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amor-immortalem · 3 years

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I Think I'm OKAY

genre: Angst, hurt comfort

length: two parter

warning(s): Feelings of abandonment, self-depreciating thoughts, suicidal thoughts (briefly), feelings of not being good enough, feelings of being unneeded and unloved

A/N: its just been a day guys. And Ive been think about this all day so I just wrote to get tge thoughs out of my head.

this takes place a few months after the epilogue of Everything Undesired where Azalea is still coming to grips with the fact that she's not her father's heir like she always thought she had been. Mammon and Arella really did try to make time for her but things just never worked out in their favor and it ended up giving their daughter abandonment issues.

She’s lost. Not physically but mentally- Azalea doesn’t know where to go or what her purpose is. Ever since her older brother returned from where ever the hell he’s been her whole life, she’s felt more alone than ever before. From her parents being busier than ever helping Cyrus readjust to life here in the Devildom to her twin brother being curious enough about their new older brother to spend all his time trying to get to know him, no one has time for Azalea any more.

Whenever she tries to reach out to either her parents or her brother she gets blown off. It’s always ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it.’ or ‘I’m sorry, I forgot that was today.’ Forgot? How does one just forget about their child? And Azalea is sorry too. She’s sorry for existing. Maybe everyone is just tired of her. Maybe they didn’t need her anymore? After all, she was just her father’s back up plan. A back up plan. Yeah, it sounded as bad as it hurt- to think that’s the only reason he kept her around all this time. Despite how she might try, all she could ever do is fuck up. Why would her parents ever need a child like that?

She feels abandoned, unneeded. All she ever wanted was to make them proud- she pushed herself to maintain the perfect grades just for their praise. Hell, she’d even forced herself to take advanced placement and honors courses just for their approval but they hadn’t even noticed. And it’s not like she hadn’t tried to show them. The last report card she got in her last year of middle school had a note attached to it stating that when she entered RAD, she’d be welcomed into the advanced courses but of course they had been too busy to even look. Both of her parents assumed nothing had changed so they just didn’t need to see something they had seen hundreds of times already.

Why did they stop loving me? The half-demon thinks to herself, Was it all the fights? Was I not good enough for them? I wish I could make them happy the way my brothers do. I wish I was perfect like them, maybe then they wouldn’t have forgotten about me. Maybe I would still belong. What did I do wrong? Azalea can feel the tears dripping down her face. I’m crying? Again? Pathetic. People like me don’t cry.

She hurriedly wipes them away as she looks up at the stars that dot the night sky of the Devildom. She’s pretty high up on a rooftop. She wonders if a fall from this height might kill her or would it just leave her badly injured- the idea’s tempting. She’d come up here to clear her mind and sort out her feelings with how things had changed- how everything she thought she was meant to be had been ripped away from her, but it had just made things worse. She thought she was okay with all this change but after trying for months to find something new to do with the rest of forever, she found out the only thing she was ever any good at was getting into fights. Sure, she’d taken up sports on her uncle Beel’s suggestion but that led to even more pain when time after time, neither of her parents could be bothered show up.

Her phone lights up with a text from her father.

Dad:

Why weren’t ya at dinner today?

Azalea:

Why weren’t you and Mum at my meet today? Ya know like you promised ya would be?

Dad:

‘Zay c’mon don’t be like that. We said we were sorry but something important came up and we couldn’t make it

Azalea:

Sure whatever you say old man

Its what you always say

It's always something more important ain’t it?

Something more important than me.

Dad:

Azalea

Azalea:

Shove it old man. I don’t wanna hear it right now.

She always gets the short end of the stick. For parents that claim they care about her, they sure had a shitty way of showing it. As the family’s resident trouble maker, she’s not good enough for them. Whatever, she doesn’t even need them anyway. She deserves better than a family that doesn’t care. A family she no longer has a place in. And that was fine by her. Now that she’d finally admitted it to herself, she found it would be easier to ignore her entire family and live life depending on only herself.

With a shuddering huff, the girl shuts her D.D.D off and shoves it in her jacket pocket. She leaves the roof top, still in tears headed for the House of Lamentation.

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“Arella, I have to go and find our daughter.” Mammon sighs as he gets his jacket on.

“She’s still upset about the track meet, isn’t she?” The black-haired human frowns “If you’ll give me a moment, I can ask Aurelius if he’ll watch Mahlon and I’ll go with you. This is something we should address together.”

“I don’t think we got the time to waste, Hon. She stopped respondin’ ta my texts and isn’t answerin’ her phone. If I don’t go now, she might so something to herself. I’ll be able to cover more ground quicker if I fly since she could be anywhere- even up high where we wouldn’t be able to see her that easily.”

“Then go on, I’ll talk to her when she gets home.” Arella nods as her husband leaves.

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She enters her room through the garage door entrance. She really didn’t need to considering Azalea was the only one home currently. She knew Aurelius and Zulima would be gone for the rest of the weekend but still she locked her door to prevent any unwanted visitors- mainly her parents as she knew they’d probably come looking for her after the message she’d sent to her father earlier.

She looked over at the stack of unopened akuzon boxes- all gifts sent to her by her parents as ‘apologies’ for various things. Yeah sure, gifts were nice when they were for things like birthdays or Christmas but not when they were used as a way to placate her feelings when her parents missed things like track meets or science fairs or school functions that they promised they would be there for. It felt like a shallow apology so Azalea never opened any of them. They were starting to collect dust now.

Just because greed is her sin doesn’t mean its satisfied by material objects alone. There was more to it than that. Her sin specifically manifests with being greedy for healthy interpersonal relationships- things like money or material objects only did the bare minimum to help keep it under control and satisfied. She wanted her parents’ attention and only that so when they failed to keep their promises, it hurts her deeper than either of them understands- Azalea doesn’t even have the words to describe how it hurts her.

As she plops down on her sectional and flips on the projection of stars and constellations from the human world to calm herself down, she thinks about the way her greed is eating her alive as she turns on some music- a song her friend from the human world showed her called ‘I Think I’m Okay’. It was a song she really related to for some reason. As the song plays on loop, she thinks about how when she was younger- before her youngest brother was born- she was always of healthy weight and body condition. Nowadays with the lack of ability to satisfy her sin, she was just skin and bone. Despite eating constantly, she always feels like she’s starving and she’d be lucky if she weighed in at 90 pounds soaking wet- all of it coming from the weight of her bones and muscle. Her body is just burning through everything too fast and at this point Azalea doesn’t know whether or not she even has the energy to waste to transform into her demon form anymore.

The half-demon hears a faint knock at the door. Maybe if she doesn’t answer then whoever it is will get the hint and go away. As she watches the door open, a scowl appears on her face. Of course her father would pick the lock on her door. She doesn’t know why she’s even surprised right now. He never knows when to leave well enough alone.

“We need to talk...” Mammon says as he sits down on the couch next to her.

“I don’t wanna. Get lost.” the teenager rolls on to her side away from her father.

“Too bad. I’m not leavin’ until we do.”

“Then prepare ta die in here cuz I refuse.” She can’t let him fool her into accepting his apology when she knows full well he doesn’t mean it.

“You really are just like your ma sometimes- stubborn as all get out.” He sighs. “I see ya never opened yer packages. Why?”

She continued to ignore him. How can she get out of this? Maybe if she closed her eyes, she could fool him into thinking she was asleep.

Just get frustrated and leave already. It’s what ya always do when I won’t talk to ya.

She waits an hour, two, three but still he doesn’t leave.

Man is this getting annoying! Why won’t he just give up and go home already?

“Well, since ya won’t talk, I will. Ya know, Mom and I really are sorry we couldn’t be there this afternoon... I know you’re upset about it but we got called to an emergency meeting at the castle and we... kinda... forgot what time it was by time we were done. I know we don’t have a lot of time to spend with ya anymore but things are just so crazy right now... it’s difficult and when ya act like a brat like this it doesn’t make things any easier.” And Mammon realizes too late that he’s said the wrong thing and put his foot in his mouth.

“Right... cuz that’s all I am is a spoiled brat...” Azalea can’t help the way her voice quakes. “I’m a brat because I asked for you and mum to pay attention to me over the boys just this once and you two let me down and now, I’m getting blamed for being as upset as I am. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

“Azalea, that’s not what I meant and you know that,” Mammon places his hand on her shoulder to turn her over and is shocked when all he feels is bone and muscles that are beginning to atrophy. “What are you doing to yourself? Yer nothin’ but skin an’ bone, Baby.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE WHOSE DOING THIS TO ME!” she roars as she hops up from the couch. “IT’S YOU TWO. YOU’RE THE ONES DOING THIS TO ME!” and then her voice suddenly drops. “But you would notice that if you spent more than five seconds with me. My greed is eating me alive and it’s your fault. I’ve tried for months to get you or Mum to spend time with me and I get forgotten about every time because something ‘more important’ comes up or you also make plans with Aurelius or Cyrus and choose to do that over spending time with me. It’s either that or you both choose Mahlon over me and it’s literally killing me. I get that they all need you guys too and I’m not more important than them but it feels like they’re more important to you than me. And I hate it because...” She lets out a sob as she sinks to her knees, “Because you two are the most important people to me.”

Mammon looks at his daughter with a horrified look on his face. His only daughter feels like she’s not important to them but she was right in a way. Both he and Arella had been choosing her brothers over her- not intentionally but he can see why she would come to that conclusion. This was a very crucial time in her life having had everything she thought she was taken away and she was lost with no clue where to go. He and her mother should have been right by her side, helping her find a new path in life this whole time but instead they got so wrapped up in work and other things that now their daughter was suffering the consequences.

“No, baby that’s not true.” The demon says as he wraps his little girl up in his arms. “You are so important to us too.” He rubs her back as he rocks her back and forth, “We love you so much and I’m so sorry we haven’t made ya feel like that. We’re gonna do better from now on. I promise, okay?”

Azalea is hesitant to nod. How many times had she heard the word promise and then had that promise broken but even now as she’s wrapped up in her father’s arms, she’s starting to feel the overwhelming weight of her sin slowly start to go away. She just rests her head against his chest as her puffy teary blue to gold eyes start to slip closed ever so slowly.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.” He says as he runs he hand through her hair and places a kiss to the top of her head.

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Find more on my masterlist

#obey me next gen #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon angst #om! mammon #obey me oc #arella #azalea

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sparring-hyena · 3 years

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the time of our lives.

this one was kinda requested/suggested by @cloakanddaggerthings. they’ve also been a great help in hammering out the finicky details. thanks heaps, mate!

OR, the one where it takes a year for these two goofs to realise they’re in love.

i. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they start. although, start in a very loose sense of the word. because they were something before tonight. something fiery and intense, but certainly not something real.

they were midnight rendezvouses, sharp remarks that lacked any real malice, and moments that somehow meant nothing and everything. but what they were is irrelevant. because Poppy’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and fight. they shout and cuss and say things that don’t at all mean but that make this whole thing easier.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i hate you,” and feels something break in her heart.

“i hate you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ leaves and now Poppy’s standing alone on the front lawn. she ignores the tears that fall down her cheeks and tries to tell herself that everything will be fine.

so, yes, that’s how they start: in the final ten seconds of the year with an i hate you that actually means something else entirely.

ii. Valentine’s Day.

she sees AJ sporadically throughout the day. and that irritates Poppy like nothing else ever has. figures it would be today of all days that she sees her everywhere.

first it’s at the crack of dawn as she walks home after a one night stand that she spots AJ on a jog. they’re on opposite sides of the street, but it’s empty so they see each other.

AJ stops in her tracks and looks right at Poppy, not exactly irritated but certainly not pleased. Poppy fixes her with a glare that says what are you looking at? AJ shrugs and starts up on her jog again, and Poppy huffs and continues on her walk home.

then they see each other on campus way too many times—in the café, on the quad, and in the library. and each time, Poppy’s glare is met with a shrug from AJ.

the last time she sees AJ it’s late. the sun has long since set and there’s a chill that’s set in for the night. she’s on her way home from dinner—some blind date Veronica had set up—when she spots AJ across the street, laughing and walking hand-in-hand with some girl who looks vaguely familiar.

Poppy watches them until she can’t see them anymore, and wonders if AJ saw her this time, too.

iii. spring break.

she goes to Miami for the week with Veronica and Chloe. her intention is to have a fun and carefree week where she doesn’t once think about AJ.

it’s two days into her trip when she finds herself scrolling through Instagram late one night. curiosity nibbles at her restraint until she’s typing AJ’s name into the search bar.

she finds AJ’s profile and the first picture she sees is some candid shot of AJ and that same girl from Valentine’s Day looking at each other with ridiculously cheesy smiles. Poppy switches her phone off and doesn’t dare touch it for the rest of the night.

Poppy goes to a party the next night and hooks up with a girl who looks a lot like AJ. Veronica and Chloe point this out a few days later, laughing over cocktails. Poppy scoffs and tells them that’s complete bullshit and tries to hide her blush by taking a long sip of her drink.

iv. summer break.

the academic year ends and Poppy sighs with relief as she collapses onto her bed. she’s got three months until her final year starts, and three months where she doesn’t have to see or think of AJ.

it goes well at first—the not thinking about AJ. she spends a lot of time shopping and partying and lounging by the pool of her parents’ beach house on Long Island. but there are only so many hours of the day where she can keep her mind busy. so it’s at night, when she’s in bed trying to fall asleep, that her mind wanders back to AJ.

the first time it happens, she groans and rolls onto her side, and tries to flush all thoughts of AJ from her mind. that works. but then it happens again and again, and before Poppy really knows it, it’s halfway through August and she’s thought of AJ every single night since the end of June.

she lays awake in bed and watches the fan on the ceiling spin in lazy circles. her brain summons a long and near forgotten memory of a night a lot like this. she closes her eyes and sinks into the warm embrace of the memory:

she was in bed with AJ. it was either late or early, Poppy can’t quite remember. she decides it probably doesn’t really matter. they were talking and laughing under the quiet blanket of night. and Poppy suddenly remembers how she’d reached for AJ’s hand and never wanted to let it go.

Poppy opens her eyes and glances to her side. the bed is empty beside her, the sheets untouched, and she can almost feel the ghost of AJ’s touch on her hand. she squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry, and realises she never did hate AJ. she was probably just scared.

v. Halloween.

there’s a party on campus—isn’t there always? a frat party with costumes and decorations and cheesy music that starts to sound alright after three or four drinks. Poppy slips in later in the night, when everyone’s teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk.

she moves through the throng of people towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink, and bumps into AJ for the first time this semester.

“hey,” AJ says, awkward and unsure, and Poppy silently regrets everything she’s put her through.

“hi,” Poppy says, smiling and really meaning it.

that seems to loosen AJ up a bit, and she returns the smile in kind.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” AJ says, leaning back against the counter and sipping her drink.

“been busy,” she lies even though that’s something she’s trying to stop.

and AJ seems to understand the lie for what it is. “you wanna go outside for a bit?”

Poppy only nods, afraid that if she speaks, she’ll ruin whatever’s happening right now. it’s quieter outside, the cheesy music and chatter nothing but a gentle murmur. they stand out on the front lawn of some frat house and Poppy gets a strange sense of déjà vu.

“i wish things had been different, y’know?” AJ says, her voice a gentle reassurance.

“me too,” Poppy says, and then: “i’m sorry that i said i hate you. because i don’t.”

a moment of silence passes, uncomfortable and almost tight like a rubber band pulled to its limit. because it looks like AJ’s about to say something important that’ll put them on a better path. but then the front door of the frat house flies open, and a few drunk students stumble out into the yard.

AJ offers Poppy a smile, almost sad and longing. “it was nice seeing you again.” and then she heads back inside.

vi. Thanksgiving.

Poppy doesn’t plan on visiting her parents this year. and besides, they’re going out of town for the holiday. so if she has to be alone, she’d rather it be in the sorority house than in some stuffy brownstone on the Upper West Side.

it’s late in the afternoon when Poppy gets a text from AJ. all it says is are you at the sorority? she stares at it for a moment, debates deleting it and carrying on with her day. but something tells her to respond, so she does.

she says that she is and waits for AJ’s response. she waits five minutes, then ten and nothing comes. Poppy scoffs and tosses her phone onto her bed. it’s not long later when she hears a knock on the front door. Poppy doesn’t think much of it, so she answers it without checking.

she finds AJ standing on the front stoop, grinning like she knows something Poppy doesn’t.

“what are you doing here?” Poppy says. “i thought you’d be on your way home by now.”

“i’m getting an early flight tomorrow.” then AJ holds up a plane ticket, grinning like this has been her plan all along. “and i was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

“what?”

“come home with me. my parents always cook too much food, so really, you’d be doing them a favour.”

Poppy folds her arms over her chest and studies AJ for a moment. “don’t you want to take your girlfriend,” she says, and maybe she wants her words to hurt a little bit.

“we broke up over the summer,” AJ says, simple and easy.

“oh. sorry.”

“don’t be. it wasn’t working out and hadn’t been for a while.”

“are you trying to use pity to get me to come with you?” Poppy says, and she knows AJ wouldn’t, but it’s kinda fun to mess with her.

“no, of course not! i just wanted to be upfront with you. so, come home with me. please.”

Poppy plucks the ticket from AJ’s hand and says, “i’m only doing this for your parents.”

“of course.” AJ winks and grins. “i’ll see you bright and early at the airport tomorrow then.

the flight is uneventful, although Poppy decides AJ is much too cheerful for seven o’clock in the morning.

when they step inside AJ’s childhood home, Poppy’s immediately struck by just how warm and lived in it all feels. AJ’s mother tells her to mind the mess as she ushers them both inside, and AJ’s father greets them and says hugs’ll have to wait as he gestures to his dirty apron.

they all cram around a too small table in mismatched chairs that creak and rock back-and-forth. Poppy doesn’t care that she’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with AJ and one of her sisters. dinner is loud and fun, and AJ’s parents insist on sharing stories from AJ’s childhood. and as dinner winds down and dessert is served, Poppy reaches for AJ’s hand beneath the table and knows that she’ll never let go.

vii. Christmas.

it’s close to midnight on Christmas Eve when AJ appears on the front stoop of the Zeta house. she looks distraught and like she hasn’t had a good night sleep in days. so Poppy steps outside and asks, “what’s wrong?”

AJ looks at her, really looks at her, and Poppy feels something shift in that moment. and then AJ’s talking, words tumbling from her mouth, and it doesn’t look like she can stop herself. then she says i love you and everything goes still.

it takes a moment, but AJ seems to catch up to what she’s just said. her eyes go wide, and Poppy can see that she’s gearing up to apologies. but Poppy doesn’t let her. she surges forward and hug AJ tightly because oh god, i’ve missed her so much.

Poppy doesn’t say the words back, not yet anyway. but she holds onto AJ and tries to show her that she loves her, too.

viii. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they end. although end in a very loose sense of the word. because they will be something after tonight. something supportive and challenging, but most importantly something real.

they will be promises of forever, witty remarks that are just an i love you in disguise, and moments where the rest of the word falls away and it’s just the two of them together. what they will be terrifies Poppy. because she’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that... right?

maybe. but maybe it’s good that AJ doesn’t fit into that. maybe it’s good that AJ had upended everything she thought she knew. maybe that’s what makes what they will be so damn perfect.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and finally admit what’s been there all along. they talk and tease and say things they mean with all their heart.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i love you,” and feels that final piece of her heart heal.

“i love you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ steps closer to Poppy, smiling so bright and warm, and Poppy twists her arms around AJ’s neck and doesn’t once care that she’s probably smiling like an idiot in love.

so, yes, that’s how they end: in the final ten second of the year with an i love you that means exactly what it claims.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #this story 100% ignores canon #it also combines a number of holiday related requests i've gotten but just didn't get around to writing #hope that's all good :)

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iamdeku · 3 years

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Broken Ribs and Whole Hearts

Description: A Deku x Reader where the reader is a nurse who finds an unexpected guest in her emergency room. A continuation of this post.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/some light gore. Talk of painkillers administered by a medical professional. Fluff.

It was safe to say that when you woke up this morning you weren’t expecting to find the life of the number one hero in your hands.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t worked with heroes before. You had plenty of experience with them, since they had a way of getting themselves hurt. That being said, you’d never worked with this particular hero before, and you were a little bit starstruck.

You wouldn’t call yourself a fan of Deku, but you weren’t not a fan. You saw him on the news all the time, but that was virtually impossible to avoid since he seemed to find his way onto every crime scene. If there was someone who needed help, Deku was there.

Right now though, he was here, bleeding out.

You had heard about the fight from your coworkers. It was hard to avoid hearing about a battle on that scale when you worked in a hospital. You had already been getting civilians in for treatment, but the heroes came last and were, naturally, priority since their injuries tended to be far more severe. Deku was no exception to this rule, and when he was rushed through the doors you were quick to fill your empty hands, not even realizing who he was until you went to assess the patient.

You jolted back a little bit in surprise, seeing the shock of green hair and bleary green eyes peering up at you. In your moment of surprise leaning over him, he cracked a blood-smeared smile.

“Are you an angel?” He asked softly.

“He’s delirious from the blood loss,” you declared, quickly getting to work surveying the rest of the damage. “Several cracked ribs, and I think he may have punctured a lung.”

As you continued to rattle off instructions and commentary, Deku continued staring at you. You, unwittingly, had become his lifeline. He kept his eyes open out of sheer desire not to look away from you. You were so capable, not faltering once after your initial shock. He was in awe of you.

Eventually, Deku was rushed into the operating room, and then he had no choice but to go under. When he woke up though, lo and behold, it was you there, checking his vitals and adjusting some things.

He opened his dry mouth, preparing his cracked voice to speak. “Well if it isn’t the prettiest nurse in all of Musutafu.”

You jump slightly, not having expected him to wake up. You fidget with your hands, a nervous habit.

“Oh, hello Deku. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse.” Deku would have shrugged, but he knew from experience that would make things worse.

He turned his eyes to the rest of the hospital room, taking a look around. He was in a standard hospital gown, which he joked was his “back-up uniform”. An IV fed drugs into his arm as necessary, and he knew he must be on some pretty good pain killers if the slightly hazy feeling in his head and the warm confidence in his chest were any indication.

“So, any chance you’ll go out on a date with me?” he asked.

You stiffen in surprise, but then grin teasingly at him. “Wow, the morphine is talking pretty loud today, huh? Who knew the number one hero was such a light-weight? Maybe I should lower your dosage.”

Deku winced. “Please don’t. I have a high pain tolerance, but not that high.”

Your beautiful smile turned to a look of concern.

“Are you in any pain right now?”

Deku quickly shook his head, which actually did cause him some pain from the force of the movement.

“I’m fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working great.” He smiled encouragingly at you.

You visibly relaxed from where you stood by his bedside.

“Okay, well just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m sure you know the drill, but you can just press this button right here for help.” You showed him where it was.

“Any chance I can get your number before you go?” He asked hopefully, unwittingly throwing you into cardiac arrest.

“I will take away your painkillers, Mr. Midoriya,” you threatened over your shoulder as you walked out.

Little did either of you know it, but Izuku was going to be spending a lot more time with you. His tendency to get injured on your shifts almost made you believe he was doing it on purpose. You asked him once when he was drugged up, but he would admit to nothing, only giving you a slightly loopy smile before falling asleep.

Once he was settled into his hospital rooms though, he made no secret of it. He would blatantly request you, or rather, “the prettiest nurse in Musutafu.”

“You know I have a name right?” you asked, looking at his chart like you didn’t have it basically memorized.

“Yes, I just happen to think this more fitting. I can stop if it bothers you though.”

Suddenly your confident hero had turned into a Christmas tree, whole face from the neck up turning red as a cherry. Feeling a desperate need to sooth him, you hurriedly corrected yourself.

“No, this is fine! I mean, I can’t really complain, can I?”

“Pretty sure you just did,” he teased.

You two continued on in this way until you would nearly consider yourself friends with the hero. In fact, you had started a routine of eating lunch with each other after an incident where you had both been in the hospital cafeteria at the same time and had sat together. Since then you had repeated the encounter a few times, though never exactly on purpose. You had even gone to dinner with him once, just as friends, to some fancy new restaurant he claimed to need a date to, since eating alone was ‘boring’. You had grown into a comfortable rhythm with him over time, and then it happened.

It was the first rain of the season, and you had your window open to let in the smell. You were peacefully making some soup in your kitchen on your night off. Your gray sweats clung to your hips, comfy t-shirt wrapping you up under the warm lighting of your cozy kitchen. The cheerful paint of the walls beamed at you as you swayed softly, humming along to the song on the radio.

All of your peace was shattered the moment Deku fell through your window, hand clutching his side, at the exact same moment your tea kettle screamed at you. You quickly moved it off the heat, nearly sloshing water onto your usually steady hands before rushing across the room to your fallen hero.

“Izuku!” you gasped, turning him over on the floor.

He smiled up at you, not looking nearly as concerned as he should be.

“Hi.”

“Why are you here? You should be in a hospital.”

“I just wanted to see you.” He reached up to cup your cheek in his warm, broken hand.

“You can’t be here Izuku. You’re hurt.”

“You’re my nurse. You’ll take care of me.”

He smiled at you with so much faith it cracked something in your chest. An overflowing font of affection for this man, this hero, welled up in you, begging to be let out. You thought of every time you had seen him broken, the implicit trust he had in you to piece him back together. To take care of him.

You swallowed down your tears, mirroring the smile on his face, trying to be as brave as he was. “You have a stab wound in your side. It doesn’t look too deep, but you still need serious medical attention.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

He was staring at you, those deep green eyes brushing up against your soul, flirting with your deepest secrets, dancing around the unspoken truths weighing down your tongue, things you both knew. Things neither of you could say, as far as you were concerned, but Izuku Midoriya had always had an open heart and a loose tongue, and so he said them slow and easy, honey slipping through his teeth and coating his cracked lips.

“Kiss me.”

“That...that wouldn’t be very ethical of me.” Despite your words you are leaning in, nose brushing his.

It is not a demand, not a question, not a request. It is a gasping, haunting, wavering plea, he is begging and you are teetering on the edge of a cliff you wouldn’t admit existed until you were borderline tumbling off of it.

"Can I...?"

This time it is a question, and you find yourself drawn into him. He is the Jupiter to your Io, and you are lost to a constellation, entwined in your own milky way. Your shadow blends into his, pressed flat against the grain of your wood floors, as your lips whisper against his. It is barely a touch, just a taste of what is to come, but it is all the permission he needs.

He surges forward to kiss you, and it is something foreign, something incomprehensible as he catches you with his chapped lips. He tastes of bitter, salty blood as the rush of his breath fills you, slipping down your throat and curling through your lungs. You have never done this before, never felt whatever is warping the planes of your chest and the contours of your heart. It is as though you have met yourself in him.

It is a ravaging sort of feeling, even though the kiss itself is achingly soft, heartbreakingly slow. He is so gentle with you, as though you are the breakable one here, when in fact you have had to put him back together too many times to count. You allow it though, you allow it because you have seen firsthand how Izuku Midoriya’s large, scarred hero hands touch everything with this sort of gentle kindness, a piece of his heart slipping through the spaces between his knuckles and digging into the pads of his fingertips.

When you pull away it is slowly, reluctantly, a smile taking over your face. Izuku's smile matches yours, his eyes sparkling as he reaches up to brush a thumb across your lip, a light laugh escaping him. It is this action that brings you back to yourself, snaps you out of your haze as his thumb streaks blood across the swell of your mouth. Your body jerks back away from him suddenly, and worry flickers over his face.

"Izuku Midoriya! How dare you distract me like that! Did you think I wouldn't take you to the hospital if you kissed me?"

He has the nerve to look a little guilty.

"I don't need to go, really. It will just inconvenience them."

You grind your teeth. "We. Are. Going."

And over time, Izuku learns that eventually, all roads lead to the hospital. Because all roads lead to you.

#bnha #mha #deku x reader #prohero!deku #nurse!reader #deku #izuku midoriya

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

you’re my favorite (iv)

wordcount: 1.6k

part one | part two | part three

______

The next morning, Rafe didn’t wake up until nearly noon. He checked his phone with a groan, seeing a single text notification.

Sophie: hey. can I see you?

When Rafe finally woke up, head pounding, he rolled over to check his phone like he always did first thing in the morning. (Then he was sorely reminded that the only time he didn’t do that was when Sophie stayed over.) When he saw the text from her, he practically shot out of bed, yanking his phone charger out of the wall in the process. He dialed Sophie’s number almost immediately - only taking a split second to have to scroll through his contacts, as they hadn’t talked on the phone in weeks.

She’d been up since seven am, anxious as she waited for his reply. Both Julia and Allie had told her to wait, text him later in the day when he was actually awake so she wouldn’t stress herself out, but her nerves won out. Sophie was a little surprised to see him call first, expecting the cold shoulder through text for a moment.

“Rafe? Hello?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Soph, hey. I got your text.”

Just the nickname alone made her feel sure of herself again. “Yeah...can I come over and we can talk? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You can head over, I’ll see you soon.” He smiled, almost instantly forgetting about the last two weeks he’d had. At her expense. The second he hung up, he caught the look James was sending him. “What?”

“You’re gonna let her off the hook that easy?”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Rafe frowned.

“She’s the one that hurt you here. Then she calls and you’re smiling like an idiot.” Colin told him, standing to give him space. James promptly whacked Colin upside the head. “It’s been two weeks, he’s not hurt. Don’t listen to him, Rafe.”

He regarded the two of them with a little confusion. “Uh. I think it’ll be okay. Do you guys mind giving us the room?”

“No, not at all.” James dragged Colin out of the room and Rafe could hear an argument brewing between the two of them, but decided not to listen in. Instead he hurriedly made his bed - and on second thought, Colin and James’ too - to make it look like he hadn’t spent all his free time in their room for the past two weeks.

Sophie let herself into Delt, like always. (It felt oddly formal to have to text Rafe and ask to be let in.) She passed through the living room to the stairs and James called out to her, him and Colin pretending to study. “Hey, Sophie!”

She turned and gave them a hesitant smile, hands shoved in her pockets. “Hi James. Hi Colin.”

“It’s good to see you around. Just, uh, go easy on him, okay?” James returned the smile easily, while Colin stayed silent and didn’t look her way.

Sophie frowned and stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Huh? I don’t understand.”

Colin sighed exasperatedly, always blunt. “If you’re gonna hurt him -”

“What? No!” She shook her head quickly. “No, I don’t want to - I’m not going to - look, I want to talk this out. Promise.”

“Oh.” James nodded. “That’s not what I expected.”

“I would never.” She emphasized.

“Hm. Carry on, then.” Colin sat back into the couch and Sophie gave them one last look before nodding and heading up the stairs. She felt slightly more confident now, figuring the boys wouldn’t react that way if Rafe didn’t want to stay together. She paused just before entering his room and knocked, just once.

Rafe took a deep breath before opening the door, then turned the knob and stepped back to let her in. She bit the inside of her cheek once she saw him, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He did the same, a slightly awkward tension growing between them.

“Are you okay?” She frowned, looking over his expression, then her eyes flitted around the room for any sign of heartbreak.

“I’m alright.” He paused. “I missed you.”

“Fuck, I missed you too. So much.” Sophie lifted her hands just a bit toward him, then shoved them back in her pockets. “I’m so sorry, Rafe, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want this.”

He cocked his head a little, floppy hair falling into his eyes. “Then why did you say yes? When I asked about the break?”

“Because! I thought you wanted it!”

“You thought I - what? No, god, I offered it hoping you wouldn’t want it!” Rafe exclaimed, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Oh my god.” Sophie reached out, arms extended for a half-hearted hug, then stopped herself. “I’m sorry, can I -?” She barely got the rest of her words out before Rafe stepped closer too and crushed her in a tight hug. She wrapped her arms securely around his waist, burying her face in his chest. He held one hand to the back of her head, thumb stroking over her hair as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Missed this.” He mumbled.

She nodded, growing a little teary. “Me too. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Me either.” He confessed, not wanting to let her go. The two stood there for a moment until she pulled away first, only to reach up and kiss him. He kissed her back slowly, hands tight on her hips. “Soph.” He murmured.

“Hm?” She mumbled back against his lips.

“Still need to talk.” He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. Let’s talk.” Sophie paused. “I’ll be open, promise.”

Rafe kissed her shortly again before taking her hand, pulling her to the couch. He turned to face her but kept ahold of her hand, not willing to let her go just yet. “Can I ask you something?”

She faced him, cross-legged. “Yeah, of course.”

He hesitated, careful with his words. “Am I wrong to say you’ve been acting a little off? Since the Christmas party?”

Sophie avoided his gaze for a moment, thinking over her answer. She was surprised someone could read her so well, almost so sure she had kept herself guarded enough from Rafe for him to pick up on it. “No. You’re not wrong.”

He frowned, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over the back of her hand. “But why? I thought we were in a good place with the two of us.”

“We are, we are.” She reassured him quickly. “I just...” She paused to think, not sure how much she wanted to tell him, to truly let on how insecure she’d felt. “I just - you have this whole world around you, and people treat you differently because of who you are. Your dad looked like - I don’t know, disappointed that you brought me, and -”

“Sophie.”

She kept rambling, more talking to herself now than anything. “I’m not in the same position as you, I can’t give you expensive things -”

“Soph -”

She barreled on anyways. “- and take you to fancy places, I can’t really measure up to your expectations -”

He reached out and squeezed her knee to break her train of thought. “Hey, hey, stop! Shh, please. Listen to me.”

She bit the inside of his cheek, preparing herself for what he might say. Rafe laughed a little as he sensed her nervous anticipation and kissed her cheek, trying to lighten the mood. “I don’t expect any of that from you, baby. I don’t care. I really don’t.”

“But I’m not like you.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to date someone like me anyways.” He pulled her close, his arm around her shoulders.

“What about your dad?” She frowned.

He shifted, a small scowl on his face. “I’ve talked with him. It won’t be an issue.”

“Oh.” She fell quiet and leaned into him, cuddling into his side.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I hope I didn’t make you feel that way. About any of what you said.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Sophie lifted her head to look him in the eye, giving him a shy smile. “You’re the constant in all this. It’s just me being dumb.”

“Hey. Don’t call my girlfriend dumb.” He nudged her, grinning when she rolled her eyes. “Look, Soph, I want to treat you, okay? I know you like your independence, that’s part of why I -” Rafe stopped himself abruptly before he could finish the sentence. “Part of why I like you so much. But I want to do things like take you out for dinner and not have you worrying about when you’re going to pay me back.”

She nodded, slowly. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He kissed her, short and sweet. “I just need you to talk to me. I can’t read your mind.”

“You should work on that.”

He laughed and flicked her arm. “I’ll get right to it. Are we okay?”

Sophie nodded again, meeting him with a kiss. “We’re okay. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“I will too, I should have picked up earlier that something felt off.” He tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear and gave her a wry smile. “You should have seen me the past two weeks, I was a wreck. Don’t wanna go through that again.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t great either.” She admitted, dropping her head back to his shoulder. “I do have a really busy schedule this semester though. Like, way busier than I thought it’d be. So I might tell you I’m doing something, but I’m not making excuses, promise.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “We’ll make time, Soph. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You mean it?”

“Always. You’re my favorite.”

#rafe x sophie #mine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #obx fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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chat-noir-always-here · 3 years

Text

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is

actively

trying

to kill you?!

Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold!

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous.

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends.

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.”

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see.

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage.

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid.

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids.

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him.

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality vs. Surface Personality

I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into.

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien.

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time.

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

youtube

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time.

In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series.

But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity?

Clinginess.

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that.

What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed.

The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

He treats his friends better.

He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE.

WORST.

PARENT.

EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s.

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning.

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that.

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying.

But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight.

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do.

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.”

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story.

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is.

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks.

But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes.

I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette?

;)

#long post #adriennette #shortaki #hey arnold #miraculous ladybug #love square #nicktoons #zag toons

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finleyfray · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet Memories part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Huge thanks to @captain-josslett for helping me.

TW: smut(ish) just a little, some angst, laguage, mentions of abuse

Maggie sits on a chair holding her trembling girlfriend. She tries to calm Alex down from her panic attack for over an hour.

After Alex was brought back from Finley’s mind, Finley's heart stopped beating. The doctors reacted quickly, but Brainy had to help Maggie get the yelling and struggling redhead out of the room. They sat outside and waited for doctors to tell them Fin’s status.

Alex wasn’t yelling anymore, but she was crying saying frantically that Fin can’t die.

Maggie has never seen the redhead like that. She wonders what Alex saw in Finley’s mind that shook her up this much. But she doesn’t think it will be a good idea to ask her now. She made a mental note to do it later.

After some time Alex calms down enough to look at her girlfriend.

“Will she be okay?” she asks her raven-haired girlfriend.

“She’s strong." Maggie whispers. Trying to encourage them both. But she doesn’t know how Fin is doing and the wait is killing her too. The doctors were still in the room and all they could do was wait. She gently strokes the redhead on the back and closes her eyes. This is bad. She just wishes Finley would be better.

“Hey." They both jumped hearing J’onn voice from the other side of the hallway. They look at him and greet him. “I heard what happened. And I’m really sorry I don’t have any better news. But I need you two badly. Supergirl went on an emergency mission three hours ago, but she’s gone silent. I need a team of the best to go with me.”

“We’ll go.” Alex said standing up from her girlfriend.

“You sure?” Maggie asks hesitantly, looking at the closed door of Finley’s room before looking back up at Alex.

“Yeah, it’s my sister. I need to save her.”

***

The mission was so long and exhausting, but they managed to save Kara and defeat the threat. As they went back to Finley’s room, they saw that there were no doctors in there. That means either good news or really bad news.

And Alex is terrified.

“I...” she looks at Maggie. “I don’t know what to expect. Maybe we should ask for a doctor to tell us how she is…” Alex backs away from the door. Her eyes widened in fear. “I’m scared.” She sobs and her girlfriend hugs her.

“You want me to get a doctor?”

“No, I want to see Fin alive.” The redhead takes a deep breath and opens the door. They walk in and see their girlfriend on the bed, breathing softly and Alex almost cries out in relief. A heart monitor was attached to her and her heart was beating normally.

“She’s alive.” Maggie whispers, and Alex comes closer gently grabbing their girlfriend's hand. She gasps in shock when she feels the black-haired woman squeeze it lightly.

“She’s awake!” The redhead almost yells, feeling the tears of relief falling. “Oh my God, baby, are you okay?!” Maggie comes closer and gently cups the lying woman's cheek.

“Better now...” Fin rasps.

“Oh God, I’m going to get a doctor!” Maggie rushes to the door but Fin's voice stops her.

“No... they already checked me.” Finley says quietly. It looks like she had a hard time talking. Maggie walks back to her side, trying to wipe away her tears, but they wouldn’t stop coming.

“Baby.” The raven-haired woman sobs and grabs gently her other hand. This one had an IV hooked up, and Maggie gently runs her thumb over Fin’s knuckles. “We missed you so much.”

Alex looks at Finley with a huge smile on her face and wipes her own tears. It’s going to be better now. She is sure of that.

***

One week later all of them were sitting in Finley’s room. Maggie, Alex, all of the Superfriends and even Eliza. They were enthusiastically talking about the upcoming Christmas. Finley could leave for the holidays, but she needed to take it very easy. Her broken ribs began healing, her legs were in plaster and she still had to be on strong medication. She was told that it will take a lot of time to completely heal, and a bit more time to get back to work. Fin didn’t mind even if she was in pain, she was just happy to be alive.

Finley looks at Kara and Alex who were talking to Eliza about some exciting mission they were on. Maggie told her how Alex spent all her time with Fin as the shorter woman was in the coma. But now that the redhead was back in the field, she looks way happier. Of course when there was no mission, she was with Finley.

They still needed to talk, but she forgave Alex long ago. No need to stay mad as she clearly saw that the redhead felt guilty.

“You okay?” Maggie asks. She was sitting on a chair next to Fin’s bed. The Detective looks at her with so much love that the black-haired woman forgot how to breathe. She smiles at her girlfriend and leans to kiss her cheek.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just love watching them.” She nods her head at the Danvers family.

“Oh, yeah. They’re cute. Eliza asked about you a lot while you were out. I think you’re her favourite.” Finley laughs and three pairs of eyes look at her. They smile and walk over to the bed. Eliza opens her arms and hugs Fin.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” The older woman says as she pulls away. Her smile is bright and full of warmth.

“Yes, it’s pretty awesome to be alive.” Finley chuckles and yawns.

“All this must have made you tired.” Alex said, stroking her girlfriend's cheek.

“Yeah, a bit.” “Have a nap babe. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Maggie kisses Fin gently on the lips and so does Alex.

Fin smiles and closes her eyes. She hears the door closing and soon she is fast asleep.

***

Maggie was super mad. She had gone to her supervisor’s office, wanting to take two weeks off because of Finley finally leaving the DEO and Christmas.

But her boss didn’t want to hear about that. He refused her vacation yet again. And Maggie had enough. She remembers how she had to come into work every day even when Fin was in a coma. While Alex was excused by J’onn. She couldn’t be there with her girlfriends and Maggie was done. She signed her resignation papers, and gave it to her no former supervisor. Telling him he can shove it up his ass because she is leaving.

***

Finley laughs at a joke Kara told her. Her girlfriend's sister offered to help them get Fin home as Maggie had to work. Alex refused telling that she can handle it herself, but Finley knew that with her in a wheelchair it would be too much for Alex. That’s why she gladly accepted Kara’s help.

The black-haired woman watches her girlfriend packing her things. Lena’s driver was waiting outside the DEO for them in her car. Kara helps Finley sit in her wheelchair.

“You're still in pain.” Blonde looked at her with pity in her eyes.

“Yea, a bit. But I’m really better than I was two weeks ago, so I’m not complaining.” Finley smiles at her friend. “And I can get out of bed, even if I’m rolling on this stupid thing" She frowns. “But I’ll be better in no time, so I’m just biding my time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of work Fin.” Alex warns as she looks over at her. “You’re going to have to learn to walk with a cane and braces on your leg. You’re not just going to miraculously walk one day.”

“Party pooper.” Fin snorts. “Now get me outside, one more minute in here and I’m going to puke.

They went outside and Finley took a deep breath. It was good to go out.

“Sooo nice here! Though I wish there would be snow on Christmas. You know, a bit of white powder wouldn’t be bad for anyone.” She chuckles and looks at Alex who rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, you missed my awful jokes, admit it.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the part I missed.” The redhead sticks out her tongue.

They go to the car and Kara helps Fin get in while her girlfriend puts the bags and wheelchair in the back.

The road was too long for Finley, she just wanted to be home already. After half an hour they were entering the house. To their surprise, Maggie greets them.

“Hey Mags.” Fin smiles, as her girlfriend walks over and hugs her. “Not that I’m bragging, but weren’t you supposed to be at work?” Alex looks equally surprised at the raven-haired woman.

“Yeah, I, well... You know they wouldn’t give me vacation... so I kind of... had enough.” She scratches her head. “Well, I dropped off my resignation. I want to spend more time with you, and I want to be with you, not constantly at work.” Finley frowns.

“You resigned from your dream job... because of me?” She drops her head, feeling guilt fill her.

“No, no! Look at me.” Maggie kneels in front of her and takes her face to force Fin to look in her eyes. “I did not resign because of you. I was really tired. When you went to the DEO, I couldn’t take any days off. Then they had to put you off the ventilator, I couldn’t stay to look after you two. I had to go to work the next day. Yesterday I went to ask him for 2 weeks, because of Christmas, and he refused! Again! And I was done, so I wrote my resignation letter. But I needed to calm down a bit, and think of it more. But then I went to see you in the DEO, and when I told you that I couldn’t be there, you were both so sad, that I decided that my work wasn’t worth it. And yeah, I dreamed of being a Detective, but I also dreamed of having my own family, and I will always put you first.” Maggie gently wipes her girlfriend tears and Alex kneels down to hug them both. It was awkward, with Finley on the wheelchair, but it was full of love. And Fin wonders how she got so lucky, having two such amazing girlfriends.

***

Finley puts on her black shirt with snowflakes and her blue tie. It matches her eyes, and she knows her girlfriends like it on her. She waits patiently for them to help her put on pants. She has to wear sweat pants because of the casts on her legs, but at least they were black, so it wasn’t that bad.

They were going to Lena’s penthouse for Christmas Eve. Eliza decided to stay there because of how big her apartment was. The original plan was to go somewhere nice, all of them, instead of getting each other presents, but they had to change the date because of the accident. So ultimately all of them agreed that once Finley will be able to walk, they all go to Finland.

The black-haired woman was really excited for that trip. She just needed to heal quickly.

Alex came into the room and smiled. She was dressed in black pants, white shirt and a red tie that matched her hair.

“You look nice.” Fin smiled as Alex sits next to her. The shorter woman leans over and kisses her girlfriend. The redhead sighs happily and deepens the kiss.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” She says as she pulls back, needing air from the heated kiss. “I like your tie, it matches your eyes.” Fin giggles and takes her girlfriend's hand.

“Only ‘not bad’?”

“Well these clothes are nice but you would look better without them. Lying on the bed. Whining and moaning.” She puts her hand on Finley's thigh and squeezes. The black-haired woman chokes on air.

“Very smooth agent Danvers. You’re such a pervert.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, she is.” Maggie said as she enters the room. The raven-haired woman decided on wearing a red, black and white flannel shirt and tight black pants.

“Damn it Sawyer, why do you have to look like that!?” Alex rushed to kiss her and Fin had to close her eyes suddenly feeling hot. They don’t have time for that. They need to go out. She heard Maggie moaning and took a deep breath.

“Alex if you could just keep your hands to yourself, we really need to leave in thirty and you’re a horny little shit today.” She feels Maggie’s lips on her and is pushed back on the bed. Her girlfriend sits on her hips and stuck her tongue in Finley’s mouth. Fin’s hands go to Maggie's thighs, as the woman on top of her moves her hips. “We really need to go.” Fin moans.

“And yet they’re saying that I’m a horny little shit.” The redhead chuckles and Finley opens her eyes looking right into the brown ones of Maggie. They were full of love and adoration.

“Hi.” Her girlfriend takes a shaky breath and tries to calm herself.

Well the truth is it was a while ago that they had some fun, with Fin being in coma and recovering, and with her still in pain it was not the best plan to have sex.

“Hi" Finley trembles, feeling her own need burning. “While I love being under you, we don’t have that much time left. And I still need to put the rest of my clothes on. But maybe we can continue this later.” She kisses Maggie on the nose, and her girlfriend slowly stands up from her.

“Maybe...” She kisses Alex on her cheek and grabs her girlfriends pants from the closet. “Let's get you dressed.”

***

Of course they were too late. All because of Alex who pouted that she didn’t get enough kisses. So they ended up making out for half an hour, Alex’s ringing phone stopped them from tearing each other’s clothes off. Eliza was calling to make sure they’ll arrive soon.

“I can’t believe your mom cockblocked us from the other side of the city.” Maggie laughs while wheeling Finley through the parking lot to Lena’s penthouse.

“We’ll I’m kind of glad she did, cause we wouldn’t have left the apartment.” Fin laughs looking at her red-haired girlfriend.

“Ohhhh, do I need to remind you who took my shirt off?” Alex teases.

“Hey, don’t mind me, I just like boobies.” The black-haired woman sticks her tongue out. “I don’t remind you of how you almost came rubbing yourself on my leg.” The redhead takes a shaky breath remembering the feeling, how she was so close when her phone rang. “Though that was pretty hot.”

“Alright, both of you need to stop.” Maggie presses the button to call the elevator. “We are almost there and you keep talking about sex.

“Well... Alex was almost there too.” Finley laughs and the redhead slaps her shoulder.

“I will get my revenge.”

“I’m counting on it.” Finley winks.

“I will cuff both of you if you don’t stop right now.” Both her girlfriends look at her with red cheeks and Maggie face palms realising her mistake. “Not in a sexy way! Just stop already, we’re here.” The elevator doors open and Maggie quickly goes to Lena’s door and knocks. Kara opens it with a bright smile.

“Hey!” She hugs each of them. “You’re late, what happened?” Alex’s face goes as red as her hair, she tries to say something, but she couldn’t come up with anything, so Maggie decides to come to her rescue.

“Hi! My favourite blonde! It’s cold, so our car didn’t want to start. But! We’re here! Merry Christmas!” Finley laughs and she wheels herself in to greet everyone.

She was thankful that Lena and Kara moved some furniture in their apartment to allow Fin to move smoothly wherever she wanted.

“Hey Mags. You said your Aunt is going to be there tomorrow?” Kara asks.

“Yeah, she said all flights were sold out. I have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow morning. She was sorry, next year she’ll think of it earlier.” Maggie laughs while shaking her head. She was a bit sad her aunt couldn’t make it, but she will get there eventually, so there’s no reason to stay upset.

“This is awesome Eliza!” Finley moans as she was finally eating her chocolate cake. Lena and Kara went to a balcony to have some alone time while Maggie and Alex were on washing up duty in the kitchen. “I wish I had a Mom like you" she whispers sadly.

“Oh sweetie.” Eliza comes and hugs her. “I’ll be your mom.” Finley tries hard not to cry from the emotions that are overwhelming her. It was amazing to have such a wonderful family.

***

Later that night Fin was back in her apartment sitting on the couch squeezed between her girlfriends. Her head was on Alex’s shoulder while her legs were in Maggie’s lap. It was their favourite position since Finley came back. It wasn’t bothering the woman’s bruises and allowed them to feel her close enough. Her girlfriends were scared that Finley would somehow disappear. The black-haired woman didn’t mind. Whatever helped them feel better.

“Your mom’s really nice.” Fin mutters to Alex.

“Huh… I guess she is now. Since she stopped blaming everything Kara did on me, we do get along very well. Now I have to share her with you all.” The redhead fake pouts.

“It is what it is.” Maggie laughs playfully slapping Alex’s shoulder. “I still think Fin’s her favourite. I saw them cuddling while we were working hard in the kitchen.” She looks at the younger woman.

“Oh, you know, I just told her that I wished I had a mom like her. My mother died when I was five and I don’t really remember her.” Fin frowns.

“Is that why your father abused you?” Alex asks and they both looked at her in shock. “What?” Finley stammers and gets up swaying a bit. “H-How do you know that?” The redhead looks at her with disbelief.

“I was in your mind? While you were in your coma. I mean you were there too… Don’t you remember? I saw your memories. How you father used to-”

“STOP!” Fin yells. “What the fuck Alex, why did you enter my mind like that?! Those are my memories, you weren’t supposed to see them! Whose fucking idea was that?!”

“Well it was our only chance to help you wake up!” Alex begins yelling too, and Maggie stands between them.

“Fin, please, Alex is right, Brainy calculated that you’ll have more chances of waking up if someone went to your mind and helped you.” The shorter woman tries calming her girlfriends down.

“Oh, nice, so you agree that it’s pretty normal to go to someone’s mind and steal their memories?! That’s just fucking amazing, you two should be proud of yourself!” She turns around and heads to their bedroom limping.

“Fuck.” Maggie whispers looking at Alex. “What do we do now?”

#alex danvers x reader #alex danvers x oc #sanvers x reader #sanvers x oc #maggie sawyer x reader #maggie sawyer x oc #alex danvers x maggie sawyer #polamory

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docholligay · 3 years

Text

An Overwatch Christmas Carol: Stave IV-- The Last of the Spirits

Creeping out of the shadows of the subway station, little bits of shadow began to move toward her, and even as Ana stepped back, they came into a pile on the ground, growing higher and higher. As it grew she heard voices overlapping, little snippets of conversations, things that could not be, in contradiction with each other, wave upon wave of idea, none real and all real, at once.

The shadows became one. It was a tall, imposing figure, the face unable to be seen, its body barely formed, wavering in the air. The darknesses overlapped one another, shade upon shade, and Ana felt a chill knowledge come into her heart that she was looking at her very own future. Darkness upon darkness. Shade upon shade. Moving and whispering in every second.

The future.

“Are you,” her voice sounded so high and so fearful even to her, but she could not control it, “Are you the ghost--the spirit---that Jack and Reinhardt and Tra--my friends. Are you the ghost that my friends have sent to me?”

No face fell into view, just that same blue and grey and black in a muted palette, brushing up against each other, as the spirit nodded and whispers of a dozen different voices emanated from in it and around it.

Nem. Ja. Tak. Of course. Ken. Oui. Yes.

“You’re here,” she walked cautiously about the spirit as it towered over here, “to show me things that haven’t happened yet.”

More nods, and more whispers, and more shadows. The shade of an arm outstretched, and pointed on toward the stairs that led up and out of that tube station, toward the future. No longer was Ana concerned with narrative structure, nor surprised at the spectre of a spectre itself, and yet, in a way that no spirit before it had managed, she felt herself tremble before the gliding shadows and barely audible whispers in some form of human shape before her.

“Are you,” she thought of those that had come before, “A friend?”

No. Nein. Nyet. Nej. La. Meiyou.

She gave a low, shaking chuckle. “Not that you need to be. I’ve worn out my chances with that, I think.”

The spirit did not respond but with the same hand, pointing up the stairs, out of the darkness into a far more terrifying morning gloom. Ana’s eyes followed the hand, knowing where she had to go, wishing she could go anywhere else.

“I am afraid of you,” she steadied her voice, let herself like in that terrible, vulnerable truth, “In a way I have not been of any ghost before you. But I know they would not send you if you couldn’t help me. I will try to learn from you, more than I ever have have before, Spirit.”

A shadowed finger to the stairs, the only response.

“Yes.” Ana tightened her scarf and tied her robe tight, trying to crack a smile, “Come on, then, as Tracer would say.”

They started up the stairs, but they did not so much climb them as the stairs fell down around them, revealing the city as they fell away, and suddenly Ana was on a snow-dusted street, and then the cafe with the black awning and the gingham tables, and then they were inside of it, the two women behind the counter, same as they were every morning.

Ana looked around, not much about the place but a few pastries left here and there, the two women cleaning up tea pots and chatting amongst themselves. She knew this place well, had frequented it many times before, and yet she was nervous to enter it again.

“You seen that old bat of ours lately?” One of them said to the other.

“Oh, the one grumbling every morning, with the coffee? Naw, not for a week or better now.” She did not seem to give the matter any thought, but squeezed out a mop.

“Wonder if she’s died.” From over a wiped off counter.

“Think we might have heard?”

The first burst into a peal of laughter. “From who exactly? Not as if she’s ever with anyone, right? And I’m more noticing than mourning, mind you.”

The other chuckled appreciatively. “Maybe it’s only that she’s decided to grace someone else with her growling.”

“We should be so lucky, I think!”

The women collapsed into laughter as the sides of the cafe fell away, and then more walls began to be constructed in its place, newspapers on the walls falling away to clean, crisp white, the floor from wood to a highly polished stone, the counter becoming a front desk with pictures behind it, the plaque above them reading For Those Who Gave All In The Cause Of Good.

“Well I don’t know anything about it, just that she couldn’t be reached. Commander Amari said to send someone over later, been two weeks since she checked in,” the little secretary laughed behind the desk, ‘She told me, the agent is either gone rouge or dead, and handed me plans for both, said not to worry till after the holiday. Commander Amari said I should go home to me and mine, it’s nearly Christmas.”

“That was kind of her,” a dark haired man leaned against the edge of the desk, “I think it’s only a handful of us that don’t bother with it on today. You know,” he laughed, “I’d really rather her be rouge. More entertaining, and I don’t have the energy for an official Overwatch funeral.”

“Oh,�� she stood up and grabbed her coat, “I doubt there’d be any kind of funeral, even if the devil has taken his own at last. Or a cheap one, none of the trimmings.”

“I mean,” He laughed, “I’ll go if there’s a tea at least. I heard when Commander Oxton died, there was a spread for the gods.”

She slipped on her coat. “Not likely to be that. Maybe a bag of crisps, for the memory.”

They laughed together, him wishing her a Happy Christmas with her family, and again the walls fell away as Ana turned to the spirit. These conversations were so small and could have been insignificant, and yet Ana felt something twisting around her heart, tighter and tighter. It came to her so fast, here with this cold and silent spirit, this lesson, and yet she cursed the Ana of the past, and the present, who had taken so long to see their own lessons.

“I understand, Spirit.” She nodded slowly. “This woman could be me. My life--it does support that sort of treatment, right now. I won’t ever forget this lesson that you’ve taught me, but--what about...my Fareeha? She must--”

But before she could finish the thought, the walls fell away again, and constructed just as quickly, until they were on that same street she had seen with Tracer, in what had been earlier this evening, and so long ago. It was no more impressive than it had been, though certainly more built up, no longer many empty shells of what had been bombed and shot out in the Battle for London, but apartments and a market, a pub and a bakery, all the street looking so much more complete for all of it.

Pharah and Mercy’s home was there, standing where it had before, in a row of newer apartments made to incorporate the old bits of what had been there before the unpleasantness of battle.

The apartment was not at all decorated, a light in the upstairs window the only indication of anything at all. In the dim light it glowed like a candle, beckoning them on. The doors to apartments around them were covered in garland, trees lighting up the windows, but this one was quiet, and undecorated.

“Fareeha.” The name escaped her lips before she could even finish the thought, “I know this part of the story. I mistook Tracer for Tiny Tim but--She must have---” she paused, and looked down at the snow made dull and muddy by the traffic that had already walked by. “She was so angry. And I never did anything. I encouraged it, in her. I told her to set it aside. I never helped her deal with it. And now--”

She looked back to the spirit, who simply pointed to that grey door, a hole opening in it, darker grey still, overlapping colors of the night so much like the spirit itself.

Kommen. Ma. Priyti. Come.

“But, I have to see. Yes.”

She walked into the house, and looked around. Still dark, thought it was fully eight am and if Pharah had been here there would have been a flurry of activity, certainly. She smelled a hint of cinnamon in the air, that must have been wafting over from one of the other close-knit apartments, but she stared and stared up those stairs, where she knew that bedroom sat, where she knew she would have to look and see what all her failures had wrought.

The Spirit pointed up the stairs, not even whispers from its lips as it points, Ana looking up into the hallway that should have been cheerful and bright, but seemed so foreboding, so dull, so frightening. A step. She had to climb.

“Poor Angela.”

It surprised her even as she said it. She had spent so long thinking that Mercy was weak, that she wasn’t built for the work that she had chosen to do, that she would have been better off choosing a softer job, marrying into a softer family. Now, she felt a stirring in her, something that could remember Mercy had lost her parents young, Mercy had seen soldiers crying for their parents in their last moments, Mercy had plucked dead children out of rubble. And she refused to callous. She cried every time.

Maybe she was braver than Ana had ever given her credit for. Maybe she was braver than Ana.

She turned around, nearly up the stairs now, to the Spirit. “Are you going to tell me what happened to their child?”

An outstretched hand, pointing.

Another step. Another turn, another pause.

“Pharah can’t be dead. I know this, because she was mentioned at Headquarters.”

Nothing but that finger, those moving, shifting, shading darknesses. Ana turned around, and took those final steps. Staring down the hallway where the light circled the door, waiting to be opened, knowing she had to do it.

“I can’t imagine Fareeha leaving…”she kept walking, even as she feared it, “Angela must have left her. I should have...This is all my fault. ” She stopped at the door. “Oh no. Angela can’t have died, Spirit, that would be the most unfair thing of all. I could have--I will stop it. I will.”

She rested her hand on that cold, hard doorknob, and let the rage flash in her. Knowing that she would change Mercy’s death, knowing that she would heal Pharah, knowing that she would go back and fix it all. She twisted, and let it open.

Pharah lay in bed, her arm not even on, reading a book in the dim light. The smell of coffee filled the air, and that cinnamon she had been so sure earlier was coming from another house was the cinnamon roll sitting by her side of the bed.

And Mercy’s. Mercy was tucked in next to her, hair piled high on her head, in an oversized t-shirt and her glasses, paging through her own novel. Between them was a little blonde girl, sitting crosslegged and also determinedly reading her own book, a blanket drawn around her shoulders, a battered stuffed sloth tucked into her lap, helping her read.

“Mama,” she turned to Pharah, “Can I have a bite?”

“Of course.” Pharah smiled warmly, and the little girl crawled onto her, mouth open as Pharah chuckled and stuffed a piece in her mouth.

“I love you, Mama.” She chewed on the bun.

“I love you, too,” she swung over her arm and pulled the little girl onto herself, “Don’t talk with your mouth full. You could choke.”

The little girl nodded, and carefully swallowed, then treated Pharah to a sticky kiss, Pharah smiling contently all the while, as Mercy looked on, licking her fingers from her own cinnamon roll. Pharah tucked her own blanket around the little girl, and patted her affectionately.

“We’ll have to dig into the cookies, at this rate. And so early.”

“Oh do we?” Mercy sat up and looked over at the both of them.

“Avi’s stolen most of my cinnamon roll, you see.”

“Nuh-uh!!” Avi protested. “You said I could have a bite, Mama!”

Pharah gave a deep laugh. “I should have made more.”

Ana looked at her daughter as she leaned against the doorframe. She had told herself as she came up the stairs that now was the time when she would see all the mistakes that were made, that now was the dark part of this story, that there was nothing but sadness to be seen here. And yet. It was warmth and coziness and comfort, all. There were none of her fears, either of the old Ana or the new, in this family.

“But I thought…” Ana stepped forward a few steps, staring at Pharah.

There was no red about her at all, no halo about her spelling trouble, just, if anything, the gentle light of a contented love.

The breath left her as she realized.

“It has nothing to do with me.” She felt it catch in her throat. “Her anger...she didn’t need me. She, she let it go herself. Because I mean nothing to her.”

The floor dropped out from beneath her, falling, falling, through all the grey and the darkness, like smoke surrounding her and clouding her, entering into her as she opened her mouth to scream.

And then, as soon as the fall started, it stopped.

She was on the floor of that same raggedy hallway in her apartment building, with that same flickering light, though it seemed somehow even dimmer than the last time. She struggled to her feet as the Spirit materialized beside her, extending that same arm, pointing to the door that she knew, oh, very well indeed.

“Am I--going home?” she looked for a moment, confused, and then let the moment settle in. “No. This is the woman everyone was talking about. This is the woman no one was talking about.”

She took a step.

“I have a question. The future, I mean, these can only be the shadows of what might happen. Things could change, in any moment. This is true of the future, it always is.”

There was no response, not even a whisper, just pointing, pointing. Ana looked at the door, and slowly inched forward, knowing she had to see the truth, knowing she could hardly bear it. She reached out her hand to the knob, and could feel the cold breeze coming from inside the room. She took a shaking breath, and tightened her grip.

She lost her nerve, and pivoted, looking back at the Spirit, so close behind her she could smell those hundreds of smells, just like the whispers, one overlapped over the other.

“I know what’s behind that door. What is the point of any of this? Why bother showing it to me if I can’t change!? It exists only to torment me!”

Ana felt her hand on the doorknob, though she could not remember placing it there, and heard that horrid, dark click as the door creaked open, calling her inside.

“No.” She whispered.

But she looked, because she must look, and there it was, on the terrible, dank, threadbare carpet, but her own self, stone dead where she had fallen. There was a squeaking Ana realized could not longer be coming from the door, and she adjusted her vision a moment, saw two rats eating at the edge of her hand, their own Christmas feast offering the filling warmth Ana never had otherwise.

She cried out, bent against the doorframe. How long had she been here? Days, and no one had noticed she was missing, more than a week, at least, and in that time not one person had reached out to see her, to check on her, to even know that she was dead. How much longer might her body lie there, eaten by rats in the cool of the evening?

Ana looked up at the Spirit, hurt and angry, most of all with herself and her own thousand failures.

“Tell me who you are! Let me at least know the face of my accuser!”

The Spirit stepped back away from her, and slowly, slowly the shadows began to drift, two hands becoming many tiny hands as they ringed around the cowl that hid the face, the horrible face that Ana had asked to see and yet now wished to see no longer, and she took a step back as it pulled away the cowl, like a peel slowly retreating from the fruit.

Pharah’s eyes glowered at her, and Ana shrank back, shaking her head, opening her mouth to apologize, to say something, and then the shades turned and moved and became Waldemar, and then again to Mercy, to Tracer, to Zeina, to Reinhardt, moving and shifting between all these people she had known, all their voices and whispers surrounding her and cutting her as she held back, and then, there it was, locked in and staring furiously: Ana herself. The whispers started, the accusations, everything she had learned and already known coalescing in her head, tying tight around her, and she felt that same chain, cold and hard.

She fell to her knees, grasping at the Spirit.

“Please! I can change! Jack must have sent you because he knew!” The words choked up in her throat and stuck there, tears coming to her eyes, “Tell me these things can be changed. Why show me if these things can’t be changed? A life CAN BE CHANGE--”

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100layersofdaddyissues · 3 years

Text

Angel - Chapter 5

AGHHHH I KNOW IM SORRY it was an involuntary hiatus brought on by the horrible holiday we call christmas, but its here, ive had this idea since the beginning so i hope you like it!

rach im sorry this ones for you my queen of angst i hope i did you proud

In retrospect maybe taking personal leave directly after your fight with Maxwell probably didn't fit in with the image you wanted to portray to him, you’d hoped it looked as though you truly didn't care about what he said to you. But you did. You wish you didn't, honest, you'd been burnt by men before, you shouldn't have been surprised that once you caught feelings you would be in trouble. But you thought “if he truly doesn't care about me then it won't matter to him that I’m not there, he won't even notice.” you'd still been working from home, you've been keeping up all your professional correspondence, he won't notice, so why should you care about him either.

Little did you know however, that the morning after his outburst, Maxwell had returned to the apartment you had presided in, expecting you to be there. But you weren’t. He wanted to apologise, to grovel and fall to his knees and beg you to forgive him. To tell you that he was an idiot and he never meant to hurt you and that he, well, he had very strong feelings for you that were really, really beginning to scare him.

That night had been the first time he'd ever lost sleep over something in years.

Ever since he had lost his fiancée, Alice, Max made sure to never become attached to anyone, knowing how much pain it will cause him when they inevitably leave. Everyone left, whether it be willingly or not. His grandparents left, his parents, the woman he would have died for, and now you. He wasn't sure where you fit in there, his grandparents taught him to find happiness in everything, his parents taught him how to live, how to run the business he loved so much, and Alice taught him to love. And you. You taught him how to love again, you taught him compassion and kindness that he'd long lost. Before you he had promised himself that he would never feel pain again. But here he was, dealing with the consequences of breaking that sacred rule, and he hated it.

Max had hoped that he'd perhaps be able to speak to you at work, get you alone in your office, sadistically, somewhere you couldn't escape him, but alas, when he arrived early in the morning, two coffees in hand, Sookie had been there to greet him, letting him know that you were taking leave and working from home. He didn't press the issue, in fact he didn't say anything, just mumbled a quiet “you have this then” while passing her the second coffee.

Maybe he could call you to apologise, but it seemed pathetic to him to even consider apologising over the phone, after what he had said to you, you truly deserved the most heartfelt apology he could muster. But as the days went on and turned into weeks with you not at the apartment or at work, he slowly gave up. Max’s head started to fill with thoughts that maybe you were preparing to leave the company, to leave him. He had convinced himself that if you stayed with the company then you were staying with him.

He didn’t know why he had assumed that it would be easy, you’d proven to be anything but, he’d hoped he could just apologise, and then fuck you enough to prove it. But no. it wasn't going to be that easy.

Maxwell didn't want to admit it. But he missed you.

For the first week he stayed at the apartment every night, away from his home, just hoping that you would return for something. All of the clothes he'd paid for were still there, the kitchen was still stocked, you'd even left cigarettes in a pack on the balcony. It hurt to see how quickly you'd left him; you were obviously rushing to get away from him. He really fucked up. And he had no idea how to fix it.

He really fucking missed you. How soft your lips were, your cheeks reminded him of soft marshmallows for some reason. He missed the way the sun used to hit your face in the mornings as he was getting ready to leave the apartment, you always looked so beautiful, the golden light bathing you in a constant glow, he always felt content in those moments. Like nothing could ever go wrong or be bad, he simply let himself live in that moment, pretending that he could stay like that forever. And for some reason, he had convinced himself that h couldn’t stay. Every morning like that, where he left, the pain inside of him grew deeper and more unbearable.

And now all of that was gone, and it was his fault.

You missed him too. You hadn't left your apartment in almost three weeks, and you had intended for it to stay that way until Jade had shown up at your apartment this morning.

“Listen, I'm sorry that Mr. Handsome was a cunt, but I did warn you, you can't wallow here for the rest of your life. You've kept the job, and your apartment is dirt cheap, so I know you're loaded, you know what that means? We're going day drinking.”

“I don't want to go day drinking. I want to sit in my cocoon and rewatch the Brady Bunch, I'm not hurting anyone.” you said trying to release from her grasp. You had no intentions of being seen in public.

“Well too fucking bad, George is going to be here soon and he’s bringing me a friend, so you can’t fuck this up because I’ve been trying to get Robert to ask me out for weeks. We're going.” she said, beginning to pull out your makeup and go through it.

You walked towards her to ask what she was looking for until you clocked what she had said. “Wait did you just say George? As in George, my ex-coworker? Why is he coming over?” you asked your tone growing in urgency as your questions progressed.

“Well, when I was talking to him, he asked where you been, so I explained that you'd been working for Maxwell lord and that you’d not left your room in weeks after a big fight with your boss I’m not an id- OW! why are you throwing things at me?”

“Because! When George saw me on the street that night, I told him that it had been a fight with my boyfriend! Now he's going to think Maxwell was my boyfriend! I'm in so much trouble if he tells anyone that!” You refused to panic. At least that's what you were telling yourself as you got more and more breathless, you're truly trying not to panic but god is it hard to convince your brain not to have an anxiety attack.

“Listen Y/N if he thinks Max is your boyfriend so what, he isn't anymore, so what's the deal?” how Jade could be so nonchalant about this began to frustrate you, this could ruin you. Didn't she realise that? “Get up and shower I’m sure they are almost here.” apparently not.

And surely enough, just after you had gotten dressed there was a loud knock at the door, Jade went to answer it, hoping to distract the boys while you threw your hair together.

You overheard their idle chatter, something about the work at halo being boring and Henry being a dick. Nothing you didn't already know.

As you emerged you saw the two boys sitting on your couch and Jade standing in the kitchen. You'd never realised how small this apartment was until you were sitting here with others and everything felt so cramped. You missed your place with Max. you shouldn't say that. It wasn't your house with him. It was his place. You were staying there.

“Hey guys! Sorry I was just fixing up my hair, should we head?” you try to sound as cheery as you could. You were not ready for this day.

George slipped past you, saying something about “I just need the loo, I can lock up and meet you downstairs.” yeah, like you were going to let him do that, deciding to shoot jade and Robert downstairs, telling them you'd wait for George to get out and then come downstairs with him.

He was taking an unusually long time in the bathroom, and all you could think was “dear god please tell me he's not pooping in there,” as you went to knock on the door to check if he was okay, you heard a loud bang, felt unbearable heat, and then, saw only black.

Maxwell had been staring out his window all day, he wasn't sure why, but he had been compelled to stare at the skyline, take in how beautiful the city really was. Returning from his office he sat down to do the exact thing he had been doing all morning, until he noticed a pillar of smoke coming from the south side of the city. A bolt of fear ran through him as he remembered picking Y/N up from her apartment in the south downtown area of DC.

Immediately he called his assistant for the week and told her to access employee records for Y/N’s address, then he called the Fire Chief for the DC area, asking for the address of the most current fire that he can see burning from his window. And his worst fear was realised. They're the same address, it's Y/N’s apartment that's up in flames, and he's sitting in his high rise just watching it happen.

Maxwell stormed out of his office yelling at the girl to have Darius in the car waiting for him at the front doors by the time he gets down to them or she's fired. Logically he knew that she had no control over that, but he was in a rush and he didn't care to care about her. He didn't even know her name. Something with a B maybe? This is not what he should be thinking about right now.

He should be thinking about how the second chance he had at love was in danger and he had no idea what to do except go to her. That's if she even still lived there, what if she moved and she was absolutely fine, and here he was running around like a headless chicken hoping that she was okay when she could be fine; “yeah,” he thought, “she’s fine, I’m just going to go check up on the building just in case she's there and if she isn't then I will just go back to the office.” yeah because it was going to be that simple. Everything leading up to this point sure has been.

“Master Lord, I have to ask why we were driving to the downtown area in the middle of the workday?” Darius asked him with a careless tone as if he was expecting Maxwell to say that he just wanted a coffee.

“I have reason to believe Y/N is in trouble and I would like to ensure that she's not, now is that okay with you?” Maxwell knew he was being an ass, but he also knew that Darius cared for her too and that was accentuated in the way he stepped on the gas not saying a word, as if speed limits were not a problem.

They were outside the apartment building in less than ten minutes, Maxwell racing out of the car before it was even parked. He stood in front of the building gulfed in flames staring at it feeling a sense of hopelessness.

“Oh no you fucking don’t, Mister.” he heard someone say but barely paid any attention until a young woman got up in his face. “I’m talking to you Richie Rich what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? You yell at her, make her miserable, don't speak to her for weeks and then suddenly when she's in trouble you're here? To what? save the day? Sorry to break it to you dude but money is an accelerant so it’s probably best that you fuck off.” she shouted at him. He had no idea who this woman was but from what he had heard she obviously knew Y/N.

“Wait she's in trouble? She's in there?” he didn't even think to ask who she was all he wanted to know was if she was okay.

“Yes, she's in there, fires have been burning long enough for you to get down here do you see her on a stretcher? No, she's still in there, my best friend is in there and if she doesn't come out of there alive, I'm going to blame you. if it weren't for you going all macho alpha bullshit man then she wouldn’t have felt the need to leave that apartment up town, she wouldn't have moved back into this shit hole, and she would have been at work today instead of watching brady bunch reruns for the last 12 days straight. So, for your sake you better hope she comes out of there alive or I’m going to kill you for killing her.” Max had barely had the time to process the thought before he was tearing up, light sniffles coming from his nose as he tried to hold them back.

“Right, you're ahh… you're completely right, this is my fault, and believe me, I wish nothing more than to be able to take that night back, to make sure it never happened, because all I want right now is to hold her, and, and tell her, tell her that I love her. Because I do. I really do, and if I never get the chance to tell her that then I promise you can blame me forever and make my life a living hell but right now, all I want to do is focus on getting her out of there alive so excuse me for just one second please.” Maxwell walked away from her after saying his piece walking directly to the man who looked to be in charge of the fight.

“Excuse me, hi, I’m going to need you to go immediately to 21b and save the woman in there, she is of utmost importance do you hear me?”

“Sir, I'm sorry but we're going apartment by apartment trying to get everyone out. We can't just take priority for some girl,” the man said to him, slightly condescending as if he hadn't just asked the man to save the love of his life.

‘Here, you take this,'' Maxwell said while fishing out his wallet and handing the man his ID card, “and I’m going to call Chief Wallace, shall I? Or are we going to stop wasting time and you’re going to go get my girl out of that fucking building son?” Max’s tone was commanding, he would get what he wanted, and he knew that much.

“Yes sir, I’ll go retrieve her myself right away.” the man said while running towards his truck, Maxwell presumed for him to suit up.

As he walked back towards the group that Darius had now joined, the woman, whose name he still couldn't remember or hadn't been told, had a relieved and vaguely smug look on her face. “You know she's going to kill you when she finds out you manipulated the fire department into saving her first right?” she said watching Y/N’s window for any sign of movement.

“I know, but it's worth the price to have her here to threaten to kill me.” he said staring at the same window.

“Sorry, I know that was really rude of me, I’m Jade, I'm not sure if Y/N has mentioned me, this is Robert and George, two of our friends, guys this is Max, Y/N’s... Friend?”

“Yeah, I think it's best we go with a friend for now. I'd like to live long enough to be able to change that.” Maxwell slightly chuckled. He felt lighter, she wasn't safe but the hope he felt made him feel better.

Until he saw he being carried out, on the right side of her body her skin was burnt, he clothes blackened and singed, she looked lifeless, Maxwell heard nothing but silence and the ringing in his ears as he ran to take her from the man, Maxwell took her from his arms, and fell to the floor, he watched her, waiting for movement, and like the glimmer of hope he had held on to paid off, her chest moved slowly and minutely, but it moved, she was breathing.

Maxwell let go then, as he held her to him and sobbed into her, pushing the hair out of her face, being careful not to touch her skin while the paramedics brought over a stretcher, he didn't want to let her go, he just got her back he couldn't let her go.

He couldn't hear anyone, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and Jade's sympathetic eyes filled with her own tears staring down at her. That compelled him to stand up and lay her on the stretcher. The paramedics asked if he wanted to ride to hospital with her, but he looked at Jade and gestured for her to go. He knew that if she woke up on the way, the first face she saw after almost dying shouldn't be the man that put her in that situation.

He followed the ambulance into the city, finding jade within minutes, they sat in the waiting room for 8 hours, just hoping for some good news, they talked about how Max and Y/N met and how he knew he was in love and everything he can't wait to do with her if she gives him the chance. The conversation lulled around hour 5 with Jade opting to nap in the highly uncomfortable hospital chairs, urging Maxwell to follow in her suit but he couldn't sleep until he knew how she was. He needed answers the moment they were available to him.

By the time it was almost hour 9 a doctor came to them.

“She's going to be just fine, the burns aren't too severe, however she did inhale a lot of smoke shop she's going to be rusty on the talking for a few days and her respiratory system is going to take a while to recover, so it's up to you to make sure she doesn't overexert herself okay? Other than that, she’s out of surgery, so you can go see her, but just make sure it's only 1-2 people at a time. This is a very traumatic time for her and it's only going to get worse before it gets better but I’m sure with a husband like you it won't be so hard for her to recover.” the doctor finished with a small smile and then walked back down the hall to attend to other patients he assumed.

Husband. She thought he was Y/N’s husband. And honestly, he didn't want to correct her on it. He liked the idea of being her husband. Even if it wasn't real.

“Hey Jade, come on wake up, we can go see her now.” Jade sat bolt upright when she heard those words. Asking for her room number and bolting towards the door, with Maxwell following behind slowly. He reached her door and saw her sleeping, so peacefully, the LED lights of the hospital only served to make her look more pale and sickly than she already was, but she still looked beautiful to him. Absolutely perfect.

Just before he could join Jade in the room his cell began to ring. “Maxwell Lord.” he answered, not expecting any calls on this thing, it’s 1984 who has this phone number?

“Mr. Lord I’m sorry to interrupt you, I know you're extremely busy with your wife, but I just had a matter to discuss with you about the fire in her building.” The man on the other end, Chief Wallace, sounded nervous, almost trembling, “I'm not entirely sure how to explain this, but preliminary investigation we conducted into the cause of the fire has indicated that the fire was started in Ms. Y/L/N’s apartment.”

“I'm afraid we're going to need to question her when she becomes lucid enough for a police interview.”

tags: @innerstrawberrypolice @maxlordsgf @mrschiltoncat @historianwithaheart

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal angst #maxwell lord #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fluff #maxwell lord angst

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mother-snake · 4 years

Text

cut you a piece

(oh boy! its been a hot second since ive posted a story... hope you enjoy! tell me if i need to tag somthing!)

tags: @idkanameatall warnings: angst, majour carachter death. tw self hurt, tw soup of slide. adult language words: 7488

-why was janus the way he is... and what can happen when you lose everything youve ever known.-

Janus, he was fucked up, and Romulus he was pureless. So of course they fell in love.

Self-preservation smiled as he sat next to Romulus. The two had known each other for around a week. Both of them had hit it off almost immediately. both of them not liked by the others. but they were okay with that, after all they had each other.

They were sitting there next to one another. Romulus was drawing something that had happened in the imagination. self-preservation was scribbling down names on a sheet of paper. He was yet to find one that he liked. It was difficult.

He let out a small sigh as he looked down at the note book that seemed filled with different names. None of them seemed right. he crossed out the ones that seemed to plain. The ones that were hard to pronounce.

“hey! Are you alright?” Romulus asked his friend.

Said side blinked. He hadn’t realised he had begun to cry. “I’m fine,” he said as he rubbed the tears out of his eyes.

Romulus picked up the book and read some of the names. A small grin on his face as he kept reading. “what about Janus?” he said finally as he put down the notebook in his lap. “that’s a girl’s name though,” self-preservation pouted. “no! j-a-n-u-s. as in the god of half-truths!” he cheered at the scaled side.

He pondered this name for a couple seconds. Slowly a warm smile lit up his face as he looked at Romulus. The smile becoming infectious along with the happiness rolling of him. “okay then! Janus it is,” he said with a wide smile, “don’t tell the others though. Shh!” whispered. “okay,” Romulus whispered back.

Both of them giggled as they leaned their heads on one another. both of them completely content with what little they had.

Because to them…each other was enough.

Romulus let Janus know what was wrong with him. And Janus stopped using, and binging, and pissing his whole life away.

Romulus wasn’t happy with any of the sides. When he got the chance, he would bash them over the head with his shield.

Why? I hear you asking. Right now, Janus was crying into his shoulder. Tears set off by their reaction to what he had hoped to never happen.

His once bleach white scales had changed to what he considered a pretty yellow. Sunflower yellow. he held his Janus close. The two of them had been dating since Janus’s second month of creation. Both of them had never gone anywhere without the other nearby.

Not that either minded. They actually found peace in knowing where the other was in these times.

“Janus? Its okay, you’re okay… they can’t hurt you as long as I’m here. Okay?” “I know…” he got in response as Janus sniffed.

He looked up to Romulus with red puffy eyes. The anger in Romulus’s stomach swelled. “let’s give them a visit, shall we my sunflower?” Romulus said slyly as he held out his arm.

Janus let out a small laugh and looped his arm around Romulus’s. said side pulled the other closer. “no, I wouldn’t like that,” he smiled widely.

But before they could get to the door there was a sharp knock at the door of creativity’s door. They looked at one another before Romulus ushered Janus behind himself.

“Romulus? De- self-preservation?” oh morality. “we need you guys quick! There’s a new side here!” he yelled, his voice both a mix of concern and excitement.

They looked between one another. There hadn’t been a new side since Janus appeared. And that had been apparently very unexpected.

Both of them ran next to each other as the door burst open. Romulus mildly confused on how Janus could run so easily in heel shoes. Janus was just focused on the fact there was a side with the light sides.

Scared that he would be treated the same way he and Romulus were. when they arrived, they stopped and stared at the side that hissed at logic like a cat. “I’m sorry, did you just hiss at me?” logic asked looking flabbergasted at the new side.

A wide smile grew on Janus’s face as he let out his own hiss. Grabbing the attention of the new side. the small child looked up to Janus who gave another small hiss. a hiss this time was directed at him. This one wasn’t as animalistic. But more friendly.

Janus and Romulus nodded to one another and held out their hands. the small child ran into their arms. “welcome to our dysfunctional family,” Janus mumbled as he hugged the smaller form.

And Janus told Romulus he'd die for him, Which looking back, was the right thing to say.

Janus sat there listening to music blaring from cautions room. Him and the newest addition, wrath, had gotten into another argument and it wasn’t pretty. He had witnessed the end of it.

He was positioned at the side of Virgil’s door. Waiting for the other to calm down. He hoped they would. “hey, you okay there?” Romulus asked.

Janus let out a sigh, “I’m alright. Just waiting for the two small hatchlings to calm down. It may take a while by the sounds of it,” he chuckled. “I think Thomas starting high school is getting the best of them.” He said.

“yeah… I can tell,” Romulus said, hiding his hand in his pocket; He could tell the other later. Romulus smiled and kissed his cobra on the head before turning around. “hey, Romulus? Id cut you a piece of me,” he said slowly, almost singing. “what?” “id cut you a piece of me, and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he smiled. Romulus felt tears pouring out of his eyes as he surged forwards and hugged Janus tightly around the shoulders. “how long?” Janus muttered into his shoulder. “a couple years at best. But no longer I’m afraid…” he muttered into Janus’s shoulder.

They didn’t do anything but hold each other. Romulus knew lying to his queen wouldn’t work. It never did. And as self-preservation. Something like this was bound to become loose. With or without him saying anything.

“I am now a part of you,” Romulus muttered.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. Yes, I am now a part of you

They laughed as they sat around the screen. A movie had been chosen by Patton. but one was caught up in their thoughts. Not much had changed since everyone had found out that Romulus wouldn’t be around for long. and that made Janus feel things he didn’t want to feel. He tried his best to repress everything he was feeling. He knew it was causing him harm.

He found himself snapping at the kids and others more. he was scared. He was going to lose his best friend. Nothing else seemed to matter more at that moment.

“hey, sunflower,” Romulus said calmly as he wrapped an arm around Janus. Janus felt himself sobbing as his lover held him close. He buried his head in his chest. this had been the first time any of the others had seen Janus cry in front of them.

Romulus held Janus close. He was the only one who knew that this was almost a daily occurrence now. He didn’t want to leave his queen behind. If he could stop what was happening. He would. But there was very little in his power

Romulus pulled Janus closer. He wouldn’t leave Janus like this. He wanted to go out with a bang. And that’s exactly what he would do. “marry me,” he said as Janus slowly began to calm down. “what?” Janus asked shocked. “marry me,” Romulus said again, “I’ll be honest I would have waited till Thomas left high school. But with things going on now. Now is never a better time- “ “yes…” Janus said before wrapping his arms around Romulus’s neck ad pulling him close and into a kiss.

The lights looked at the two love birds wondering how they could have been so cruel to the both of them for so long…

Caution and wrath cheered at the scene in front of them. God, they had been close to forcing the two turtle doves to marry. They were perfect for one another.

But perfection doesn’t last. that was something they learned the hard way…

Janus and his romulus, got married in his temple, Cause they calculated,

The wedding was by no means small. they had it in the imagination. Something that had been a surprise when Romulus had offered to have it there.

It seemed everyone in the imagination knew of the event. and as soon as he had entered it seemed as if everyone knew who he was. the whispers of him becoming Romulus’s second hand was a surprise. But he guessed that was understandable with Remus being king creativity.

Laughter rung in the air as people danced and children played. Each person swelled with so much joy and happiness that their king had found someone to stay at his side. if only they knew…

Janus and Romulus sat on chairs at the very front of the castle. The party being outside to make room for everyone there.

“thank you,” a young boy whispered to Janus as Romulus stood up to talk to someone. “may I ask what for?” he said slyly getting a smile out of the young boy. “for making the king so happy!” he cheered. “I should be thanking him for making me so happy,” Janus said, “I don’t know where I’d be without my king,” he chuckled as he ruffled the young boys hair.

“would you care for a dance?” the young boys eyes lit up like stars and he almost dragged Janus by the arm and into the crowd.

Romulus spotted him from the crowd and let out a hearty laugh as he spotted his sunflower. Giving and encouraging wink. Janus stuck out his tongue in response.

The people around laughed as they watched their two rulers, their hearts warming knowing that the kingdom was in safe hands.

But… alas… time was slowly running out.

That Jules was more Jewish than Jessie was Catholic. Jules mother was pleased.

Janus knew that Romulus was slowly becoming weaker. Spending more time in his room than anywhere else. the two spent the winter curled up around one another. Glued to each other’s side. Christmas had been an event and a half. With Janus and Romulus teaming up and decimating the others in a snowball fight. Janus ended up getting a cold that very afternoon. But he was okay with that.

Valentines day had been spent handing roses to the people of Romulus and now Janus’s kingdom. hand in hand they had become something that neither thought could happen.

And then it began… his hair had slowly begun to turn grey… it was small at first. Just small strands here and there. He also found himself struggling to pick up heavy things that he could have picked up easily before.

Janus found himself glued to Romulus. then one day they found themselves wondering the streets of the city. People smiled and waved at the two of them happily. Greetings were shared and smiles returned.

It had been a perfect day so far. The sun was blazing down on Janus. Warming his scales perfectly. His cold bloodedness often caused him issues.

then everything seemed to go slow motion.

“hey… sweetheart… why is everything spinning?” he muttered. “my king nothing- Romulus!” he yelled as he caught his lover as his knees buckled and gave out below him.

He felt his breathing picking up as he laid Romulus gently to the ground. Everything else was forgotten.

Black streaks rose from his neck. Half of his right cheek was covered in the almost inky looking patches. Janus was panicking internally. But keeping as calm as possible on the outside. “come on sweetie… you’re going to be okay… let’s get back to the castle…” no one around said a thing. everyone worried for their king and queen who had only been married for five months.

Janus knew time was running short. He just didn’t know how short it would be.

Married six months, when on route 87, Janus turned quickly,

Janus didn’t leave Romulus’s room unless necessary. Virgil and Orpheus bringing him meals as he sat by his lovers’ side. His face now almost completely covered in the blackness that seemed to make him look like a void.

Janus hadn’t spoken very much. Romulus had looked at Janus with so much joy every time he woke up. small snippets of his memory disappearing daily. but never forgetting Janus. It seemed like him mind couldn’t forget him. And he was fine with that. It would be nice to remember his lover at his final moments.

Janus had been startled out of his thoughts when Romulus reached a hand out and nudged Janus. “yes Romulus?” “can I see them? One last time?” he asked his eyes weak and barely focusing. “…okay…” Janus said, trying to keep himself together.

He scooped Romulus up into his arms. It scared him how light his king was. he looked over to the face of Romulus that was almost hidden by his growing hair that was so dark now it almost matched his skin.

“let’s go, my love.”

In a beaten mitsubishi, killed romulus in a crash. A marriage begun and ended,

He walked through the streets. Barely keeping himself together as silent tears poured down his face.

The people moved out of their way, bowing their own heads. Tears streaking down their faces as they looked on in mourning.

When they arrived at the main balcony of the castle, facing where the sun had always set. and there it was, going down over head.

Romulus had his head in Janus’s lap. A weak smile on his face as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I cut you a piece of me…” he sung. “Romulus?” Janus’s voiced cracked. “I cut you a piece of me… and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he sung weakly. “I’m now a part of you. From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole, “Janus sung back. tears pouring out of his eyes. “oh you are the start of me…”

Romulus smiled as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His sunflower looking at him with a simile and love in his eyes. “goodbye my queen,” he whispered. “goodbye my king,” Janus choked out.

Janus cried out loudly in pain as he felt Romulus go limp in his arms. Wails of despair filled the air. the people below heard the cries of sorrow and tried to block out the gut-wrenching noise that seemed to cause everyone else to cry for the loss of their young king.

Everyone lined the streets. Holding red and green lanterns in their hands before sending them to the sky. Each one holding a small message written on the inside. Hoping that maybe it would reach their king.

Janus saw the lanterns flood the skies and smiled ever so slightly. He wouldn’t be alone. He had everyone here… but. No… he wouldn’t. no. he couldn’t return.

Romulus had long since faded. Leaving only his cloak and crown behind. a warm smile on Janus’s face. he had left his cape behind. He had always been forgetful.

He flung the caplet over his shoulders and stood up removing the crown that rested on his brow and placed it next to Romulus’s.

“goodbye my love… perhaps we may meet again in another life…”

With broken glass. His life was scattered, and soon was her ash

Janus looked dead. That was the first thing Virgil realised when Janus left Romulus’s room.

Virgil still couldn’t help but ask, “how is he?” Janus couldn’t look Virgil in the eyes, “he’s in a better place now,” he said weakly. Virgil surged forwards within seconds. Wrapping his arms around his pops. He himself didn’t know how to feel. He had never been overly close to Romulus like self-preservation had.

But he knew now more than ever that he was needed. And he swore to himself that in that moment. He would stay and protect his pops from anything that would come their way. “come, would you like me to tell the others?” Virgil asked.

Janus could only nod. Not trusting himself to say the wrong thing. it was then that he realised that Janus was waring Romulus’s cape. Heh. His dad had always been forgetful. But a small part of him knew that it had been deliberate.

The walk seemed daunting to Janus. This was one of the few times he had been anywhere without Romulus by his side. but now? There would be no one. Just himself it seemed despite the fact he knew he had his children by his side.

He felt the silent tears pour down his face. but he didn’t care.

Then he heard laughter. Virgil gave a small smile and walked ahead of his father.

There at the living room table was Logan, Patton and Orpheus. All eyes turned to the two of them. “how is he?” Patton asked.

Janus felt himself shaking as he pulled the caplet closer. Had the mind palace always been this cold?

“he…” Virgil began, “he passed away.” no one said a thing. As there was nothing to say… Patton felt something in his chest tighten. He could feel the amount og grievance coming of Janus. He was surprised the other was holding himself together. Logan… well. He didn’t know what to do. There was no logical way to help Janus unless he could find a way to bring Romulus back. Orpheus stared at Janus. Stared at his pops who was now widowed. He knew this would be a hard take on everyone. But this would be devastating on Janus’s behalf.

The silence stretched onwards. No one could say anything it seemed. but Janus couldn’t take it anymore. The silane wasn’t something he was used to. So, he took a couple steps away from the group, turned around and bolted to his room. The cries of everyone behind him were ignored as he closed his door.

He locked it and felt himself sink to the ground. his eyes darted around his room. He wanted to be safe. He didn’t like the cold he was feeling. He wanted to be held and have someone at his side.

He laid down on his bed, ignoring the pounding that came from outside the door and slipped under the covers. Holding the caplet as close to himself as possible. maybe if he had waited another couple hour’s, he would have met the two new sides… but, right now. Weather he knew it or not. He needed the sleep. and for the first time in forever he fell asleep, exhausted from crying. But that was okay… he would get used to the empty feeling eventually.

He may have wanted Romulus… but he knew he wasn’t coming back.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. I lost my life when I lost you.

It had been a month. Janus barely spoke. But when he did it was always in lies. he had made them forget. He had made them believe that the twins had been there the whole time. He felt like he had betrayed Romulus. but it was for the best.

“hello my dear snake face!” creativity one cheered as he saw Janus walking to the kitchen. Janus let out a wince. He hated it when jabs were sent to his scales. “what don’t you want creativity?” he glowered. “come now, why do you refuse my name?” creativity said. Janus couldn’t respond but kept walking. Trying his best to ignore the other side. Janus froze as creativity 1 kept taking, “listen. Can you just not leave me alone. I don’t need my space,” he snapped at the red sashed side.

Roman seemed taken back by the words but his features softened, “very well my dear snake, I bid you farewell!” and as quickly as he was there. he was gone.

Janus sighed as he made his way down the quiet hallway. He knew that the others were trying to give him space, not knowing anymore why his mood had shifted so dramatically. from happy to so sad that Patton could barely spend five minuets in the same room as him before he accidentally starts to cry from the overwhelming sadness coming from him.

He looked blankly onwards towards the kitchen. He was after another bottle of wine. It helped numb the pain. he knew Romulus would have slapped him on the head by now and told him to tone it down with the spicy grape juice. But… well. He wasn’t.

And things hadn’t been going well to put it simply. ever since the twins arrived. he knew it was only a matter of time before the place split into two. And he knew that when it happened things would only get more difficult. Especially if he was stuck with one of the twins.

Don’t get him wrong. He loved the two to pieces. But it hurt to see them every day. So much of Romulus was in them it hurt to look at. roman had Romulus’s eyes and Remus had his chaotic personality.

Maybe if they hadn’t reminded him so much of his lost love, he would not need to cry himself to sleep, or hold up the illusion that he was okay. but he needed to stay strong. That was a fact he needed to keep up.

However, things wouldn’t be so normal anymore. Not after today. he was aware of yelling coming from the Livingroom. the same direction roman had gone in. but he didn’t think much of it… that was until he entered the room however and froze. Orpheus was yelling at roman who looked ready to rip his head off.

“so what? At least he cares about us!” Orpheus yelled. “deceit is nothing but a lair and you know it!” roman yelled back, “he’s plotting something against us all. Why else the sudden mood shift?”

Janus stared at roman from his spot by the door. His chest aching from the words that had fallen from his mouth.

Then he felt nothing. Just an empty place where everything other emotion should have been. he stared blankly in his direction. “don’t worry creativity. You won’t be seeing much of me for a long time,” he said sharply before turning around and walking away.

Roman said nothing in response. Instead just looked at the spot where the side had been.

Orpheus shoved roman to the floor and spat next to him. “if you come near any of us again. I WILL put your head on a pike,”

That was the last time for years that he would see either side. and dinner that day would be the last time he would see Virgil and his brother. both deciding that it wasn’t worth staying with people who didn’t care.

And thus, the divide happened. No one would realise until the morning. With a single door cutting both sides away from each other.

Yeah you loved someone so much. That to lose them is to never recover,

It had been a month. Virgil, Remus and Orpheus were gathered in the Livingroom on the floor playing monopoly. No one seemed to be close to winning. Each side cheating in their own way.

Janus sat on the couch with a glass of wine. He watched blankly. Not saying a single word. He hadn’t spoken since roman had taken the major jab at him.

He glared at the cup in hand. He hated repressing his feelings. And normally wine would work… but he guesses his tolerance had built up greatly.

He let out a sigh and drooped his shoulders. He closed his eyes and felt the cold wave wash over him. Then there was nothing inside of him. He opened his eyes and looked over to the dark sides who glanced over at him. they knew what he had just done. But they had stopped trying to stop him a long time ago.

“still don’t know why you enjoy repressing your feelings,” Remus said, “repression never works,” “I know…” Janus whispered back. the entire mini group froze, their eyes snapping to Janus. “I just need to feel numb sometimes… its better than feeling what I feel…” he said as he looked at them.

It felt like the first time they had seen him properly since the door was put in place. his eyes looked almost dead. His once pale yellow scaled had become a dirty gold, pecks of brown mixed in.

He let out a short sigh before standing up and walking away. A hand rested itself upon his shoulder but he simply shrugged it off and continued on his way. he had work to get done. God knows what the light sides were getting Thomas to do.

Virgil looked at Janus as he left the room with wide eyes. Janus’s cold emotionless gaze imprinted in his mind. he wanted to know what had happened to his pops over the past six months. He had changed…he had changed so much and it scared him.

Remus looked at where Janus was and glanced down at his hands. had it been his fault Janus was like this? Did he himself do something or was it something worse?

Orpheus couldn’t look in their direction. He hated being able to do nothing. Especially when his pops was in such a state. It sent spikes into his heart. Yeah, he knew what it was like to have emotions you didn’t want. It sucked.

But at least all three of them would be there to help him.

You've given part of your being to them and when they Go, you can never have it back you can never have it back.

Janus was starting to panic. And that was an understatement. Ever since Virgil had revealed himself, he was slowly spending more time with the light sides. It had gotten to the point where Janus was only seeing him early in the mornings or late at night.

Every time they talked it always ended with an argument. Orpheus or Remus would have to break them up sometimes.

That’s how Janus found himself. Cradling himself in his bed. Wrapped in his blanket. Tears pouring down his face as his right eye was closed shut. An ice pack held closely to his eye. it was black and purple. Punched by someone with pure anger.

Orpheus had sided with Virgil. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel so lonely. It felt like that day all over again. Maybe the pain came from the fact it was supposed to be Romulus’s birthday today.

Maybe that’s why he snapped at the both of them. He regretted everything that had slipped out of his mouth during their yelling match.

His eyes glanced over to the bowler hat sat at the table.

“eh, hats aren’t really my thing you see,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus. “but why are you giving it to me of all people?” Janus asked curiously looking at a blushing Romulus. “its been a year since we’ve known each other. I thought it would be nice to get you something.” “but… I didn’t get you anything!” Janus said woefully. “I’ve got you! that’s all I need!” Romulus said as he playfully punched Janus’s arm.

Janus looked away and stared at the grey sheets covering him. Wincing as the ice pack sent spikes of pain into his injury.

God, what would Romulus say if he were here… he wondered who’s side he would take.

Three small knocks sounded from his door. “come in,” he said smally.

The door creaked open to reveal a rather shy Remus. Janus felt a wave of guilt spread through his soul. The poor thing never knew what to do in these kinds of situations. “come here,” he muttered as he patted the space next to him.

Remus gave a smile and made his way over. Tucking himself next to Janus. The scaled side wrapped an arm around the smaller side, holding him close. “deceit?” Remus said. “mph,” he hummed back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Janus glanced to Remus with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a difficult patch right now… I can feel your destructiveness coming of you. I don’t know why you’re like this. But if ever you need to talk… I’m here. Even if I can be fucking weird about it.”

Janus felt the tears beginning to fall once again. at least he still had Remus he guessed. “Janus,” he whispered as he looked to a rather shocked Remus. “what?” “my name… its Janus.”

Remus looked at Janus with wide eyes. He had never known his name. he was pretty sure no one knew his name until this second. “you can’t tell the others. please,” Janus said. “I promise,” Remus said with a sharp nod.

The two stayed like that for what felt like forever until Janus fell asleep in Remus’s embrace. the intrusive side was almost surprised to see Janus looking so peaceful as he slept.

Had this really been how he had once been? His memory was blurry. Not all there, and sometimes he could swear he didn’t do half the things his mind had told him he did.

And for some reason. He felt like he had never seen… Janus… so calm. So… dare he say; peaceful.

I haven't thought of Jules, or Jessie, Or their story in the better part of a year.

Janus was slumped against the wall as he stared at where Virgil and Orpheus’s doors should have been. An empty bottle of wine sat by his side. god… he really was a fuck up. wasn’t he? He couldn’t keep himself in check. Relying on numbing himself with drink or his own power.

“hey… you okay there?” Remus asked Janus. a memory struck him sharply in the chest. why did he have to look so much like Romulus?!

He turned his head back to the wall. Glaring at where the door should have been. he didn’t want to have any memories right now. It would only cause him to cry once again. It seemed to be the only thing he had done for the past week. Waiting and praying that his children would come back…

But he knew that it wouldn’t happen. He had lost almost everything… Romulus…Orpheus…Virgil…his happiness… his love for things…his ability to feel.

The last thing he had was Remus. And that felt like its own personal hell. Don get him wrong. He had grown to love the side like his own child. But when he looks at him now? All he sees Is a young Romulus with a moustache.

He couldn’t look at him anymore. He couldn’t feel anymore. He didn’t want to continue like this… “don’t think like that,” Remus growled, snapping Janus out of his own mind. “you’re supposed to be self-preservation correct? Then help Thomas. Get out of the shadows you’ve trapped yourself in. or at least find a healthier distraction. For god’s sake, go and piss off my brother!” Remus yelled hysterically. “fucking get of the floor and tell me how to help you!”

Janus stared at Remus. Help Thomas? Would it really be a good idea… unless… “I have an idea? But I need your help,” Janus said.

A small spark lighting up in his eyes. Remus grinned as he looked at the deceitful side. He didn’t think he had seen the side looking almost excited about anything.

“what do you need?” “morality’s old outfit. If Thomas really wants to make a fool of himself, I would know… lets sort that out.”

Remus held out a hand and Janus took it. “well, for starters… his name is Patton. Logic is Logan as well. You ought to know that if you’re going to get away with this…”

Yeah… he didn’t need much. but Remus was enough for now. And that was okay.

But warming your hands in mine fills me with terror, That I will lose you, today, or tomorrow, in two years, or seventy.

Janus was beyond frustrated. What would it take for them to listen to him!? he had been trying his best to get the others to finally listen to him. God damn it he even tried his own way at the court room to get their host to listen to him. But of course, he was the villain. He was always the fucking villain.

“hey Janus guess what I found-“Remus said as he skipped into his room before freezing.

He had spent the past couple hours in the imagination. So, it was only reasonable that he wouldn’t know what was happening. That didn’t stop him from worrying and rushing over.

“sorry, I shouldn’t be crying over something like this…” “don’t apologise for having fucking feelings,” Remus said as he patted Janus’s shoulder.

They sat quietly next to each other. Neither said anything or a while. Just basking in each other’s company.

It was reaching the half an hour mark when Janus remembered. “why where you here again?” “oh right!” Remus grinned before reaching into his leather bag. Janus would never nor would he want to know what that bag was made of… that didn’t stop him from having suspicions though. “here they are!”

Janus felt himself lose his breath. “I found them in the ruins of some old castle, pretty cool right?”

Two matching silver crowns laid in Remus’s lap. One imprinted with a sword and shield. The other with his own symbol. The snake’s eyes however being a single ruby and emerald. “I guess you have questions?” Janus said in what was barely an audible whisper. “you bet your fucking ass I want answers. Tell me everything, and don’t think of lying to me Janus.”

He reached out and cradled the crown in his hand, took a deep breath. And began to recall everything he had tried so hard to repress over the past three years. Coming onto four. Remus listened closely. Taking in everything Janus said. Thoughts and feelings swarmed his mind and body.

But he couldn’t make himself angry. No matter how hard he tried. As Janus was sitting by his side. Smiling and laughing and looking years younger than he had looked in well… forever.

“he left and I broke. No matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t be happy without him there,” Janus said as he looked over to Remus.

the green coloured side looked at Janus. Both had tears in their eyes. “is that why you couldn’t look at me for so long? Because I reminded you of him?” he said, voice cracking. “yeah… god between you and roman, you really looked like him. And it hurt. But… I guess I just needed to get over it, like a wall I suppose. The first couple times can be hard, but you’ve just got to keep pushing forwards,” Janus said.

He looked down to the crown in his hands. he gestured for Remus to take it from his hands. “no,” Remus said as he laid the other crown in Janus’s lap, “they mean far more to you than me.”

For the first time in a long time… Janus was at peace. Sure, things were far from fine. God knows it couldn’t be worse. But right now? He was content with just having Remus.

“If you have any more questions… ill be happy to answer them.

When even the Earth has numbered days. I can give just one thing that stays.

he fucked up. there standing in front of him was a teary-eyed Remus… oh god… what the fuck had he done. “do you really think I’m evil?” Remus said as tears poured down his face. “Remus- “Janus said as he reached out an arm. he flinched back as Remus summoned his mace. He held it in his hands. malic filled his eyes. he took a couple steps back. “follow me. and I won’t hesitate,” Remus said as he made his way over to the door that split the mind palace.

“Remus please. I’m sorry. Please. I can’t lose you too… please- “ “maybe you should have been more careful deceit,” Remus snarled before opening the door and slamming it behind himself.

Janus felt himself crumple to the ground; he didn’t know how much he was shaking. He didn’t care that he could barely breath.

He was alone… it was cold… there was no one. He was no one… nothing mattered. he felt nothing.

He wanted his king…he wanted someone to tell him he was okay. He wanted someone to look at him and tell him to get a grip.

he wanted Virgil… but he wouldn’t forgive him… he wanted Orpheus… but he would never trust him… he wanted Remus… but he would never look at him again… he wanted Romulus… but he knew he was never coming back…

and as he cried himself to sleep on the floor…. He had never felt more like a monster.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too. I am now a part of you.

Janus winced as the metal slid over his skin. Small trickles of ruby red fell from his arm like red stained tears. Screaming from his skin told him to stop. but he couldn’t.

He had been alone for a couple months now. It was an hour away from midnight. Signifying the death of his lover. he wanted a hug. He wanted someone to hold him as he cried.

What he wanted he didn’t deserve. He was the villain. He was the monster in the closet. and it was fine. At least he was something. Even if it hurt…

He hadn’t been summoned in such a long time. It had been the barely less since he had seen another side. he was scared that they had forgotten about him. Some nights, like today, he could hear laughter coming from the other side. And that was enough for him to know he wasn’t wanted.

They were fine without him. maybe it would be better to go completely. Joining Romulus instead of staying where he wasn’t wanted.

The empty wine bottles that were around him no longer were able to do their job.

He shook as the cold air froze his skin. It had been a while since he had turned the thermostat down. He deserved it though.

The thought of being able to see Romulus filled his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling slightly giddy at the thought. Getting to see his best friend of so many years once again, but for eternity.

A small weak laugh filled the air as Janus stood up and made his way over to his room. He looked down at the bowler hat that sat neatly at the end of his bed.

He picked it up and dusted it off before placing it on his head. Trying his best to ignore the shiny objects that rested in their own cases in the back of the room.

The only question was where. Where would he go to do this? an idea struck him in the chest… yeah… that would be perfect… all he needed was to make a plan. no letters were needed, the others wouldn’t care enough to wonder where he had gone.

From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't behold. So cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be.

It had been a struggle, trying to sneak into the imagination. But it had been much harder to find what he was looking for.

The buildings were broken. Barely standing. Vines and shrubbery grew out of cracks. It broke his heart to see that this is what had become of his kingdom. he thought once that it would stand forever. But nothing ever did. Did it?

Janus chuckled as memories filled his mind.

The streets him and Romulus would wonder for hours, talking and smiling with their subjects. the town square where he had danced at every Halloween with everyone around him. A wide smile on his face.

The castle grounds where he had danced wit the young boy who had thanked him for looking after their king. he wondered what that boy was doing… was he still alive? Was he dead?

Then the castle came into view, it wouldn’t be long now. the sun slowly had begun to set. The golden huge filling the sky like it knew what was going to happen. As if it were saying a final goodbye. He felt tears swell in his eyes.

Only five minuets later, he was standing on the weather-beaten balcony that had the perfect view of the city below.

And then he choked out a sob as ghostly figures, white wisps of phantoms filled the streets. Each holding a lantern before sending them up and up into the sky.

They shone like small red, green and yellow stars…

He looked down to the small bottle in his hand. He popped the lid open and drank its contents… he would be okay… he would see Romulus again. He lowered himself to the ground. Lying face up and staring at the sky flooded with fake stars.

And slowly his vision became blurry. “I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too I am now a part of you. From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole.” He sang weakly into the air…

“oh you are the start of me,” a voice sung back clearly. a sob left Janus with a smile on his face… he was home.

Romulus held out a hand. he took it without hesitation. Being pulled into a hug and very quickly a kiss. warmth, love and happiness flooded him as happy tears poured down both their faces. “hello my queen,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus with eyes filled with longing. “hello my king,” Janus said before bursting into tears.

So, cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be. Oh, you are the start of me, Oh, you are the start of me

“are you sure this is the right way?” Virgil asked concerned. “hell yeah emo-bitch!” Remus said excitedly.

He was taking them to see the lights that had begun in this area since well…forever. Always at the same time. Every year on the same day.

“I feel bad were not bringing Janus,” Patton said. “that asshole? Fuck him,” Orpheus growled.

Virgil paused for a brief second. Glancing at the castle. “hey… I think someone’s over there,” a figure outlined by the lowering sun stood on the balcony. it struck Remus quickly as to who it was. he felt himself filling with anger that seemed to plant deeply in his chest.

But… then it seemed to split in two. There was a figure standing next to Janus. And a song filled the air.

They all seemed to be thinking the same thing as they surged forwards. Bolting to the castle, hoping they were wrong as repressed memories filled their minds.

And then they stopped. Each one of them shaking as they saw the unmoving body of self-preservation lying on the ground. his eyes glazed over and his chest unmoving.

Two shadowy figures danced in each other’s embrace as they laughed. Peppering kisses on each other. a warm and sad feeling filled their chests.

This was the first time in years that most of them had seen Janus smiling. And he was in his lovers embrace.

“goodbye Janus,” Patton said as he waved over. “cya, on the other side Jan,” Virgil said… silent tears poured down his face. Logan gave a sharp nod and a small smile. Remus and roman gave a small wave. Not trusting themselves to speak. “take care of pops dad,” Orpheus muttered, his voice cracking as he did so.

“goodbye,” Janus’s voice echoed in their minds as the shadowy figures faded away. Smiling and holding one another with wide smiles.

Oh, you are the start of me

#Janus sanders #Roman sanders #Sander sides #remus sanders #patton sanders #Virgil sanders #logan sanders #kingceit #sander sides angst #angst #janus angst #tw suicide #tw self harm

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ottelis · 4 years

Photo

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii.

08—the world will be yours

july 23rd, 1968

04:09

caen, france

Eliott and Lucas haven't stopped talking all night, their stories and laughter gently leading the moon across the sky. Eliott knows she's smiling down on them, knows that she doesn't want to set just yet, knows that she wants to watch over these two boys a moment or two longer. He wonders if Lucas can feel that same love from the moon in the way it's shining a little brighter, how it doesn't seem to fracture as much as it streams through the window. He wonders if Lucas knows that the moon is rejoicing along with them, bathing in the warm water of sweet memory. Lucas is smiling wider than Eliott has seen him smile since before everything happened, so he thinks Lucas can feel it all. The moon nearly weeping tears of joy, Eliott's heart repairing itself stitch by stitch, the world becoming tranquil and calm, letting itself sigh. Eliott feels—no, knows —that him and Lucas are meant to be close. They're meant to look into each other's eyes, to smile at each other, to touch. It doesn't quite matter what lies beneath every touch, what they may be hiding behind their smiles, what they may find in each other's eyes. What matters is that they're in the same room, that they're breathing the same air, that they're ready to set the world aright again. That's how Eliott knows, after all. When they're together, when they're at each other's side, the world spins a little more slowly, flows purely and perfectly like water. The world is so much more beautiful when he looks into Lucas's eyes, and that has to mean something.

"Could you find Polaris at this time of night?" Lucas asks quietly, sweetly, bringing Eliott out of his thoughts. His eyes are lost in the world outside, trying to break through the glass to get a better view.

"Of course," Eliott nods. "It's constant. It's always in the same spot."

"I think the sun is starting to rise," Lucas replies. "You can't really see it in the daylight, right?"

Eliott looks out the window, too, his eyes immediately finding Polaris. The sky is lightening around it, and it starts to blend in. "Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't," he shrugs, turning his gaze back to Lucas. But he's still gazing outside, his eyes wide and soft, an early morning sun. "I haven't really looked for Polaris lately," Eliott admits, his voice low and thin. "I don't know why. Maybe I tried to deal with everything changing by mapping the stars that were foreign to me. I thought that that could help me navigate my own parts that I don't recognize. I thought that maybe sometimes the sky doesn't know what it is, either. What it's made of. What it's worth to certain people."

"Maybe it doesn't," Lucas agrees thoughtfully, wistfully. "Maybe it's too busy trying to carry the weight of… billions of wishes to worry about why it has to shoulder it all in the first place."

"Maybe," Eliott mutters, too quiet for Lucas to hear.

"Do you think God created wishes so people that don't know who He is could still pray to Him?" Lucas asks, reverent and soft. "And He made stars to hold all those wishes?"

"Maybe," Eliott repeats, a little louder this time. "But does that mean the stars aren't for everyone?"

Lucas tilts his head ever so slightly, his brow furrowing. "Everyone who's heard of God has doubted Him at some point. Maybe they're supposed to be like little gods. Maybe they can turn to them for a moment, until they decide to believe in Him again, or to hold onto the stars for a little longer."

"They're like a little path," Eliott suggests, smiling at the thought. "You can always follow it in different directions whenever it branches off."

Lucas smiles, too, sweet and content, his eyes so filled with stars Eliott wishes he could live in the galaxy within them.

"It's nice to see you smile," Eliott says, the words spilling off his tongue. But he doesn't mind. "I've missed it."

Lucas looks at Eliott then, his smile faltering only to widen and brighten into a grin. His head droops as he tries to hide it, but it still widens into Eliott's favorite smile—the shy one, the one accompanied by a small, stifled laugh. Even before he knew he loved Lucas, seeing him smile like this meant he was so happy he was afraid he would lose it if he didn't hide it. But over the years, he doesn't cover his mouth with his hand, and he doesn't tilt his head as low. He's becoming less afraid, and Eliott has the privilege to see Lucas's walls come down again. Maybe, at some point, they can go back to that brief yet brilliant time when Lucas held his head high and laughed with his whole chest, when he trusted Eliott enough to protect him and his happiness. Eliott hopes so, even if he can't cradle Lucas's heart in his hands like before. As long as Lucas can be as happy as he deserves to be.

"I've missed it, too," Lucas admits quietly as he lifts his head, his smile shrinking ever so slightly.

"Smiling?" Eliott asks, somewhat knowing that that is what Lucas means, somewhat hoping that he'll be wrong.

But Lucas nods, looking out the window again. "I haven't smiled much since you came back. Chloé's noticed, and so has Maman, and all of our friends. I couldn't tell them what was wrong, of course, but… I'm glad we can be Lucas and Eliott again," his smile starts to come back again, and it puts Eliott at ease. "I've forgiven you and I've forgiven myself. I can be happy again. I am happy."

Eliott grins, his heart warming and glowing like a star in his chest. "I'm happy, too."

Lucas's smile stays on his face, but there's something else in his eyes—something pensive, something close to mournful. "If you had told me the day we kissed," he begins, his voice quiet. "That in just a few months our lives would fall apart... I wouldn't have believed you for a second. You were what I needed, and I had you the way I wanted to. I never thought I would lose you."

"But I'm here now, Lucas," Eliott replies. "And, in that case, let's not promise that we won't ever lose each other again. We never could've promised that in the first place. Let's promise, that we'll always find each other in the end. Because I don't know about you, Lucas, but I just need you close to me."

Lucas's eyes smile again. "I need you close to me, too. It's a good thing we live right next to each other."

Eliott lets out a laugh, nodding. "It's convenient, that's for sure," his smile falls again though as a thought comes to his mind. "But you're going to school soon. Then you'll marry Chloé. Is she going to be in Paris with you?"

Lucas's smile falls again, too. "We're… actually talking about moving the wedding to next year. That way she can finish lyceé and I can maybe find us an apartment in Paris. It's not set yet, but she seems to be willing to wait."

"Oh," Eliott replies dumbly, his eyes wide.

"She was actually the one to pull me aside and say that we might be rushing into this," Lucas continues. "I was a bit shocked at first, but after we talked about it for a bit I agreed with her. She'll get her Christmas wedding, just not this Christmas."

"Okay," Eliott replies, still dumbfounded. "Then, why did you tell me that she was going to go dress shopping soon earlier? I mean, you didn't talk to her between then and now because we've been together since."

Lucas shrugs, sighing. "I guess I didn't want to give bad news about Chloé when we had more important things to talk about."

Eliott nods, understanding. "But everything's okay between you two?"

Lucas nods back, the corner of his mouth quirking ever so slightly up. "Everything's okay. We just have to break the news to Maman now."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Eliott reassures him. "She'll have even more time to make her baby boy's wedding perfect."

Lucas's smile spreads, almost unevenly across his face. "You're right," he confirms, nodding once. "I think even six months of planning wasn't quite enough time for her. She's been really stressed lately. Maybe waiting a year would be better for her, too."

"See?" Eliott smiles kindly. "It's all working out."

Lucas nods again, rather weakly. "It's all working out," he repeats, as if he was reassuring himself.

"Is something wrong, Lucas?" Eliott asks quietly, carefully.

Lucas tenses, but he melts it away almost as soon as it takes over him. "Yes, of course," he replies, half-smiling. "I think I'm disappointed that I have to wait longer to marry Chloé. I would've married her yesterday if I could have. No parties, no tuxedos, no dresses. Just us. But that's not what she wants, so."

Eliott feels disappointment and pride swirl and mix in his chest, leaving him with a bitter, sharp ache. "It's okay to be disappointed," he says, though, thinking of the ache as just another pill to swallow. "I'm sure she is, too. But I think it'll all be worth it when you see her walking down the aisle. My papa cried when he saw my maman. I think you'll be a crier, too."

Lucas smiles weakly, a dreamy gaze filling his eyes and creating another galaxy there. "I think so, too," he agrees, his voice distant and wistful. "She'll look so beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world."

Eliott smiles, too, hearing his father say almost the exact same words. "If you cry, I'm definitely going to make fun of you for it in my best man speech," he jokes, hoping to make Lucas smile a little wider.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Who said you were going to be my best man?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Eliott drops his mouth open, clapping his hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You're telling me you've asked someone else to be your best man?"

Lucas nods gravely. "I asked Basile the other day. And he said 'yes.'"

"Basile?!" Eliott cries, but unable to keep his laughter from spilling out. " Our Basile? You chose him over me?!"

Lucas is fully laughing now, curling up on himself as his laughter ripples through him in waves. He nods, unable to give a response.

"Well, you'll need to give Basile some bad news, too," Eliott scoffs, folding his arms. He's too overcome with laughter, too, to be discernible enough, though.

They haven't laughed this hard all night, but they're both willing to accept that exhaustion is probably the thing that's tickling them the most right now. But they let the laughter take over, letting it stretch and pull their ribs like an accordion until the only noise that comes out is a breathy wheeze. Fireworks go off in their chest, the finale to the symphony they've played all night, exploding in sparkling blooms of pain. But it's a pain they both can bear, a pain they're familiar with and have grown to love. A pain that eases with slow, steady breathing, with the gentle fluttering of eyelashes brushing against each other as their eyes slowly close, with the warm and soft cloud of dreamy sleep.

Eliott can tell Lucas is getting sleepy, and he smiles to himself as he adds one more thing to the list of things that hasn't changed. Lucas still yawns really wide, still shakes his head a little once his mouth closes. His eyelids are still heavy and hooded. His eyes are still a bleary streak of blue beneath them (these eyes remind Eliott of the blue that precedes dawn and succeeds dusk; the sky waking up and falling asleep). He sighs, long and heavy, his mouth falling ever so slightly open. Lucas was never good at keeping himself awake once he gets tired, always falling into it as easily as he always fell into his mother's embrace. Eliott reaches out and shakes him gently.

"I'll walk you home," he offers, carefully climbing the short distance down from his windowsill. He holds out his hand hopefully, and he smiles when Lucas takes it. The shape of Lucas's hand is still so familiar, and it still fits so well in Eliott's hand. But he makes sure he's the first to draw his hand away once Lucas's feet land softly against the wooden floor. Lucas's fingers catch on his ever so slightly, but they curl up tightly, his hand becoming a fist resting at his side.

They step carefully as they exit Eliott's room, the floor silent beneath them. Eliott knows they've probably woken up his mother a few times over the night, but he doesn't want them to create even more disturbances. They don't, thankfully, reaching the front door without incident. Eliott opens the door for Lucas, but he lingers a moment.

"You don't have to walk with me," he mutters, his voice as silvery as the fading moon.

"I want to," Eliott shrugs. "This is our first night as best friends again. I don't want to say goodbye to you until I have to."

Lucas half-smiles again, his gaze falling down to his feet. In the darkness, Eliott thinks he sees the faintest blush on Lucas's cheeks. (Maybe he's just imagining it, or maybe the small rays of moonlight is playing tricks on him.) "Okay," Lucas nods, looking back up at him. "You can walk me home."

Eliott's lips form a clumsy, tired smile. "Okay."

He waits for Lucas to walk through the door before following him, stepping out onto the front porch. The wood here creaks, but Eliott doesn't mind as much now. It's a little comforting, hearing the planks rasp gently beneath their feet shatters the eerie silence consuming the world right now; the quiet of a deep yet dreamless sleep.

"It's beautiful out here," Lucas says, pausing at the porch steps. He's facing south, towards the road, towards the forest. He looks so large standing in front of it, yet he's not a threatening presence before it. He's just another shadow, another patch of darkness. Eliott approaches him, standing tall beside him.

"It is," he agrees reverently, his eyes widening.

Distantly, ever so distantly, Eliott could see the faint lights of the heart of the city, glowing like little fireflies. The sky is darkest where they're both facing, too, the stars shining brighter and clearer as they stand stark against it. It's strange, Eliott thinks, how light drowns out the dark, even when it's outnumbered. He can't quite think of a better word for it than "strange," either. Maybe "wonderful."

"Your window has the wrong view, El," Lucas teases, smirking. "We could've stared at this all night."

Eliott shakes his head, chuckling. "The ocean helps my view, though."

"I prefer the forest," Lucas replies quietly. "The trees." He doesn't need to explain why.

"Will you ever love the ocean again?" Eliott asks, even quieter. "Like you did before?"

Lucas shrugs, a smile filled with both hope and doubt barely stretching across his face. "Maybe. Once I heal a little more."

"When you're ready, we could go swimming in there together," Eliott tries, ready to retract the offer if he needs to, if Lucas isn't as ready as Eliott thinks he is.

"Maybe someday," Lucas responds after a moment.

His words, on the surface, are vague, imprecise. But there's a promise in his voice that Eliott would recognize anywhere. Usually, his heart would swell or stir or sprint, but in this moment, it simply sighs . Content, safe.

"I wanna go home," Lucas says, then. His tone isn't annoyed or bossy, just exhausted. His hand brushes against Eliott's, pauses for a moment, then tangles itself in his. It tugs Eliott gently forward, down the stairs and into the cool, gray sand. It almost puts him in a trance, almost brings him back to some nights like this not too long ago, ones that have bled together into a fog. The only constant was Lucas and Polaris, and the other details didn't matter then. But, above and overall, it makes him smile .

"Sorry I'm dragging you," Lucas mutters, taking his hand away before Eliott can protest. He holds it in his other hand—not squeezing it, but still fidgeting with it, controlling it.

"It's okay," Eliott reassures, pretending not to notice Lucas's hands. "I know you're tired."

If Lucas replied, Eliott didn't hear him.

They get to Lucas's house faster than Eliott expected, and he can't explain why. The night is quickly coming to an end, and Lucas's eyes are quickly closing. Eliott—selfishly, he'll admit—wants to keep Lucas up a few minutes longer so they can watch the sunrise together. But he knows Lucas needs to sleep, and frankly, he does, too.

"Thanks for hearing me out," Lucas says as they linger by his front door. He has a small yet sweet, sleepy smile on his face. "And thanks for waiting for me to come around. You didn't have to."

"Thanks for hearing me out, too," Eliott nods, smiling back at him. "And I would've waited forever if you asked me to. And I would've done it because I want to, not because I have to."

Lucas's smile quirks up slightly, the smallest wrinkles forming by his eyes. Suddenly, he envelops Eliott in a hug, burying his face in his chest.

Eliott eases into the hug, letting his eyes close and his chin rest on top of Lucas's head. He holds Lucas tightly, offering him sanctuary, if only for a moment. He hasn't held Lucas like this in such a long time. He hadn't realized how much he's missed it. He thinks Lucas's warmth, the memory of it, will help him fall asleep a little faster for days, even weeks to come. He prays that his own warmth can do the same for Lucas.

"Sweet dreams," Eliott wishes into Lucas's hair, the strands soft and familiar as they brush against his lips.

"Good morning, Ellie," Lucas replies; a strange goodbye, but a goodbye that warms Eliott's chest with a soft, fuzzy light. He can feel Lucas smiling, too.

"Good morning, Lulu," he returns with a chuckle, tears springing in his eyes.

He waits for Lucas to pull away first, but he's trembling in his arms. He inhales sharply, a quiet sob, bunching Eliott's shirt in his hands. He holds Eliott tighter, nearly forcing all the air out of him. Eliott holds him back, almost just as tightly, hearing another hiccup or two from him. He doesn't know why Lucas is crying, but it makes the tears already brimming in his eyes spill over, silent and cold on his cheeks.

Lucas finally pulls away all too suddenly, quickly swiping the tears off his cheeks. He opens his door and enters without another word, but with a glance over his shoulder at Eliott. He smiles, sincere and sure, then slowly shuts the door behind him. Everything is silent, but peacefully so. The world still sleeps, its dreams beginning to fade. It'll wake soon, but him and Lucas will be fast asleep, their hearts reunited and both of their minds at peace. Eliott smiles, too.

He falls asleep that morning wishing he had told Lucas that he's realized he never needed things to be normal again. All he ever wanted, all he ever needed was his best friend, and he feels he can never be afraid again with Lucas by his side.

july 23rd, 1968

13:13

caen, france

Eliott wakes slowly, blinking away the thick haze of sleep from his eyes, his mind. His evening, night with Lucas honestly felt like a dream, like one of a handful he's had since he came home. Dreams where there was never a tear to stitch back up, or tempestuous minds to quiet. Dreams where the world as they knew it never lurched to a stop. But Eliott knows last night was real. He still feels Lucas's warmth, feels the shadow of his shape in his arms, against his chest. He hears every word of reassurance they spoke to each other, every bout of laughter that had long been waiting to meet the air, the world outside. Eliott smiles, savoring this moment he's found himself in. Where there once was a seam between dream and reality, there is now a flawless canvas, a clean slate. A second chance lies before both him and Lucas, promising to keep their footsteps light and their paths intertwined. Who else gets to start over like they can?

Something pulls him out of his reverie, though. A sound. The sound that for years has only lived in his memory. The sound he long thought had been buried with his father.

His mother is singing.

Her voice isn't loud enough in his ears to discern what song she's singing, but his ears have been so hungry for it that they recognize it even through layers of wood and dust. They latch onto it, drinking in any portion of it within their reach.

Eliott sits up, slowly approaches his door to see if he can hear better. She must be downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Through the crack in his door, he can hear enough to start piecing together a melody. Once he does, he's astonished that he didn't recognize it sooner. The lyrics come to his mind, to the tip of his tongue.

J'attendrai, le jour et la nuit, j'attendrai toujours ton retour

The song his mother sang to herself as his father gave everything for their country. She'd sing it to Eliott at night when he couldn't sleep when he was younger, and it never failed to make his eyelids heavy. She sang it that last Christmas they all had together, her voice warmer than the stove and oven combined. And she's singing it now, long after she's lost her husband, long after she nearly lost her son.

Her voice is different now. Still warm and round and beautiful, but frailer, almost clumsy from lack of use. She doesn't seem to sing it out of relief or joy either, like she used to. Before, she sang it knowing everything she had waited for had returned to her. Now, it's hopeful. She has more things to wait for now, but she knows that they'll come.

You may have my face, Eliott, his father's voice echoes in his mind. But that heart and everything else inside you? That shine in your eyes? That all came from your mother.

Eliott slowly sits himself down on the floor, emotion flooding his chest and his eyes. Tears start spilling, but he's smiling so widely every inch of his face begins to ache. He tries to stifle his own sobs in case it drowns out the sound of his mother's voice. They come out, still, but only in quiet hiccups and sharp risings and fallings of his chest.

He hasn't heard his mother sing in more than two years. He's come to the crushing realization so many times that he could never remember the last time he'd heard her sing. He's wished on a thousand—dare he say a million —stars that he could hear her sing again, even if it was only half of a note, even if she was off-key. He's sung that same song to himself night after night in that horrific institution but it never soothed him like it could when she sang it. Since he's come home, he's felt a nagging guilt that his mother is too worried about him to feel light enough to sing. But he can leave all that behind now. His mother is singing again!

As she starts singing the last few lines, Eliott leaps to his feet, opening his door and rushing down the stairs. She doesn't seem to hear him though, her voice not wavering as it travels throughout the house. He sees her standing at the kitchen sink, filling the kettle with water. She's smiling softly, her voice becoming more beautiful as it escapes through her curved lips.

Eliott bites back another sob as he waits for her to put the kettle on the stove, or to see him out of the corner of her eye; whichever came first. But both happen at the same time as she sings the very last line.

Eliott bounds towards her, pulling her into a crushing yet relieved hug.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks with concern in her voice, hesitantly hugging him back.

"Nothing," he replies, truthfully. With a sob, he explains, "You're singing again, Maman."

"Oh," she says, slightly startled. She holds him a little tighter, still unsure. "Oh," she repeats more quietly, almost a chuckle.

"I've missed hearing you sing," Eliott says, his voice thick and breaking. "I've missed it so much."

She sniffles, breathing out a deep, slow sigh. She rubs soothing circles into his back, rests her chin on his shoulder. She starts to tremble as her own tears roll down her cheeks, so Eliott holds her tighter. "I think I've missed it, too," she chokes out. She sobs, then, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Maman?" he asks, chuckling lightly as he pulls away. "You're singing, so you're happy."

"I am happy," she nods, sniffling. "I listened to you and Lucas talking and laughing all night, and I just knew you were so happy. And when you're happy, I'm happy."

"We kept you up?" Eliott asks quietly, his heart swelling and constricting at the same time.

"You two have kept me up for years," she laughs. "Papa and I would stay awake and hear you two chatting away but we hardly ever minded. You were happy. And that was all that mattered. Besides, you know how Lucas is. His laugh is more of a shout than anything."

Eliott laughs as he tries to smile, but it wobbles too much as more tears roll down his cheeks.

"Now, there were also plenty of nights where we just wanted to sleep," his mother admits, but it makes Eliott laugh. She laughs, too, wiping the tears from his face. "But most of the time, we were happy because our son was happy."

"Your son is happy, Maman," Eliott replies, and it feels so good to say that. "I have my best friend back. And you're singing again. What more could I ask for?"

His mother beams , and through her tears, she suggests, "How about some breakfast?"

Eliott laughs, nearly chokes on it, then nods. "I'd love some breakfast, Maman."

Before he can say another word, his mother pulls a plate from the cabinet and starts filling it with food—golden, steaming eggs and rich, ripe strawberries and warm, perfectly toasted bread. The kettle whistles as she sets the plate on the table, and she doesn't waste a moment to start steeping a cup of tea for him, too. Eliott almost feels overwhelmed, but he can't force his lips into a frown, even if he tried with all his might. So, he finds his seat at the table and starts eating, letting it overwhelm his tongue and fill his stomach. He starts taking sips of his tea, too. It's familiar, floral, warms his soul.

His mother sits across from him, eating as well, but watching him with a fondness and pride that he's missed so much it nearly stops his breath.

And when he looks over at his father's chair, it seems to glow, seems to look at him and smile.

His mother wipes away his tears, and he feels his father's arms wrap around him from some distant place, some distant life.

august 6th, 1968

12:00

caen, france

It was Lucas's idea, visiting Eliott's father's grave. Eliott isn't sure where the idea came from, and he's surprisingly unashamed to admit that it's not necessarily a good one. The last time they were there together was at the funeral, the moment Eliott finally broke and fell into Lucas's arms. He didn't think he was ready to relive that moment, but Lucas was somehow able to convince him otherwise.

It's strange, sitting in the passenger's seat of Lucas's car. For some reason, Eliott could never quite picture either of them driving. He's so full of memories of them racing each other everywhere that he must never have considered any other possibility. Not to mention the fact that they're on their way to the cemetery. He doesn't like that Lucas is quiet either, and that he doesn't have the radio turned on. But he knows that Lucas has trouble finding the right words to say, and he knows that Lucas has a talent for using silence to his advantage. Eliott holds the small bunch of flowers a little tighter in his grip, the stems soft to the touch but sturdy under the slight pressure. He hopes for strength.

"Really, Eliott," Lucas finally says, as soon as he parks. "If we need to leave now or at any point, I can take you home. I… I know how hard this is for you."

Eliott sighs, shaking his head. "I think I'm okay."

Lucas smiles, small but reassuring. "Okay."

Silence falls between them again as they get out of the car and weave their way through the rows of graves, almost traveling through time. They pass some so weathered they can't quite read the inscriptions, others cracked or slightly burnt, all with unfamiliar names and dates. But as they travel further, they're less damaged, and the names begin to stir something in the back of their minds.

Eliott's steps begin to slow as they approach the grave they're looking for, and Lucas thankfully matches his pace. Eliott knows that this journey will never be easy, even though he's trekked this path several times now. He isn't sure if Lucas being by his side is helping him as much as it usually does, but he's still glad that he's here.

He isn't as lost as he used to be before. Now, he just looks for the wilted remains of the last flowers he left there. It always makes his heart sink a little, seeing them resting lifeless beneath his father's name. How many flowers have withered since he died, flowers that he never got to see? But, his soul reminds him. How many have bloomed?

He finds the few purple irises he brought last time easily, their petals now shriveled and tinged with gray. His eyes travel up, fleeting over the inscription before they find his father's name. He's almost memorized every grain of the stone, every imperfection forever staining the man he always thought was the closest thing to perfect someone could get. He sighs, and he feels Lucas gaze watching him carefully.

When no words burden his tongue, and Lucas stands silent beside him, Eliott kneels and carefully picks up the wilted flowers, almost flinching when they nearly turn to dust in his hand. He replaces them with the ones he's brought today; white, velvety roses with the faintest, sweetest perfume. He wonders how long these flowers will survive, how long they'll keep guard of his father's final resting place.

Once the flowers have been placed, Eliott lifts his hand and lets his fingers smooth over the dates, and the final, sealing words below it.

Un vaillant soldat, un mari dévoué et un père aimant

"Did I ever tell you what his last words were?" he hears himself ask, his hand dropping into his lap.

"No," Lucas answers behind him, quiet and slightly startled.

"'God loves us, our happy family,'" Eliott recites, and he can't help hearing his father's voice in his own—tearful, weak, hopeful. "Then he fell asleep. And when he woke up, God took him home. And away from us."

Lucas kneels next to him, not saying another word. He holds out his hand and it reaches Eliott's slowly, waiting patiently for a response. Eliott lets his hand slip into Lucas's, but it still lies limply, cold and mourning. Lucas doesn't squeeze, just holds on tight enough that he supports it, like an achor or a knot.

"How did you bear it?" Eliott asks fraily. "Losing two fathers?"

"I had people to be strong for," Lucas replies after a quiet, heavy moment.. "When Papa left, I had to be strong for Maman. And when your papa passed away, I had to be strong for you. Even when I didn't feel strong."

"You can be strong without feeling like it, Lucas," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand once, ignoring the gaping hole Lucas has left in his chest. "I know you. You feel something and you find a dark corner to tuck it into so you don't have to worry about it and no one else will see it, either."

Lucas presses his lips together, his eyes glazing over slightly; lost in thought, in denial once again. Eliott squeezes his hand again, and Lucas looks back up at him. Their gaze locks for a moment, and Eliott can see the pain Lucas is trying to hide. Lucas's eyes are like once fine fabric that's been torn and sewn back together too many times, a scar that never fades like it should. Eliott could get lost in those eyes, but Lucas would never let him get so lost that he couldn't find his way back again.

"It's hard to wear your heart on your sleeve," Eliott continues, hope rising in his chest when Lucas doesn't look away. "And you can hide it sometimes, if you feel like it's in danger or you don't want a certain person to see it. But how can we know our own hearts if we don't let ourselves look at it, or study it, or just hold it close? Your heart sits alone in your chest, Lucas, when it needs you as much as you need it."

Lucas's eyes are wet now, and his hand is clinging onto Eliott's. "I know," he nods weakly, sighing shakily. "It's just been so long…"

"It hasn't," Eliott shakes his head, smiling kindly. "I saw it the other day when we finally talked. It was right here," he runs his thumb over the thin, pale skin of Lucas's wrist with the lightest touch he can manage. Lucas doesn't flinch. Eliott smiles wider, saying, "And it was beating and red and alive. It had a few scars, sure, but I could still recognize it. It was still one of the hearts that's been beating beside mine my whole life. It was still yours."

A single, solitary tear rolls down Lucas's cheek, but he's smiling. His gaze travels over to Eliott's father's grave, and an unreadable expression flashes across his face.

"You know," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand again. "Maman always says that he's proud of me, but I think he's proud of you, too."

Lucas stifles a sob, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. He rests his head on Eliott's shoulder, his body beginning to tremble. Eliott feels tears in his eyes, too, as he pulls Lucas closer.

"He couldn't stand you when we were younger," Eliott recalls, and Lucas laughs through his tears. "He thought you were grumpy and overdramatic and that you had a bad temper."

"He wasn't wrong," Lucas admits, chuckling.

"But he thought I was good for you," Eliott continues. "He thought I did a good job of keeping you in check. He thought we balanced each other out really well."

"When did I become tolerable for him?" Lucas asks.

"I think he liked you more and more as we grew up," Eliott answers, growing quiet as memories begin to trickle into his mind. "I thought he was gonna kill your papa when he found out that he abandoned you and your maman. He said that he knew that the war changed him, but he never thought it changed him like that. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry before. Or since, I think."

Lucas tenses a bit, but he exhales slowly and relaxes. "I don't have the strength to be angry at him anymore. If he lost all his love in the war, then I never had a chance. He would never love me. He would never care about me. But I had Maman. And I had you and your parents. He's not worth my anger. He never was. I wish I had known that sooner. I wasted so much breath and so many tears on him."

"It's okay," is all Eliott can manage in reply. He isn't sure why words seem to fail him now.

"It's strange," Lucas says after another moment. "Your papa had me under his wing for only a few years, but when he died, I felt like I had lost a father. A true one, a real one."

"He had a talent for loving," Eliott replies, tears filling his eyes again. "He could make you feel like he's loved you for lifetimes with a single smile."

"That must be why I felt like I'd died, too, when I heard you tap on my window," Lucas concludes quietly. "But multiple of my selves died in that moment. Infinitely many."

"Maybe he's proof that your parallel universes exist. How else could so much love live inside him?"

He feels Lucas smile. "Maybe." His smile falls just as quickly as it came, but it's another moment before he speaks again. "I'm afraid of the day my papa will die. I'm afraid of how I'll feel. I don't want to mourn a man like him, but how can I not mourn my own father?"

"Grief is a strange thing," Eliott replies. "I don't think we get to choose who we mourn for, or what it makes us do, or how long it lives inside us. I think it chooses for us and we don't have any other choice but to feel it. And if you do find yourself mourning him when the time comes, I don't think it makes you a bad person. You'll just be grieving."

Lucas nods, thinking for a moment. "For some reason, I hope it isn't painful for him," Lucas mutters, almost of Eliott's earshot. "Not like it was for me."

Words fail Eliott again, and his mouth becomes dry. He smooths his thumb over Lucas's wrist again, and he still doesn't flinch.

"I hope you'll be there when it happens," Lucas sniffles, taking the burden of response off of Eliott's shoulders. But he chuckles lightly. "You owe me."

Eliott smiles weakly, letting his eyes close. "Don't worry. I'll be there, and if I'm not, I'll go through hell to make sure I'll get to you eventually."

"Thank you," Lucas replies, lifting his head to look at Eliott. "In advance, I guess."

"Well, then you're welcome in advance," Eliott teases, smirking.

Lucas chuckles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly. "You piss me off, but you're my best friend so I'm stuck with you."

Eliott can't help but feel the sweet, familiar warmth that blooms in his chest. It threatens to send a fierce blush up to his cheeks, so he tries his best to hold it back. Thankfully, Lucas doesn't seem to notice. "Once you marry Chloé, I'll be out of your hair."

Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"If," Eliott replies, holding up a finger. "You have your kids call me Uncle Eliott."

Lucas scoffs and rolls his eyes again but he's smiling. "Fine," he laughs, holding out his hand.

Eliott takes it gladly and shakes it firmly, nodding once. "I'm glad we've agreed, Monsieur Lallemant."

"I'm glad as well, Monsieur Demaury," Lucas returns, nodding back. He dissolves into light, airy laughter then, resting his head on Eliott's shoulder again. Eliott hears him sigh contentedly, so at ease and so in relief Eliott feels his own heart and mind soothe, calm.

Eliott stares at his father's grave as silence falls between them once again, trying to decipher what emotions are flooding his chest, coursing through his veins.

"I miss him," he says, still unsure of what feeling, what meaning lies behind his words.

"I miss him, too," Lucas replies, quiet and distant as an echo.

"Right before he died," Eliott begins, letting the memory take over his words for him. "He told me that I'll learn how to miss him and smile at the same time."

"Have you learned yet?" Lucas asks. He isn't accusatory or judging, just simply questioning.

"Not quite," Eliott responds. "But I think I'm starting to learn."

"That's good," Lucas smiles. "He knows that you're trying."

Eliott smiles then, too. "I know. I've been feeling him a lot more lately. His presence. And it's not cold and empty anymore. It's warm and familiar. It's like I can feel his arms around me again, or his hands tousling my hair again. I think I'd forgotten that whispers can be so kind, but he's reminded me."

"Maman used to say that whispers happen when our heart has so much to say it crawls up our throat and takes over our voice," Lucas recalls absent-mindedly, his fingers tracing an unfamiliar pattern on the back of Eliott's hand. "And that's why they're always quiet. And why some words are almost always whispered. And why whispers are only meant for certain people's ears."

"That's a strange thought," Eliott remarks. "But I don't mind it."

"I don't, either," Lucas agrees. "It is kind of nice when you think about it."

"Have you told her that you're pushing the wedding back yet?" Eliott asks quietly, hoping he won't upset Lucas.

"We have," Lucas nods, his voice level. "She was a little upset, but I think she understood. Her and Chloé actually still went to look at dresses because she was so excited, Chloé just didn't buy one. So I didn't lie to you that one night."

"Did she find one she liked?" Eliott smiles.

"Yeah," Lucas smiles, too. "She said it was really plain but really elegant. She said that it makes her feel like she's in a Jane Austen novel, whatever that means."

Eliott chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"She said it had short sleeves, though," Lucas continues, chuckling along. "So she'll need to find a long-sleeved one probably, since we're having a Christmas wedding. Either that or I lend her my coat all night. That's romantic, isn't it?"

Eliott nods, humming. "How are you going to balance Christmas and your anniversary, though? As far as gifts?" he asks, nearly snickering.

"Couldn't tell you," Lucas sighs, but he's holding back laughter, too. "We'll figure it out, I guess."

"And I'm still your best man?" Eliott asks hopefully.

Lucas nods. "Of course you are. Who else would be my best man?"

"Well, you said Baz," Eliott replies teasingly.

Lucas just shakes his head in response this time, and things go quiet. Eliott can't help but feel a strange tension between them now, but he doesn't know where it came from or how to ease it away.

"Eliott?" Lucas says.

"Hm?" Eliott hums.

"Can we go home?" his voice is quiet again, almost timid.

"Of course," Eliott nods.

Lucas lifts his head and rises to his feet, not saying another word. He has an expression on his face that Eliott can only describe as blank, distant. But then he looks down at Eliott, his eyes quietly desperate. Eliott stands quickly, keeping eye contact with Lucas, but it's almost too much to bear. Lucas's eyes look like the ocean the day that he drowned—dark and fathomless, filled with something known and yet unspoken (Lucas will die; Eliott will never fall in love again). Eliott scrambles, trying to think of something to say, something that doesn't cross a line or make things worse. He opens his mouth, but pauses when Lucas takes the smallest step closer, tilts his chin up the slightest bit. His arms gently wrap around Eliott's waist and pull him close, then he buries his face in Eliott's shirt.

Eliott freezes, feeling Lucas's hand drift up to weave into his hair, feeling Lucas's warmth breath tickle against his skin. He lets out a shocked, stuttering breath, then wraps his arms around Lucas, his hands finding their way through Lucas's hair, too. "I don't know what's wrong, Lucas," he whispers. "But you don't have to talk about it."

Lucas rests his head against in the crook of Eliott's neck, and it still fits like it used to. "Merci," he breathes against Eliott's skin. "Merci."

"Je suis là," Eliott responds, his lips brushing against the small, pointed tip of Lucas's ear. "It's okay, mon —" Eliott stops himself, biting his tongue to cut off the forbidden word resting on the tip of it. "Mon frère," he says instead, using the first word that came to his mind. His stomach turns and his heart clenches, but he can't take the word back.

Lucas starts to pull away then, his hands the last to leave Eliott's body as they cling to his shirt, gently letting go and falling defeated at Lucas's sides. "Let's go home," he says, a finality in his voice that's sharp and unforgiving and forces a lump down Eliott's throat.

"Okay," Eliott manages.

They leave Eliott's father's grave in silence. The clouds darken above them, but they never shed a tear. The flowers that are keeping a dead man company wait patiently, either for the moment the clouds burst or they die of thirst.

As Lucas drives, Eliott asks if they're still okay. Lucas looks at him, smiling shyly and nodding. His eyes are calmer now, but they seem to be chanting some phrase that both of them recognize but neither dare say out loud.

Nothing will ever be the same again. We were fools to think we could make ourselves shrink and that the world would shrink with us.

august 10th, 1968

10:28

caen, france

Eliott's mother is sitting in the front lobby at his request, in the chair next to the vase of vibrant lilies that look just as fresh as they did a month ago. But he finds himself not feeling the need to hold her hand like he did last time as he waits for Dr. Garnier. He feels much braver now, almost like a child slowly learning courage. He finally jumped in the water that seemed so dark and deep, and felt its cool arms wrap around him and hold him afloat, and now he wants to get back in the water again. And he thinks Dr. Garnier will be happy to hear that Eliott and Lucas are friends again, and that he's been taking his medication, and that he's made so much progress in the past month. But he's worried about Lucas, especially after the way he was behaving at his father's grave. He knows Dr. Garnier isn't Lucas's therapist, but maybe he can offer some insight on how to help Lucas, how to comfort him.

The door opens, then, and Dr. Garnier enters. He looks up and smiles at Eliott, who grins back at him. Dr. Garnier's smile widens, then sits across from Eliott.

"You seem to be doing much better," he remarks, setting his clipboard aside. "I was worried you made another appointment because you weren't doing as well."

"I'm not perfect," Eliott shrugs. "But things are much better now."

"How's your mother?" Dr. Garnier asks politely.

Eliott smile widens a bit. "She's fantastic," he replies. "She's singing again. She hasn't sung since Papa died."

"That's good to hear," Dr. Garnier responds genuinely. "I'm glad that you're both doing well."

"I am, too," Eliott nods.

"And did you get to talk to Lucas?" Dr. Garnier continues, the smile not leaving his face.

"I did," Eliott smiles back. "We talked for a long time. We told each other everything. There's no more secrets or animosity between us anymore."

"That's good," Dr. Garnier grins. "That's great. It's important, having people who will support you. People who are in your corner."

Eliott nods. "Lucas definitely is," he pauses, then, slowly remembering what happened a few days ago, thinking through how to best phrase his concerns. "But I'm worried about him. Everything's been great so far, but he hasn't been himself the past few days."

"What do you mean when you say he's not himself?" Dr. Garnier asks, the smile falling from his face.

"He's anxious... but hopeless at the same time," Eliott replies, his brow furrowing as he thinks through his words. "It's like he knows that something bad is gonna happen, but he can't do anything to stop it. He wants to give up and let it happen but he can't."

"Do you have any idea of what could be on his mind?"

Eliott considers, running his thumb along his lower lip. "Him and his fiancée had to push back their wedding a year, but he wouldn't react like this if that was what was bothering him. And I don't know what else could be going on with him. I don't… I really don't know what's wrong."

"And you said you don't want to talk to him about it because you think he may not be ready to?" Dr. Garnier clarifies.

Eliott nods. "And he's too damn stubborn, anyway," he sighs, shaking his head. "Even if I tried to ask him what's wrong, he would just shut down or get angry or just brush it off. But it hurts because if he's upset, I feel upset, too. I hate seeing him so… So troubled ."

"Has he ever been like this before?" Dr. Garnier asks, his brow furrowing.

Eliott takes a deep breath as thousands of memories flood through his mind. Lucas bathed in golden sunlight while black ink spills from his mouth, but Eliott kisses it away until he's golden again. Lucas listening to Eliott's manic ranting but his eyes stare at him as if he were a stranger, and Eliott kisses him for the last time before he drowns. Lucas held two years of unspeakable pain on his shoulders and thrust it onto Eliott's, his mouth cold and unforgiving and sharp. Lucas almost becoming a slab of stone himself amongst the dozens in the cemetery, a shadow passing over him and leaving him cold and hollow.

Eliott nods as he wills the memories away, a lump forming in his throat.

"What happened the other times?" Dr. Garnier asks. "How were you able to get through to him? Did he always tell you eventually?"

Eliott considers for a moment, then nods. "Eventually," he agrees. "It just takes him awhile. He has to try to hold everything in his chest first, but once it becomes too much, it all spills out."

"What was wrong with him those other times, if I may ask?" Dr. Garnier is cautious, and Eliott can't help but feel grateful for it.

"There was one time where he was kind of like that," Eliott begins, choosing a memory that won't reveal too much. "The day he drowned. I was in a mania, and he had never seen me like that. Not as bad as I was that day, at least. He was afraid of me, I could tell. Or maybe of the things I was saying or doing, but he wanted to get away from me. Even if it was just for the day. But I wouldn't let him, because I was afraid of letting him out of my sight. And look where that got him. But… I'm not in a mania right now. I'm not depressed, either. I'm normal right now. So, he isn't worried about me, or afraid of me."

"Okay," Dr. Garnier replies quietly, nodding. "Is there another occasion where this happened that you'd be willing to share?"

Eliott nods, trying to be careful again. "Just earlier this week, we visited my father's grave," he begins. "I think we were both anxious about it, because the last time we were there together was at his funeral. But we got there, and we sat in front of his grave, and we talked like everything was normal. But something changed. Lucas wasn't talking as much, and he was just staring at the grave but there was something clouding his eyes. He was miles away, and I didn't know how to reach him. When we left, I just hugged him and made sure to tell him that I was there for him."

"Was Lucas close with your father, too?" Dr. Garnier asks after a moment.

Eliott sighs, nodding. "It's so selfish of me, but I always forget how much Papa's death affected him. He's told me before that he didn't let himself grieve too much in front of me because he felt he needed to be strong for me. If I could go back, I would check on Lucas more. Comfort him for a change, instead of him comforting me all the time."

"There's not a wrong way to grieve, Eliott," Dr. Garnier cuts in, his voice firm but kind. "Especially since it's one of the most consuming emotions we can feel. And once we look back on such a dark period with the light that we've found again, there's a million things we could find that we regret. And regret was one of the many things that tore you two apart in the first place. Don't let it do it again. Lucas needs you as much as you need him, and I think you know that."

"You think that's what could be wrong?" Eliott asks quietly. "He's still grieving?"

"I can't tell you how Lucas feels," Dr. Garnier responds. "Only he can tell you that, because he's the only one who can feel what he feels. But, if you reach out to him, or he reaches out to you, that's your opportunity to make amends for what you feel you did wrong. If he is grieving, and if he's grieving a thousand things at once, you can help him. You could lessen his regrets, guide him to the light more quickly."

Eliott nods, surety filling his chest. "Okay."

"But," Dr. Garnier adds. "I can tell how much you care about Lucas. And it's a beautiful thing to care that much about someone, but you need to keep a fraction of that, however small it may be, for yourself. You can't take care of Lucas if you don't take care of yourself. All the love you have for him won't do him any good if you don't have the strength to give it to him."

Eliott tries to keep himself from flinching at the word love , but it doesn't work the way he wants it to. And, unfortunately, Dr. Garnier notices. His eyebrows shoot up for a moment, but then his expression changes to something soft. Understanding? Maybe even pity?

"Eliott," he begins softly, kindly, patiently. "It's okay if you love Lucas. And it's okay if you're in love with him…" he trails off as he studies Eliott's face, looking for a reaction. He pauses another moment before asking, "Are you in love with him?"

Eliott feels tears spring in his eyes, feels his lower lip wobble. He nods, sending a tear or two rolling down his cheek. "Hopelessly," he replies, nearly choking on a sob. "Completely."

"And he doesn't love you back," Dr. Garnier continues quietly.

Eliott takes a deep breath before shaking his head.

"Can you look at me, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, his tone never forceful or cruel.

Eliott takes a few more deep breaths then lifts his head, looking into Dr. Garnier's kind eyes.

"I understand," Dr. Garnier says simply. He doesn't say more, and he doesn't need to. Eliott understands, too. He feels something strange fills his chest. Comfort? Familiarity? Dr. Garnier continues, "This kind of thing is hard enough for people who don't have to keep their love in the dark. It's especially hard for people like us, because we never know if someone could ever love us, too. When love becomes this forbidden thing, we want it even more. We need it even more."

Eliott nods weakly, that strange feeling becoming stronger and stronger.

"There have been plenty of boys I fell in love with growing up that would never even glance my way," Dr. Garnier chuckles lightly. He pauses, his smile and laugh fading. "And there were boys I fell in love with when I fought in the war, and I watched most of them die in a hailstorm of bullets or in the cloud of a grenade. But, not too long after I made it home, I found a boy who loved me, too."

"What's his name?" Eliott asks, smiling weakly.

"Louis," Dr. Garnier replies, grinning. "And I'll love him forever. But it took so many heartbreaks for me to finally find him. People like us shouldn't have to go through so much pain to find the person we'll love more than anything, but we're never alone in our pain. There are more of us out there than you think, Eliott. We're all hiding, but since our eyes get adjusted to the dark we start seeing each other. We're never alone. There's someone out there for us, just like there's someone out there for everyone else."

Eliott wants to smile, but his tears are coming faster, now. "I don't think I could ever love someone more than I love Lucas," he chokes out. "Maybe it's because I thought he loved me, too."

"You did?" Dr. Garnier asks, sympathetic.

Eliott nods. "We were together," he begins, through his tears. "Before everything happened. He kissed me for the first time about a month before Papa died. We wrote letters to each other while I was at the institution, and he wrote me the most beautiful letters. But, apparently, none of it was real. He started dating Chloé and now they're engaged. He says he was confused back then. Just a boy. That he knows he isn't queer now. That he doesn't love me in that way and he never has. And I can't make him love me, but I want to, and—" Something occurs to Eliott, then, a thought he wishes he could erase and say isn't true. "What if I'm the reason he's upset?"

"Eliott—" Dr. Garnier cuts in, but Eliott's voice drowns it out.

"What if he knows I'm still in love with him and that's why he's trying to get away from me?" he rambles, his voice thick and breaking. "What if he thinks I'm a disgusting sinner and what if he wonders why he ever decided to give me a second chance? What if he thinks that I'm going to kiss him again and force him into something he doesn't want? What if he can't wait to go to school in Paris and marry Chloé so he won't have to talk to me or see me anymore? What if I've ruined everything again?"

"Eliott," Dr. Garnier repeats firmly, reaching and placing his hand on Eliott's knee. "Can you look at me again, please?"

Eliott lets a few more sobs escape his throat before finding the strength to lift his head again. He can't quite see through his tears, but he can feel Dr. Garnier's kindness. He waits for Eliott to calm down before he starts speaking.

"I think you need to talk to Lucas again," he says softly. "Tell him how you're feeling right now. And if he's ready, he can tell you the real reason why he's upset. I'm willing to bet that it doesn't have anything to do with you. But if he isn't ready, at least he knows what's on your mind. At least you're being honest with him. It's like I said before. Regrets and doubt has built a wall between you two before, and you've both torn it down. Don't let another wall be built. Neither of you deserve that."

"And what if I am the reason?" Eliott asks weakly. "And please don't tell me that I won't be. What do I do then?"

Dr. Garnier sighs, thinking for a moment. "Just come here. Tell whoever is at the front desk that you need to see me immediately. That it's an emergency. I'll help you. We can talk through it. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay."

"I was about to say, too, that you could talk to your mother," Dr. Garnier continues, trailing off. "Does she know?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I haven't thought much about telling her," he admits, shrugging. "Maybe if I give myself some time I could."

"Do it whenever you're ready, Eliott," Dr. Garnier replies. "And telling someone who you are is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. But I can tell your mother adores you. She reminds me of my mother. And when I told her about Louis and I, she hugged me so tightly I felt I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't have cared less about that. And, if it doesn't go the way you hope it will, come here and say it's an emergency. I'll be there to help you then, too.

Eliott nods again. "I will."

"I was you, once, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "Confused and lost and lonely. That's why I decided to become a psychiatrist. I knew there was bound to be someone who was like me and who would need guidance. I'm older now, and that gives me the opportunity to tell people what I needed to hear when I was their age."

Eliott lets himself smile. "Can you tell me something, then? Something you needed when you were 19?"

"I would've been about to go to war," Dr. Garnier says, taken aback. He thinks for a moment. "I would've told 19-year-old Pierre that the world becomes more beautiful after you feel like you've lost it. After you feel like you don't belong on it, or after it feels like everything within it has turned on you. Once you learn how to fight back and once that all surrenders, the world is more beautiful than it's ever been before. There are colors everywhere, and laughter constantly floats in the air, and the earth is steady and loving beneath your feet."

Eliott's smile falters, remembering the world he sees when he looks into Lucas's eyes. The world Dr. Garnier is describing is nothing compared to the world in Lucas's eyes.

"The world will be yours soon enough, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "It'll belong to you and whoever you decide to share it with. Whether it's Lucas, or someone else. And everything will be okay. I can promise you that."

Eliott lets his eyes shut for a moment, imagining sharing a world with Lucas. Surrounded by water that will never drown them, city lights mingling with an ever star-riddled sky. The only music that exists is Lucas's laughter, his voice. Everyone they love is alive and well and happy. Nothing is wrong or dark or dirty. There is no sin.

He clings to this world, to this fantasy. He doesn't know what'll happen if everything there crumbles, and he doesn't want to think about it.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Garnier," Eliott says, smiling weakly.

"You're very welcome, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns. "Go home and get some rest. And keep being strong. I know you are."

"Thank you," Eliott replies as he stands. "And you'll have to tell me more about Louis."

Dr. Garnier chuckles. "I could talk about him all day, so I'm glad to hear that." He guides Eliott to the door, opening it for him. "Take care of yourself for me, Eliott. And please let me know as soon as possible if you need anything."

"I will," Eliott nods. "Thank you so much again. Have a good day."

"You, too, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns, quietly shutting the door.

Eliott finds his mother reading a magazine in the lobby. She must've seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly puts the magazine aside and walks over to him.

"Hi, honey," she greets sweetly. Her face is suddenly etched with concern. "Have you been crying? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Maman," he promises, rubbing at his eyes. "Really."

She sighs in relief. "Okay, wonderful. Do you wanna get home now?"

Eliott nods gratefully. "Yes, please."

Him and his mother leave, locking arms, and Eliott breathes a little more easily.

Still, though, a lingering thought in the back of his mind: have I ruined everything?

#SURPRISE #ttmc #skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skam france fic #elu fic #my writing #hush bailey

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