no longer in your hands. so, perhaps you could have handled the situation a little bit better. emphasis on ‘little’ as there was very little you could do about your absolute hatred for miya atsumu and that sly grin on his face.

it wasn’t like this before–this messy relationship between you and atsumu. if anything, you were the bestest friends in middle school, by each other’s side like you were stuck together with glue. yet a single assumption ruined it all, tearing everything down into nothingness.

did you sometimes yearn for things to go back to the way they were before? the simple answer was yes, but your pride would never let atsumu know.

“as for you (y/l/n) (y/n), atsumu is now sporting a broken nose after you punched him during lunch.” the principle states matter-of-factually which earned a quiet scoff from behind you.

despite not standing directly next to you, atsumu was still far too close for your liking as his right shoulder often brushed against you at every small and sudden movement. you could practically feel his breath grazing the exposed part of your neck. however, you couldn’t exactly blame the setter no matter how much you wanted to as both your teacher and his coach had sandwiched you two together.

“disrespectful little swine that one.” inarizaki’s coach grunts loudly towards you, “you oughta teach that one a lesson before she hurts my starting setter again before nationals!”

you flashed the man a toothy grin as you grit them together. he always had an odd way of speaking, “yes, of course, it’s completely my fault for defending myself.” you deadpanned with your own sarcasm of poisonous venom, surprising almost everyone in the office—everyone except atsumu of course. if anything, he’s the only one still smirking in amusement while all the adults had their faces all contorted.

however, his eyes did widen a bit as he looked at you the moment you smirked up at him with proud delight written across your pretty face.

your teacher cleared his throat, elbowing you slightly in the ribs discretely. “my student didn’t mean that, sir.” he excuses, quickly giving you a warning look as a sign for you to apologize.

“i’m really sorry,” you weren’t sorry.

the principle simply smiled at your scornful apology that left your lips in the most condescending manner. he then switched his gaze back to the atsumu’s coach who has been arguing against the old man for a good fifteen minutes on only punishing you and not atsumu as it ‘wasn’t his fault,’ but you hadn’t been listening. why would you, anyway? in the end, you were going to get the short end of the stick once again with atsumu getting away with everything. from his annoying teases to his backhanded compliments that caused him a blow right on his nose in the first place will never be called out.

enter atsumu’s twin, osamu, through the office doors. to your surprise he (in a way) defended your case by saying that atsumu was provoking you all day. so, you and atsumu were both in the wrong. then again, that’s what happens between two enemies since middle school.

“based on what osamu has said, i have no choice but to give them both detention.” the principle concludes, “atsumu and (y/n) will be on cleaning duty in the library for the time being.”

“if you don’t mind me commenting,” the coach exclaims, drawing himself up to perhaps argue for the umpteenth time again, “atsumu has volleyball practice to—”

the principle immediately cuts him off, “there’s nothing i can do about it.”

“can’t he serve detention after nationals?” he tries to express once more but is cut off yet again.

“then that goes against our policy of having no behavioral issues in order to go on field trips.”

“then it is decided,” your teacher confirms with a nod. even he was getting a bit tired on this back and forth. “i’ll make sure both students will report to the library the moment the final bell rings, sir.”

great.

there was always something unnerving about the after school noon at inarizaki as you teetered on the edge of boredom and monotony. and that’s saying a lot considering you spent the majority of your time after classes secluded in your own room or wandering the streets of hyogo by yourself instead of going to club activities. you’d come to think that maybe, in the absolute inevitability that for once atsumu’s company would be much better than being alone, but you were wrong. so incredibly wrong.

you would much rather stay locked up in your bedroom all day than be stuck mopping the library floors and dusting off the shelves upon shelves of textbooks and novels.

a sigh escapes from your lips as you bring your gaze up to atsumu on the other end of the aisle, his tall figure reached at the tops of each book shelf as he dusted them off haphazardly while you too care of the bottom layers. it was understandable though as the task was not only tedious but simply counterproductive. the shelves were going to get all dusty again weren’t they? granted, punishment was punishment no matter how futile and impractical.

the library’s fluorescent lights had created shadows upon atsumu’s face, creating deep grooves and shadows upon his jaw and cheeks that perhaps you didn’t think he looked absolutely repulsive for once (even with the bandage on his broken nose).

you lift yourself from your crouched position and brushed any lingering dust off of your uniform, which at this point was a bit unkempt from the light labor you were forced to do. approaching the preoccupied setter, the rag within your hand was tossed back and forth between your left and right.

however, your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped only a few feet shy away from atsumu who should at least be sensing your presence at this point. he always had a knack of being aware of where you were and honestly you found it plain creepy. your gaze fell upon the rag in your hand, shrugging to yourself before chucking it at atsumu’s face.

the setter’s expression contorted slightly in confusion as the piece of cloth smacked him on the side of his cheek before falling onto the floor. his gaze followed the rag before turning his stare towards you.

“i’m bored,” you sighed out in a mutter with little to no emotion coating your words.

“me too,” he replies, crouching down to pick up the rag before tossing it to you lightly. you caught it within your hands as you feign the look of surprise on your visage. you honestly expected him throw it as hard as he could, but he didn’t. “the faster we get this done the faster we get to go home–or whatever you do after school like wander around hyogo or something.”

you nod, yet curiosity stroked you. how would he know about that? gently placing one foot in front of the other, you steered closer to the boy. “and how would you know i do that everyday after school?”

it was then, you could finally feel the striking tension between the two of you. as if it was heat emanating and merging simply from the proximity you two were standing, a beat had passed again the moment you confirmed that whatever answer atsumu was going to give you would be complete and utter bullshit.

“just to make sure you were safe,” he mutters so nonchalantly. something so out of his character, especially for you would obviously be more alarming than a simple shrug and a brow raise.

your arms braided over each other, your gaze hardening by the second. “safe?” you repeat in disbelief that was accompanied with a scoff, “that’s rich, miya, anymore shitty lies you want to tell me before i could ruin that pretty face of yours again?”

a smirk had fallen on his lips as he flickered you an entertained look. “so, you think i’m pretty?”

you roll your eyes, turning your back towards him. you knew talking to him was a stupid idea and if only your teacher didn’t force you to try to make amends during detention with him, you wouldn’t have to feel your brain cells deteriorate every time you look his way. so much for taking sensei’s words into consideration into making friends with him again when your patience was being tested every five seconds. “whatever,” you scoff for the umpteenth time as you going back to your previous spot.

“the thing is, what i said just then wasn’t a lie.” he concludes while his eyes follow your figure to the other end of the aisle, “but, it’s not like you’d believe me or care for that matter.”

you’re right, i don’t. you thought to yourself, and yet you were still taken aback from the sudden ardor in his tone. it was less of atsumu’s usual bite from his arguments and more of a laceration to the skin, near rather than cutthroat despite both being some form of verbal wound. one hurt more than the other and you were sure atsumu was holding back.

“and what makes you think that?” you question.

atsumu shrugs, “nothing really groundbreaking.” he pauses as his eyes fall upon your expression of nothingness as for once he couldn’t find the right words to say. on the tip of his tongue laid words that would definitely hurt you and that hollow chest of yours, and usually he wouldn’t care just the same as you wouldn’t, yet something was stopping him.

come to think of it, this was one of the rare occasions that you and atsumu were actually alone together. nothing but the confines of the library bookshelves to obstruct you and your enemy. if anything, you and atsumu are constantly surrounded by others who are aware of your mutual resentment towards each other. hell, the only reason why your name was even as near popular as atsumu’s was because you had beef with him that was never serious in the first place. even after the numerous altercations you had since middle school with the blond boy, it was always him who provoked you.

it was almost as if you only kept up your act because that’s all you’re known for in this damn school. and you hated it.

“just the fact that you hate me is the biggest reason.” atsumu adds.

a sarcastic laugh emitted from you as you turned back towards him. you were well aware how priceless your expression looked, all muddied in disbelief and annoyance. “the feeling’s mutual.” you seethed through your teeth, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping fuel to a slow building ember. you had dirt on atsumu, but so did he and you had to be careful in order to play your cards well.

yet atsumu was already one step ahead of you, “you know hiding you emotions and feelings isn’t very healthy, is it?” he evoked. it was starting again and you knew it—from the way he inched closer to you and the way he held that godforsaken smirk on his lips again.

this guy was really asking for it wasn’t he?

a chuckle leaves your lips as you fully face him, your skin pulsated with arising anger, you couldn’t wait for miya atsumu to pull your final strings so you could finally land a punch on his face again. “it’s not like stalking someone after school is any better,” you hissed in the same venom. “i heard that shit can go on your permanent record if you were caught following someone. who knows, miya, maybe you’ll be surprised one day when you’re kicked off the volleyball team all of a sudden—”

“that’s hilarious coming from you, (y/n), you piece of—” atsumu had cut himself off in the midst of his retort, pursing his lips together as his hardened gaze suddenly dropped. “whatever,” he scoffs before turning away.

he let out a frustrated sigh as he attempted to walk back to the other end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to look at your widening smile of provocation on your visage—slick with the taste of ash and synthetic amusement. it covered you in a downpour of emotions, most of which (if not all) were just synonyms of anger and acrimony. your tone was almost elated, drenched in salty irritation that couldn’t wither. you waited for him continue his words knowing damn well he could hit you with something stronger, something that can hurt more.

atsumu had to admit that he wasn’t as nearly as tough as you, though. you were someone that grew up surrounded with constant thunderstorms of a family and had a chest filled with bruising epiphanies waiting to be spewed out if anyone were to ever fuck up. it would’ve been best if he stepped himself away knowing that you both had no crowd to entertain, and yet there was an aching within you that wanted atsumu to continue whatever insult rested on his tongue.

pull that string, miya, i dare you.

“whatever?” you miffed, testing the waters you knew was tainted in tension. “no, please continue what you were about to call me, miya. i’d love to hear a new rendition.”

the setter shook his head as he couldn’t bring himself to meet the fury in your eyes any longer. “i hate how it had to be you,” he muttered under his breath.

“what was that?”

atsumu shook his head, “nothing.”

detention was flying by slower than you had hoped.

within the first hour, you and atsumu had finished all the work assigned simply due to the fact that keeping yourselves busy on opposite sides of the library was best for both of your mental health.

two hours left of detention and boredom was dangerous for the likes of you two. now that you were both situated at the array of desks, it was common sense that some form of dispute between the two of you were bound to happened despite being separated and sitting at your own tables.

stupid atsumu, you thought. he really thought he was sly trying to sneak glances at you every five seconds like he was just waiting to get you riled up. what was his problem anyway? you thought that atsumu was the one who stopped himself from making matters worse earlier but it seems like he wanted to start something again.

you ignored him like you usually do. you were far too busy making a second pair of paper daisy chains and you needed the utmost focus cutting out each individual paper daisy to string into a faux flower crown.

atsumu had some audacity thinking he could keep throwing glances at you when you literally had a pair of scissors in your hand.

“keep staring and you’ll lose all of your piss-blond hair,” you deadpanned. you didn’t even bother to look at him as you were too preoccupied in your latest craft activity to fight your boredom.

however, it wasn’t atsumu’s fault that you were a complete enigma to him. he hated the way his friendship with you ended up like this after one big misunderstanding. sure, the first signs of your wavering friendship on the cusp of the big chasm of hatred you both created started in the middle school, but it truly formed in your first year.

granted, it wasn’t like he was wrong for worrying about you. he thought you were in danger last year when he thought you were getting involved with terrible people and simply reporting any suspicious behavior was his best way to go. the report was anonymous, but after you received the news, you were immediately suspended for a week all because of him. atsumu wasn’t going to negate the fact that perhaps it was his fault, but despite his numerous trials and errors of apologizing to you, it turned into nothing but heated arguments that led to your relationship now. all jagged and broken.

the topic has been taboo since.

atsumu’s gaze left yours, scoffing under his breath as he rolled his eyes. why did it have to be you? it wasn’t like this before, but you were all well aware how stubborn you two were.

you were an absolute wildfire that couldn’t be contained and atsumu was constantly treading over fresh embers that threatened to ignite at any form of friction. he was tired of always having to be careful around you, especially now that you broke his nose, yet he still wanted for things to be different.

“here,” your voice interrupts the tense silence as you toss him a finished paper daisy chain. it landed on his crossed arms, raising an eyebrow of confusion when he picked it up. “give that to osamu.”

atsumu was a bit perplexed to say the least, but he simply sighs to himself before gently placing the flower crown over his temples. “why osamu?” he knew damn well why, “i think it looks better on me.” he mused.

“you look hideous with it on,” you scoff, “besides it’s for your brother for a reason.”

“cause you like him better?”

“no doubt about it.”

(can you believe you liked atsumu more than osamu back in middle school?)

the setter shrugs, “too bad, you gave it to me so it’s mine now.”

“no it’s not, you don’t deserve one.” you say as you stand from your chair that screeched against the dark oak flooring of the library. you try to reach for the flower crown on atsumu’s head, but his hand snatched your wrist before you could grab it.

atsumu’s adams apple bobbed up and down when he realized how close you were, “let. go.” your voice was hushed, yet still spat out your infamous venomous tone.

but he didn’t let go.

“aren’t you tried of it?” atsumu brings up instead.

“tired?”

“of this,” he continued before motioning to each other, “of us having to act like we hate each other everyday?”

you feigned a scoff, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes to the absolute bullshit coming out of atsumu’s mouth right now. “i’m not acting.”

“well i am,” remarked atsumu before a millisecond could even pass, “i’m tired of having to act like i hate you all the time.”

it was then it seemed like something just cracked within you. lies, lies lies, everything was a lie with atsumu—from the moment he ruined your trust last year to every altercation, big or small, that happened until this point was nothing but lies. you swallowed a lump of pride, fear, and anger collecting in your throat as you let out a huff. “your lies are becoming progressively shittier, you know that right? i don’t need your sorry excuse of sincerity.”

you tugged at your wrist again, this time harder for atsumu to finally let you go, but he wasn’t budging. it wasn’t like you to admit this either, but it was starting to hurt.

“too bad i’m not lying.”

a sigh of frustration left your lips as you felt your anger suddenly swell within you. bottling up your emotions until they exploded was something you were explicitly good at and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, burning you along with words that threatened to spew out of your mouth. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you think that saying that bullshit now is going to make up everything that had ever happened between us?”

“no, I just—”

you didn’t bother to let him speak as you cut him off, “your volleyball fangirls harass me everyday for treating how i treat you, not mention i get constantly watched on like a hawk because of what you did! you made me lose my parents trust after i got suspended and i can’t even go out freely anymore! the only reason why i wander around hyogo alone after school is because that’s the only time i can have to myself since my parents think i have club activities—”

atsumu didn’t mutter a word as he waited for you to continue. he knew there was more inside you yearning to finally be verbalized and he was ready for it to come his way.

“you think i’m acting like i hate you out of pettiness, but that only proves how self-centered you are atsumu,” you huffed, not bothering to pull your wrist out of the setter’s vice-like grip anymore. “for once, i did consider finally letting this whole thing between us go and make amends, but not like this—not when you just keep fucking up and digging yourself a bigger hole.”

a few beats of silence passed between the two of you as you felt the heat rising within your slowly deplete. even atsumu’s hand on your wrist had loosened up a bit, sending a wave of relief within you knowing that you had a chance finally walk away.

“so you’re tired too?” the setter suddenly interjected.

here we go again, you thought with a dejected sigh. “can you—”

his hold around your wrist suddenly tightened again, but not as harsh as before. “answer my question.”

“no.” you pursed your lips together.

“liar.”

“atsumu, please—”

“listen, i’m really sorry about what i did.” the setter expressed, hoping the sincerity in his voice was reaching you. “what i did was fucked up, but just say the word and we can stop everything right here.”

“let go,” you muttered in between, but atsumu only continued.

“no more arguments, we could go back to how we were before or we could start over again—”

“i said let go!”

it was then atsumu’s grip left your wrist and caught your face in between his hands and leaned in.

it wasn’t like this was your first kiss, but it certainly felt like it. granted, this was the first time you kissed some you hate—or rather, someone you’re supposed to hate. you’ve kissed numerous people before, all of which were fueled with nothing but boredom and was nothing more than a simple peck. and yet, this was everything out of the ordinary. you were kissing miya atsumu for fuck’s sake and for once there wasn’t a clear instinct in your body to move away fom him.

your mind blurred so much that the confusion written all over your expression and in your head was muddied by the roaring of your heartbeat. perhaps it was the way atsumu had managed to somehow run his hand from your face and through your hair while the other gently caressed your cheek as if this was how it was supposed to be for ages. it certainly didn’t feel like some cheap thrill atsumu had devised as the way he pulled you closer to him felt like a missing puzzle piece finally being placed.

and for once, you didn’t feel absolutely disgusted when he touched you like this.

it was then when the bandage on atsumu’s healing nose tickled the bridge of yours had suddenly pulled your out of some dream-ridden euphoria. as if it was a reminder that this is what you did. the person who was supposed to be your best friend turned into your enemy after one misunderstanding. he hurt you once and that was the most he did, and yet it only made matters worse when you’ve come to the realization that all of atsumu’s quarrels with you was far less hurtful than what you ever said. they were all for the same reason and that reason was how he felt for you. the feelings had been simmering within him since middle school was finally revealing itself and you’ve been throwing it away for so long.

you didn’t deserve this type of love.

the swift beating of your heart was no longer from the burning sensation of atsumu’s lips against yours, but rather the adrenaline of every single worry tucked in the confines of your head were coming out of their shadows all at once. no matter how intoxicating a forbidden kiss like this felt, you were suffocating beneath the drowning ocean of the unspeakable.

your swollen lips, all tinted red parted slightly before biting down on atsumu’s lip.

“shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, suddenly pulling away to touch the bleeding wound on his bottom lip.

you took this chance to finally get away like you always did. and to your surprise, atsumu didn’t follow you into the labyrinthine aisles of the empty library for once. perhaps this was the one time you were glad that you and atsumu were alone in this huge room as it at least saved you from any humiliation of whatever the fuck just happened.

the inkling within your gut felt familiar, but too peculiar to fully comprehend. yet, with the blush that stretched from your cheeks to your ears still at it’s fullest opacity to the loudness your heartbeat still thumping against your chest and in your ears, it was obviously what the feeling was.

this can’t be happening.

you let out a sigh.

fifteen minutes. that’s all that’s left of the three hours of detention and after this, you were free from the confines of the library walls that suffocated you.

just fifteen more minutes before you can leave and avoid atsumu for the rest of your life. after those fifteen minutes, you would no longer give two shits about inarizaki’s setter and he could no longer confuse you anymore. and all you needed to do was wait in the most obscure corner of the library that most wouldn’t even go to.

the thing is, it was genuinely a good plan, but lately you’ve come to the conclusion that you had been underestimating atsumu for such a long time. this was one of those moments where you believed he would leave once detention was over, and yet he made sure to go through each and every aisle of bookshelves only to find you with your nose stuck in a book to keep you occupied. you didn’t even see him at first, but atsumu was glad you didn’t as he spent a good five minutes forcing himself to stop blushing just by your presence.

and to your (quite unfortunate) luck, here miya atsumu was now—approaching you in all his broken-nosed glory. it certainly didn’t help the fact that this entire time, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. it was the way he spoke about his feelings for you via the sparks from the sudden excursion that had your heart blossoming out of your chest even an hour after it happened

atsumu plops himself next to you, yet still leaving enough room that you wouldn’t run away from him again. his arms rest over his knees as he picked at his nails in uncertainty, as if he was treading over thin ice and a single misstep would eliminate any progress that was created between the two of you. “we’re free to go in fifteen minutes,” his voice was gentle, yet hesitance laced it to soften it a bit more as you didn’t even spare him a glance. “...just to let you know.”

there was no response from you. a simple nod was a good enough answer even though you weren’t obligated to. if anything, you feared that atsumu could hear the wavering in your voice when if you did say anything verbally. you hoped just by a simple nod would be a sign for him to get up and leave you alone in your furrowing thoughts, but he just sat there. in the deafening silence and the flipping of the pages of your book, he stayed for you.

atsumu wanted to make sure you got home safely and not do anything stupid. he knew what you were capable of especially after something out of the ordinary transpires (see: the kiss from earlier).

you had to admit that maybe you didn’t care that he was right next to you anymore. before, you would always yell at him to leave you alone or give you space, but for once his presence felt comforting to you (you wouldn’t confess that for you the life of you, though). you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat rising in your neck again.

(he did end up noticing)

the setter cleared his throat then, his fingers still playing with each other to spare him from the awkwardness. “are you okay?”

you huffed, “i knew you were an idiot, but i didn’t think you were this stupid.”

there it was, atsumu thought. despite the severity of your response, he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his lips knowing that you were at least talking to him. throughout the past year, he had come to realize that having you throw insults at him was better than not talking at all. granted, you wouldn’t even spare a single breath to someone you truly hated and not give a shit about. so if anything, you being mean to him was a sign that you think of him as something more than a stranger.

it was an odd case of stockholm syndrome, atsumu had to admit.

“is it because of the kiss earlier?” he asked, yet you didn’t utter a word. rather it was the sudden bursting of red tinted ears and burning cheeks stopped you from forming proper words. you would never get used to this feeling. “if it makes you feel any better—”

“just shut up about it,” you hissed as plunged your face deeper into your book. atsumu seeing your tomato-red face was the last thing you wanted as you shooed him away, “i don’t want to hear it.”

a chuckle left atsumu as he took the book out of your hands, loudly slapping it shut that the impact of paper hitting one another echoed throughout the library. it forced you to look at him in the eyes as he smirked at your expression. he hasn’t seen a look of embarrassment on your visage before and he found it adorable. “if the next words that come out of your mouth is to forget about the kiss ever happening, i’ll do it again and make sure you remember.”

your jaw tightened slightly as you peered your eyes at him, “fine.” you affirmed, “it did happen, but it meant nothing.”

“well, it meant something to me.” atsumu countered, not even noticing the way he leaned in closer.

it felt almost impulsive the way your emotions just crumbled before you. with the sense of betrayal between your mind and your heart had you dragged into the tide of finally giving into the guy you’re supposed to be hating. it felt criminal the way you even let your eyes flicker back down to his lips that was still a bit swollen from last time.

it just had to you, huh?

“i hate you,” you say before pulling him his tie towards you.

the kiss was slower than last time, deeper even. you were sure this was how serendipity felt like, sweet against your tongue like marmalade and soft like feathers with the way atsumu was trying to chase that euphoria when he made his way down your jaw. the ghost of his lips left trails down your neck and to your collarbone before recoiling back to your lips. you tasted like mocha and atsumu already found himself addicted to it.

“miya! (y/l/n)!” the advisor in charge of detention’s voice suddenly thundered throughout the library, forcing you two to pull away from each other. “detention ends in five minutes! the hell is this? daisy chains?” he suddenly interjects before letting out a loud scoff. “if i don’t see the rest of the trash from these tables thrown away, i’m giving you two another after school detention next week!”

a disappointed sigh emits from you as you and atsumu make your way back to the other end of the library. you hoped the exchange between the two of you wasn’t too obvious as your lips were all pink and your uniform disheveled.

the advisor gave you two a look before turning away to leave the library. humiliation struck you then and atsumu couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’ll make sure osamu gets his paper daisy chain.” the setter reassures playfully as he snatches both flower crowns from the table and hands the other to you.

your hands brush together as you take it from him, muttering, “you can have it if you want.”

“what was that?”

“nothing,” you say as you make your way towards the library’s entrance, “i said you look like a cunt.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu hcs #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu

390 notes · View notes

spookyspaghettisundae · 5 years

Text

The Ultimate Trip

He stank of booze and weeks of built-up body odor. The stench had baked itself into his many layers of tattered clothing. Not like he could tell. Nor did he care.

Clive had been a vagrant for the better part of the past decade. His relatives had died away due to natural causes, the lives of his wife and son were taken in a bus accident, and when he got laid off from his well-paid job and failed to find new employment after repeated tries, he lost all will to live.

That’s when he started doing drugs. Not the harmless kind, either—the hard stuff. The kind that made him lose most of his teeth. But also the only shit that pulled him out of this world, thrusting him onto different planes of existence, bubbles of fleeting, existential bliss that let him experience short-lived escapes from the tragedy and horrors of the real world.

Once he had flushed his money down the drain, he didn’t bother collecting unemployment money. Or applying for any programs. He had spent so much time on the streets, in the worse parts of the city, that he didn’t see the point.

The Man was out to get him, anyway. Why be a slave to the system?

He huddled in a corner. Concrete walls—huge arcs supporting the bridge—shielded him from harsh wintry winds. Wallowing in his own filth, ignorant of how badly he reeked.

And torn inside.

He wanted that fix. Needed it. But the last few trips had been something else.

Larry, another guy from his part of the slums, walked into Clive’s lousy little alcove. Clive shivered in the cold, rubbed his cocaine-damaged nose as it ran, and didn’t even bother looking up at his “old friend.” Larry remained standing and wordlessly leaned against the wall next to Clive.

Plastic and paper crinkled when Larry pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes from his jacket’s pocket. He produced a crumpled up cigarette from its nearly empty insides and held it out in front of Clive.

Clive still didn’t bother looking up and snatched the smoke out of Larry’s hand.

Again, Clive rubbed away the snot leaking from his nostril and asked in an unfriendly tone, “You here to sell?”

“Course,” Larry said, placing another cigarette in between his own lips and using a cheap plastic lighter to ignite Clive’s for him, then his own.

They both took long drags and blew out some smoke. Weird how the flame made you think of warmth, but the smoking only made you feel colder. Clive had thought that many times, a musing that seemed profound in moments of sobriety, but always slipped his mind in the ensuing drug-fueled trips.

“The usual?”

Larry took another drag and then answered while blowing out smoke, rendering his voice raspier and weaker, “Sorta. Different supplier, bit cheaper—”

“None o’ that shit, Linus.” Clive always called Larry by his real name when he started getting impatient. “I want a good solid ride to paradise again.”

“Why? You win the Powerball, or something? Look at Mister moneybags here, gettin’ all picky. What’s wrong with the cheap stuff?”

Clive sighed and then inhaled more smoke before responding. He could feel the biting breeze of cold wintry winds cease, as if the air itself was waiting.

Waiting for him to say it.

“Takes me closer to the other side.”

Larry’s level of annoyance rapidly shot up, audible in his tone when he asked, “The hell does that mean?”

Clive shrugged. He did not want to elaborate. Other dealers had cut him off when he got too graphic about what he had experienced on his recent trips. He also wondered if The Man would get to him, if The Man had something to do with it. Clive had heard such, and he knew there had to be a grain of truth to it: that the government was lacing drugs with experimental substances to run tests on inter-dimensional travel. Or mind control. Or something.

Clive thought it might be bullshit, but he believed it anyway. And the horrors he had been witnessing felt real enough to him. That’s all that mattered.

Larry’s question pierced the cold air around them.

“You buying, or do I need to come back another day?”

Clive let that inquiry hang in the air, much like the clouds of cigarette smoke only slowly dispersing around them in the absence of wind. He wiped away more snot—the fabric of the back of his fingerless cloth glove soaked it up.

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck.”

Larry blew out more smoke.

“Whatever? Fuck, man, I’m doin’ you a favor here. You know how often you get the best prices? I know you can’t afford it, but I’m always lookin’ out for you.”

Clive said nothing to that. He knew the cant. All dealers talked like that, in some variation. He used to work in marketing, he knew how many people fell for that crap. Clive didn’t need to fall for it, all he needed was his fix.

He crammed around in his pockets and produced the dollar bills and change he had gathered from begging that day and held it out to Larry. It was a small meal and a beer—or this. He could go another day without food, but he couldn’t go another day without a high to send him flying. Fleeing this awful world, soaring over greener pastures.

The slimy dealer took his money and handed him a small transparent baggie containing three yellow pills with smiley faces.

“Later, man,” Larry said as he quickly left, scurrying off to visit his next “friends.”

Clive’s hands trembled as he stared at the contents of the bag. The worst stuff he could have gotten. Larry and the other local dealers had been pushing these smiley pills lately. The first time Clive had tripped on them was when the trouble started.

Normally, his trips took him to places. Better places. Pleasant. But he was no stranger to bad trips, in fact, he had racked up quite a few of them over the years.

Nothing like what these things could do.

The smileys stared at him through the plastic wall of the baggie that contained them, through their hollow, dead eyes. Their stupid grin resembled something that kids were supposed to like, but all they did was creep Clive out. Or mock him.

Addiction really had sunken its fangs deep into Clive’s body. And into his soul. He needed a fix—any fix. But none of them filled him with such profound dread as this new designer drug did. He couldn’t complain, really, because this was all he could afford.

Every time, this shit took him closer to a dark place.

In his mind, he called it the obsidian mirror. A surface of smooth, black stone, reflecting his own image in tiny windows between irregular patterns of jagged, knife-like edges. In some, he saw his own miserable existence. In others, he saw his better self, better times. And for some moments, he saw glimpses of his past life. Of the good times. And times that never were, but could have been. All that could have been, all that could have been good. Of times when he had looked into the mirror, thought he was something like a god, on top of the world, high on life. Before everything had gone to shit.

But on these trips, he felt something else. A presence. Like someone standing right behind you, breathing down your neck, looking over your shoulder. But it was in front of him, staring back through that obsidian mirror.

He hoped it would be different this time. Third time’s a charm, right?

Prayed—he prayed to God, something he had never done throughout his entire life—that this time would not be like the first two times he had tried out this smiley-faced drug, fabricated by sadistic drug cooks hailing from the darkest depths of hell.

His shaky fingers scrambled to open the baggie and take out one of the pills. He popped it into his mouth, sending it straight past his chapped lips. Bitter, hard, dry. He swallowed the drug, forcing it, almost choking on it, with nothing to wash it down his throat. But this, too, was not a first for him—it went down.

It would take some minutes to kick in, but he knew it acted fast.

Clive tried to think of pleasant things, of those better times. Of another world where life was still good. Or even better than it ever used to be. Maybe he could steer the trip in the right direction.

But his mind returned to what he had seen the last two times. Something mirroring his movements. Something hidden almost entirely—but lurking on the edges of his perception. Preying on him, sneaking around him. As he wandered towards that obsidian mirror, trying to see the movies of good lives play back in those many reflections, something else mirrored his movements. Drawing closer. Moving towards the obsidian mirror.

From the other side.

Behind him, in front of him. Everywhere.

Reaching out with something. Not a hand. At least not a human one.

In one of the reflections, he saw his wife, Elaine. So real that he could touch her, that he burned with desire to feel the softness of her skin. Instead, Clive touched the smooth surface of the obsidian, saw it mirroring his movements, but the movie continued to play in it.

A warm embrace in a warm place, a place of solace.

His memories of his last trip lingered, flowed into the drugs kicking in now. Or it had kicked in already, and his imagination and the trip had fully merged halfway. Clive tried desperately to hold onto that bliss, those fragments of a good trip before they turned dark.

Before the thing drew closer.

This was no simple trip, Clive thought. Colors invaded the edges of his sight and before he knew it, he heard music in the distance. He could not tell if it was real or not, but it was there. These drugs. The obsidian mirror.

Right there, in front of him. Many steps away, but enticing him. With those thousands of tiny pictures of a better life, displaying moving pictures like myriads of TV screens. None of them bad, all of them pleasant this time. Clive smiled, but also felt tension building up. Anxiety.

This was no mere trip. This was a veil between worlds.

A thin one.

He craved the warmth of the memories of his loved ones. It drew him closer to the black mirror.

And so did his dark reflection, approaching the veil from the other side.

Clive lost focus, could see himself playing video games with his son in one place, but also an ominous figure standing there, watching them from the shadows the TV screen cast upon the wall. He could see himself in the office with some colleagues, lighting up cigars and toasting with some booze to a successful deal, but also hands reaching out, hundreds of hands, microscopic hands hidden in the flames of the cigar. He could see his wife’s beautiful face, almost feel the soft texture of her lips when they kissed, but also hollow eye sockets staring at them through the window.

Clive shivered. In this other-world, or in the real world. None of that was clear, the lines began to blur.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Clive said. His reflection said. But was that really him? He wanted to think that it was, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. Didn’t believe it.

He was afraid.

The obsidian wall with its many pictures of beauty and wonder and happiness beckoned him. Finally close enough to touch it, he reached out with a hand and let his fingertips glide over its surface.

“I want to be free,” Clive said in the mirror.

Something stung with delay, like feeling the pinprick of a needle after the fact. He withdrew his hand and saw a thin rivulet of blood flowing down his fingertip, emerging from a tiny wound where he had cut himself on a razor-like edge of the obsidian.

“Look how the blood is free,” Clive said. But his voice came from everywhere, and nowhere. And muffled, as if hearing himself speak while wearing headphones, or hearing himself from the other side of the mirror.

His heart began to race. He wanted to run, but he needed to see. To see that life that could have been, with Elaine. The one where the accident never happened. The life where things turned out right. But fear gripped his heart.

It was there. The reflection. The thing that tried to pass as him, but was not him.

Although this looked like the best moments of his life and all the good that could have been, it was all unreal.

A trap.

The obsidian mirror was thinner than it looked. Clive struggled to move, paralyzed with cold and merciless fear. He twitched with feeble attempts to move and run but his body did not obey. Being frozen thus allowed him to see what was true—that the mirror was more like a window. A thin one, like a sheet of ice, though black and concealing what lied beyond—dark as the souls of the people who had made this drug, dark as the ones who convinced him to take this drug.

As his own soul, because it was he who chose to take it.

“Free. Free me.”

Clive reached out again, and smeared his blood across the smooth surface. He suffered more cuts across his fingertips, though the pain always arrived with delay, numbed by the spinning sensations of the trip, rendering it almost unreal. The black stone absorbed his lifeblood like the gloves had soaked up his snot. The wall pulsated like living flesh, bulging outward—ever so slightly.

He felt sick, needed to throw up.

Clive pushed forward, and the mirror yielded. It engulfed his hand up to the wrist like a thick viscous fluid, wrapping around it like slime or tar. Then it gently pulled back, pulling him forward, like his kid used to when he tried to drag Clive through the store.

The hollow eyes in the mirror—or just beyond it—stared back at Clive. Uncaring.

Swallowing all those memories, dreams, and could-have-beens. As they vanished, one by one, he could see the shadows beyond more clearly. Swallowing those wishes. Swallowing him. Spitting the man back out on the other side.

His skin was crawling. Like swarms of ants had built a colony underneath his skin and now rebelled, trying to break out of every pore with the fire of a million needles stinging his flesh. Then it stopped. Going from a living nightmare to such a pure numb bliss, that was how he had imagined dying. Sweet release from this shitty, mortal coil.

But Clive was not dead, he had arrived in another world. The trip had finally worked, perhaps in a way that other addicts only dreamt of—a trip that had taken him to another place. Not that it was a good place, though. Rather, it looked and felt like a dark reflection of the real world.

Plants that were not plants grew out of cracks and looked like blossoming crystalline growths, glowing with dim white lights. A purple sky with alien creatures soaring through the air like floating fish, wings wobbling and rippling like jelly. And black glass surfaces, everywhere. Like a magnificent blast had scorched the earth and turned it to glass, somewhen deep into the past or the future. Obsidian, everywhere.

Not reflecting Clive’s thoughts, not giving him surfaces to project his memories and dreams onto, but unyielding and uncaring. The trip had ended. Sobriety kicked in.

The mirror behind him was a wall. Still thin, but still solid. Impossible for him to break through in his pathetic state of body and weakened state of mind. He hammered his fists against it in futility, till the sharp edges had turned his hands bloody. It would take some time for the numbness to wane, for him to realize that this was not just his imagination—that these wounds were real. That these wounds would stay, and that the scent of his blood would attract things to him. Hungry things.

Something else had taken up residence on the other side—on his side. In the other real world. His side no more, for it dawned on him that there would be no way back from here. Whether or not the shadow had taken his body or just traded places with him, he could not tell. He only knew that this something felt a desire to explore, to see what dreams it could drink, what memories it could destroy. Something that thirsted for attention, something that craved the high of escaping one world to explore another. Much like he had sought.

Something evil.

—Submitted by Wratts

4 notes · View notes