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idiacide · 2 years

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Info for 🌻!

Appearance: Female, 5’6” / 167 cm, very long curly brown hair! very soft, very bouncy, very thick, like a sheep!, skinny as a stick and physically weak, have a baby face and I hate it so much…don't know if any of this matters or helps but!

Personality: (idk if you like zodiac or if it helps you at all either, but i’m a Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising!)

I’m generally a very quiet and reserved person, especially during first impressions! I’m kind of a shy and anxious lurking shadow who assumes the worst until I get a good enough feel of a person, you know? Then I'm comfortable popping in!

I tend to gravitate towards being "Designated Mom Friend" or "Big Sister Friend?" I love being able to make others feel better about themselves or to help them out. Maybe it’s because of some rough stuff in my past, but I never want anyone to feel similar to the ways I have. If you hurt someone I care about, I am never going like you. But if you hurt me? Eh…it’s not really new, I’m kind of…soft? I cry very easily, be it happy or sad, and it frustrates me! I’m not a soft and squishy person! …okay yes I am but I’m also trying super hard to be the shoulder people can lean on if they need me! Growing a backbone is a work in progress, and sometimes I worry I come off too harsh or mean when I actually use it… A friend once described me like glass; it’s fragile, but a broken piece can still really mess you up, you know? Glass-ness aside, my sense of humor is honestly very dry and sarcastic and you probably wouldn’t expect it out of me! I can get kind of angry over petty things and sort of clingy, but I’ll be fine after some time to let it all pass.

I like playing videogames, drawing and writing, and reading tarot cards! I like doing things alone, really, but I love the company of others when they want me to join in. Because it does indeed get lonely being alone sometimes!

I have some really gross depression bouts and lots of anxiety disorders that I do my best to juggle, but, sometimes I just have to shut down for a bit and…sleep.

VERY PICKY THINGS! Preferably no Staff or Diasomnia thank you-

Is this enough to work with? Hopefully so, thanks again!

Paid matchup number two baby!! Ill continue plugging at these over the next two days since I'm finally back home

I match you with Kalim Al-Asim!

-Zodiac wise, your Aquarius moon is definitely a draw to his sense of dramatics. At the same time, your Virgo rising’s tendency to stay strong and organized, as well as your Gemini’s suns quick wit are an excellent counterbalance to his frequent airheadedness. Kalim doesn’t expect you to take care of him, obviously. But the fact that you’re strong in areas where he typically isn’t is something he finds almost immediately intriguing.

-He definitely doesn’t struggle with shyness, and yet he can often mix surprisingly well with reserved types. Kalim is very disarming socially and has a way of breaking down reservations (even if he can go overboard from time to time). He may not share your anxieties, but he never belittles them or writes them off, and is happy to give you the time you need to get the feel of a person. Your insight can definitely help to balance out his more trusting nature from time to time.

-As I said, Kalim doesn’t expect you to mother him every second of your life. Like you, he’s a big sibling (literally, as well as figuratively), and he loves that you have a shared value of looking out for people in your life. Both of you can help each other get better about learning to draw boundaries for yourself (though he’ll always be a little more prone to forgive than you).

-Kalim is a little bit of a crybaby about your emotions, but the side effect of this is that it’s harder for you to try and brush past them. He knows when you’re starting to break down, and he wants to help! You shouldn’t have to swallow all of it back, you’re just as important as the people you’re trying so hard to take care of! At times, this may manifest in him going overboard, but he’s always quick to take feedback and adjust his strategies depending on your reaction. If you need to be alone and sleep it off, he’ll get you the best room in the dorm. If you need a shoulder to cry on, he’s got a lap to sit in. Whatever you need, he wants to be the person who you can always trust to provide it. Even if that sometimes means that you need to be left alone.

-Kalim’s not particularly sarcastic on his own but growing up with Jamil means he’s got a surprisingly high tolerance for it. He can even find your comments and barbs quite funny. More than that, though, he’s extremely hard to offend and patient when you get sharp. After all, you’re patient with so many people all the time. You more than deserve a little patience of your own. He knows that even if sometimes you go too far, this is another important step in your recovery, and he applauds your growth.

-I see Kalim as the type to get really enthusiastic about whatever his s/o is into, even if he’s not super informed on the topic. Additionally, he always takes the time to invite you into any activity that he’s involved in. You don’t always have to come! He knows he values your alone time when you can get it. But no matter what, you’re going to feel included whenever you want.

And now, the meetcute.

The library was almost never quiet. You knew that, and still, you’d come here. At the very least it was the only place where people might leave you alone, something you really needed right now.

No such luck. A chattering group of students you knew by the colors were from Scarabia had swooped in on the table next to you seconds after you sat down. There was no way to move without it looking rude. You’d prayed that maybe they would finish up whatever they were doing and move on. Despite the textbooks they clearly had no interest in actually studying, maybe they’d get bored.

Again, though, your luck was clearly out.

So here you were. Nose tucked in the largest book you could find. Quietly seething as they continued to talk and talk and trying not to sniffle audibly.

This was so stupid. One dumb argument with Grim and here you were crying like a child! It wasn’t even as if he’d done anything particularly wrong, you’d just had such a long and frustrating day, and his bravado had done its usual work of irritating you...

You’d gone to the library hoping to calm down before you could go back and apologize. But without the privacy you were expecting, you hadn’t been able to calm down. Your irritation and annoyance with yourself had just channeled into your fury with the neighboring table.

Worst of all was that scatterbrained guy in the white sweater. Kalim, you think Trey had called him? Was this guy really a housewarden? From his conversation you’d never have guessed, the guy seemed completely oblivious.

“No way!!! You’re saying sea snakes can’t actually swim on top of the water?!”

“Well,I think there’s like, one species who can?” One of the first years was saying. “But no, most of them stay under the water.”

“Aw, man!” Kalim sighs heavily. “I’m such a moron, I totally bought it when Floyd told me. I was all excited to see if a basilisk could cross an ocean too...”

“Shit.” One of them said. "Its getting late, Jamil will have dinner ready soon.”

Thank god. You listen to them pack up with a sense of relief, letting out a heavy breath. Just a few minutes and then you could finish your breakdown in peace.....Footsteps slowly retreated into the hallway, and you reached up to finally wipe at your eyes when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, sorry if we were too loud! I didn’t notice you were here until-....are you ok?!”

Your head snaps around to see Kalim, eyes full of concern as he stands at your shoulder. Evidently your face was still red and teary. Goddamnit, and the worst of it is that the embarrassment of being caught makes your face want to crumple up again. You turn away quick, hands shooting up to cover your face like he might forget. “I’m fine!” You say, but your voice wobbles unconvincingly.

“You’re crying!” Kalim insists, pulling out a chair next to you and sitting down. You barely bite back a frustrated groan, not NOW, not when you’re like this! He hovers one hand tentatively over your shoulder, not quite touching you and yet you can feel the warmth of him nonetheless. “Can I do anything? Get you anything? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!!!” You insist, hands falling away from your face in frustration. “Just-”

You stop.

The way he looks at you.....he means it. The concern is overwhelmingly sincere, impossibly so. He wants to help. Despite your humiliation and irritation....yelling at him over it doesn’t feel good. Not when he so badly wants to help.

“....I’m fine.” You try again after a deep breath. You wipe at your eyes, trying to force yourself calmer. “I’m fine, I just...I had an argument. With m-my roommate. And I....I came up here to calm down, but-”

Kalim smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand. “But me and my friends interrupted that. I’m so sorry, that must’ve been frustrating.” He opens his eyes again, giving you a warm, apologetic smile. You didn’t think red eyes could look that gentle. “Can I ask what the fight was about? I know I feel awful when I argue with Jamil, it might help to tell someone about it.”

You shake your head, wiping harder to clear the tears. Please, please just calm down. “I’m just being a crybaby, I’ll be ok in a second. I was just...frustrated. And being selfish.”

“Selfish?” His white brows knit together a little. “Selfish how.”

“Grim was...he didn’t know I was having a bad day. But he blew up the kitchen, and there was a mess everywhere. He tried to blame it on the ghosts but obviously its his fire magic so how was I-...” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that, he doesn’t know any better and it really wasn’t such a big mess. I could’ve just asked him to help clean it up...”

You feel silly even saying it out loud. My cat made a mess was hardly have a public meltdown in a library material. But that knitted brow look doesn’t fade from Kalim, and he bites his lip like he’s considering.

“Well....it sounds like it was an accident.” He says after a second, voice bright. “But still, it can’t be much fun to have to clean up after others after having a hard day. I’m sure your friend will understand that too. So you shouldn’t feel bad about being upset over it!”

“.....Thank you.” You say carefully. Some part of you means it, eats up the validation like crumbs. At least he was being relaxed about it though. “But its still not good to yell. At him. Or...at you.” You say sheepishly.

Kalim just laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Jamil says I talk too much, its only natural it’d get me into trouble sometimes....Oh!” He snaps, eyes lighting up. “Do you want help cleaning up the kitchen? I’m not very good at it, but with two people it should go much faster. That way you can go back to relaxing and try to take the edge off your day.”

“Uh-”

“C’mon! You live in Ramshackle, right?” He takes your hand before you can protest, pulling you from the chair and tugging him along insistently after him. “I bet we can have it done in 15 minutes, which’ll give you plenty of time to eat afterwards too!”

You do manage to stumble out some protests, but its like it just all bounces off after him. In the end you just decide to let him follow you home, hoping the size of the mess will deter him. He’s right, in the end, you really should take care of it, since it’ll just hover over you.

Grim’s a little sniffly himself when you get back, and you barely get three words into an apology before he throws himself into your arms, wailing about how he’ll never use magic again. Its a little overwhelming, but...kinda cute, nonetheless.

You show Kalim where the cleaning chemicals are and the two of you get to work. He’s not wrong that he’s pretty bad at this, endlessly distractable and clearly unused to the implements. Still, in the end, ash is ash, and you manage to clean it up much faster between the two of you. Kalim chatters the whole time, asking you questions about yourself, your time at NRC, your hobbies, and the dorm. It should be frustrating, and maybe it is a little much at times. But....its kind of nice to be asked, especially when he seems to so sincerely want to know the answers.

In the end, he decides to get you dinner too, insisting that you lie down on the couch and relax while he runs down to the dining hall. You feel vaguely like you were hit by a friendly tornado, and the whole house now smells like cleaning products.

Still. As Grim hops in your arms and you settle back in to let the fatigue of the day slide off of you.You find your mind drifting back to warm red eyes and a genuine smile as bright as the sun

Maybe there really was something to this whole “comfort” business.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #commission #matchup #kalim al asim

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f1zz-k1d · 3 years

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writing, drawing, and talking about cane users

A guide by me, a disabled person tired of the shitty content i keep seeing.

SO, a lot of people have been drawing character Philza using a cane.

Great!

There are just a few things i want to point out.

(i am a young disabled person with chronic pain in my legs and back and low blood pressure that causes me to faint and collapse. i am waiting on a cane right now, but for now I use a short collapsible walking stick made for hiking :)

Writing

The big issue I see a lot with people writing Phil as a cane user is a loss of autonomy, which is a very common trope in writing when writing disabled people. Here's how to avoid it!

Let's say, for example, in your fic, Phil is having a hard time walking on, like, sand. (side note, sand and gravel and all loose and unstable grounds are very hard for those of us using a cane or a walking stick.) His friend Techno helps him walk over this ground, by supporting or carrying him. A good way to write this would be, for example:

Phil: This ground is hard for me to walk on, could you help me out, Techno?

Techno: Of course.

Or:

Phil is visibly struggling to walk on the uneven ground.

Techno: Would you like help walking here?

Phil: Yes, thank you!

What happened in both of this situations was that the disabled person was given a choice in getting assistance from an abled friend. Now let's see how not to write this:

Phil is having trouble walking on the uneven ground. Techno, his abled friend, picks him up and puts his cane in his pack without asking.

Techno: Obviously you need help. It's terrible you need a cane, Phil. I hope you get better.

Phil swoons like a silent film star.

Obviously this is a little exaggerated! But it encompasses a lot of the bad tropes we see often with a disabled character.

1. A loss of autonomy/Not asking! Our mobility aids are an extension of ourselves. Don't touch 'em without permission, Badly Written Techno! And don't write a character "helping" a disabled person without asking first. We can ask!

2. Treating disability as a bad thing/"Hopefully you get better." Obviously, if most of us had a choice, we would like to not be in pain all the time. But that isn't a choice! A lot of disabilities are chronic, so we won't get better. And the biggest thing: "It's horrible you have to use that mobility aid." Nope! Our existence is not terrible. It's who we are.

Another small note: "Disabled" isn't a bad word!

Here's something I see a lot, once again written with our friends Phil and Techno.

Phil: I know you must hate travelling with someone so... disabled...I must... slow you down so much...

Techno: Phil... to me, you aren't disabled... you're strong... just...differently abled...

Phil bursts into tears at the show of support.

So. That was a lot. First of all, a lot of disabled people, for one reason or another, struggle with this sort of self hate. The idea that we "slow people down," that we're "just weak," or that we're "not disabled enough for xyz." It's fine, and realistic, to write disabled characters thinking like this! But the idea that disabled people are strong despite their disability, not disabled, and strong is just silly! Also, just call us disabled. We don't have "special abilities" and we're not "handi-capable." We're disabled, and that's okay.

(Side note. If you want to write the "Don'ts" into a story, feel free, but be aware of the fine line this can walk between realistic depiction of people's attitudes toward disabilities, and plain ol' ableism. In general, just try not to reward this behavior/make it look good and righteous when characters do it in your stories!)

Drawing

This is mostly because I feel so bad for all these characters with improperly drawn canes!! A cane that's too tall will force a user to work extra hard, often straining muscles in the arm, to move it in sync with steps. One that's too short will throw off someone's balance and gait, often causing more harm than good. A good way to test how tall a cane should be is the wrist test:

[Image ID: A simple drawing of a man in side profile. He stands tall and relaxed. In front of him is a curved-top cane with a line leading from the top of the cane's handle to his wrist joint, showing how tall the cane should be. Below is a line from the bottom of the cane to his shoes, labelled "Street shoes." End Image ID.]

In general, the cane should go on the opposite side of the leg/joint that hurts. This is so the natural opposite leg-to-arm walk cycle isn't interrupted by the use of the cane. I use my stick in this way, and then switch hands when I need to!

If you need references for drawing or animating a person with a cane, just look up videos and photos of people with canes! For animating a walk cycle with a cane, try to find videos made by medical professionals. They know what they're doing!

Talking About Us! There's really only two things here, that I am TIRED OF.

1. "Old man!" jokes. Obviously we all call Phil an old man, he is in his thirties after all! But making jokes like this in direct reference to a character using a cane is harmful. Young people also use canes and mobility aids! Another thing, some of us are part timer cane users who only need them on long or strenuous walks, or particularly bad illness days in our lives. Same as how most wheelchair users are ambulatory.

2. Language like "bound to [mobility aid in question.]" Generally, we prefer language like "cane user" or "person with a cane."

If you have questions, google 'em, or ask a disabled person. Feel free to put questions in the replies or shove them in my inbox

Now go and create! I know I love seeing content of people with disabilities, especially very cool and truly brave men like Philza Minecraft!

Please reblog this post! You recieve: a kiss on the cheek and eternal gratitude from your local disabled artist and writer ❤️

#long post #very long haha but i had a lot to say #ABLED PEOPLE CLOWN ON THIS POST AND I BITE YOU IN THE JUGULAR #philza #ph1lza #technoblade #mcyt #dream smp #chronic illness tag

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #is this any good #today was a bit weird #kinda tired sorry

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kumeko · 3 years

Text

A/N: For the @ouranzine Flowers of the Host Club! I got overly ambitious with this piece, and the idea was too big for the word count. I do like the idea still.

…

Hikaru was used to seeing strange sights on a daily basis. It was the selling point of their club, the ability to transport their guests to different worlds, change seasons, and perform magic. He had ridden elephants to school, created an indoor jungle, and discovered there were very few things that couldn’t be done without money and an Ootari.

Very few. Sometimes he worried that world domination was the next logical step.

Either way, by this point, he didn’t think he could be surprised anymore. Yet standing here in his classroom, staring at Haruhi’s desk, he discovered that he was utterly wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. With ten minutes left before lunch ended, students slowly trickled into the classroom around him. The ordinary framing made the sight before him even more extraordinary. Rubbing his eyes, he asked, “You see it too, Kaoru?”

“I do. I don’t believe it though.” Next to him, Kaoru squeezed his eyes shut before slowly opening them again. When the sight before them didn’t change, he pinched his cheek. “This isn’t a dream.”

Hikaru clicked his teeth. “That was the only explanation. Unless…” He paused dramatically and covered his mouth with a trembling hand. “It’s an illness?”

Kaoru’s eyes widened and he pressed his palm against his forehead. “Terminal?”

Grimly, he nodded. “Possibly.”

“No!” Kaoru leaned against him, trembling. “It can’t be—”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Haruhi cut in dryly, resting her cheek on her hand as she stared up at them. Seated at her desk, she gestured at the clock. “Don’t you need to get to your seats?”

“And she’s worried about us! Her!” Hikaru wiped a tearful eye. Leaning forward, he squeezed her shoulder and gave her a pitying smile. “You don’t have to be so brave for us. You can let us know how you really feel.”

“Trust me, I do.” Haruhi sighed, running a hand through her hair. Giving a troubled sigh, she accepted her lot in life and gave in. “What are you talking about?”

Wearing matching identical grins, Hikaru and Kaoru pointed at the small bouquet of roses balanced precariously on the edge of her desk. At least a dozen long-stemmed red roses poked out of pink wrapping paper. “Who’s that for?”

“None of your business,” she answered immediately, adjusting the bouquet so it rested more securely on her desk. With a tender smile, she patted the bundle.

That abrupt brush off just made him more curious. Undeterred, Hikaru pressed, “Is it a lover?”

“No—”

With a teasing grin, Kaoru guessed, “Multiple lovers?”

“Definitely not.” She massaged her forehead, her frown deepening. “I can barely handle you guys as it is.” As though she just realized something, Haruhi froze and her skin paled.

“What’s wrong?” Hikaru asked, as though he didn’t know exactly what was on her mind. Or rather, the five somethings on her mind.

Slowly, like a broken robot, she turned to them. She looked both silly and cute and he stifled a laugh. “You’re not going to tell Tamaki, are you?”

“Milord?” Kaoru gasped. “You’re right, he certainly does have to know about this.”

Haruhi looked at Hikaru pleadingly. Instantly, he felt his skin flush and she had to be doing it on purpose, right? She had to know what she did to him, right? Kaoru smirked at him from over her head and Hikaru sighed before relenting. “Well, maybe if we had a bribe…”

“A bribe?” Haruhi blinked before clapping her hands. “Got it.” Gently, she extracted two roses from her bouquet and held them out. “Will this do?”

The oblivious smile on her face said it all: she had no idea what this looked like. Haruhi was a weapon just waiting to go off, with all of her natural flirting. Her rose dangled in front of him innocently. Well, a flower was a flower, and he could deal with it. In fact—as a thought struck him, he looked up and exchanged glances with his brother.

They could have a lot of fun with this.

“We’ll take it.”

-x-

If the sight earlier was an unexpected one, this next one was anything but. Kaoru stared blankly at the corner of the music room, where a dark gloom had set in. Tamaki was crouched in the corner, drawing circles on the ground with a finger. If he listened closely, Kaoru was certain he’d hear the soft mumbling of a lunatic.

He’d heard it often enough from his brother as Hikaru realized that his feelings might be more than a crush.

“What’s wrong, milord?” Kaoru asked, dropping his school bag and trotting over to Tamaki’s right.

“H-haruhi…” Tamaki mumbled, looking up all teary-eyed.

“What about her?” Hikaru asked, standing on his left.

“She’s…she’s…” Tamaki warbled, a fresh set of tears forming in his eyes. He wiped them with a sleeve and wailed, “She’s abandoning me!”

They turned around to where Honey and Mori were sipping tea, looking utterly nonchalant. “Haruhi didn’t come for lunch,” Honey explained, looking a little disappointed himself.

“She’s also not joining us today,” Kyoya said and Kaoru had to fight the urge to jump. The shadow king had an alarming ability to disappear and suddenly reappear.

“WHAT?” Tamaki’s jaw fell and an incoherent stream of sounds escaped his mouth.

Kaoru raised a brow. So she’d cleared it with Kyoya first, then. Judging by his expression, the slightly amused curl of his lips, he probably knew exactly what was going on. Hell, he probably knew about the flowers too. In that case, though, he wouldn’t mind them having a little fun with it. Resting a hand on Tamaki’s shoulder, he smiled gently. “Haruhi has a good reason.”

“She does?” Tamaki’s eyes grew wide and he looked up at him hopefully.

“A very good reason,” Hikaru continued, grasping Tamaki’s other shoulder.

As though rehearsed, they both added, “She’s giving someone a bouquet of flowers.”

Tamaki nodded. “Okay. That makes sense—” Cutting himself off, he looked from one twin to the other desperately. “What?”

“She got them at lunch,” Hikaru mentioned idly.

Kaoru crossed his arms. “And she wouldn’t tell us who they’re for.”

“WHAT?” Tamaki yelped, jumping to his feet. “DADDY DOESN’T APPROVE OF ANY BOYS.”

Trying not to grin, Kaoru nodded to Hikaru. It’d only take one more push. One more really easy push. Together, they pulled out their roses. “She gave us one though.”

Kaoru could hear the straw snapping. Tamaki moved from rage to jealousy. “She gave you flowers?” He twiddled his fingers. “She’d give me flowers too, right? As her daddy, I get one, right?”

“Of course, milord,” Kaoru lied, patting him on the back.

“I want one too!” Honey swiped the last cookie and swung off his seat.

Kaoru exchanged a smirk with his brother. Sometimes, it was all too easy.

-x-

There were many ways a matter like this ought to be handled. Delicately, since Haruhi never liked it when they focused all of their attentions on her. Subtly, because she wasn’t supposed to know what they were after. Individually, since they didn’t want to overwhelm her.

Tamaki, of course, threw all of that out the window. The second he spotted Haruhi in the hallway, he charged like a bull in the china shop. “WHO IS HE?”

Reportedly, the desperate screech of a terrified not-father was heard all around the world.

As they were all good friends, the host club understood that this was who Tamaki was and that while he remained a dense brick about his feelings, this was the only way he could deal with the muddled emotions buried deep in his heart. There was something sad and poetic about it.

It was also terribly amusing to watch Haruhi assassinate him with her response and they didn’t want to interfere with that at all.

-x-

Their school was a strange one, Honey knew. The seasons changed yet no one aged, the grounds had room for every type of scenery conceivable, and the hallways extended as long as narratively convenient. As long as he waited in a hallway, Haruhi had to go past him at some point.

Almost as though on cue, he heard a soft tapping as Haruhi walked down the hall. Clutching his Bun-Bun close, Honey skipped over to her, a bright smile on his face. “Haruhi!”

Surprised, Haruhi stopped in her tracks. “Honey?”

Standing in front of her, he clutched his rabbit and stared up with big, teary eyes. “You’re not coming to the club today?”

“I…” Bingo. While Haruhi might not be all that feminine or tapped into her motherly instincts, Honey prided himself in being able to find even the most dormant of instincts and pry them out. Haruhi rubbed the back her neck, giving him an apologetic look. “I can’t today.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Honey sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet. He stared at the ground. “I had dessert ready and everything.”

Haruhi’s brow knit. Troubled, she scratched her cheek before giving up and sighing. “Maybe next time?”

“Yay.” His expression brightened and he looked up at her once more. Pointing at her flowers, he asked, “What are those for?”

“It’s nothing.” Haruhi shrugged, straightening up now. “I have to get going, okay?”

No, this wasn’t good. He hadn’t gotten the flower yet. Pushing down his panic, he shot her a winning smile. “Could I smell them?”

“What?” Haruhi raised a brow.

“They must smell nice.” Honey looked at her innocently, batting his eyes. “I can’t?”

“Ugh. No, it’s fine.” Haruhi held out the roses delicately.

“Yay!” Honey leaned forward and pulled out a rose. There, mission accomplished. Smelling it, he grinned. “It’s so sweet!”

-x-

“Alright, next is milord—” The twins stared at Tamaki, who was still sulking in a corner. “Nevermind, too much damage. Mori’s up next!”

Mori stiffened. The club’s activities were fine when they involved the other members, when it was a group thing and not an individual issue. Alone, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Especially since he was hiding at an intersection, watching Haruhi walk down the hall. Behind him, the twins and Honey were gently egging him on, trying to get him to do something. Say something.

But what?

Mori didn’t know the answer to that. He could only watch as Haruhi walked further away, cutting past another intersection. She looked to her left in surprise before disappearing around the bend. Immediately, the twins broke into laughter.

“That was even worse than milord!” Hikaru guffawed, hunched over as he laughed.

“He didn’t even try!” Kaoru added, wiping the tears from his eyes. “He just watched her go!”

“Wait!” Honey peeked around the corner and gasped. “Look!”

Mori quickly rushed to the corner. As did the rest of the host club. Honestly, it was a miracle they hadn’t been spotted before this point. “What?” he asked, steeling himself.

“Is that?” Kaoru asked, surprise colouring his tone.

Mori could only nod. Eagerly heading toward them were two small forest animals: a tanuki and a rooster. In their mouths was a single rose. The constantly fighting pair were working together for once.

A wave of love washed over him. He’d have to spoil them tonight.

-x-

Tamaki stared vacantly as he sat under the staircase. Honey had a rose. Mori had a rose. The twins had roses. Everyone but him had a rose. Well, him and Kyoya, but Kyoya didn’t seem interested. It was unfair that Tamaki alone didn’t have one. He was her father!

No, wait, that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t here to get a rose, he was here to find out who she was meeting. Who exactly those flowers were for. There was the soft thud of footsteps and he looked up to spot Haruhi. Finally. “Haruhi,” he called out, slowly getting up.

Haruhi groaned before turning to look at him. With a deadpan expression, she asked, “Yes?”

“Haruhi, I…I..” Tamaki stared at the roses in her hand. A pang hit his chest and he clutched his shirt. Was that the pain of fatherhood? It had to be, right? “Those roses…” Standing up, he staggered toward her. “Are they for someone important?”

Instantly, Tamaki turned red. No, that wasn’t what he was supposed to ask. That wasn’t it at all. Haruhi looked at him in surprise. Her expression softened and she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Tamaki felt boneless and almost crumpled onto the ground.

“I should have realized what would happen the second the twins found out.” Haruhi sighed, pulling out a rose. She sniffed it. “I can see why you use them, they’re sweet.” Holding out the rose, she smiled at him. “They suit you.”

Tamaki blushed. “W-what?”

“Here, take it.” Gently, she pushed it into his hand. “Now you can tell them to stop bullying you, alright?”

Bullying? No, that wasn’t what this was about! Well, it did get him a rose from Haruhi, but that wasn’t the point! Who were the roses for? That’s what he had to ask. That’s what—

When he looked up, Haruhi was already gone.

-x-

Kyoya chuckled as Haruhi hastily headed toward the entrance. She looked like a woman on a mission, which, he supposed, she was. After all, the entire host club had been blocking her exit until now, a dense obstacle course that maybe he should repeat for a future host club event. Leaning against the wall, he raised a brow. “You should have known this would happen.”

“Yeah.” Haruhi didn’t look surprised to see him. He wasn’t sure if that rankled him or not. “I should have just gotten these after school.”

“Well, it was at a good discount.” He adjusted his glasses. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small card. “You can come here for the pictures later. In exchange, I’ll remove their proceeds from your debt.”

“Business as usual, huh?” Haruhi rolled her eyes but accepted the card nonetheless. “Still, thanks for the flowers. Oh, and here.” She pulled out a rose and held it out.

“What?” Perplexed, he looked from the rose to her.

Haruhi shrugged. “I already gave them to everyone else. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you out.”

-x-

“I’m home!” Haruhi called out, slipping off her shoes as she closed the door behind her.

Her father poked his head out of the kitchen. “Great.” His smile grew brighter at the roses in her hand. “And you got them!”

“Yeah.” Out of habit, she added dryly, “But it is a waste of money.”

“Nonsense, things for your mother are never a waste of money.” Ranka clicked his tongue, giving her a disapproving shake of his head.

She couldn’t disagree with that entirely. If there was one thing her time with the host club had taught her, it was that there were times when money had to be spent. That there were things, people, where the expense was worth it.

And her mother was definitely one of them. Approaching her mother’s altar, Haruhi gently placed the diminished bouquet of roses. “Happy birthday, mom.”

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh #hikaru hitachiin #hitachiin twins #kaoru hitachiin #kyoya ootori #takashi morinozuka #mitsukuni haninozuka #honey senpai #fanfic

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 27

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 26

Next Chapter: Chapter 28

Thomas was still in the same position on the couch by the time Alastair reached him, both his parents on the other couch, carefully monitoring him. Thomas had put on a movie, and Alastair got the idea he was trying to ignore his parents, who both looked worried. Alastair found a way to sit beside him on the couch.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘I slept for several hours,’ Thomas said. ‘Then my parents arrived and found out I was sick and pretty much everything went downhill from there. What about you? Did you encounter anything? No offense, but you kind of smell.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘Seriously, what happened?’

‘A deer.’

Thomas frowned. ‘A deer?’

‘I have always been terrified of deer. Today just reminded me why. Or perhaps it wasn’t really a deer. Lucie decided to call it eldritch horror deer, which is the closest I can come to describing it. You don’t want to know more, trust me. Either way, it’s dead now, no need to worry about it.’

Ever since he’d seen his father’s memory of that monster, he’d been afraid of deer. Because that deer had looked completely normal too before he’d realized it wasn’t, and Alastair had realized anything could hide a monster.

‘So you smell of dead eldritch horror deer... It’s not so bad as after we got the skin and you had to swim through I don’t know what.’

‘This is why I don’t want to dedicate my life to fighting these things or be a hero or anything like that. Dead body parts are disgusting no matter what creature they come from and you always come back covered in gross smelly things. I’m going to take a bath. You want to join?’

Thomas turned very red, although that could have been the fever.

‘Maybe it’ll help you get warm,’ Alastair added.

He went upstairs to draw a bath, and threw in a good amount of bath foam with eucalyptus scent. Alastair loved the fresh sharpness of eucalyptus, and used many eucalyptus scented products. He quickly got into the shower while the bath was still not full, rinsing off the worst of the dirt, before inviting Thomas in and getting in the bath tub. Thomas still turned around while undressing, and Alastair politely looked in the other direction. With the amount of foam he’d used, there wouldn’t be much to see once Thomas was in the bath anyway and he understood Thomas might still be a bit awkward with this.

Thomas settled next to him, and Alastair turned on the bubbles. He tried to remember if Jem’s house had a bubble bath, but if not it needed one. He was pretty sure there was a big bathroom, at least, and as far as he remembered there was a bath tub but he had no idea what Jem had done to the place.

‘Is it alright if I lean against you?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas didn’t answer, just opened his arm and allowed Alastair to find a comfortable position leaning against his shoulder. Thomas really was warm and feverish.

‘How are you feeling?’ Alastair asked.

‘A lot better now that I’m in the bath. Still a little cold but I imagine that’ll be over soon enough. I’d slept for several hours on the couch and everything kind of hurts now. I took another two paracetamol before coming here, so hopefully they’ll start working soon. The eucalyptus scent really wakes me up though.’

‘It opens the airways,’ Alastair said. ‘Did the fever change at all?’

‘No, not really. I just took it again. It’s still around 38,5 degrees,’ Thomas said. ‘When I woke up my parents were there and I had to explain what was going on. They were kind of upset I didn’t immediately tell them I’d fallen ill and immediately started the whole routine of taking care of sick baby Thomas. Which is exactly why I didn’t tell them.’

Alastair took a hold of his hand. ‘Did you tell them why you didn’t want them to find out about your sickness?’

‘No,’ Thomas said.

‘Why not? It makes you unhappy that they are treating you this way.’

‘I don’t want to hurt their feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I know they mean well, and I know they’re scared too.’

Alastair looked him in the eye. Often he forced himself to do that, make eye contact at just the right moment despite the discomfort. For a long time, he’d wanted nothing more than to be normal, and eye contact was part of that. With Thomas, it was easier. His eyes really were beautiful. The discomfort never quite went away though, so he settled his gaze on Thomas’ brow instead. People usually couldn’t tell when he was faking eye contact. It was only when he lied that he had to avoid someone’s gaze altogether.

‘So they have no clue that you hate being taken care of?’ Alastair asked. ‘You’ve never once asked them to stop and leave you be?’

‘I think sometimes they do ask if they’ve hurt my feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When they’re being too protective. But in the moment, I always downplay it, I don’t want to hurt them and I understand why they’re protective.’

‘But if you want them to stop doing it, you don’t do it by hiding your sickness from them. You tell them how you feel, even if it is uncomfortable for them to hear.’

Alastair knew he wasn’t much better in that regard, he didn’t know how to deal with what he felt well. He was far more aware of what he felt than people thought, but that didn’t always mean he could explain it without feeling like he was crazy. Repressing and hiding was easier, but Alastair had learnt the hard way it made everything worse in the long run.

‘Maybe I can do that,’ Thomas said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime. You had no issue telling me you didn’t like being taken care of,’ Alastair said.

‘No, I know that. I’m not sure why it’s different. Perhaps because if I tell my parents, they’ll have to feel guilty for being overprotective practically all my life, whereas you’ve never done that before. Telling you to stop would be less hurtful than it would be to tell my parents.’

‘The longer you wait, the worse it’ll get,’ Alastair said. ‘They are right to be worried, you are in danger and we’re running out of time. But that doesn’t mean they can’t change how they treat you when you’re sick.’

‘You really think that’s what this is, isn’t it? I’m going to die.’

Alastair took hold of Thomas’ hand. ‘No, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.’

Not even if it cost him his life, Alastair told himself, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to worry Thomas.

‘What else can we do?’ Thomas asked. ‘Tatiana’s gone.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Gone?’

‘My dad went into the village and asked people about her. The staff from that hotel and restaurant said she’d left, so if the plan is to go after her… We have no clue where she is. On the bright side, phones are back in order, and we’re no longer trapped.’

‘It’s not entirely true that we can’t find her,’ Alastair said. ‘Lucie did find something today, before our encounter with the monster. A locket, and a note from Jesse. How he wrote it as a ghost, I have no idea.’

Alastair’s best guess was that Jesse had grown stronger as Thomas had gotten sick, and that he could now hold things. Closer to being alive than he had been before.

‘Anyway, Lucie can summon him with the locket. Assuming he’s been around Tatiana, but I can’t imagine where else he would be. He can lead us back to her.’

Alastair knew they needed a plan, and fast. He had promised Lucie he would help her work on Barbara’s memory. So far, no success. Alastair couldn’t see dead people, and his power didn’t work on dead people. Lucie was still convinced that in between her commanding ghosts and Alastair’s access to people’s memory there was a way to witness the realm of the thief of souls. If that didn’t work, they’d have to go after Tatiana. Stopping her would at the very least save Thomas for the time being, buy them enough time to find a way to permanently defeat the thief of souls.

Grace had said he’d been a mortal once. He was not a god or a devil, or something that was meant to exist. He’d been a mortal who’d claimed a world and started stealing souls, but he was not meant to be there. Which meant he could be defeated, and Alastair was convinced that with cortana and Lucie’s magic, their chances were better than most people’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean those were good chances.

‘Did you call anyone?’ Alastair asked. ‘I think I should call my mother.’

‘My sisters,’ Thomas said. ‘They were both very upset. Eugenia had just gotten off her flight back from India with her friend Kamala, they’ll come here as soon as they can. Barbara’s still in Paris with her boyfriend, but she says she’s getting on the next flight.’

‘I’d love to meet your sisters,’ Alastair said.

He was nervous too, people rarely liked him, why would Thomas’ sisters? Then again, Thomas liked him, Thomas’ parents seemed to like him, so maybe he had a better chance with Thomas’ sisters than with the average person.

‘Preferably not now though,’ Thomas said. ‘I urged them not to come here, but they wouldn’t listen. I told them it would be dangerous, but they both insisted on coming and told me I couldn’t stop them.’

‘It seems the stubbornness runs in the family,’ Alastair said.

‘Dad called uncle Gabriel,’ Thomas added. ‘Uncle Gabriel tried to convince Barbara to instead come to London and watch the children for him while he and Cecily come here to help. So far, I think Barbara is insistent on coming.’

Alastair could imagine why. Even if they were hopeful, even if they had a plan, there was a chance Thomas would die. He understood Thomas’ sisters wanted to be with him in case that happened, to at least be able to say goodbye.

It was time for dinner when Alastair and Thomas got out of the bath, dried off, and dressed themselves. Thomas felt less cold, which Alastair guessed was good, but still very tired and had very little appetite. Instead of joining them for dinner, he retreated to the couch again, only eating some soup and a piece of bread. At least it was something.

Alastair had to stop himself from taking care of him. Thomas didn’t want it, he just needed some rest. Thomas put on another movie, not yet tired enough to fall asleep, and Alastair retreated to his bedroom so he could call his mother.

‘Alastair, it’s been so long since I heard from you!’ his mother scolded as she picked up.

She spoke in Farsi, and it was somehow comfortable to speak to her in her language.

‘I’m sorry, maman. A lot has been happening, and we couldn’t reach anyone outside.’

‘I think you and your sister should come home, you’re not safe there,’ his mother said.

Alastair sighed. ‘We can’t. Leaving won’t make the problems go away. Thomas needs me, and Lucie is in danger as well. Without Cordelia and her sword, neither of them stand a chance.’

‘I understand, azizam. I just wish I could know you were safe.’

‘I can’t make a any promises. But I’ll protect Cordelia. We’ll be home before you know it. Jem told us about the baby.’

‘You’re not mad, I hope?’ his mother asked.

‘No, of course not,’ Alastair said. ‘I can’t wait to meet my baby brother or sister, same for Cordelia. It is not what either of us expected, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.’

‘I haven’t seen your father,’ his mother promised. ‘I must have gotten pregnant before we left, it was an accident, but one that I am happy about. I’ll be raising the baby by myself. Risa has promised to help, of course.’

‘I’ll be there too,’ Alastair promised. ‘The baby will have everything they need.’

‘I hope you are not angry with me,’ his mother said quietly.

‘Why would I be?’

‘Because I didn’t protect you,’ his mother said. ‘I thought you could handle it, you could protect Cordelia and we would be fine. But I was wrong, protecting you was my responsibility and I failed you.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Alastair said and he meant it.

It wasn’t the first time his mother or someone else had pointed out she should have been there for him, should have protected him, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame her for it. She’d been a victim too, he’d told her, he’d told his therapist. Maybe she could have done better, she could have seen he was struggling sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to see. Father had told her Alastair’s odd behavior was normal, that teen boys went through times like that, and he’d believed her.

‘Still, I am sorry. I know you do not blame me, but that does not mean I don’t regret what I did. How has it been with the Herondales? I’d thought you would be happier there, but I never imagined all this would happen to you.’

‘It has been nice here,’ Alastair said. ‘But yes, also dangerous. Nothing to be done about that. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten any of my text, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with Thomas, and he’s my boyfriend now.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. I’m happy for you, joon-am.’

‘Me too. I’m just scared something’s going to happen to him. He’s gotten sick and I think he’s going to get worse. It’s not looking good.’

‘I know I never wanted you and Cordelia to run towards danger like Elias did. But if it saves the boy you love… I have faith in you, Alastair.’

After ending the phone call, Alastair returned downstairs to find Thomas had finished the movie and was turning off the tv. As Thomas closed his eyes and presumably fell asleep again, Alastair sought out Lucie.

‘I think we should give it another try,’ Alastair said. ‘With Barbara’s memory.’

‘You’re right. She’s at the Lightwood cottage, she doesn’t like big crowds and prefers to stay there. I’ll ask aunt Sophie.’

Lucie returned to the kitchen, where Thomas’ parents were doing the dishes, and Alastair returned to Thomas, who had his eyes opened once more.

‘I’m going with Lucie to see if we’re getting anywhere with Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘If your parents are bothering you, you tell them, alright?’

‘I’m considering it. Kiss me before you go?’

Alastair obliged, leaning down to kiss Thomas on the mouth before leaving him to get some more rest.

‘Rest well, delbaram,’ Alastair said.

Alastair returned to Lucie and Sophie, who were on their way back to the Lightwood cottage.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Sophie said. ‘I cannot leave Thomas alone for too long when he’s so sick.’

Alastair wondered if he should say anything. He didn’t want to speak for Thomas, but it seemed clear that Sophie had no idea how Thomas really felt about his parents concern.

‘Thomas has gone back to sleep,’ Alastair said. ‘He said he wanted to rest, best to leave him until he wakes.’

Telling her not to worry felt wrong, so he didn’t. Thomas could die, of course she was worried. Alastair was too. He wasn’t sure what he’d have to do, to keep Thomas alive. He’d read a little about the ritual, and together with that memory of Gideon who’d once interrupted his father, Alastair knew how to summon the thief. Perhaps that was how he could be defeated, by bringing him here and then attacking him. Although if it was that simple, Alastair wondered why no one else had tried it.

‘Alright. Please tell me you have a plan,’ Sophie said.

‘We’re going to try to get information from Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘Based on that, we figure out how to take on the thief of souls. If we need more time, Lucie will summon Jesse and find out where Tatiana is, confront her there and stop her. If she does not fulfill her end of the bargain, Jesse will not live and therefore Thomas will not die.’

Alastair was mostly certain of that. Mostly. There was a chance that Jesse was far enough gone that when Tatiana stopped, the thief of souls could once again choose which of Benedict’s grandsons he wanted, and let the other go. If that was the case, Alastair wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t choose Thomas.

‘And we want to find out how to defeat the thief of souls,’ Lucie added. ‘He is mad with me because I stole Barbara from him, so he’s going to come after me either way. Perhaps he even realized who my mother is. Not to mention I don’t want Jesse to go back to being trapped there.’

The three of them arrived at the Lightwood’s cottage. Even if with a ghost living in there, Alastair felt the little cottage with its adorable garden was welcoming. A nice place to spend the summer.

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie commanded, and Barbara appeared, sitting on the couch.

‘How have you been?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m alright, thank you. The other ghost at your house can be a bit much, so I am happy to stay here for now.’

Alastair hoped Barbara meant Jessamine, and not another ghost he didn’t know about. As much as he was used to the supernatural, ghosts made him a bit uncomfortable, mostly because he couldn’t see them and he could never be sure he wasn’t being watched. At least Jessamine was far more prudish than he was and Alastair trusted her to turn around and go somewhere else when he was in the bathroom or changing or kissing Thomas.

‘We want to try once more to enter your memory,’ Lucie explained. ‘Are you up for it?’

‘Of course. Not much else here for me, I’m afraid,’ Barbara said. ‘I wish I could be of more help. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, like a dream that slips away when you wake up and I just can’t remember.’

Alastair could imagine that was frustrating. It was hard for him to picture, not being able to remember something. Dreams could be trickier, and sometimes he lost them, but Alastair did not care much for dreams and would much rather not dream at all. Memories, however, could never be lost, he could never forget. At most he could get frustrated if he couldn’t find the right memory for certain information.

‘Can you command ghosts to be alive, Lucie?’ Alastair asked.

Lucie frowned. ‘I can’t bring people back from the dead.’

‘No, but perhaps temporarily. You can make ghosts visible, you can make them corporeal enough to touch things. All of those bring them closer to what qualifies as alive. Perhaps if you command them to be alive, they will be able to do all these things at once, even if for only a moment. And then I’d be able to access her memory.’

‘Alright. I’ll give it a try. Barbara, I command you to live.’

Alastair couldn’t see anything change, but when he tried to enter Barbara’s memory, he found it was there. She did put up a bit of resistance.

‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s just me, you can let me in.’

Barbara relaxed, and Alastair tried to search for the right memory. Usually, people tried to recall the memory, they controlled what memory was shown, not he. But Barbara couldn’t recall what she didn’t remember. He’d found ways around that, ways to bring back lost memories. When he was younger he’d tried to restore his father’s memory of a night he’d been too drunk to remember, thinking it would help. Alastair had long given up that practice though, it didn’t make a difference. He’d believed once that if his father remembered what he did while he was drunk, he would stop. He would realize how much hurt he was causing and stop drinking. But it didn’t make a difference, and his father had mostly found it inconvenient. It was easier for him to forget.

With Tessa, he’d used a different, harder strategy of searching through association, starting with what he knew ought to be there. Jessamine, the house. Tessa still didn’t remember everything, but she was getting there.

With Barbara, he took a different approach. The trick in this case was to start at the last thing someone remembered and then speed things along a little. Alastair knew the last thing Barbara remembered, which was her fight with her husband and then her death. He tried to brace himself as he asked Barbara to remember that, hoping he wouldn’t get lost in his own memory.

They managed to start the memory after Benedict stalked off into his own study and Barbara rushed to get the children. He could tell she was confused, but took the opportunity just the same, rushing through the mansion. In the distance, he could hear a baby cry. Alastair assumed that was Tatiana. Then Barbara collapsed to the ground and Alastair felt something awfully painful in his back. Blood. The spinal cord, severed. Was it Benedict, behind her, who had stabbed her? Barbara didn’t turn around, didn’t see her attacker, but it had to be. She hadn’t dropped dead when Benedict had made the deal. She’d been murdered. Because the thief might prefer spouses, but those weren’t connected by blood, so he couldn’t kill them himself.

Alastair wondered how Benedict had gotten away with murdering his wife, a knife in her back while she was at home was hard to explain away. But then he guessed it was easy for the thief of souls to make her body disappear, or use some magic to change it to resemble a suicide. He didn’t know, had not asked Gideon what he’d once believed happened to his mother. He thought that would be too painful.

She was in pain for only a little while, and then the Lightwood’s manor disappeared. She was in a forest not unlike the one around here. It was dark and cold and gloomy. Alastair could feel the chill touch his skin. Barbara looked around, taking in the environment with great care. There were others like her. People, but there was something unusual about their eyes. Alastair couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was not right. Those had to be the other souls. There were many of them, spread out across where Barbara could see.

‘Follow me.’

There was a woman. She looked like the others, human, but something was not right. She appeared a little more alive though, a little less broken. She seemed to be somewhat in charge here.

‘Who are you? Where am I?’ Barbara asked.

‘Follow me,’ the woman repeated.

Reluctantly Barbara followed. Alastair sped up the next part, as the walk was rather long. The woods seemed endless, which made Alastair wonder where this was exactly. In the land in between, some buildings still existed, but here there seemed to be none at all. There were souls all over though, what was their purpose? Some were doing something, carrying things Alastair couldn’t identify, working for the thief? Others wandered around aimlessly. Alastair did the best he could to take in any landmarks she passed. He never knew if he would have to navigate this realm.

At last they reached a castle. The castle the others had been dreaming about. Alastair was the only one who hadn’t dreamt and he was glad for it. Although perhaps compared to his usual dreams, nightmares about a spooky castle were an improvement.

Barbara entered the castle. Based on the gothic building style, the many sharp shapes, Alastair guessed it must have been built somewhere in late medieval time. It certainly wasn’t the style he would choose if he could live in a castle, too bleak for his taste. He’d prefer a bit more welcoming style, big windows, light and bright colors. A big private bathhouse. Old Persian style, or perhaps Roman or ancient Greek. Instead, the inside of the castle looked dreary and a bit messy. Had it been rebuilt over time, or was this an indication of how old the thief of souls was?

The woman led Barbara into the throne room. On the throne was a man with dark hair and a skin the color of paper. His eyes were red and glowing, and his head was decorated with big antlers. He’d been mortal once, so where had the antlers come from? Alastair could only say he was right that deer were scary.

‘I take it you had to walk here,’ he said.

His voice was surprisingly human, although loud and authoritative. Barbara didn’t say anything.

‘Yes, my lord, she appeared in the forest approximately seventy miles south of here,’ said the woman who had accompanied Barbara.

Seventy miles… Had Barbara really just walked that far? Alastair suspected distance was different in the land of the thief.

The red eyes glowed a little brighter. ‘Did I ask?’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ the woman said.

She had to be one of his souls, but somehow she’d gotten a higher position in serving him. Were there more souls like this?

‘Your name is Barbara Lightwood, isn’t it?’

Barbara looked up, shaking on her feet. ‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘Barbara, Barbara… given to me by your husband. Betrayal after marriage has its use for me, but it is surprisingly common, I’m afraid. All sorts of marriages go sour and so often people have grown to hate their spouse so much they’re willing to sacrifice the soul. Still, it is an interesting sort of betrayal, a broken vow. Did you see it coming, Barbara? Were you afraid of your husband?’

Barbara was silent.

‘You are new here, and so I will be forgiving. But it does not do to ignore my questions,’ the thief of souls said, angry but calm and in control. ‘When I ask you a question, you will give me an honest answer. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes… Yes, sir.’

A small smile appeared on the thief’s face. ‘Alright then, Barbara. Amuse me. Did you see it coming?’

‘I… Yes. And no. I knew he was dangerous, I knew he might hurt me or the children. But I did not think any of this existed, or that he would choose me as a sacrifice.’

‘Intriguing,’ the thief said. ‘It has been such a long time since I was one of your kind. Your love, hate, betrayal. It is absolutely fascinating. What drives a husband to betray his wife to me? How much power do I need to offer, for them to stab someone they claimed to love in the back. Can any soul be corrupted? And what was the reason your husband first was unwilling to make a deal, but now summoned me and told me it was done and you could be mine?’

Alastair could not feel what someone else was feeling in their memories, not entirely. He got a glimpse of it, but little more. He could tell Barbara was horrified though, betrayed. And for the thief, it was a source of entertainment besides power. He seemed intrigued by the horrors humans were capable of, and loved to bring out the worst in them.

‘I was leaving,’ Barbara said slowly. ‘I knew my children and I weren’t safe there. He found out I was leaving, and got angry.’

The thief of souls laughed, his face bright. ‘Of course, that’s so often the cause. People are far more likely to sacrifice someone who is leaving them. Perhaps if you’d been a good wife and stayed, he would have let you live.’

Alastair tried to push down his anger, his sense of helplessness. This whole conversation was difficult to listen to, the way the thief was fascinated by the way people used and abused others and liked to leverage such situations to his advantage. The way he blamed Barbara for what her husband had done. He felt sick, and had no choice but to push away and leave. Both he and Barbara were on the couch, shaking. Sophie was sitting opposite to them, whereas Lucie looked like she was about to fall asleep.

‘Did you find what you needed?’ Lucie asked, suppressing a yawn.

‘More or less,’ Alastair said. ‘I got to see his realm. It is a huge dark forest and the souls are everywhere. Some have jobs, or I don’t know, serve him somehow. Many just wander around. And he was human once. Apparently, it’s not so uncommon for people who deal with him to sacrifice their spouse. Even if because of the whole blood connection thing, people have to kill their spouses themselves.’

Alastair didn’t want to think about the kind of people that did. No one in a good and healthy relationship woke up one day and sacrificed their partner for power. The thief said he wondered if anyone could be corrupted but Alastair didn’t think so. He imagined many had been abused before. It made him wonder, if he’d stayed with Charles, if Charles had known about all this, would he have been willing to sacrifice Alastair to get the power he wanted?

‘That sounds rather awful,’ Sophie said.

‘Not very romantic,’ Lucie added.

‘Marriage isn’t always,’ Alastair said. ‘Nor are relationships. Sometimes it’s less about love and more about power.’

‘Benedict was all about power,’ Barbara said. ‘At first, I thought he was good underneath that cold exterior. He could be so charming, but they so often are, aren’t they?’

‘They are,’ Alastair said, thinking of Charles.

‘I thought that my love could temper his moods,’ Barbara continued. ‘It was just like a romance novel, you know? Average woman meets cold but charming and wealthy man and her love changes him. I always loved those.’

‘I like love stories too,’ Lucie said. ‘But real life is not always like the stories. Sometimes someone is not who you think they are.’

‘Stupid, isn’t it? I should have known. I should have seen through his charm and his stupid lies.’

Alastair twisted his fingers, pained. He told himself that so often. He should have known Charles could not be trusted, should have known he only cared about himself. He should have known Charles was taking advantage of him. It had all been so obvious to Cordelia when he’d told her, so why hadn’t he known better?

‘It’s not your fault,’ he said instead, because he was still doing the best he could to convince himself of that. Funny how it was so much easier to believe it when it was someone else. ‘It’s his, and his alone.’

‘Being naïve or looking past warning signs doesn’t change that,’ Sophie added. ‘You deserved better. Your children did too. I hope you can find peace.’

Barbara smiled at Sophie through her tears. ‘I’m so happy my son found someone like you.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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gingeralepdf · 4 years

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A Little Love

A/N: here she isss!!! this is the piece that i wrote for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that was set up by the amazing @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h and @oh-honey-styles (thank you for organizing all of this!! you’re all legends!!)

extra big thank you to lydia @youresogolden-h and brailey @daydreamsofh for being such sweet beta readers <3

this is my first ever attempt at writing fic, so i hope you enjoy it!

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption

Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

word count: ~8K

**April 25, 2020, 11:15am**

It’s a comfortable spring day in San Francisco. The windows are cracked, letting in sweet smelling fresh air and the moderate bustle of people out and about. Despite the perfect weather to be out at the market or taking a walk in the park, you’re currently at your neighbor’s apartment, slouched on the couch in the living room and in the midst of a New Girl marathon. Or rather, you are in the midst of a New Girl marathon, but your friend has not looked up from the guitar he is restringing for the past fifteen minutes.

You’ve been stealing glances at Harry from the other end of the couch. He has the guitar laying across his lap. He’s able to take all of the strings off and put three new ones on without a problem, but something about the fourth string seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. Every time he gets the string wound up on the tuning key, it snaps loose, like it can’t hold the tension. After several attempts with the same result, Harry sets his string winder on the coffee table and lets out a frustrated huff while scratching his forehead.

Although you know it’s probably best to not make a comment while he’s annoyed, you decide to make one anyway.

Just as he grabs the winder from the coffee table and goes in for another attempt at the string, you blurt out, “I thought the whole point of watching Netflix at your house instead of mine was so you could work and watch at the same time.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slowly cranes his head to look in your direction, “I am watching.”

“Right, so tell me what Miranda has been up to,” you challenge.

Harry lowers his head in concentration, making another attempt at winding up the string on the tuning key, “She’s like… going on a date or something.”

“Miranda isn’t even a character in the show!”

The tuning key once again snaps loose. Harry’s nostrils flare and he mutters a quick “Fucks sake.”

A moment passes where the only sound in the room is the TV. You’re trying to gauge whether or not you’ve actually pissed him off a bit. You decide to bite your tongue and see what he is going to say next.

Harry finally shifts his eyes from the guitar to you, “Obviously I can’t work and watch at the same time.”

You give him a pointed look, “You think?”

“I promise I can finish this project pretty quick, and then I’ll watch, like, four episodes, uninterrupted. I just need to go get some parts so… would you mind pausing it?”

Once the show is paused, Harry gets up from his spot on the couch, gently sets the guitar on the floor, and turns to exit the living room. However, he is stopped short since your legs are making a barricade between the couch and the coffee table. With a mischievous grin on his face, he uses his shin to slowly push your legs away from him so that your feet slide off the end of the table and onto the floor. Your jaw drops in exaggerated offense. Giggles erupt from both of you as he narrowly avoids your attempts to trip him while he steps over your legs and then jogs across the room to his workspace.

A huge benefit of living a couple of buildings away from your best friend is that any given day of the week can be spent like this. The both of you can always be found at either one of your apartments watching hours of Netflix, working on projects, or sharing meals.

Just as you were enjoying the moment of silence that fell onto the room, your phone and Harry’s phone buzz on the coffee table. With a quiet groan, you slowly sit up from the couch to see a text from your boss, sent in a group chat with yourself and Harry.

Would either of you be able to work the closing shift tonight? Sarah called in sick and the rest of the shift leads can’t work today.

Although you and Harry were both looking forward to having a Saturday off, you knew the bar was a little short-staffed this weekend, so you both kind of saw this coming.

“Is that who I think it is?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, Adam’s asking one of us to work the closing shift tonight. Sarah called in sick and I guess Charlotte can’t work today.”

Harry groans as he makes his way back to his previous spot on the couch and plops down with a screwdriver and a plastic bag containing what looks to be a new set of tuning keys in hand.

Harry takes a moment to look around his living room, taking in all of the instrument cases stacked around the small apartment, scratching his jaw in thought. “I mean, I would take it, but I’ve got a lot of projects that have to get done this weekend.”

“I guess that just leaves me then,” you say flatly, sinking further into the couch and staring straight ahead out of the window across the room.

“‘M’ sorry,” Harry says with a light chuckle at your dramatics, “I’ll owe you one.” His offer comes out more like a question.

You look back in his direction to see him with a wide, dimpled grin staring back at you. You know he’s just trying to make you feel better, and it works.

After sending a quick text to your boss letting him know you would be there tonight, you sit up straight and grab the remote from the coffee table. “That’s a really tempting offer. I’ve got a lot of sick days saved up, you know?”

“Heyyyy,” Harry draws out in a playfully offended tone.

You chuckle before asking, “Can we just finish this episode so I can go home and get some rest before work?”

“Yeah I think we can do that.” He sets the screwdriver and plastic bag on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, folding his hands together to rest on his stomach.

You press play on the remote and settle into another day with your best friend.

**April 26, 2020. 1:47am**

About ten minutes until the bar closes, and there are still three large, lively groups hanging around. You and your coworkers have done as many pre-closing tasks as you possibly could, aside from taking the drink glasses straight out of the customers’ hands. Now it just seems to be the longest waiting game ever until you’re officially allowed to kick everyone out.

While you’re all busying yourselves with wiping down counters and straightening chairs, the front door swings open.

Just as you’re about to put on your best customer service face that you can muster, you see a familiar blue and white plaid jacket and fluffy brown curls. Harry is strolling in, surveying the crowd of customers as he’s making his way to where you’re standing at the bar. You see that he is donning a form-fitting grey t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on it, light brown high-waisted pants, and a delicate looking pearl necklace. He always seems to be able to effortlessly look put together, even when he is making bold choices.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and ask with exaggerated charm, “Come here often?”

“Oh god.” He laughs at your ill attempt at comedy through a pained expression.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “Same as always.”

Harry has made it a routine to walk home with you when you’re working the closing shift. Even when you insist that there’s no need for him to stay up so late when he’s not working.

He glances around before looking back at you, “Is there anything I can help with right now?”

You shake your head. “Just waiting for them to leave so we can clean everything.”

“Bollocks,” he mutters before puckering his lips.

You decide to go around the corner of the bar to the prep area where the music controls are. Hopefully the customers will take the hint that it’s time to leave once you lower the volume.

After a few minutes, all of the staff are breathing a collective sigh of relief when one group makes their way to the door and the other two groups shortly follow suit.

By the time you follow the crowd out and you lock the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Considering how busy it was tonight, you’re counting this as a small victory.

Harry and your other coworkers are going around cleaning up glasses and bottles and taking them back to the sink while you make your way to the register to start your shift lead duties.

Once the tips are divided, you take a look around and see that your coworkers are steadily making their way through the cleaning checklist. With Harry’s help, things are moving along pretty quickly. You pull the first bundle of cash out of the drawer and start counting.

After getting the cash drawer sorted out, and counting out a new one for Monday, you hear your coworker saying your name. “I think we’ve done everything on the cleaning checklist. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Actually, all I have left to do is inventory. I’m not gonna hold you hostage for that, so you guys are free to head out if you want to.”

Your coworkers are saying goodnight and clocking out shortly after. Once they're gone, you’re left with the faint buzzing of the refrigerators and the light music over the speakers. You turn around to face the shelves of bottles and notice a few that are running low and need replacing. You go down the ‘employees only’ hallway to the back stockroom and grab all the bottles you need. Hugging them to your chest, you make your way back down the hallway. You walk about halfway when a figure jumps out of the supply closet to your right, causing you to jump backwards and let out a scream.

Harry’s howling laughter echoes through the hallway as you try to catch your breath and will your heart to stop racing.

You finally regain some composure and turn to fully face Harry. His laughter has reduced to occasional soft chuckles falling past his pursed lips. If your arms weren’t full, you would most likely be smacking him for scaring the shit out of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You do your best to give him death glare, but your voice is now shaking with laughter as well. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop any of this stuff, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but you should have seen your face. Holy shit.” He opens his arms and slowly steps toward you to bring you in for a hug.

“Well if you’re so sorry, put these on the shelf for me.” You say as you thrust the bottles into his chest, making him grunt out a laugh.

You walk to the front with Harry trailing behind you. All you have left to do is make a few notes for Adam before finally clocking out. You’ve never been more excited for your head to hit the pillow when you get home.

As you’re making your notes, Harry is pacing about behind you, straightening out all of the bottles on the shelves. He lets out a long observant hum.

“What?”

“Just noticed this guy’s almost empty,” he holds up a bottle of tequila and swirls around what little liquor is left in it. One corner of his mouth turns up before he looks at you, “Enough left for two more shots, probably.”

“Is that so?”

“Y’ wanna find out?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you tilt your head up and tap your chin in thought “I don’t know how I feel about taking shots with people who jump out of supply closets to scare me.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He’s exaggerating and drawing all of his words out as he walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you so that his hands are resting on your left shoulder and he rests the side of his head on the back of yours. “I’m sorry. Please take a shot with me.”

Although it's pointless since he can’t see your face, you roll your eyes in response, “Fine. Pour me one.”

His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze before he moves away and reaches under the counter then puts two shot glasses onto the bar. He reaches behind him for the nearly empty bottle and pours the perfect amount into each glass. Taking them both in his hands, he extends one to you.

You don’t miss the chuckle that he lets out as you take the glass from him. After giving him a questioning look, you notice a slight blush on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was just thinking. This,” he gestures to the two of you and the glasses you’re both holding “reminds me of the day you got into the art institute.”

Around this time a year ago, you had spent weeks pouring over your application for the San Francisco Art Institute and months after that waiting to hear anything back. When you got the acceptance email toward the end of your shift at work, Harry was the first person that you told. Just over a year ago, you were standing with Harry behind this same bar when you told him the good news. Your chest filled with warmth at his reaction. He wrapped you in a nearly suffocating hug as he loudly declared, “I told you you had a kick ass portfolio! So fuckin proud of you.”

Right after he released you from the hug, he poured each of you a shot. Harry then made the impromptu decision of doing a bar crawl after you both got off, deeming the two shots “not enough celebration”.

After a night full of slightly over the top celebrating, you were practically dragging Harry home. It wasn’t until you got to his apartment building that he realized he had left his keys and wallet at one of the bars. Not wanting to drag him back across town, you ended up bringing him back to your apartment just around the corner.

It took a lot of coaxing, but you were able to get him to drink a big glass of water before helping him brush his teeth with your spare toothbrush.

You have a lot of vague and fuzzy memories from that night, but there are two that remain crystal clear. One is the moment when you were clumsily leading him to your couch and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Wish I could kiss you.” And the other is the way your stomach dropped and your heart nearly fluttered out of control at his drunken confession.

The conversations about that night always turned into jokes about you being able to handle your liquor better than he could. His comment was never brought up by either of you. You weren’t sure if he would even remember it, or if either of you really wanted to.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “we should never be allowed to celebrate anything after that. We were miserable the next day.”

You lock eyes with him and for a split second there’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Like a different kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before this moment.

It’s fleeting, however, because he glances down at your hands and clinks your glasses together. You tilt your heads back at the same time, feeling the burn in your throats and letting out sharp exhales once it’s passed.

Harry takes your glass from your hand and silently goes to the prep area. You hear the sink running as you finish up your notes to your boss and you clock out.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah I just need to get my-” you stop mid-sentence when you turn around to see Harry already holding out your bag that had been hanging up in the prep area. You mutter a ‘never mind’ as you take it from him.

Harry grabs his jacket from the pool table and you stroll to the front door together, turning off lights as you go.

You finally step out into the chilly nighttime air. The only noises are coming from the small scattered groups of people gathering in front of the bars on the block that are just closing.

After locking the doors, you and Harry start trudging along the sidewalk up the steep hill. If you had known that it was going to get so much colder and windier during the night, you would have brought a jacket with you. You fold your arms and grit your teeth as another cold breeze hits you from the front.

You don’t even notice Harry taking off his jacket until he’s holding it in front of your face. You pause your walking for a moment to gently take it from his hand.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Well I’m not gonna watch you shiver all the way home.”

You frown a bit as you look at the jacket in your hands. You can still feel the warmth from Harry’s body heat on the hand that’s grasping the inside of it. Having that little bit of warmth already makes you feel better, but you hate to think that he’s going to be the one gritting his teeth against the cold.

He says your name through a chuckle and you look up to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just put the jacket on and let’s get you home, yeah?”

**April 26th, 2020. 5:30am**

It should be considered a crime to be wide awake at this hour, considering the small amount of sleep you’ve gotten. The only thing you had the energy to do when you got home last night was change out of your work clothes and fall into bed. You remember glancing at your clock and reading 3:15 a.m. before your eyelids grew heavy and closed.

The reminder of Harry’s drunk confession that you thought was water under the bridge is now flooding your mind as you desperately try to fall back to sleep. You try to push down the memory of his giggles as you made the strenuous effort of finding the switch on your living room lamp while having nearly all of his body weight leaned against you for support. You try to push down the memory of his flushed cheeks in the glowing yellow light when you finally got him settled on your couch. You try to push down the memory of running your fingers through his soft curls and giving his hairline a soft kiss before going to bed. You try to think of literally anything else.

It isn’t until the very first hints of daylight enter your room that you decide to give up.

The floor is cold on your feet as you walk to your bathroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

After a quick shower and putting on your favorite t-shirt and jeans, you feel less sluggish. You focus on going through your kitchen pantry to find something for your growling stomach.

Although you wish that you were still sleeping soundly in your bed, you think of how rare it is to get to see this city both at the dead of night and when it’s slowly starting to wake up. To be able to greet the light in your living room as it dances across the pictures on your walls and you mill about with your bowl of cereal.

The pictures lined up on your walls remind you of the project that you started last week that you need new photos for. You go to your closet and get the bag that holds your digital camera. Your mind is buzzing at the thought of taking it to the park before it gets too crowded.

You put on a jacket and shoes, pull your camera bag over your shoulder, and head out into the chilly Sunday morning.

********************

You round the corner of your block and start making your way down the steep hill, admiring the multicolored houses across the street that are glowing softly in the morning light. A smile spreads across your face as you reach into your bag for your camera and your fisheye lens. Once you’ve captured a few shots that you’re happy with, you move on toward the park.

You’re coming up on Harry’s building, and you instinctively glance up at the second story bay window that you know belongs to his apartment. Because this side of his building is still in the shade at this point in the day, you can see that his light is on.

“What’s he doing up?” you think to yourself. He’s always been an early riser, but considering how late you both stayed up, you would hope that he had been able to get some extra sleep.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, Harry appears in the window. His blinds are wide open, so you can clearly see him stepping up to his record player and delicately placing the needle on the vinyl. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth.

What your eyes are more drawn to, however, is his choice of clothing, or lack thereof. He’s standing in front of his window in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of underwear. You knew the t-shirt too well as the one he found at a thrift store years ago and became obsessed with after reading the ‘Treat People With Kindness’ logo on the front. He steps back from the record player and tilts his head back to brush his teeth. You watch as his jaw flexes and is accentuated by the light scruff of facial hair along it.

It’s becoming alarmingly clear to you that you are alone in the middle of the sidewalk, about thirty feet away from your best friend’s window, ogling him as he’s minding his own business. As much as your palms are sweating and your stomach is doing somersaults at the prospect of being spotted, you cannot bring yourself to continue walking. You wouldn’t mind becoming a permanent part of the sidewalk if it meant having this kind of view.

Harry turns and walks away from the window. You finally snap out of your daze and hurry past his window, thankful for the help of the downhill slope to move you along. Once you get to the corner of the block, you stop and lean your back against the building. Lightly smacking your forehead, you mutter out loud to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

********************

The trip to the park turned out to be a perfect way to spend the morning. You ended up taking a lot of pictures of murals and flowers before the park started to get too busy.

With your favorite album playing through your headphones, your mind is now buzzing with the excitement of having new photos to edit.

Once you cross the street, you’re now standing on the corner of your block. One way would lead you once again past the window to Harry’s apartment. The other way would help you avoid another potentially awkward sighting, but was much longer and usually includes lines for overcrowded restaurants.

Keeping your head down, you continue walking straight ahead in the same direction that you came from.

As you’re hiking up the hill, you suddenly hear a voice that you know is not coming through your headphones. You turn your volume down and listen to your surroundings. Plain as day, someone behind you shouts your name. You rip your headphones out and whip around to see Harry waving at you from his window.

“Hey! You wanna come up for breakfast?”

Your feet are firmly planted to the sidewalk, much like they were about an hour ago when you stood in the same spot and ogled this man.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, and pathetically jabbed your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “Actually I… I-I was gonna-”

“I’ve got coffee from Trieste,” he says in a sing-song tone.

You internally roll your eyes and curse him for knowing that you can never deny coffee from your favorite place in town. Plus, wracking your brain for a good excuse to be on your way is becoming difficult due to the hunger pains starting up in your stomach. That bowl of cereal is only holding you over for so long.

You look up at his dimpled face and relax your shoulders, “Okay, yeah. Yeah I’ll come up.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you!” is the last thing you hear before he shuts his window and you make your way to the stairs.

You climb up to the second story and turn down his hallway. When you’re standing in front of his door, you can hear music playing.

You open the door and you’re met with the sounds of trumpets. Harry has Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” playing on his record player. He has it just loud enough to where it won’t annoy any of his neighbors, but it still fills every corner of the living room. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into a similar scene here. You know this to be one of his favorite songs to play in the morning.

You close the door behind you and take in the state of the room as you walk through. The instrument cases are a little more organized than they had been yesterday. Smaller ones are stacked up next to his workstation and the larger ones are stacked up in the corner next to his couch. His laptop sits open on the coffee table and a haphazard stack of blank paper repair tags sat next to it.

The camera bag on your shoulder is now starting to feel heavy, so you plop down on the couch. Your ears perk up at the sound of Harry singing along with the record from the kitchen.

“You can have an aeroplane flyin’. If you bring your blue sky back.”

Following the smell of coffee, you walk over to the doorway of the small kitchen. Harry is standing at the counter. Thankfully he is not wearing the outfit that you saw him in earlier. He’s wearing brown trousers and a cream colored flannel with black and green stripes. He also has on his signature pair of scuffed up black vans.

There is a small table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen next to the window with a vase of sunflowers and a couple of books sitting on it. You walk over to the table to inspect the books more closely. Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton & John Armstrong and The Course of Love, also by Alain de Botton. Before you get the chance to flip them over and read the descriptions, Harry clears his throat.

“Coffee’s ready.” He sets the kettle down on the counter and dances his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his mugs.

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face, admiring his ability to always be so energetic in the mornings.

He takes the filter out of the chemex and chunks it in the trash before pouring the coffee into two mugs. The way he turns with a mug in each hand, extending one to you, is extremely reminiscent of last night. After you take the mug from his hands, he scoots past you into the living room. The volume of the music lowers to a faint background noise before he appears again in the kitchen.

“So,” he pauses to reach into the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it on the counter, “what are you doing up so early? Figured you’d be in bed till noon. Seemed pretty exhausted last night.” He takes a long sip of coffee, waiting for your response.

Suddenly you’re doing everything to not look in his direction. Your eyes are shifting from the table to the flowers to the mug in your hands.

“Um… yeah I woke up at like 5:30 for some reason and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I just decided to take a walk with my camera.” Your last few words echo from your mug before you take a big sip.

Harry clicks his tongue. “M’ sorry, that sucks. Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You involuntarily gasp at his question, causing the coffee to go directly down the wrong pipe. Several harsh coughs erupt from your chest.

Harry acts quickly, muttering a quick “shit” before taking the cup from your hand and setting it on the table along with his. He steps behind you and you hear a chair scoot out from the table. His hands gently wrap around your upper arms, prompting you to have a seat. You fold over in the chair, gripping the edge of the table for stability. After a few more strong coughs, you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Harry’s fingertips rubbing soothing circles on your back sends electricity up and down your spine.

His hand slides off of your back as he steps away from you, “Alright? Want some water?” He’s already walking over to his cabinet and pulling out a glass before you respond.

Once you clear your throat, you croak out, “Yeah I’m fine, that’s fine.”

He sets the glass on the table in front of you, turns back to the carton of eggs on the counter and starts cracking some into a pan.

After taking some sips of your water, you say, “So I was going to ask you the same question. What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, funny enough, I also had to wake up around 5:30. I’ve got a client coming to pick up her trumpet this morning and I had to get everything sorted and clean up a bit before she got here.”

Nodding your head, you tease, “Oh yeah, it looks really good in there. Was starting to forget what your floor looked like.”

Your heart leaps at the sound of Harry’s belly laugh. “Wow. Wowwwwww. Already giving me a hard time. At this hour. Jesus.”

You laugh at his exaggerated reaction while he simply shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the front door. Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Must be her, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do those?” You stand up from your spot at the table and gesture to the pan.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he exits the kitchen.

A moment later, you hear the sound of a woman’s voice greeting Harry. It sounds like they’re just standing in his entryway because you can’t really make out what either of them are saying.

Meanwhile, you go about scrambling eggs, making toast, and getting out plates and silverware. By the time Harry is back in the kitchen, you’re already starting to put everything on the table.

You pick up the books from the table and hold them up to Harry, “Where do you want these?”

“Oh uh, I’ll just put those on the coffee table.” When you hand them off to him, he holds up the copy of Art as Therapy. “This one’s for you though, make sure you take it with you today.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Just thought it looked like something you would enjoy. Saw it when I was looking for this other one.” He holds up The Course of Love.

Before you could say anything, he’s disappeared again into the living room.

Once you’re both sitting at the table and digging into your breakfast, Harry asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

You squint your eyes at him. “I mean, I don’t really have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

“Well that client that was just here offered me two free tickets to her jazz band’s show tonight as, like, an extra ‘thank you’.” He shrugs, “Might be fun to go to.”

With a straight face, you reply, “I can’t, I’m booked tonight.”

You stare at each other for a minute in silence trying not to crack a smile, until you both start snorting.

“I know you’re free because the bar is closed and Sarah is still sick.” Harry tosses his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair like he’s just won an argument.

You mirror him by crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “What if I have plans with Mitch? Sarah’s boyfriend?”

Harry furrows his brows and looks at you, baffled, “I know who Mitch is, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Because I knew it would throw you off.”

“Alright, I’ll just take Mitch to the concert then.”

You drop your jaw and lightly kick his leg under the table. “What time is this concert?” You ask, slipping out of your teasing tone.

“It’s at seven.” Harry leans forward and lifts his coffee from the table, holding it up to you.

You grab yours from the table and clink it with his before finishing off the remainder of your coffee.

***********************

Back at your apartment, you’re leaning back in your chair at the desk in your living room, waiting for your pictures from today to upload on your computer. Your hands run over the smooth blue and green cover of Art as Therapy. In the few years that you have known Harry, you’ve swapped countless book recommendations back and forth, and the bookshelves in your apartments are constantly changing due to all of the borrowing you both do. You’ve even gotten each other books for birthdays and other holidays. This is the first book that he has bought for you completely unprompted. You hadn’t even heard of the author until today, so it’s not like he heard you mention in passing wanting to read his books.

You flip the book over and read the description, then flip to the first few pages to see a statement about the authors. “Their proposal is that certain great works of art offer clues on managing the tensions and confusions of everyday life and that, approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.”

Quickly shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you check the progress on your photos. Approximately 20 minutes remaining.

You huff, slap the book closed, and toss it on the desk before getting up and walking to your room. There’s an old shoe box on one of your shelves that you like to go through when you’re feeling sad or having a weird day, which feels about right at this moment.

You plop down on your bed and set the box in front of you, opening up the lid. The rush of nostalgia and warmth that comes over you when going through this box is overwhelming sometimes. It’s filled with miscellaneous photos that you’ve taken on your film camera over the past few years. There are some that capture your favorite buildings and murals throughout the city. There are a lot from when you went to the pride celebrations last year. The majority of the pictures in the box capture candid moments of your friends and family. These kinds of pictures are the ones that remind you of why you love photography so much and even after getting high marks on your work for the institute, these are the ones that you end up feeling the most proud of.

You see your friends from out of state standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge from the time they paid you a surprise visit. Another one shows your cousin at his college graduation. There’s one of your friend and coworker, Sarah, and her boyfriend Mitch from the day you and Harry helped them move into their new apartment, proudly holding up the keys, smiling from ear to ear.

And then there’s quite a lot of Harry. Harry playing pool at a bar across town, Harry at the beach tossing a football with Mitch, a kind of blurry one of him going crazy at an Ariana Grande concert. You laugh out loud when you find the one of him proudly wearing your dress during a drunken game of truth or dare, and the one of him making a ‘kissy’ face at you in those obnoxious Gucci sunglasses that he wore for pretty much an entire summer. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve experienced together until you go back and look at these pictures.

You’ve been flipping through them pretty quickly, but you come across one that makes you freeze. It’s from your friend’s birthday party a few months ago. You got someone to take a picture of yourself with Sarah and Mitch, but Harry decided to jump in. In the picture, Mitch is in the middle of you and Sarah, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Harry has his arms hugged tight around your middle and his cheek is pressed to yours. It could be seen as a form of affection, if his face wasn’t covered in icing from your friend’s birthday cake. The photo is perfectly timed to capture everyone’s shocked laughter.

Just by looking at this photo again, you can feel his smile against your cheek and his arms holding you close. It’s a feeling you’ve been wanting more of ever since that night. Maybe that’s the ‘intimate question’ you’ve been asking yourself- Do you really want more with Harry?

**April 26th, 2020. 6:58pm**

You’re sure nobody on the street could miss you and Harry. After saying quick ‘thank you’s to the uber driver, you grab hands and start jogging toward the entrance of the SFJAZZ Center- a three story building with windows wrapping all the way around. The show is supposed to start in two minutes. You would have arrived much earlier if Harry hadn’t left the tickets on his kitchen table. You’re both dodging and weaving through people on the sidewalk, you in your favorite floral dress and Harry in a bold green suit jacket.

Once in the lobby, you both reduce your pace to a brisk walk and you readjust the bag on your shoulder. Harry’s hand is still holding yours as you’re both scanning the lobby for the right place to go. You spot a couple of employees closing doors labeled ‘main hall seating’.

“Over here,” you say, pulling Harry along with you.

Luckily, you’re able to catch the ushers in time to show them your tickets and be let in. The expansive auditorium is filled with the sound of chattering people and musicians warming up their instruments.

Thankfully, your seats are in a row toward the back and to the left of the stage, so you don’t have to make too big of a scene when scooting past people. Right when you settle in, the house lights dim, the chatter rapidly dies down, and the band on the stage goes silent.

The lull is soon replaced with applause when a woman walks out and stands center stage. She introduces herself as the director of programming and welcomes the audience. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your support means so much to this center as we continue to make music and art and do what we love to do.” She pauses to hold up a booklet in her hands. “As you may have seen in your program, tonight’s performance is a special one.”

For the first time, you glance around the room and notice almost everyone but you and Harry has a program in their lap or held in their hands.

The woman on stage continues. “Some of you may know this, and some of you may not, but April is the birth month of American jazz singer, Billie Holiday. So, to honor her legacy, this lovely band sitting behind me has put together arrangements of some of her greatest hits.” Applause fills the room once again.

“Some of the performances tonight will feature vocalists and some will be done with the band only, so I hope everyone will find something they enjoy. Now, without further ado, I present to you A Little Love, with Billie Holiday.”

There is applause for a third time, but your hands are suddenly too heavy in your lap to join in. As the director exits the stage and another woman, presumably the vocalist, takes her place, your mind is reeling at the situation you’re currently in. How have you wound up at a jazz concert dedicated to love, that you decided to attend on a whim, with your best friend that you suddenly have overwhelming feelings for?

All of the subtle signs and notions of feelings you have had over the years have turned into blaring alarms, and they’re all pointing to one person. The man sitting right next to you, who is also sitting stock still in his seat.

There’s a drumroll from the stage followed by a light and smooth saxophone solo that brings you back into the moment. The vocalist begins the captivating first verse of Billie Holiday’s You Go to My Head.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You slowly sink about three inches down into your seat. You wish you had a program now so that you could at least use it to fan your face. You reach your hand up to dab at your forehead.

At the same time Harry takes a deep breath and lightly trills his lips while itching the bridge of his nose.

The vocalist continues to sing the lyrics that are hitting you directly in the gut.

The thrill of the thought

That you might give a thought to my plea

Casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself “Get a hold of yourself”

Can’t you see that it never can be

You glance around the auditorium as much as you can without turning your head in Harry’s direction, wondering if anyone else is feeling the temperature rise or the tension that seems to be wrapped around the both of you.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine

Hasn’t the ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Your mind is reeling yet again at the situation you’re in. This must be some kind of elaborate prank that the universe is pulling on you. You’re half expecting a spotlight to fall on you and Harry that nobody in the room would even question.

The feeling doesn’t lift as the concert goes on. Soulful songs about a lover’s eyes, falling in love, how easy it is to live when you’re in love. Even where there is not a vocalist, you seem to know what the songs are implying.

Something that comes up in your rapid stream of thoughts is the author’s note you read earlier, “approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.” You ask yourself the question again: Do you want more with Harry?

You think about the pictures of the times you’ve spent together. Crazy shifts at the bar, days in the park, breakfasts, dinners, late nights staying up talking about god knows what. You know the answer. You’ve always known the answer.

It seems like your heart has caught up with your thoughts, because it’s pounding in your chest.

Halfway through the final song of the night, you decide to steal a glance at Harry. Slowly turning your head, you peek through the corner of your eye.

A quick jolt of electricity runs through your entire body when you see that Harry already has his eyes on you. You turn your head back to the stage, but you can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

When thunderous applause breaks out after the final song, Harry turns his head back to the stage as you both limply clap along with the audience.

******************

This is the most quiet car ride of your life. There isn’t even any music being played in the background. The only words that have been exchanged between you and Harry since the concert ended were when he asked you if it was okay for the uber to just drop you both at your building and you answered with a simple ‘sure’.

There are so many feelings swirling around in you that you don’t know what to do with, and you definitely don’t want all of them to spill out in this stranger’s car, so you keep your jaw clenched as you look out of the window.

The car comes to a stop outside of your building and you both mutter ‘thank you’s as you climb out. You both silently make your way through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway to your door.

Just last night you were making the same trip. You were making light jokes about wanting to steal Harry’s jacket and he was joking back, accusing you of wanting him to freeze to death. You had to remind each other not to laugh so loud so you wouldn’t disturb anyone. Now the only sound in the hallway is your shoes on the floor.

Once you reach your door, you open your bag and start digging for your keys. “Thanks, um, thanks for inviting me. It was a really good show.” You find your keys and push them into the lock before turning your eyes to Harry.

He has one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Yeah it was... it was fun. Glad you could come with me.” He moves his hands from their places and awkwardly moves his arms out for a hug.

You smile and let out a sharp exhale through your nose at the awkwardness of this whole situation, but you gladly reciprocate the hug. Your arms completely wrap around each other, your hands tightly gripping his jacket. You can smell his cologne, like ginger and honey and cedar, and it’s making your head spin. You embrace for a few seconds and then release each other.

Harry sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps to turn away.

You turn the key in the lock, then turn your head to watch Harry take his first few steps away from you. You don’t want him to get any further.

“Harry?”

He stops and turns around to face you. “Yeah?”

You cannot believe the question that’s coming to your mind, but it’s the only thing that’s been coherent enough to put into words. You gulp and take a deep breath before asking, “Do you… do you still wish you could kiss me?”

You watch about three different emotions pass across Harry’s face. His mouth opens, his head tilts to the side, then his mouth closes and his eyes shift to the floor.

You feel a flood of regret. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. That was stupid. He doesn’t remember. Just play it off.

You know your face is flushed with embarrassment as you speak softly, “I’m sorry. I just. That night that you were really drunk and I brought you back here, you said that you wish- that you wished y-”

Hearing Harry say your name stops your rambling. “Don’t be sorry. I know what I said.” He’s eyeing you cautiously and taking a couple of steps toward you again. “And… yeah. I still wish I could kiss you. Felt that way for… a while now.”

Tears are brimming your eyes as you look into his, trying to absorb what he’s just said. Then it’s almost like the floor beneath you tilts in his direction, nudging you to move forward until you’re standing directly in front of him. You can smell his cologne again.

With your eyes still locked into his, you slowly raise your hands to place them on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper, “I wish I could kiss you, too.”

Harry gulps and shifts his eyes down to your lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose before you feel his hand lightly grip your waist and his other hand takes a similar position on your neck.

You both stand there for a few breaths, eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

You start to lean in and then stop about half way and close your eyes. You’re both just waiting to see who will close the gap.

After a moment, you feel Harry’s grip on your neck and waist tighten and you feel him leaning in. Then his lips are on yours. They’re on yours again and again. You tilt your heads to deepen the kisses and he takes a step toward you. You follow his lead until your back is pressed against your door.

As much as it pains you to do so, you have to stop so you can catch your breath. You reach one of your hands into his hair and lightly pull him away. Both of you are breathing in sync.

Once your breathing is evened out, you lock eyes with Harry. Your heart flutters when you exchange shy but knowing smiles and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

After clearing your throat, you move your hand to your door knob. “Do you want to come in?”

Harry glances at your hand then returns his eyes to yours. He purses his lips and takes a sharp breath in. “I just want to know what you want.”

What just happened a few seconds ago already seems monumental to you. After the emotional roller coaster of this day, you’re not sure whether or not you’re ready for more tonight.

You take your hand from the doorknob and run it along his shoulder to return it to its previous position on his neck. “Honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted from today.” You watch as Harry nods his head in understanding. “I think all I want tonight is to hold you,” you notice the softness in his eyes, the same softness that you noticed for a fleeting second in the bar last night. “And keep kissing you.” This makes a lopsided smirk pop onto his face. “And I want to talk in the morning. About us.”

Harry leans in and presses a sweet peck to your lips. “I think we can do that.”

*******************

If anyone would have told you that your day was going to end with you and Harry in your bed, your head on his chest, and him running his fingers soothingly over your back, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Harry?” you say softly, just as your eyelids are starting to get heavy.

His fingers stop for a moment, “Yeah?”

Thinking over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, you start to erupt into sleepy giggles. “Did you know that the performance was gonna be,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “that?”

Harry lets out a deep belly laugh and when you glance up at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have planned that if I tried.”

Before you know it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, recounting the insane timing of the whole situation.

Harry rolls to his side so that he’s facing you and places a lingering kiss on your lips. “I’ll have to tell that client that any repairs she wants are on the house now.”

You throw your head back laughing and he pulls you into his chest, smothering your neck with kisses before resting his chin on top of your head.

If this is all you could have for the rest of your life, just a little love from each other, you would never want anything more.

************************************************************

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

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The Leash (Part 8)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6200 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut! Updated again, yAAAY!!

DISCLAIMER! Next part of the split! a bit longer. and not as soon as I hoped, gosh dangerit. But! Hopefully I’ll get the next one out a lot quicker. This chapter is a little bit special as I tried to incorporate something of a real intensive care take into what is happening as well as my own... ideas about how they'd deal with it all. Let me know what you think! Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ______ It took him a moment to get his bearings again. Hashirama’s back was turned towards him, he was sitting in a chair by your side. The setting sun’s red light illuminated the room in warm hues Tobirama might have appreciated were it not for the sheer sense of dread he felt budding inside of him. The dreary exhaustion was swept away as he stepped closer slowly. Peripherally he picked up a weak pulse of chakra with sensor skills - nothing uncommon for him if he came close enough to a source. Usually he had to actively tap into his sensory skills in order to pick anything up, but if the signal was strong enough, it almost forced itself upon him. Right now, it most likely was your body. As Tobirama rounded the bed he saw your face: pale - paler than before, he was sure - and sweaty. You were taking shallow, hushed breaths while the odd whimper escaped your lips every now and then. Truth be told, Tobirama only remembered you trashing and writhing the last time the withdrawal had set in - now, you simply squirmed, sometimes.

Your expression was far from peaceful though. It was a grimace of sheer pain. Jaw taut, a frown etched onto your forehead and the eyes so tightly, your skin was in wrinkles.

Hashirama was holding your hand, his eyes were closed. An epitome of calmness next to your misery. Tobirama didn’t want to disturb his concentration lest he’d cause you even more torment so for a moment, he stood by the other side of the bed, helplessly witnessing your suffering. The dread had become the painfully familiar constriction of his chest again, every beat of his heart stabbed as he could only let his shoulders hang low.

It was wrong. He should never have agreed to let you suffer like this. The promise you had him make was a hollow echo in his ears. You probably wouldn’t want him to berate himself like this. But how couldn’t he? How couldn't he, when this was the result of the decision? Of course, the cruel logic behind this was clear to him - painfully so.

But if these past few days had been anything but logical every so often.

Hashirama cleared his throat, slowly. “Tobirama,” he greeted, quietly. He didn’t open his eyes.

Tobirama jumped at the opportunity. “How is she?”, he demanded swiftly, keeping his voice low but making no effort to stow back on the urgency.

Hashirama didn’t respond directly, which only served to irritate Tobirama slightly. “It’s difficult,” he began finally, “Initially we were able to stave off the brunt of the withdrawal by sealing her chakra away,” Tobirama’s blood near froze in his veins, his eyes widened slightly, “But it’s been picking up since. Her blood pressure has been dropping and I’ve been noticing signs of inflammation primarily along her blood vessels but also the heart and lungs." He paused momentarily, uttering a hum of ponder. "The reaction overall is similar to sepsis at this point. Likely the body trying to clear out the leash physically now that her chakra can't interact with it anymore.”

Tobirama couldn’t help himself now. He had to know - to see - with a fine tremor in his hand and a raspy breath he took a step closer to grasp the blanket that covered you and pull it lower, very slowly. As lightly as he could. You stirred as the cloth moved, a feeble shudder of your weak body, but no more. On your chest he could already make out the ink markings of the chakra seal on your bare chest. The sight stole alone his breath momentarily. He violently swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He had believed seeing you weak, tortured, a shadow of your former self - that was one of the worst parts about all of this - he had been wrong.

This. This was worse. It all painted a new horrible picture for what it implied.

There were more seals on your glistening skin - both of your arms and your heart, each of them with a parchment in their center that had been soaked in herbs whose smell each he knew well. Tobirama recognized these: one was stabilising your cardiovascular system both through the seal’s effect itself but also by letting the herbal agent be applied transdermally. The fact you already bore it - the Ione on your heart to make it pump stronger - was a grim sign. The other two were strong pain and sedation medications. Were anyone other than his brother here, he’d probably have refused to wait any longer with the next dose.

He pulled the blanket back up again and crossed his arms in front of his chest as if that helped to reinforce his broken, guilty resolve about all this. “Tell me more,” he requested firmly, eyes never leaving your gaunt face now. This is the only way, he kept telling himself.

“Mito and I drew the chakra seal. It is temporary and can be opened and closed, I’ll show you later. When Y/n gets the next dose and is in her lucid phase, we can open it again for her comfort,” Hashirama consoled quickly. Whether or not he had taken note of what Tobirama had done, he didn’t care right now. It was a slight relief. Maybe you hadn’t felt any of it. Maybe.

“She’s rather still, anija,” Tobirama whispered, now with more worry and firmness. "You sedated her?"

His brother hummed affirmatively. “We … were forced to, indeed.” The hesitance was clear in his tone.

“I see.” Tobirama’s in turn was grave. His next question he blurted out before he was even sure whether he wanted to know the answer. Who was he kidding? Of course he did. “I surmise otherwise, she wouldn’t be still enough to be monitored like this,” to put it lightly. He didn’t have the stomach right now to utter: Otherwise you’d be screaming from the top of your lungs and writhing like you were on fire.

Just like the last time you had been in withdrawal.

Just like the prisoners had explained.

Hashirama appeared to be grateful for Tobirama’s rare show of more neutral words. “You are correct.” The admission didn’t hurt any less for it.

“What about the other seals?” Tobirama demanded then, though of course Hashirama would know that Tobirama was aware of what they did. What he really wanted to know was how bad off you were. For all Tobirama knew, you might be carrying more of those already.

“I was forced to draw these a bit ago as the physical symptoms started to kick in worse again,” he replied evenly. “I first tried oral medication, but the effect was too weak. And administering it was ineffective.”

By ineffective, he meant impossible. You probably quite violently refused anything. Tobirama’s eyes widened slightly at the implication though. It meant your condition was worse enough that without these seals - the seal on your heart to support your cardiovascular system, really - you’d most likely be teetering on the brink of death than life. His hands bunched the fabric of his black shirt. “Exactly how much support does she need right now?” he demanded now, still not daring to step closer.

Hashirama gave a low sigh, but still did not open his eyes nor move his hand from yours. “It’s bearable. Due to the seal, the disruption is impairing her dormant chakra only, but it is not fighting back of course. The symptoms are being caused by her body’s physical reaction which we’re controlling with the medication and the other seals, for now. I’m simply monitoring. It’s just the three seals, Tobirama.”

He was not calmed down at all. “Still, you’ve already been forced to draw this to improve her cardiovascular situation.” Tobirama stated flatly, the neutral kindness gone. He started to paint a pretty dismal picture of your situation without even having examined you already.

Hashirama noticed, too. “And we can still increase the support of these seals. The fever is being kept in check, and while I admit her body is reacting physically, for now it is mostly symptomatic of the withdrawal rather than an actual damaging inflammatory reaction. I’d wager we even have a little bit more time before we have to give her the next dose of the leash.”

It should have served to put him at ease. And yet - “As if that should be our only concern,” Tobirama shot back, voice suddenly caustic. Your pained grimace was testament to the fact you were walking through hell once more and here he was, deliberating how long he could prolong it.

His stomach roiled as his breathing became jittery again. He had to close his eyes lest his brother witnessed his possibly glistening eyes; or at the very least the obvious pain in his glance. It wasn't as though he wanted to hide it - he just needed to be alone with it.

Hashirama was a very understanding person, after all.

And because of that he picked up on it nonetheless. “Y/n wanted this, brother.” It was all he said. Tobirama didn’t want to hear anything, anyway. There was nothing anyone could say about all of this.

Another concern hit him then, distancing himself quickly from the biting cynicism that rose up inside of him. “What about the amount of chakra overload? The seals will aggravate that,” he subconsciously stepped closer, more and more wishing to just see for himself how you really fared. Nonetheless his tone was demanding again.

“That is correct,” Hashirama agreed quickly, but calmly. “And I won’t lie, we are pushing the limit here. But given our options, it is the safest route. It is manageable right now however.”

Tobirama frowned and wondered if he truly did agree with that statement. Following blindly - even his brother’s no doubt superior medical expertise - just wasn’t in him. Especially when it concerned you. “Overload symptoms would be similar to what she is experiencing now, though," he countered tersely.

Hashirama inhaled deeply. “Which is why we’ll need to continue to watch carefully, even after she gets the dose. It’s not a perfect solution, but so far it’s working. If it happens to become too intense, then we know to cut the interval shorter again to lessen the needed seals.”

The words caused a sudden surge of ire through his dismal demeanor. All of this sounded more like experimentation rather than a real course of action. Not that his brother could know any better, but it still didn’t make him appreciate it any more. He forcibly took deep breaths in order to not snap again, but the ire was a welcome distraction from the utter despair that had taken over.

Hashirama opened his eyes then finally and his dark eyes gave him a warm glance. Tobirama instantly frowned, concerned it may hamper with his focus - but before he could speak, his brother did. “Take a seat, look for yourself. I know you want to.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Tobirama grabbed one of the chairs swiftly and placed it on the other side of your bed, taking a seat then. Gingerly, he took your hand in his and closed his eyes to let his chakra meet your network and begin to examine you.

It was a mess. The first thing he noticed was the complete absence of a chakra flow - it was frozen in its tracks. And while before there certainly had been the many injuries you had yet to properly recover from, now there was a war raging in your body. Manageable. That was the word Hashirama had used. Tobirama himself would not go beyond that, if even. There was hardly a part of yourself not affected by all this; anywhere he looked he found signs of inflammation, microscopic injury in the tissue that was attacked, torn down and at the same time, rebuilt. The picture was similar to sepsis, as his brother had said indeed: your own body’s reaction to the leash was, ultimately, killing you. The leash itself seemed to cause damage on its own, but it was minor compared to the damages your own body was doing to yourself by trying to fend it off. At this point it was just a matter of time until that got too bad. After all, it already had begun to cause a capillary leak on a scale that required outward support to keep your blood pressure up. Your heart rate was elevated for compensation, and your organs each showed signs of damage due to said leak as well as the inflammation itself.

His focus needed to be extremely sharp to even make out traces of the leash in the rush of your frantically beating heart - intense scrutiny that surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you. He withdrew quickly. Tobirama knew the leash would be latched - branded, almost - to your blood at this point. That easily explained why no part of your body was spared - just like in a real sepsis. Though he noticed the heart and lungs seemed to be affected more, too, as Hashirama had mentioned - examining them closer, he found the reaction here was particularly bad. Your lungs, as the extremely thin tissue of the alveoles were extremely affected by this - again, just like in sepsis. It was a matter of time until breathing problems would ensure. Your heart, as it strained to fight for a stable blood pressure while being inadequately perfused, suffering tissue damage on a microscopic scale, for now. At the very least, this might affect you immediately - but Tobirama found none of these damages couldn’t be healed, either.

Just not now.

Frankly, he hadn’t expected to feel better after this, exactly. However to witness the battle that was going on inside of you - one you were losing, ultimately, always - it added a new dimension to the sorrow and heartache he was feeling. Even though right now he felt the hum of the seals that had been painted on you and their effects - strengthening you - he felt nothing but helplessness to bear witness to your suffer firsthand and do nothing but to figure out how to prolong it. It didn’t just hurt his heart - it wrenched it around, tore at it. He didn’t want to do this.

Promise me.

He had promised you.

With a broken sigh, he withdrew and slumped back in the chair, eyes on your gaunt, pained face. His vision was blurry.

“Tobirama,” Hashirama’s voice startled him. With this dismal sight and the lingering extortion from his shadow clone stunt, which his body certainly had not forgotten, concentration was becoming touch and go as his thoughts circled in dark places. “The sedative will begin to wear off, soon. For the next dose, I’d rather she be more awake to ensure she can swallow it properly.”

Tobirama closed his eyes and already knew how this would go down. Another one for the list of things he’ll have a hard time forgiving himself. But he had to. He had to. Slowly, he rubbed a palm over his face. “Very well,” he replied, seeing reason in this too, of course.

They sat in silence for another two hours, almost. During the time, your writhing had picked up slowly - from a flex of your legs’ or arms’ muscles to weak movement. Slowly but surely sounds were picking up too - huffs or grunts at first, but later on there were quiet groans and incoherent mumbles mixed in. You never opened your eyes. Hashirama ended up increasing the heart’s seal’s intensity somewhat, all of which Tobirama watched while he monitored you diligently. He felt absolutely crushed in every sense - physically, emotionally, mentally. But sleep never came to his mind. The least he could do was be here with you, even if you might not notice it. But if anything were to happen - he’d be here. He’d sleep when you did. A little. And then continue to work once his condition allowed it again.

“It’s time,” Hashirama announced finally. “Her blood pressure has been sinking continuously and the damage that is caused by the withdrawal ultimately is becoming too intense now. I don’t want to push her beyond this.”

What a relief. Tobirama already had procured the next dose of the leash previously. Administering it now wouldn’t be as simple as the last times, however. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, as did Hashirama.

“Y/n,” Tobirama spoke softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Can you hear me?” It was worth a try. Though he had little hope for it.

And he was right. Your reaction was lackluster, only a low groan as your head trashed to the other side.

“I’ll open her jaw,” Tobirama instructed his brother, numb now. Devoid of any emotion but to simply do this swiftly. “Hold her head.” Hashirama nodded and already seized each side of it with his hands, which you responded to by uttering yet another tormented moan.

Tobirama’s heart was hammering in his chest again - at this point he had just waited for that to happen, and his breathing was nearly as raspy as yours when he took another step closer to seize your jaw in the dreadfully familiar way again. Once more utter horror overcame him for having to do this to you. It grew worse when he felt how you were trying to trash your head to the side, but your movement was pitiful at best. “It’ll be better soon, Y/n, I promise,” he whispered brokenly, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

Tobirama was tormented by how easy, compared to last time, the pressure behind your mandibular bone made it protrude, enabling him to shift the grip slightly to force your mouth more open with his thumb on your chin. A shiver ran down his spine. The hand that held the vial containing the leash shook slightly. You protested louder in what definitely was an even more painful groan, a sweaty, trembling hand reaching for Tobirama’s on your jaw. “Don’t,” he pleaded instantly, desperately.

Don’t make it worse.

Swiftly, he poured the leash into your mouth and shut it quickly before you had a chance to cough it back up. With pressure on your cricoid, the constriction of your airway was forcing you to swallow it before the breathing trouble became too uncomfortable. It was brutal, Tobirama knew. But it was the safest way to ensure you really drank all of this. Immediately, he and Hashirama withdrew from you.

You stilled completely.

Time for the next act of this nightmare, whose end was approaching way too fast and yet not fast enough.

_______

As per usual, Tobirama ensured you’d sleep for the terrible psychotropic effects of the drug. However Hashirama noted it was better to use a sedative this time, as they needed to avoid any use of chakra on your strained body for now. He agreed reluctantly - by this point he knew it couldn’t interfere with the leash’s effect, in any way. Besides, Hashirama also stated he needed to monitor you further - especially watch for signs of chakra overload as well as controlling the seals. Likely, your cardiovascular situation will improve enough to be stable on your own.

Tobirama nearly shouted at his brother when he used the word ‘likely’. If he thought it was just likely then they had gone too far. And just as likely Tobirama felt like smacking his brother for sheer stupidity right then. He didn’t of course, ultimately and begrudgingly yielded to his brother's expertise. However it didn't stop him from sternly reminding him about how fragile and susceptible your mind was due to every sensation heightened -

"Be careful," he warned, rather, threatened. "Do not agonize her unnecessarily."

Hashirama rolled his eyes. "I'm doing what I have to. No more and no less, brother." Despite everything, he remained calm.

It provided little comfort, but he saw no option but to add it to the list of necessary things they had to do to you. Tobirama’s frustration was palpable at this point.

Nonetheless, all of this just showed it was time to rest, as much as he hated it. Sleep was inconvenient, but needed alas. And once more he found himself at your shared home, alone. Luckily enough, the exhaustion was great enough to claim him quickly after he had laid down, but the forlorn feeling was seeping through every crack. With every passing day, this house felt colder and lonelier. The burden he carried strained him to a point where numbness was spreading inside of him. He felt spent, at the end of his wits. His sleep was dead, dreamless.

And a little longer than he wanted it to be. He woke again with a startle - his gaze sought out the clock mounted on the wall right away. It was somewhat past midnight. Damn. You should be awake by now. He rubbed a hand over his face to wipe away the last traces of sleep before he washed himself, got dressed and teleported to your room right away.

_______

The withdrawal was one of the worst things you had ever gone through. It easily was on par with some of the torture you had suffered.

It had begun as you remembered it - you became weaker with each passing minute. Then came the dizziness. Your consciousness slipped in and out. An ache settled into your bones, your muscles, your nerves, that was all too familiar - dim, at first, but it increased more and more. It wasn’t long before it felt like molten lava rolled through your veins, alongside your nerves, through your lungs with every breath you took - you were being burned out from the inside slowly, cruelly. Split apart and yet not dying.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to writhe away, shake it off, rip your skin off, do anything - but you couldn’t. Something held you suspended in darkness with proverbial chains winding around you tightly, everything else was black nothingness. Nobody to hear your screams, nobody aware of your agony - all by yourself in a hell that wasn’t ending. At first, you were trying to tell yourself this was what you wanted: you had to give Tobirama - yourself - more time. Otherwise they’d run out of this damn murder drug before they could recreate it. But this? This wasn’t worth living, was it?

Had the chains around you not seized your throat, you’d have begged for someone to kill you. End your misery.

I’m sorry, Tobirama.

Forgive me.

You circled around these two sentences over and over again while the torture wasn’t ending.

Peripherally, you had been aware - at first, when the withdrawal had begun to set in - of someone’s chakra inside of you - Hashirama, you realised, dimly. It had made sense. Tobirama would need to work. Try as much as you wanted to, but you couldn’t work around the dizziness and the pain that had been roaring through your systems at that point already. And just as lightly you realised something was done to you - but no more you could distinguish what it was. It eased the pain, somewhat. Briefly. You wanted to thank him yet couldn’t form words; either it was exhaustion or another side effect of the withdrawal. Were it not for your dreary state you knew you’d be overrun by panic due to the helplessness. You simply had to trust those around you.

But that had gone out of the window piece by piece as the symptoms became worse and worse. You felt your grip on yourself losing as pain became your only reality.

Suddenly though, it was all over. The pain was gone as though it had never existed. You nearly screamed in joy.

And another terribly familiar sensation kicked in.

The nightmares.

They had given you the next dose of the leash - you had lived, you dimly realised. Part of you wanted to cheer, but of course you wouldn’t get to do that. With all you had just gone through, this time around, the bizarre horror trips you suffered from during the first phase of the leash would gladly take inspiration from now.

But the usually crystal clear scenarios were muddled images at best - red hot iron being pressed into your flesh agonisingly slowly. Darkness, loneliness. It still was frightening - but not as precise as it usually was. Perhaps the leash had done permanent damage to your brain. Who knew. In a twisted, grotesque way you were thankful.

Your perception of pain had become extremely skewed.

Someone else was lingering, though. A presence. They were watching you - you knew - and you didn’t like it. Nothing came from them, but you knew better than that. Presences like this greatly unnerved you. It couldn’t mean anything good.

Soon, you, the nightmares, everything - faded into dull sensations only. After that, a warm nothingness overtook you and you finally were allowed to sleep.

When you opened your eyes again, the room was dimly lit by the nightstand’s lamp. Someone was touching your hand - you turned your head slightly to find Hashirama next to you. Still, you had blink several times before you truly recognized him; truth be told you felt like a giant rock had rolled over you. Distantly you were aware of the fact he was monitoring you - his chakra was but a shadow in your system, so light, almost unnoticeable. Something else was bothering you though - but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Missing - something was missing. Quickly, you realised what it was: your chakra. You couldn’t feel your chakra at all - the sluggish, tardy sensation it had become was gone.

Instantly, panic settled in and your breathing picked up. “I- I can’t,” you began, voice raspy. Moving your jaw was as though you had to force it through jelly or something equally gooey, the muscle wouldn’t quite obey you. But that didn’t matter. Your chakra - where was your chakra? You wanted to get up, but your arms wouldn’t obey you - your pulse picked up rapidly and breathing was getting difficult again.

Hashirama shook his head, “We had to seal it off, don’t worry,” he explained swiftly, already pulling the blanket down with his free hand. In utter horror you noticed there were seals drawn not just on your chest but your arms as well. Your heartbeat was through the roof by now as your panicked gaze kept looking everywhere. He put his thumb, index and middle finger right on your sternum where the center of what you recognized belatedly was a rather complex chakra seal was located. His fingertips glowed for a moment, then he twisted his wrist.

A second later, your beloved, useless chakra was back.

You gulped and swallowed past the lump in your throat, trying to even out your breaths again. He put the blanket back over you again and regarded you with a smile, though you could easily tell his warm gaze was burdened with worry. Unlike Tobirama, Hashirama wore his moods on his sleeve. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked a couple times again, still reeling from the sudden burst of panic. Then, after a deep breath, “I’ve… been better.” To put it lightly.

He frowned sympathetically. “No doubt about it.”

You didn’t want to wait any longer. “How long… how long did we gain?”, you desperately hoped this exercise had been worth something. At all.

His smile became more mirthful. “Six hours.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Frankly, you were unsure if you should be happy or horrified by that. To you, it had felt like an eternity. And yet six hours was a huge gain on what the interval had been before. A good result. The suffering - had been worth something. Your gaze wandered to the ceiling, nodding to yourself slowly. Trying to convince yourself of this at least.

“Y/n,” Hashirama began again, now more somberly. “I won’t lie to you. I don’t know how long we can keep this up. It took a toll on you, which I am sure you are feeling right now.”

“You can say that again,” you croaked weakly, yet again testing the movement in your legs. Your toes wiggled a little. It was an achievement. Then you sighed and in what pretty much was a snap decision, you spoke up again. “Promise not to tell Tobirama,” you muttered, already feeling guilt taking a stab at your heart.

Hashirama’s frown deepened. “Promise.”

“The withdrawal is… All of this - it’s about one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.” you shared, no more than a mere, haunted whisper. You couldn’t look at Hashirama. “And by now, I think I’ve experienced a lot.”

Hashirama hummed deeply.

“I don’t want Tobirama to know that. He will refuse to keep stretching the interval, b-but-”

“You wanted to say it.” Hashirama finished your sentence before your voice broke. “It’s alright.” He squeezed your hand lightly. “I’d wager he knows, truth be told.”

A sob broke past your tightly squeezed lips, but you nodded. Of course he’d know. You couldn’t imagine him not checking in while all of it had happened. Most likely some of your plight had gone through to the outside. And the first withdrawal had been a harrowing experience for all of them.

“You’re stable, though,” he spoke up again in a less grieved tone. “It’s no surprise you’re feeling rather weak right now. The withdrawal is quite… violent towards the body.”

“So long as it’s worth… as it’s worth all this,” you gulped, nodding. To yourself, mostly.

Hashirama smiled warmly again. “The time gained is invaluable. I’m afraid we can’t do much to heal you, yet, though.”

Just as you wanted to reply you witnessed a flicker in the shadows near the door. That had stopped startling you a long time ago - well, when you weren’t in the middle of a breakdown, that is. You couldn’t help but smile with how Tobirama lurched over instantly. His white hair was tousled, glistening even - he must've fallen out of bed into the bathroom and then teleported right over. A quaint sight - the man was punctual, sharp and kept in perfect shape.

Hashirama regarded him with raised eyebrows as he stood by the other side of your bed, mustering you through narrowly-lidded eyes with a distressed expression. He already took a breath to speak up, but you beat him to it with a quip that’d surely answer his question. “That’s fine Hashirama, I won’t be able to get up either way and Tobirama won’t need to lecture me about moving too much anymore.”

Tobirama shut his mouth immediately and scrunched his face like he had just been forced to drink some extremely bitter tea and regarded you with a look as if you had been the one to make said tea. Already, he crossed his arms. For a hot second, you worried you had gone too far - doing this in a high stress situation like this always carried a risk. But Tobirama knew you. And you knew him.

“You’re doing better.” He simply stated then, unimpressed, just raising an eyebrow.

Hashirama raised his arm to hide his face with his sleeve slightly as a chuckle shook him.

Tobirama’s hawk-like stare shot to his brother briefly before it settled back on you. “Enlighten me with some context, maybe?”, he then demanded, only slightly exasperated. He was holding back, you knew.

“I just explained the toll the withdrawal has taken on Y/n to her,” Hashirama supplied, having regained his composure again.

Tobirama regarded him with a concerned look then instantly, dropping the unnerved demeanour. “Toll?”

“Exhaustion mostly, Tobirama,” you decided to intervene before he worked himself up more. The way he gripped his black shirt again was telltale. “I can’t do more than wiggle my toes. And my fingers, maybe.” You tentatively tried it out - they stretched just fine. “What a relief,” you murmured ironically.

Tobirama’s frown grew softer again as he watched you test your limits and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. “Y/n,” he whispered, and you could feel how much more he wanted to say.

Hashirama cleared his throat again. “We’ve painted four seals on you, in total,” he spoke up again, catching your attention immediately as he then explained how they strengthened your heart and blood pressure. “Now that you’re awake again I’ve brought down the support from them to a very low level because you’re doing so well. The exhaustion is from the immediate reaction mostly. I won’t deny, you did suffer damages there - but none of them great enough to warrant additional concern.” His gaze wandered to his brother while he spoke, well aware he was listening just as intently. If not more. Tobirama’s frown had deepened again.

You nodded. Medical jutsu were really not your forte, but you did know quite a handful of seals and could already guess as to how these worked. Which also told you they had been scraping the proverbial barrel here: normally, these things would be easily managed using chakra based methods, normally. “I surmise you’re using seals because I’m constantly teetering on the edge of chakra overload still with how I keep getting additional… problems…”

Tobirama snorted. “Some of which you wouldn’t have if you rested.” Hashirama chuckled again, this time at your expense. You took it in stride. Tobirama continued then. “You’re right though. We must avoid it as much as possible.” Hashirama nodded to that.

“Ultimately, should your condition worsen during withdrawal, we’ll have to overstep that boundary. But I’m very much trying to avoid it. It’s additional stress you don’t need right now.” He did sound quite serious about it. You gulped. Chakra overload was nothing to sneeze at.

But then again you felt like you had just about dipped into every kind of torment available as of now. What’s one more?

Hashirama ended his monitoring then and gently slipped away, both inwardly and outwardly. “I’ll get some rest now. You’re stable. And while I know Tobirama is very, ah, adamant about this-”

“Anija,” the growl came instantly.

“-you really need to get as much rest as you can. We’ll see to support you more using any non-chakra based means which is going to entail some medications. I’ll… see you soon again,” he finished with a sorrowful smile that managed to soothe you and at the same time filled you with dread.

You swallowed. “Thank you, Hashirama.”

He nodded and left the room quietly.

Tobirama sat down on the side of your bed as soon as he had shut the door, taking your hand in his and stroking your skin gently with his thumb. “How are you really doing, Y/n?”, he inquired, the timbre of his voice gentle enough to let his concern truly show.

You gave him a brave smile. “I’ll manage, Tobi,” that, you knew. You knew you had to. Though you felt like breaking into tears when you said it.

You didn’t fool him for one second. His breath caught momentarily; his grip became firmer and you felt his chakra graze over your network, covering it warmly. You couldn’t help but sigh contently when he did; the sensation never failed to comfort you. But his expression remained distraught, to say the least. He knew you well enough - what your avoidant answer meant. It was kindness not to inquire further. And maybe protection, too. You didn’t want to speak more about this. Or think of it.

It’d come around again soon enough.

“You’re not taking good care of yourself,” you chided then softly. “I’d ruffle your obviously wet hair, but I can’t right now.” You cracked a weak smile.

He clicked his tongue. “It’s been a pretty intense day, Y/n,” he countered evenly.

“I think I can count the days you left the house in such a hurry on one hand, Tobi,” you replied, not bothering to keep the sorrow down any longer. It saddened you to see how all this took its toll on him - your problems, your condition. Of course you’d do the same for him in a heartbeat - and just as well, you were aware what your sight made him feel. But it just hurt.

His eyebrow arched up again slowly. “When I’ve got such urgent business to tend to, I will run the risk of being seen with wet hair, but I’ll face it bravely,” he countered sarcastically, eliciting a little chuckle from you. There was no changing his mind anyway. His lips drew into a lopsided smile of his own, too.

Finally, you sighed quietly. “Don’t let me keep you, then.” You dreaded being alone. But it couldn’t be helped.

His smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed again. “I can stay, Y/n.”

“No, you can’t,” you replied with more resolve, “Because then all the time we gained won’t matter. Soon. Just a bit longer.” You weren’t sure if you were telling him or yourself that.

He must’ve picked up on it, because his other hand grasped your arm too and stroked over your skin gently while his gaze had turned decidedly sorrowful. “I’ll be back soon to check on you,” he promised quietly, but you could guess on the fierceness behind that. It eased your budding sense of dread, somewhat.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “Can you…,” you swallowed, blinking. The request made you feel so silly - shameful, even. But you couldn’t help it.

He tilted his head when you didn’t finish your sentence. “Yes…?”

“Can you please leave the light on? And… don’t close the curtains,” you finally whimpered meekly, avoiding eye-contact now. This alone was a confession to what you could only perceive as weakness due to your recent trauma, but you couldn’t deny how much you needed it right now.

Tobirama’s mien turned more sorrowful, but he nodded. “Of course, Y/n.” He sat on the side of the bed a moment longer and simply shared your connection - a gesture you were immeasurably grateful for. It was you who ultimately nodded and decided it was time he left - despite the ungodly hour.

“C’mon, then.” You tried another brave smile. _____ author’s notes: Some explanations: 'cardiovascular' means pertaining to the heart and the blood vessels, i.e. blood pressure and essentially keeping the body's organs supplied with nutrients, and more immediately important, oxygen. 'sepsis' is a real thing! it's when the body's own immune system causes such a strong reaction in the whole body to an infection it starts to damage its own organs. since reader isn't infected, it's 'like' sepsis. there are also real life complications of different diseases that can, in fact, cause a sepsis-like condition! 'capillary leak' is something that ties in directly to sepsis. because of the body's immune response, the blood vessels start to 'leak' fluids into surrounding tissue. every had an infected body part? splinter in your toe, hand? got red, big, swollen? well, that's the same thing. it's not good when the body does it everywhere! but it does make sense because by 'opening' the capillaries, the white blood cells can get out and do their job in the tissue. hooo boy, that was a lot more than i ever thought i'd explain, oopz. thank you so much for reading as always!!!

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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