#however he started getting radicalized and was leaning further and further right‚ so i distanced myself and removed him from my socials

[burger-goblin]

.

#girl help i'm romanticizing a relationship that i was in over a decade ago that left me emotionally bruised and stunted #a very toxic relationship in which i was abused in every way a person can be abused #i always would tell myself that i wouldn't take him back after he would cheat on my and i would be tricked into it because i really thought #that i could change him and he could be better #but i realized much later that the reason i was so easy to win back wasn't just because i was in love with him‚ but also because #i really loved his family. i loved the love they gave me‚ and how-- despite how poor our relationship was-- they were on my side #and always cared for me. even when we weren't together‚ his mom was always checking in on me #he and i reconciled years after our very‚ very messy final breakup and maintained a good friendship #however he started getting radicalized and was leaning further and further right‚ so i distanced myself and removed him from my socials #last year‚ around this time‚ i started having dreams about him over and over‚ so i took it as a sign to reach out to him and check in #turned out that his mom had been hospitalized and it wasnt looking good. i reached out to her as well. thankfully‚ she went home #and he asked me how i was‚ like he wanted to keep in touch‚ and i never replied. i wanted to keep that distance between us #but i would still be near if they needed me‚ and for some reason‚ i just assumed the family knew that #fast forward to now. his mom is gone and it's weighing heavily on me. he's told me he never wants to talk to me again #and that's also weighing on me. i wish i just knew the direct reason why he feels that way #like if it's specifically something i said‚ if it's that i remind him of all the wonderful times we spent together with his mom‚ or #is it because of his new wife #i don't think i was that much on an influence on his life considering how often he used me and cheated on me-- i'm not a threat #like to their marriage. so i'm inclined to think it's because i remind him of his mom #but not knowing for sure is the worst part of this‚ i think. i know he's hurting‚ and he knows i know what it's like to lose a parent #i want to give back to the family that gave me so much‚ but now that he's shut me out‚ i'm not sure how to do that anymore #ah‚ flea. you'd know what to say. i wish you were here to tell me.

[ranger-report]

Thoughts On: HEXEN: BEYOND HERETIC

In 1995, less than a year after the release of Heretic (which I talked about here), Raven Software unleashed a masterpiece upon the first person shooter landscape. Titled Hexen: Beyond Heretic, the game featured radical new features for the id tech 1 engine, including scripted events (such as monster falling through the ceiling to ambush the player), hub level design, CD music, and moving walls. But what it really brought to the table was an unrelenting difficulty and obtuse puzzle system revolving around the discovery of multiple switches throughout a central hub to open the path to the next world. Combined with a pseudo-RPG character class feature, beautiful sprite work, and a rich atmosphere to explore, Hexen introduced concepts and mechanics that influence FPS games to this day, overshadowed only by the release of Quake the following year.

YouTuber GmanLives produced a video on Hexen calling it, “The Dark Souls of FPS Games,” and that's really not far off the mark. Hexen is oppressive. It's brutal. It's actively trying to prevent the player from achieving their goal of beating the game. While the previous entry in the series, Heretic, offered a fast-paced shoot-em-up blitzkrieg, this game operated with a more measured approach. Methodical pacing, resource management, and the utilization of each class's weapons are key to moving forward. Hidden doors and paths and switches, sometimes activated with the use key and sometimes by firing a weapon at them, permeate the levels to the point where half the game can be spent clicking or shooting at random walls just to see what's going to open up when – or if at all. Most games would tuck away secrets by this method, but Hexen, oh no. Hexen offers little rewards aside from survival, and it's glorious. It's harder than shit, but it's glorious.

Opening up the game, players are given three options to choose from: Baratus the fighter, Parias the cleric, or Daedolon the mage. Each class has their ups and downs; for example, the fighter is a beefy fucker who has high hit points and damage, but weak magic, leading to a mostly melee combat style if you run out of mana. The mage is the opposite, low hit points but high magic damage, with some gorgeously rendered spells that beautifully highlight the detail that id tech 1 was capable of. And the cleric is a mixed bag, balanced between the two, with a woefully weak melee weapon and decent ranged magic weapons, but he also carries the single best weapon in the entire game: the Wraithverge, a crucifix that shoots out Arc of the Covenant ghosts that scream and eviscerate anything on the screen in a glorious display of carnage. Clear out a room in seconds with two well placed shot. Arguable, the Wraithverge should be right up next to the BFG 9000 as one of the most ridiculously overpowered weapons in any game – maybe even higher. But the Wraithverge is an Ultimate Weapon, and each class has an Ultimate Weapon, which needs to be assembled over the course of the game by finding the pieces of it tucked away in hidden corners of the levels. Depending on your vigilance, you might find the pieces sooner vs later, and the rewards for this are plentiful. However, unlike the prior game, this game doesn't use unique ammo type for each weapon; that would be too easy. This time around, weapons require mana to use, coming in two different flavors, blue and green. Each class works as such: weak melee weapon that needs no mana, a slightly stronger weapon that uses blue mana, a much stronger weapon that uses green mana, and the Ultimate Weapon which uses both. With the fighter, all of his weapons can be used as melee if he runs out of mana, but if he has the stock, they take on ranged properties. The mage has a starting weapon that requires no mana, but it still ranged. Meanwhile, the cleric maintains the balance with his solo melee weapon, and the rest are ranged. What's notable about the differences in the classes is that it's not just limited to weapon usage, but also inventory usage. Different classes will garner different amounts of armor points depending on their “familiarity” with how to use armor. There's an item called a fletchette that varies in use depending on the class; for example, the fighter throws the fletchette like a bomb, where the cleric drops it in place and it explodes into a cloud of poison. New players will have the opportunity to briefly look over the classes at the beginning as the opening screen displays stats such as speed, armor, magic, and strength, all of which seem a little arbitrary since they don't explicitly state what they do or how they affect the game up front. At the same time, each class is going to lean towards a bit more difficulty, seeing as how the tanky fighter is going to make bruting through the game a lot easier than the tissue paper mage. First time players would do wise to pick the fighter or the cleric as their first timer, saving the mage for a later playthrough, unless you're a masochist when it comes to the games that you play.

One of the great distinctions about Hexen as compared to Heretic is that the former feels more like a fully realized game world vs the cool fanfic/DOOM clone of the latter. Director and designer Brian Raffel no doubt had a hardon for dark fantasy substance, having worked on Raven's previous two fantasy games, and with the release of DOOM thought, “You know, we can do something with that.” Didn't hurt that id Software was just a block down the street from their offices around that time (true story!) and John Romero, AKA Rock God of Gaming, worked directly with Raven during development so they could make the most of id tech 1. Taking what they knew after Heretic, hungry to dive in further, Hexen feels like a natural expansion of the concepts introduced in the first game: weary travelers journeying through worlds and dimensions to combat an ancient evil using magic and steel. It's great stuff, leaning even harder on the 80's horror fantasy art aesthetic. The game is oozing with deeply detailed monsters and environments, even more refined than the very good work done on Heretic. Translucent objects, fog, breakable terrain, each hub and level are intimately crafted to feel like it's a living, breathing world, not just something you've decided to boot up on your 486 PC. Ranging from traditionally gothic architecture with stained glass and parapets, to jungley swamps, arid canyons, and moldy sewers. And as mentioned before, it's brutally oppressive, absolutely unwelcoming in design. Even the environment doesn't want your presence here. Sometimes it doesn't even want the other monsters around; if you're lucky, you can get creatures to turn on each other by creeping into a new area, and if you can go unnoticed before their attack animations kick in, monster castes will infight with one another, saving you precious mana in the process. It doesn't always work, but when it does, it's a fun little sight to behold your meddling.

The sound effects are truly phenomenal, a game worth wearing headphones for. Composer Kevin Schilder returns for the soundtrack, and while his work on Heretic was suitable, here he knocks it completely out of the park. Ominous, brooding, energetic but not too up tempo, it's perfect dungeon crawling music that creeps up your spine at the same time. Meanwhile the distinct creature sounds echo and crawl around corners, letting you know what is where, and also what to be afraid of. I can still hear the sounds of the Dark Bishop in the back of my head, letting me know that I need to turn tail and put some distance between me and them. Enemy design is even better this time around: the aforementioned Dark Bishops take the role of the previous game's Disciples of D'Sparil, teleporting and blasting you with dark magic from their hooded, faceless bodies. Ettins are double-headed warrior beasts that carry a spiked mace, and are the most prevalent monster class in the game – and while they might be everywhere, they pack a helluva wallop, meaning you don't underestimate them no matter how many times you've killed one. Meanwhile, the Centaurs and Slaughtaurs are horrible little shits. Just like the tag says, they're centaurs with full-face helmets, swords, and spiked shields. They can raise their shield to deflect any incoming attacks and reflect them back at you, which is infuriating, especially since the Slaughtaur can fire deadly green magic at you while holding up their shields. And since they look the same, you have to approach any of them with intense caution, otherwise you're staring down the face of death while waiting to make your next strike.

Puzzles operate primarily on a “find the key/switch” platform, but rather than tracking down everything necessary to proceed in a single level, Hexen challenges the player to locate and operate everything they need to move forward throughout a spread of areas around the hub. For example, the Swamp Key won't be directly located in the swamp itself, but maybe over in the Forest. Multiple switches necessary to unlocking the Final Door in the central hub are located in the various hub worlds, informing the player with a quick “You have solved 1/3 of the puzzle” text across the screen when you've found one. Find another switch, the number increases from 1/3 to 2/3, etc. But each hub has more switches, all the way up to nine switches necessary to journey on, which to some is going to be a slog. While frustrating at times, I never felt like I was wading through a switch hunt just to proceed. Each switch seemed to naturally pop up on its own, and once I realized that certain areas couldn't be accessed within the levels themselves, I'd hop around the various worlds in the hub until I found a new switch or key, and then went back. Imagine if Super Mario 64's paintings were all connected to each other, and you had to hop back and forth between them in order to get to the next floor of the castle. It's innovative, and certainly makes sense; if an evil overlord tyrant person were going to hide the keys to access their lair, they probably would spread them out to make it harder to find. It's gratifying to open up section after section of these levels, defying the odds and slaying your way through the puzzles. Adding to the depth of torment is that, unlike Heretic, clearing a room of monsters doesn't mean it will stay that way. Scripted sequences again have monsters teleport in when you least expect it, repopulating areas you thought were safe for the time being. Damning though that may be, it adds to the feeling like the player is being watched at every moment, and that the game is doing its level best to fight back against your progress.

Hexen is hard. I resorted to a walkthrough once, just like in Heretic, and absolutely utilized the minimap in order to suss out where switches were located. There is nothing here to suggest a walk in the park: it is labyrinthine, it is torrid, it is nightmarish. But the mechanics all come together in the end, particularly in the moments where the game gratifyingly presents a room full of mana and health and a lot of monsters to let loose on. These apeshit moments are some of the best in the game. After spending hours managing resources and trying to hoard as much mana and health as possible, to be allowed a moment of pure rip and tear is wonderful.

If you're going to play Hexen, I highly recommend getting the expansion, Deathkings of the Dark Citadel. Not only is the title metal as fuck, but the three new hubs it offers are even more vicious, demeaning, and frustrating. They shove all the elements of the previous five hubs down into three, and it shows. You'll be assaulted on all fronts right from the start, continuing where the final battle left off in Hexen. You still get to pick your class, but sadly, you're also starting over. Curiously depowered and without any inventory items to work with, you'll feel extra squishy for the first level or three. Honestly, Deathkings was where I felt I had the most pure Hexen experience: solidly brutal and unforgiving as fuck. Interestingly, Deathkings was released in 1996 around the same time that Heretic got a retail release with two additional episodes under the name Heretic: Shadow of the Serpent Riders. Factor this in with the upcoming release of Hexen II in 1997 (which saw a hefty difficulty spike as well), it seems that Raven got in one last hurrah with id tech 1 before moving on to id tech 2 -- the Quake engine. But more on that game in another post.

As with Heretic, I recommend playing this one through GZDOOM in order to get the best experience. And you'll need the best experience to stay one step ahead of everything that's trying to kill you. In a nutshell, Hexen is a true masterclass of determination to see the day through. For fans of retro FPS games, it's a must play, but be warned that coming into this after Heretic there is a distinct shift in how the game plays, looks, feels. Gone is the run and gun, which exists now only in pockets. But what's here, crafted lovingly and passionately, is a true nightmare of agony and difficulty unlike anything made before it. As Gmanlives summed it up, perhaps Dark Souls should be called the Hexen of third person adventure games.

Next time, we'll take a look at Hexen II, a popular but vastly different title in the series, and how the changes it made not only distinguished it from the previous two games, but may have also set it slightly backwards as well.

#hexen #raven software #id software #doom #heretic #first person shooter #dark souls #roses and ruins #ck burch #thoughts on #ranger report

[etherian-affairs]

For a fic prompt: Pygmalion/Galatea-ish concept where Entraptra finds Hordak (severely damaged cybernetics, powered down/sleep mode) & decides to rebuild him into the perfect Lab Partner (her umpteenth attempt at building one) w/o knowing what she’s going to end up with. Hordak wakes up to exquisitely repaired/partly rebuilt body, b/c Entraptra uses First One’s tech in the rebuild, so it’s that aesthetic blended w/Horde design (think Alita/Gally’s 2nd rebuild “angel” body in Battle Angel Alita).

HERE WE GO KIDDOS. I hope you like it friend.

This actually gets to be a crossposted with Ao3 because it’s long enough to meet my requirements for Ao3 posting.

Story under the read more.

Red across the board. Matching the state of the ship crumbling around Hordak. The would be Lord stumbles through collapsing metal corridors, barely able to keep his balance. The crash was devastating. He had tried everything to soften it but with so much crew already lost there was almost nothing to be done. Now it seemed the rest were gone too.

Soon Hordak would be as well.

He manages to get into the sanctum, the lab. A last ditch effort for survival keeping him moving. His body is ravaged. Beyond what even his species biology and his many augmentations can handle. As he steps into the sanctum his broken leg finally gives, the bone cracking and snapping. He howls in pain. So close to his goal. Slowly he drags himself with his one good arm to the secondary maintenance bay in the sanctum. 

He grabs at one of the dangling data cables and slams it into the port at the base of his neck, issuing commands quickly. Hoping the computers can still decipher them. As sparking damaged manipulators extend Hordak feels himself going under. His last moment of consciousness nothing but his diagnostic feed.

-WRNG: TTL_SYS_FAIL\\Fallback To Core Function Mode.\\Life Support Priority.\\Nanocyte Protocols Engaging.

…

The Fright Zone was dangerous they said. A lifeless land destroyed by the Dark Comet. A place that makes the Crimson Wastes look downright fertile! Hah! How wrong they were! You just had to know where to look.

Entrapta had been curious about this place her whole life. Years and years and years ago the Dark Comet fell out of the sky. It nearly wiped out the scorpion people entirely. They’re still a refugee people to this day in fact, with no land to call their own. The black Garnet Runestone was lost, presumed destroyed, at the time too. The Dark Comet’s crashing had changed Etheria a lot.

And from a distance it looked like it was made of metal. Refined metal. 

For decades it had been too dangerous to even approach the comet. People would get sick at the fringes. Further in burns and things would start to mysteriously appear! Even bots would fizz out and fail! but as time went on it appeared that the exclusion radius around it was shrinking.

Entrapta has been keeping track of the dissipation rate her entire life. 

Now her time had come! The energies that hurt people seemed to be mostly gone! And she had some extra protection she had developed just in case there were stray energies left on site! So Entrapta journeyed to the Fright Zone to be the first to see the Comet up close and live to tell about it.

It was wonderful.

Her theories were right. It’s metal. Not just that it’s constructed. Some sort of vast vessel! Larger than any person made structure she’s ever seen! She spends hours alone exploring the exterior. Falling back only as the light begins to recede from the world in order to rest, set up camp, and make sure she’s not getting sick. 

The next day she actually makes her way inside, and it is even more incredible than the exterior. It’s tech all the way through. Corridors apparently made for humanoid habitation. Dead terminals at regular intervals. Piled up robots of strange designs that seem to have run out of power years ago.

And the bodies.

It isn’t Entrapta’s first run in with the dead, in fact she has done her fair share of dissection and anatomy studies, but it’s still not a common occurrence and there are many here. That is unnerving even for the normally unflappable Princess of Dryl. Most of the dead are in armor or uniforms of different kinds. Their bodies eerily well preserved considering their age. Perhaps the energies that until recently made this place impossible to enter also stopped decay? That would be odd but anything is possible here. 

Entrapta takes her audio recorded notes and then tries to largely ignore the bodies that litter the Comet. They are admittedly interesting in many ways. They are yet more confirmation that the comet is some sort of vessel, and that many appear to be from species she has seen on Etheria. They are not something she likes very much though.

Inevitably Entrapta’s exploration leads her into a large throne chamber. An interesting place to be sure. The room off to the side is much more interesting however. The door is open and even from a distance she can see the many containment tubes within, some broken, others still standing with strange murky figures held within. Tools littering the floor. Bolted down tables some of which have items still on them somehow. This side room is a lab. She would know a lab anywhere.

It does not take long for her to see the body in here. It’s different from all the others in many ways. For starters this one is not like anything she’s seen on Etheria. Its species is completely unknown, some sort of batlike humanoid? It also clearly has tech integrated directly into its body! In fact there is a cable connecting it to… well the vessel itself Entrapta supposes. The cable leads into a mass of them up above and she can’t track where exactly it all goes.

The body is heavily damaged. The limbs are all in various states of destruction, there are what are clearly large gashes on the creatures torso. She suspects that numerous bones must be broken. Yet at each open break there is an unnatural silvery film. Like a sealant. It’s strangely jagged and irregular and seems to move around itself like a liquid. It’s kind of like something Entrapta has seen from some first ones tech experiments she has performed, trying to make self repairing robots. 

Except this isn’t repairing, more like it’s just trying to keep things from getting any worse. Could this person have been a scientist? Trying to integrate first ones tech into the body to save their own life?

That’s when Entrapta sees the nearly imperceptible movement. This isn’t a corpse. This one’s alive. Whatever they did worked.

The Princesses entire plan for this journey changes immediately. 

She spends hours examining every nook and cranny of the lab. Gathering everything she can. Making trips in and out of the Comet to her little camp. Her work extends out from there, picking apart and salvaging from other parts of the ship. She needs tech, their tech. 

She journeys to and from Dryl more than once. Readying herself for what might be her greatest experiment, and what will definitely be her most harrowing. On the final trip she disconnects the lab entity from the cable attached to its spine. It took her awhile to be sure that would not hurt it, and she waited until it was the last thing to do even when she was sure. It’s also just not a pleasant thing to move this creature as the barely held together limbs start to really come apart at the slightest jostle.

It does not wake from whatever stasis it is in.

The final journey to Dryl is slow and careful, but once safely in her own lab the work begins in earnest. 

This lab creature is probably a scientist as she has previously noted to her recorder, at the very least it is more intelligent than the others aboard the ship. It’s alive. Entrapta can repair it, she’s sure she can. Secretly, deep down, she hopes that maybe she’ll finally have that lab partner she keeps trying to create. They never turn out how she wants, she just doesn’t have the skills in making true thinking machines from scratch.

With that secret hope, and the theory that this thing must be a scientist, Entrapta decides on her repair strategy. She will give it the best science body she can! Which given that this is Princess Entrapta also means it will probably be a great body for warfare too! She seems to just make weapons on accident a lot of the time.

Initial exploration of the flesh is promising. There’s tech woven all throughout the body that she can piggyback off of. She has this creatures salvaged tech from the ship to make use of too. Thus the broken limbs are tossed aside, unneeded. Internal biological organs are atrophied and weak. Whatever is keeping this thing alive is focusing on the brain. Entrapta will lean in to that. Don’t need most of those then.

Still most of this will be original work and integration will be difficult. The Princess soon decides on a radical solution. She will use First Ones tech as a bridge, and an enhancement. Some of what’s going on with the lab creature looks very similar to First Ones tech anyway! So it will almost definitely probably work! 

At first Entrapta worries the creature will suddenly awaken, giving her a big startle, but that soon doesn’t appear to be likely as it just lays there half dead even as she digs into its body with knife and power tools. There’s a joke about being a heavy sleeper there somewhere.

Limbs, organs, and flesh are all replaced with tech and metal. The more she works, the more she realizes she needs to remake or else she won’t be able to integrate it all. The only reason she can do this at all is that the silvery film and the First ones crystal she has chosen as a base seem to be able to attach to each other. Soon enough though a repair job becomes a total rebuilding of the creatures body with First Ones tech at its core. The initial synthetic components within being almost all she can keep. 

It’s exciting. Princess Entrapta is pushing the boundaries of known science. She is combining First Ones, Etherian, and Alien technologies all together with biology she barely comprehends. She has no idea what the end result of this will be yet even that unknown is too fascinating to ever let her stop and think about the potential consequences of her radical actions.

When she’s finally done she realized that she has no idea how to wake the being up. It’s actually kind of funny. Still the creature remains alive, if non-functional, and isn’t going anywhere. She has time to figure out how to boot it back up.

…

-SYS_CHK-STS_UPDT\\Foreign Hardware Detected.\\Initializing Integration Stack.\\Compiling System Profile.

The diagnostic feed was all Hordak knew of the world beyond his own mental prison, and it was not much. A quiet eternity of his consciousness being occasionally fed an array of error messages and warnings he could do nothing about.

When one of the system checks finally detected a change he had a brief nanosecond of shock before his consciousness returned to the black box dreams that kept him sane.

-STS_UPDT\\Hardware Profiling Complete.\\Compatibility Registration Underway.

Profiling and Compatibility Registration?  Whoever was working on him wasn’t Horde. The checks wouldn’t be taking multiple stages to complete with approved replacement parts.

Again his mind falls away before he gets a chance to really ponder what is happening to him.

-STS_UPDT-SYS_RBT\\Compatibility Registration Complete.\\Rebooting Core Functions.\\Rebooting Extended Functions.\\All Systems Online.\\Re-initializing Higher Brain Function.

Hordak gasps as his senses return, as his mind can touch a world outside of the blackbox keeping it alive. His fingers curl and claw into the metal table he’s on. They literally dig into it. That’s not quite right. He raises his arm to look at it and finds an alien limb there. A completely synthetic arm and hand. Impeccably machined metal and tuned actuators. It looks like Horde tech, yet not. There’s foreign influence, clean lines and coiled strength. Gleaming chromium metal that glints in the light of wherever he is. 

Then he realizes that the rest of him is the same. Looking down he finds his body largely replaced. Metal plates interlocking and familiar combined with what seems to be some sort of memory alloy to create flexibility. He has seen nothing quite like this in all of his years. How did any of this integrate?

Before he can pull the hardware profile up and begint to try to decipher what has been done to him he notices he’s not alone. A short woman with ridiculously long hair is staring at him in surprise from near a large display. He’s about to speak when she gets the first word in. 

“WOW! I was looking in to how to wake you up but you just did it yourself! How? Why? Did you know you were being repaired? Did you know I was done? How though? Oh! Sorry! Welcome to Dryl! I’m Princess Entrapta I rebuilt you! What’s your name?”

Hordak is taken aback by the loud spunky attitude before him. There’s a lot to process here. Inevitably he decides to simply answer her questions. “Hordak. My name is Hordak." 

There is much for both of them to learn.

[caelestis-aurumxv]

FFXV’s Scenario 01: ‘When they steal you a kiss’ Noctis ver.

       It had been a long day of fighting monster, looking for mausoleums and winning hunts just to have a little more guiles in your pockets. In the Regalia the theme when the afternoon began was always: sleep in a room, or camping. The last time you had already slept in a hotel… So now, it’s time to give the chance of feeling free to Gladio. It’ll be camping this night.

—Where is Noctis? — Prompto asked, carrying on his shoulder one of the chairs that Gladio forced him to carry.

—Hey, be careful with that… They’ll break if you don’t treat it well —Gladio warned the blond.

—I don’t think so, even I bet they can last about ten years more—Prompto answered with a broad smile.

—I think Noctis is a little beyond, behind those rocks, almost reaching the lake… —Ignis looked at the horizon.

—I don’t think he’s fishing, or yes? —Prompto asked.

—He hasn’t bought any new fishing line, so he can’t do much—Ignis said, who always knew about King of Insomnia and his activities.

—He’ll be ok? —You asked, wrinkling your bottom lip, watching how the boy seemed beyond, with some distance.

—He already said how he felt after the death about King Regis… —Gladio said, lighting the lamps carefully, one by one.

—Should I prepare some chips? —Ignis asked.

—You should stop spoiling him—Gladio said, almost like a father.

—I want chips—Prompto agreed, nodding.

—I’ve noticed… Noctis is been weird—You mumbled, to which Ignis listened to your comment.

—Do you think he behaves differently? —The cook asked, arranging his glasses.

—It seemed like…. —Without wanting s slight pink was installed on your cheeks—I- I don’t say that is something important…

—Maybe he wants to talk to someone who looks like a mother—Ignis said.

—Are you telling me to go? —You looked at Ignis nervously, waiting for him to say no.

—Well., sometimes… women have a gift for reaching people-s hearts—the tactician of the group declared, staring at you—You don-t lose anything by trying.

—Okay…—And releasing a sigh you proceeded to stretch your body and arms—I’ll ask him to do some exercise.

—Tell him you just want to talk, the food will be in about thirty minutes and I won’t tend to sweaty people in my restaurant—Ignis warned, giving you a small smile.

—All right, wish me luck Iggy —And doing a neck stretch you saw where the King of Insomnia was.

—Remember, you only have about thirty minutes! —Ignis raised his voice as soon as he saw you go in the direction of the new king.

  Leaving the guys behind in the camp, you made your way over the acres of grass further on, the surroundings of Alstor Lake were huge, quiet when the daemons didn’t attack and perfect to sit and watch the lake where the Catoblepas were busy touring the waters from one side to another.

—Those things over there are giant…—Your eyes looked at those two huge figures that were in the lake, causing you chills.

 Then you saw the King of Insomnia, he was looking straight at the lake, very focused on his thoughts to feel or notice that you were approaching.

—Your majesty! —Then you exclaimed, after reaching him.

 From your point you could see that the boy reacted something slow to your call, but finally turned his head to see you.

—What’s with that name? —Noctis answered raising an eyebrow, his chin rested in the palm of hand.

—Are you very busy? —Eventually, he was doing anything, but who knows, maybe he was thinking about the things that nerdy kings who love knight’s games tend to think.

—Mh… A little bit—Noctis said, his gaze returned now to the lake.

You waited for him to say something else.

Again you were waiting.

And then the prince gave a loud laugh.

—You weren’t doing anything important! —You claimed, hitting his shoulder and he just grunted with a smile.

—Hey! That hurts —And the prince surrounded your neck with his arm, giving you a bump, returning the blow you gave him, making you whimper for a while.

—Let me go, your majesty! —You asked whining, making a scene with him.

—No, plebeian, until you ask for forgiveness—Noctis said, with a smile; he was enjoying it.

—…Ok, ok, but let me go for ask it correctly—You said, feeling like the prince left you free of his grip.

—And then? I’m all ears—Noctis looked at you with crossed arms, with a defiant smile.

—… What were you doing here, alone? — You asked finally, noticing that the expression on Noct face had changed.

—I was thinking…—He answered.

—About Insomnia? —By your question the boy just nodded his head—And… What else? —You asked, looking attentive.

—It’s something complicated, ___________—The king said your name, bringing a hand to his nick and leaving it there.

—Very complicated? —And you leaned in, trying to see the face of the dark haired boy.

—Not so complicated as to leave it aside for a moment and pay attention to the request of a plebeian—Noct changed the subject radically.

—Hey. I don’t like when you evade conversations—You said with a serious face, looking at the boy and he sighed.

—…Well, you see… —Noct started yo say, then he bit his lip and he let out a snarl of despair, but a slight desperation only—Really, you wouldn’t understand…

—Okay, then…—You turned to see the lake in front of you again, and as if you were not aware of the king you kept quiet for a while, awakening the restlessness in him.

—Please, don’t bother with me…—Noctis murmured, turning to you.

—Tag! You’re it! —You screamed with a smile, using all your strength to give a push to the boy who only fell sideways on the lawn.

—W-What kind of girl pushes someone like that? —Noct asked with a smile, getting up from the lawn—I deserve an apology.

—Do you really think I should? —You interfered with the king who once again grabbed you in his arms to give a second round of knuckles in your head.

—Noct, Noct…! Enough, it hurts —You implored as the boy stopped making you suffer, although the smile on his face was drawn from ear to ear.

—Ask me for forgiveness, ___________—Noct said, showing his knuckles in a menacing way.

—… Never! —You announced getting up from the lawn quickly and the running.

—Hey! Come here! — Noct shouted, who didn’t hesitate to run after you.

  As you saw Noctis running after you, you could feel relaxed again, because if he really was mad at you; he wouldn’t talk to you, it’s that simple. However, something seemed different in its way of treating you. As a friend and as guardian of the crown.

—Gotcha! —said the dark haired boy, he was only inches away from you—I will punish you!

—Noct…! Be careful! —When you turned you saw how the King of Insomnia fell café down to the ground, literally.

  A stone, better said… A stone very well located.

  You knew you shouldn’t laugh, the other kids were too far away to see it, then it would be a memory only for you and Noctis. You really wanted to laugh with all your strength as you got closer, you knew that he wouldn’t hurt with something so small.

—Don’t even think about laughing…—Noct said threateningly, getting up with the help of his arms—Am I very dirty?

—Mh, I think I don’t see any hint of dignity in your face, your majesty— You answered and the prince frowned—Ok, ok… That’s it, no more jokes.

 You bent your knees to face him, Noct was attentive to your actions, waiting for you to laugh in his face, but it wasn’t like that.

  With your sleeve covering part of your thumb, you put your hand towards the face of the blue eyed boy. Noctis opened his eyes wide.

—Did it hurt…? —you asked while the fabric of your sleeve first cleaned one cheek, then the other followed and finally the nose.

—Are you going to laugh…? —Noctis asked, letting see a little blush on his face.

   You shook your head.

—Just a little, I didn’t see that rock there—Noct said, looking down in embarrassment.

—Well, I thought you were stronger, Noct—You said with a little laugh, moving your hand away from his face, covering your mouth, you didn’t want to laugh, but it really made you laugh.

 Noct was a boy who always seemed proud of himself, however, he was shy when it came to people watching him act or do something wrong.

—Hey! I told you to don’t laugh… —Noctis muttered, a little sad.

—You never said it, you just asked me —You answered with a smile on your face, going back to your job of cleaning the king’s face.

     But what you didn’t notice about the king’s face was his look, because you were trying not to laugh out loud; not because it was very funny, but because you didn’t want things to be tense again between you and him, you didn’t want there to be distance again like a few days ago. But… What you didn’t notice, was how those eyes were staring at you, as they were watching your face with adoration, with affection and a great feeling of protection. Noctis was absorbed in your natural beauty, your loyalty, your care for him and your laughter… That laughter that came from that mouth that he was looking right now.

    And he did it.

    He removed your hand from his cheek, taking advantage of that action to pull your hand and draw you to him, to his face, to his lips. Those lips that made a slight pressure on your, didn’t want to be dominant or you’ll get away, but to make it clear now those lips were part of one of the king’s treasures. Even the lightning bugs around you made it more magic.  

    Something inside you began to pump hard, you were going to respond after being frozen, but the King of Insomnia broke the kiss, moving away and letting you go completely.

    And it created a feeling of emptiness in you. An uncomfortable need to feel him close again.

—Noct…—You whispered, looking at him totally incredulous.

—I told you, you were going to have a punishment for disturbing the King of Insomnia—Noctis murmured, still watching your eyes.

   And he came close again, but this time he didn’t kiss you, but he wanted to…

—But y-you…—You didn’t know where to start, if you talk about Lunafreya or about his feelings.

—What’s wrong with me? —He asked, totally unconcerned.

—I… I like you? —You asked finally, but the boy stopped paying attention to you.

—Come on, Ignis is calling us… —And those were his last words before he turned and walked towards the tent.

  It wasn’t an illusion, you saw his cheeks flushed, in the same way that your cheeks were also flushed.

  The King of Insomnia had claimed your lips as his own.

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

Hey, yeah... This is the first scenario that I write and update in this tumblr, well, you know the process, if you want some scenario, just send an ask <3  It will take me some time to update new scenarios, cuz I have to translate them from spanish to english...  Please give me likes, and some love.  I have three updates more to do in these days. 

#noctis lucis caelum #noctis #noctis lucis #noctis scenario #noctis drabble #noctis one-shot #drabble #scenario #final fantasy xv #final fantasy #ffxv #ffxv noctis #noctis x reader #reader #fanfiction

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Princess, pt. 6 (S.M.)

Summary: The missing ring causes trouble as the wedding day nears and the princess gets an unexpected surprise.

Warnings: angsty fluff

Word count: 3430

The Princess Masterlist

„Pick up, pick up, pick up.“ You were pacing your room nervously, waiting for Shawn to pick up the phone. To say you were freaking out was an understatement and you weren't the only one. Both Alex and Meghan were frantically searching through all of your luggage for the ring, but you had a nasty feeling where it might be..back in that hotel room with Shawn. You took it off because you didn't want to feel like you were cheating, because in your mind you weren't, but it just didn't feel right to do something with Shawn while you were wearing a ring that signified a promise to another man...no matter how annoying the other man was. You never allowed Robert to even kiss you, let alone go further. The rules about no PDA in public for royals really helped with that one and it was the only time in your life when you were grateful to be of royal blood.

„Hello?“ A voice you knew all too well finally came through the other line and for a moment you were rendered speechless. You already missed him and this didn't help you at all.

„It's me. We need to talk.“ You said grimly, sitting on your bed while you watched Alex slip on your leggings and fall to the ground with a loud thud. On any other day you'd be falling off the bed laughing at the site, but your stomach was in knots and it kept getting worse. It certainly didn't help that you didn't even notice your ring was missing for five days. Robert noticed it first, so you made up an excuse about it being cleaned, but you knew your list of excuses wasn't long enough for the queen if she found out.

„You wanna talk, eh? Talk.“ Shawn spoke and your heart skipped a beat on his little eh, just like it did every time he said it. You never told him that, but it seemed like he knew somehow, or maybe you were just reading too much into it.

„Please tell me you're still in that hotel room?“ You bit your lip, waiting for his response.

„I'm not.“ He said and your heart fell. Bollocks!

„Oh God, I think I'm gonna throw up.“ You whined feeling your stomach flipping as sheer terror started to set in. Where in the bloody hell was that ring?!

„What? Why?“ Shawn sounded worried. „Are you? Oh my God, are you?“ He questioned, almost ecstatic and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

„Am I what?“ You cut him off a little harshly, your frustration clear to anyone who was anywhere near you.

„Pregnant?“ He finished and your eyes almost popped out of your head.

„What?!“ You shrieked and Alex turned to you swiftly to see if you were alright.

„I mean that would be great. You wouldn't have to marry that guy and we could actually be together! I'm young, but I wanna have kids with you!“ Shawn's words made your heart ache, but they also infuriated you.

„I am NOT pregnant, Mendes! We used protection for crying out loud! I lost my bloody engagement ring!“ You explained in what you hoped was a calm manner, but in reality it was through gritted teeth and you knew Shawn could tell.

„Oh..That.“ He got quiet for a moment. „I was waiting for you to call about that. I have it.“ Shawn admitted and you immediately stood up.

„You have it? You have it?! Why didn't you tell me right away?“ Alex got up, placed his hands on his hips and waited for you to confirm that it was indeed in Shawn's hands. You gave him a quick nod reaffirming his thoughts and leaned against a wall.

„Yeah well, silly me. I thought you called because you missed me. You left without a goodbye after I told you I was afraid of you disappearing.“ Shawn's words made you feel guilty, but you knew it would be easier that way. „I mean, it's like I wrote this album about you before I even knew you! Now, every song I sing is tearing me apart and you don't even care, do you? Did you even look back?“

He sounded broken and to know you were the reason behind it was eating you up alive. It felt like you were slowly killing him and the guilt was settling inside your heart and mind with no way to make up for it. You have tried to throw him out of your head, but he keeps coming back every night. You don't know if it's really a nightmare, because you'd always wake up before you pull the trigger on either of you. Maybe you can never get rid of him, or maybe you don't want to. It's the only part of him you can hold on to. And every time you see him you revise through all the other options you had: never to have talked to him in the first place, never to have reached out in London or never ever going to see him that day and most importantly never letting yourself get lost in him that one night. But you had done none of them, and what's done is done. You can't ever change that. So you let him haunt you every day and night, so you can still have part of him and you hope that one day he will forgive you for it. Maybe that's how he feels too. Maybe you are haunting him too.

„I'm sorry I hurt you, but it was better to leave than stay and break down once I hear you say goodbye. I couldn't bare it. I picked up my things and I didn't look back at the room, only at you. I kissed your lips once more and you smiled in your dream. That was my goodbye. However, I need that ring back.“ You explained, your voice hollow and empty with all the emotions swirling around your head making you shut down completely in order to save your sanity.

„I can't exactly mail a diamond ring. I'll be in London next week. Friday.“ He was barely speaking, probably fighting his own demons too.

„That's cutting it rather close. Friday morning I hope?“ You placed a hand on your forehead to keep your head from spinning because it had felt like a panic attack was almost certain at this point.

„I can do that. Wait...cutting it close? To what?“ He questioned and you shut your eyes tightly once you realized he didn't know.

„The wedding is next Friday Shawn.“ You explained and for a solid minute, the line went silent. You didn't know if he was even on the phone, but you couldn't let it go.

„Okay.“ He said, voice low and weak.

„When you come, just call this number and Alex will make sure everything goes as planned.“ You told him and all you got back as a response was a faint Ahmm.

„And Shawn?“

„Yeah?“

„I love you.“ You spoke before ending the call. You gave the phone back to Alex and sat back on the floor, hugging the dress you wore that night tightly to your chest.

„Can I do anything for you?“ Alex questioned, crouching next to you, a hand on your shoulder.

„You've done everything and more. Thank you.“ Your eyes were set on the suitcase before you, inhaling the faint scent of Shawn's perfume on your dress as Alex sat next to you.

„Okay. I'll just sit right here then.“ He casually threw some clothes into the suitcase and you smiled lightly.

„I'm really glad you're my bodyguard.“ You spoke and he looked back at you with a wide smile.

„That makes two of us, Princess.“ He placed a hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly before retracting his hand and continuing tidying up.

The next week flew by and before you knew it, Friday came. You didn't sleep at all the night before, the weight of the day was too heavy for you to carry and it had felt like at any moment your heart would stop. It was a tug of war inside you, a chaotic explosion erupting every other second, the desolation unimaginable. This was destroying everything you were, are or wanted to be. Your mind circled back to that night where Shawn had shown you nothing short but clear adoration and love and you craved that feeling for the rest of your life. However, it was being taken away from you..ripped away with your heart and soul until there was nothing left but flesh and bone. You felt like after today you'll become nothing more than an empty shell of the person you once were and the thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

„Wait, stop. Not like that.“ Shawn chuckled and pointed to his lips.

„Like that. Purse your lips like this and then try blowing air out!“ He explained and you nodded. You did as he showed you, but nothing came out.

„I can't whistle to save my life!“ You pouted and he leaned in kissing your lips, turning your frown upside down.

„I swear you're too cute!“ He had that goofy smile on his face that made your insides shake and his eyes were practically shinning. You admired the man before you, tangled in sheets, his curls messy and tangled up, his body still sweaty. He oozed an effortless charm, whenever he spoke he owned any  room, holding everyone's attention. Shawn was truthful every day of his life, painfully so at times. He underplayed his own pains and needs in order to provide for those he loved, giving himself completely to the music and his fans. Whatever he said he truly believed in, whatever virtues he professed, you could take it to the bank. That was him, black and white, cut and dried. He did change over time, evolving rather than taking on any new radical thought that blew his way. He grew up, even in the last six months. Being with him was like being anchored to a rock, never again feeling lost in the storms of life. It was a rare feeling and you wanted nothing more than to feel like that for the rest of your life. He discovered the beauty in you, he traced and defined what your own thoughts saw fit to hide. It was impossible not to admire him.

He's not usually the kind of guy you fantasied about. For starters, he's brunette and you've always liked blondes. You lust after blue eyed men, never once knowing that once you meet Shawn, brown would become your favorite color. He was like the Sun. He had people orbiting around him, some were so close it burned them, some were so far they were the coldest they could be because they wanted to be closer. The lucky ones were in the perfect distance to feel his warmness and live with him peacefully. In one way or another all the people that met him felt attracted to him. He was the brightest person you could ever meet. You however, seemed to fluctuate between those extremes and it made your head spin, but in a good way. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within. It makes you want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of your body. As each year passes the lines will deepen upon his face, he will be more handsome still, as if his soul shines through his skin. That's what's so special about the man you were with at the moment and it couldn't be more perfect than this.

„Hey. It's time to get you ready.“ Meghan said, breaking you out of your thought. You took a deep breath and nodded.

„Let them in.“ As the words left your lips, a horde of people came in, all ready to make you look like a blushing bride, but you were hardly in the mood for any of it. You smiled before pursing your lips together and doing the single most unladylike thing you could...you whistled. Everyone stood in shock, watching you smirk contently. Shawn thought your how to whistle that night and you loved knowing that you could.

„Now that I have your attention. You have exactly one hour to do whatever you want, after which I am done. I don't care what you say, one hour and that's all.“ The room got loud as everyone started complaining about the tight time frame as they probably planned on taking up the entire day, but you wanted to be done with it as soon as possible and get to the Windsor castle early. It was an hour long ride that you planned on sharing with Alex and Philip, just relaxing and letting go off things that will never come to pass.

„I said one hour. If anyone has an issue with that, they can leave right now.“ You held your head high, your back straight and shoulders back, showing them a regal stance that seemed to intimidate anyone who dared to oppose you.

The next hour was quite literally hell, filled with hair pulling, so many products being dragged across your skin, all of it making you feel more trapped then before. It felt a little claustrophobic and far too often you found yourself daydreaming about a certain Canadian and the way simple thought of him could make you feel smile no matter how bad your day was. You knew he was in London by now, Alex probably already working on retrieving the ring before the ceremony. That tiny rebellious voice inside your head was chanting Shawn's name repeatedly to convince you of running, creating an unimaginable scandal. However, the voice of reason reminded you about the real reason why you were doing this and who it was for. You needed to keep Shawn safe and even tho' you'd run for the hills if it were just you, you stayed and faced the music. If you had a way to make sure nothing happened to him, you wouldn't even look back, but nothing came to mind.

Once the prep team was done, you just walked to the door and left without even looking at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't really care for any of it. You looked outside the door and found Alex, already prepared for your departure. You walked to the car and found Philip in the driving seat already, Alex sitting next to him, while you sat in the back. The windows were tinted and it gave you some sense of privacy that was seriously needed at the moment. Driving past familiar streets, past that park where Shawn and you had danced in, past everything you loved about the city, you felt a little lost.

The car stopped just outside the city and you sat up straight as the door opened. You gasped loudly as a familiar figure stepped inside and took the place next to you. Lost for words, your mind in shambles, you watched Shawn in complete and utter surprise.

„You're beautiful.“ Shawn said placing his hand on your cheek before giving it a gentle peck. You were shaking visibly, taken aback by this turn of events. Your eyes darted from Shawn to Alex and neither of your bodyguards seemed to acknowledge Shawn's presence at all.

„Are you real?“ You questioned just like he did that night you came to his hotel.

„Very much.“ He smiled and you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. It felt as if when you were in his arms all your pain faded away - mental and physical, mostly the depressing pain. You wished to stay in his arms forever, safe from the world's harmful people. One could only hope.

„How is this even possible?“ Pulling back from him, you still held on to his arm, not wanting to let go.

„You have really good bodyguards and I'm quite relentless when I want something.“ He shrugged. Brushing away a lone curl from his forehead your eyes filled with tears.

„Yeah. I do.“ You looked at the two guys in the front of the car with a faint smile, noting how hard they tried not to listen in.

„We have a thirty minute ride, so I NEED to start this.“ Shawn said confusing you.

„Huh?“

„I need to start my: Why you should marry me instead monologue.“ He said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

„Shawn.“ You tried, but he cut you off with a kiss. His lips captivated yours and you stopped breathing. It was a kiss that made your mind just stop thinking and you had no idea what was happening, only that you enjoyed it greatly. He moved back and you finally exhaled making him chuckle.

„That's reason number one. Look, Y/N. I know I'm not of royal blood and I do NOT have that Prince Charming look and I am a little younger than you, but I promise you I have your best interests in mind. I knew from the moment we met, something was just so right about us. I had never once been in love, never thought about true love and soulmates, but you, God, you make me believe in all of it! You said I'll get to see you in my dreams and you delivered on that promise, because I've been dreaming about you since that day. Every time we meet I see another side to your beautiful soul and fall deeper and deeper in love with you. I'm at a point where I know I will never love another like this. I know you're going to argue that we barely know each other or that I'm young and capable of meeting someone new, but you know just as I do that this thing here is the most real, tangible thing either one of us felt in our entire lives. It's real, we're real and no one can disprove that. I love you and I know it's far too much to ask for you to give up everything for me, but I can promise I'll never leave if you do. I'll always be with you, holding your hand, kissing your lips, holding you tight, because I can't be without you.“ Shawn stopped, his eyes bore into yours, his cheeks flushed in that adorable pink tint you've always loved and it broke your heart.

„I want to. More than anything. I promise you. But you have to trust me that I have a legitimate reason to do this.“ Your voice cracked and you noticed Alex flinch and look back to make sure you were okay.

„What reason? Explain it to me! You owe me that.“ Shawn spat, hurt with my rejection of his affection.

„I wish I could. Just have some faith in me.“ You responded. Taking Shawn's hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, but he didn't squeeze back. The drive was silent, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Once you arrived inside, Shawn turned to you.

„Take the ring.“ He extended his arm, a small box in his hand. You took it, but decided against opening it.

„Shawn..“ You started but he cut you off.

„I'll be there. I have to see it with my own eyes even if it kills me. If you change your mind at any point, whenever you're ready I will be too.“ He spoke honestly and you nodded as a tear rolled down your cheeks. Shawn seemed to have noticed, so he took a step closer, wiping it away.

„To answer your question...from that night...I do believe a moment in heaven is worth an eternity in hell. I believe that a small amount of pure bliss is worth any kind of punishment, whether it be torture or death. Either way, I'd take it any day just for a moment with you.“ He leaned in, kissing your lips softly once more as you ran your fingers through his hair. The kiss didn't last long. It was far too short for your liking, but once it was over and you opened your eyes, Shawn had already walked away. Placing your fingers over your lips, watching his retreating figure, something snapped inside of you and you didn't know if it was for better or worse.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes imagine #shawn peter raul mendes #the princess #shawn mendes series

[strandedglitch]

Hello world, it's me Kylie

date:08/5/2023

This is my first entry....I dont really know how to explain my situation, I dont even know what I am supposed to write...hell that is a lot of I dont knows.

I could be speaking into the void and writing this will go in vain but I guess this is my weird way of coping? Either way the comforting glow of this screen as I type is my only friend at the moment.

To start from the beginning, Gosh...I feel crazy just typing this but...I was doing some exploration in the state of New Mexico, It was a nice summer...Fairly hot and dry. To be expected of course coming from this arid region of the United States, I just graduated from college with my degree in Computer science and I just wanted to let loose and go on a cross country drive from Massachusetts to California, I just wanted to treat myself for all the hard work I put into my bachelors degree, Im young and for the first time in forever My face was looking at other things rather than staring for hours on end at standarized tests, Papers for essays and the eye straining computer screens.

I made a small detour stop in New Mexico...Now youre probably wondering Why New Mexico? Well..Im a bit of a nerd and thought of checking out some historic sites, Including that of an old nuclear test site which I will not disclose the name of. Now..This place is radioactive...well atleast a little bit...Not too bad atleast I thought...I went a bit further than what was legally allowed , equipped with my backpack which only had my laptop, charger, a bag of chips and some candy, These are my essentials I dont care what anyone says.

well..I got to see some cool glass looking objects imbedded in the white sand, it must of been formed from all the heat from the nuclear explosions...However something felt odd...Off I would say. My head felt like it spun and for a moment.. I felt the ground under my feet suddenly disappear, You ever have those dreams of fall and then you just wake up? It was like that.

Ive decided that perhaps it was being exposed to free radicals mixed in with the aweful sweltering heat..My immediate thought was to go back, Pretend I never went any further than what I was supposed to...treading back clad in shorts and a t shirt, the sun now was highest in the sky my lips were beginning to chap and my Somewhat bronze skintone was tinted with red sunburn.

when I got back to what I knew was the spot of the historic marker I parked infront, I was shocked and dismayed my car was nowhere in sight, I could almost feel my heart sink to my lower stomach about to burst out of my very being at any moment. Someone must have stolen my car, that was the only plausible explanation.

I was stranded, alone and In a god damn desert. I began to walk amoungst the long stretch of road hoping and praying to whatever god may be out there for someone to give me a ride out of this place. I wasnt prepared to die, I was only 23 years old. God,I know Ive been a peice of shit sometime in my life but ya gotta give me a break. It was about an hour or two before I saw a old dark red sports car speeding down the road distorted by that classic heat mirage that distorts the air above any tar road.

Oh damn, Maybe there is a god...Perhaps this is my chance time to flag them down, So my dumbass did what anyone would do...I got in the road and waved my hands around hoping a speeding car would stop.

I gulped of what little spit I had left when it got nearer luckily slowing down, Quickly I walked over to the driver side window to be greeted by A dude about mid thirties his skin was tan with a freckle here and there, Wearing a button up brownish red dress shirt with short sleeves, high wasted blue jeans and complimented with a cowboy hat and sunglasses. He looked at me lowering his sunglasses to get what I assume a better look at me as I leaned in from the window. The conversation went something like this.

Me: "Hey uh.. Can you give me a ride to the nearest town, Im out here and well my car got stolen."

The man nodded " I can give ya a ride but the next town is 'bout a 20 minute drive from here"

Me: Thank you, So much your're a life saver. ('God I hope this guy aintsome creep)

"The name is Daniel, By the way...Hop in the passenger seat just be careful of Missy she can bite if handled incorrectly"

I nodded and headed over to the passenger side, Missy? Was this his dog? I didn't see no dog. I opened the car door only to be greeted with a hand gun tucked inbetween the seat and center console of the car. ...Fuck of course he has a gun my luck. Deciding against every alarm going off in my head, I hopped in made myself comfortable in the seat and closed the door. Off we went. The ride was very boring despite the risk that is hitch hiking. He talked about having a horse ranch out east and enjoys riding them on occasion, Even putting them through a competition or two. I said I just graduated college and looking for a job in software engineering or technical support..Just something to make money from.

He looked over at me like I had snakes for hair. " That wasn't a great choice of career, Darlin.' You ain't gonna be making jack shit. Aint nobody round these parts can afford a computer or need one for that matter. Whatever fancy place you hail from, best go back cause there aint much out here to help you with that."

I was mind boggled, Was this guy for real? Everyone has a computer, phone or other internet connecting device. Even if the area was on a tight budget enough, Offices and schools still had systems. What was he thinking?

It would be another 10 minutes before a town appeared in the distance, I took a breath of relief as I leaned back in this leather seat. We passed a sign I didnt bother reading, The only thing on my mind was food and air conditioning.

Hah.... Well...I thought everything would be great..I'd go to the police give them the description of my car, plate number and everything would be fine and dandy right? Wrong...Dead wrong..You see At first I didnt think anything was off...some people drive old cars but Not an entire town dedicated to it, Maybe there was a car show? That wouldve been the case if everyone including the buildings were also dressed in quite vintage styles.Big hairdos, bell bottoms, Colorful clothing, Old fashioned cars. I felt like I was dreaming, Maybe I passed out in the field of heat exhaustion? No...This was all too real.

Daniel pulled over and wished me luck on getting my car back, handing me a 10 dollar bill, Tipped his hat and drove off. The first thing I did was go into the munincipal building to talk to someone who could point me in the right directions, I hit a bell at the help desk, taking a notice of the lack of computer equipment in the office and a calander on the wall. It was secured there with a red tac and it read August 5th 1970. There was the feeling again, My head spun faster than a damn fidget spinner. I was on the floor after that, everything went dark.

Long long story short..Im in a hotel room after convincing ambulance drivers to leave me alone and that Im fine, They gave me a cold bottle of water, allowed me to sign release for denying medical treatment. Lets just say...They looked suspicious when I asked the date.The full date..It was the same date as the calender...Shit. Im still trying to wrap my head around this...I somehow ended up in the fucking 70's because I walked a little too far from a damn historic marker, excuse my language. My theory is some kind of weird woowoo science stuff must of happened at that sight there and they didnt want us normal people going there cause they knew there could of been these time portals...Or alien...theres always aliens involved in these consiracy theories right? Eh...Im not too much of a conspiracy theorist anyways....All I know is some weird shit is going on.

Ill get back to you with how Im doing, Hopefully I can figure things out.

Logging off:

Yours, Kylie

#ic #introduction #stranded #Diary entry

[drowngrief]

   written    on     RELIGIOUS  PERCEPTIONS     in    relation    to    my    portrayal    of    brooke .

A . )       parental    influence    played    a    considerable    role    in    brooke’s    views       &       alignments in    regards    to    the    aforementioned .    

  –  quinn      subscribed    somewhat    silently    to    christianity ,         only    occasionally     attending      masses    for    christmas           (      &     easter ,       sometimes     )         in    order    to    maintain    a    stronger   public    image       &       appeal to a broader audience when the time came to run for mayor    ;         while    he    ran    as    a    republican    candidate ,          he    was    aware    that    there    were    always    a    handful    of    more    radical    people    who    were    likely    to hold what he did    in    public    against    him    if    he    didn’t    make   a    point    to    show    any    form    of    religious    faith .  

  –  monica ,    however ,       with    her    long  -  repressed    wanderlust       &       recurrent    need    for    something    new ,       found    her    form(s)    of    solace    through    gradually    increasing    absences       &       vagrancy ,        the    latter    both    in    a    literal       &       religious    sense .      she was brought up by catholic  parents  ––        her    mother    on    the    more    devout    end    with    her    father    more    untraceable    due    to    his    absences ,        which    overshadowed    his    wife’s    desire    to    make    spirituality    more    of    a    method    of    family    bonding  ––     but    fell    into    the    common    currents    of    her    father’s    absences come the later end    of    her    sophomore    year    in    high school .         she    didn’t    ‘fall’    into    partying ,      necessarily ,         but    slowly    realized    that    she    could    manipulate    herself    into    a    sense    of    belonging    somewhere    with    the    help    of    more    open  -  minded    friends       &       a    less    restrictive    environment .             she    then    fully    adopted the    more    open  -  minded    outlook    that    she    had    never    been    allowed    to    embrace    due    to    a    sense    of    obligation .       this    newfound    freedom    led    to    her    looking    into    different    belief    systems with    unparalleled    alacrity .        she    was    both    in    search    of    with    which    she    felt     most    connected    to      & ,       perhaps    more    importantly ,         which    could    be    used    to    help    her    to    achieve    the   furthest    distance    from    her    mother’s    looking  -  over  -  her  -  shoulder    nature    of    imposing .                                  +     this    also    serves    as    an    example    of    a    subconscious    imitation    of    her     father  ––         not    being    around    the    house ,         not    being    direct    in     whether     or    not    she      parallels    with    her    mother’s       (     rather    filmsy     )        set    of    rules    or    not .  

 in    regards    to     the    afterlife    specifically ,         quinn    feigns    whole  -  hearted    belief    in    heaven       &       hell ,       when ,       in    reality ,      he    is     too    reluctant     to    accept    anything    so    abstract    as    a    stone    cold    truth .         monica    appears    with    the    family    in    church    when    they    go      (    until  her    substance    abuse    worsens     )       to    help    promote    the    maddox    image ,       but    is    more    into    the    idea    of    reincarnation    than    anything    else   ––     at    least,        that    has    been    the    most    sticking    of    the    many .  

                            SO  WHERE  DOES  THIS  LEAVE  BROOKE ?

B . )       confused ,       perhaps ,      if    she    cared    a    bit    more    about    it    as    a    child .     when     once    asked    by    a    classmate    in    primary    school ,       brooke    told    them that    the    family    was catholic    without    giving   the    matter    much    thought  ––         it    was    hardly    discussed    in    the   house ,       &       they    went    to    a    catholic    church    to    celebrate    christmas    mass .        that    must    be it ,      then .         but    monica ,       who    had    jumped    at    the    first    opportunity    to    break    away    from that    mold ,           made    a    point    to    tell    her    that    they    weren’t    a    part    of    that    particular    denomination ,          leaving    her    with    no    solid    answers .

                                             so  brooke  didn’t  ask.

she simply assumed her family to reside somewhere on the spectrum of christianity ,         not opposing to mass until she reached the fifth grade      (     &       only because she dreaded the great  lull of the service     ) .          she assumed the same beliefs that her father projected for a while ––   life   after death ––   but rapidly began to question them with the influence of   online information      &       conversations  heard       &       had  among      /      with    peers.        (     not much was really questioned or challenged ,         as   the image of the family’s spirituality was fabricated      &     rarely touched upon as a family ––    monica stuck to her own on her wavering beliefs for a while.)  this went on through until brooke’s junior year of high school  ––      an idly lying    belief   canceled out by latent skepticism was forced to its crux   with   the string of murders    beginning with nina patterson .

   this ––    nina’s murder standing alone ––     was not what brought the question to its pinnacle.     brooke thought nina’s murder to be a totally freak,   one-time thing .     so ,     what was it  ?

                                                                     RILEY’S.

C . )    riley’s death  is what confirmed brooke’s original theory ––    that an attack on the second generation after the brandon james attacks would just be too lifetime movie esque to come true ––   to be fallacious .

   brooke finding out that ghostface’s texts put her    &    riley as the choose-between would  absolutely have the fault    /    responsibility-inducing effect on brooke, but from a smaller, more basic       &       emotion-desiccated viewpoint, the event & choice could be seen as something of a miracle .      don’t misinterpret––   brooke is nowhere near grateful that the victim was riley,     &      she would have rathered it be herself, but having fate twist in her favor in that way       (     beyond what money or her family is able to provide     )        would feel surreal for anyone.      she often finds herself consumed in the butterfly effect regarding this tragedy more than any other in her life,    leading to dreams in which she was the one murdered, in which she was the one who actually killed riley,        &       in which she feels the link on the handcuffs attaching her to the bedpost gradually growing white-hot until the pain is too much to bear. (the beginnings of survivor’s guilt.)

    brooke has never been one to look for the paranormal elements in her day to day life,     nor is it something that she’s into at all, but after riley’s death, there occasionally seemed to be a sort of unspoken presence in brooke’s house  in her bedroom      &     living room (a cooler draft, the creaking of floorboards under prodding feet). there also seemed to be more starless nights ––    even though louisiana offers no stunning view to begin with ––    after riley’s death,       &       things as simple as light refracted off of a glass     &     thrown into crystalline patterns on the walls brought back broken memories of better days .

basis  :       riley’s murder simultaneously heightened brooke’s belief in a god        (     without her even being that aware of it    )       &       made her internal denial of god’s existence even stronger .

D . )       the second influential event  on brooke’s faith was jake being stabbed in the chest in 1.07.     she tells noah in the beginning of 1.08 how the doctors described the knife missing jake’s organs as a MIRACLE,     &      to a logistical extent, is inclined to label his survival the same way.

   this was even after she did the inadvisable out of panic ––   pulling the knife out.     once again,    some bizarre,    too-good-to-be-true outward thing has righted one of her committed wrongs,      &     she does not at all feel deserving.

                                                  so one miracle kills while another saves .

   with her mother’s well being dangling in midair at this point in canon, she almost feels the twisted luck to point more towards the wanchancy of further familial corruption gone unseen  ––    it gives her a reason to be more suspicious that quinn might have done off with monica.

    in her childhood, she was fairly used to getting what she wanted ––    perhaps, she thinks, her mother’s fate being the opposite of what she hopes it to be would serve as another example of the universe putting her in the balance’s sternum, if only to see the next move she’ll make. it may also serve as some twisted form of karma –––   a way for the world to reinforce the mantra of “you can’t always get what you want”.

basis  :      jake surviving the bowling alley attack throws her for a serious loop in the attempt to determine exactly where she stands on the existence of a god.     here ,     she begins to lean more towards belief.

E . )     closely following the description of jake’s survival, however, arrived the news of will’s death.    this marked the loss of four of brooke’s closest acquaintances at the start of the series.      while it didn’t have as distinctive or lasting of an impact as some of the other losses suffered in brooke’s life,    the timing of it offered a wall for the gaining momentum of her blossoming belief to crash full-force into.      it seriously challenged any form of optimism that came with the ‘miraculous’ survival.      here is where she is forced to come to terms with agnosticism,      &      it only continues to sprout from this event      &      the conflicting viewpoints that came with the real-life contrast .

F . )     the deciding event in terms of her view on the afterlife occurred in 1.10, when she was locked into the freezer & stabbed at.    this event is later referenced in her carnival speech in 2.08 :    

         “  i almost died.    & you know what i saw ?    nothing. no white light.    just big,    black,    empty nothing.  ”

    in a world where near death experiences are so often exalted      &      then used as fuel for intense cultural involvement          (     books ,      movies ,       constant news interviews     ––––––      think of colton burpo’s experience      &     how it was made into something for everyone to know every detail about    –––––     brooke not only felt for some time as though she had gotten the short end of the stick,     but also thought this even more of a reason to keep her own experience to herself.       she didn’t open up to anyone about how the freezer incident felt         (     in the heat of it or the aftermath     )       until intoxication blended with fury on the stage at lakewood’s carnival .    

    in the future,       brooke will not find spirituality as a stronghold in difficult times or when memories trigger pain.    the concept makes her feel too vulnerable,         &        the slope has proven itself to be far too slippery to place any trust in.   

#minimal formatting under the cut bc the first try failed me. #but this is something i've been thinking on for a little while &. #i wanted to delve into it. #the rambling probably gets a little hard to decipher at points lmao. #so my apologies for that ! but that's how things usually go here anyway tbh. #* in.⠀▬⠀STUDY.⠀❪ alpenglow sharpens silhouette⠀/⠀ᵃᵉᵛᶤᵗᵉʳᶰᵃˡ ᵃᵉᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵃˡᶤᵗᵉˢˑ ❫

[leyacer]

"Medea" -  Yandere Sim P5 AU fanfiction

I love creating new versions of things, and when I designed a Metaverse outfit and Persona for Yandere-chan I couldn’t just drop it after finishing it. So I wrote a fanfic, for fun, about Ayano awakening said Persona. It’s under the cut, because it’s really long.

Ayano didn't think her day could get any worse. She turned out to be horribly wrong.      It had started with that terrible substitute teacher, Mida Rana. Ever since she had come to school after Senpai's teacher had gotten ill, Ayano had seen her try to seduce Senpai time and time again. She did the same with the other boys, but Rana's attention seemed mostly fixed on Senpai. Ayano had already tried many different ways to get rid of that monster, but it always seemed to be one step ahead of her. And because she was a teacher, there was little left that Ayano could do without getting into major trouble if she wasn't careful.     Ayano looked through her phone, seeing if she could perhaps contact Info-chan for help, or find something herself. The only things that caught her eye before she was interrupted, was a text from the girl in question and a strange app she didn't remember installing.    Koharu Hinata, the girl sitting next to her, suddenly shook her shoulder and Ayano became aware of miss Fuka's piercing glare directed at her, and quickly put her phone away.    "Aishi, do not let me see you with your phone in class again, or you'll be wondering where it went the next time I do."    Ayano quickly nodded and apologized. Miss Fuka sighed and turned to the blackboard behind her, which was filled with all kinds of mathematical problems. "Now, Aishi, would you be so kind to as solve this problem for us?" 

After being disrupted from her scheming like that, Ayano wasn't exactly in a good mood. She groaned and started walking over to the courtyard, in the hope that seeing her beloved Senpai would cheer her up. What she didn't expect to see was him and that disgusting woman talking in the hallway.     When she saw the two standing together, Ayano walked in their direction and, when she was within earshot, took her phone from her bookbag and pretended to play a game on it, while truly eavesdropping on the substitute teacher and her pupil. From the corner of her eye she watched them have their conversation.    "Yamada," Rana said. "I've looked at your tests, and..." She made a tutting sound.    "What is it, miss Rana?" Senpai said, sounding slightly worried.     "Oh, Yamada..." Rana turned her head away from the boy in front of her. She looked sad and disappointed, but Ayano knew that had to be fake. That teacher couldn't be trusted.     "Your test scores... They are horrible. With grades like these, if we don't do anything, who knows what will happen... we might have to hold you back a year."     Ayano saw Senpai's eyes widen in surprise, and desperately wanted to run over to him and comfort him, telling him that witch was lying. But she told herself not to act too hastily, and kept listening.     "But miss, I'm sure I did well this year! My grades were perfectly fine a week ago!"     "Oh, Yamada, a lot can change over the course of a single week. Please do not act as if this is completely impossible." That was one of the worst excuses Ayano had ever heard, and she couldn't wrap her head around how people fell for this woman's tricks. One week, and Senpai's grades had dropped to the point where he might have to be held back a year? Ayano gritted her teeth and kept listening.    "Well, Math has been a bit harder lately..." Senpai mumbled.    "There is still hope. I could help you study, and that will get your grades back up in no time. What do you think of that? Would you like me to be your private tutor?"   With that, the woman leaned forward, getting up in poor Senpai's face, who Ayano saw was having a hard time keeping his eyes from wandering anywhere else than his teachers eyes. "I promise it'll really help."    Stammering, Senpai clumsily agreed to his teacher's offer, if it would indeed help him out. Ayano bit her lip while she saw Senpai walk away. Rana, she noticed, turned to a group of boys who had been watching her. "I could be your tutor too, if you want." she said to them, and winked. The girls standing a bit further down the hallway the teacher didn't even acknowlegde.    Ayano couldn't take watching her anymore, and walked away, following Senpai from a distance.

"Ugh!" Ayano groaned once outside the school gates, after she'd watched Senpai leave. Angrily, she tapped the screen of her phone, once she had taken it out of her bookbag again, and opened a random navigation app, not really paying much attention to what she was doing.    "How dare she! Trying to seduce my Senpai and other boys like that! And treating me and other girls like we don't matter!" Her phone buzzed as she kept tapping. "Does she think she can do this just because she's a teacher? Little miss Mida Rana isn't the queen of her own little palace!" Ayano grumbled.    Suddenly, Ayano got a headache for a moment. It wasn't awful, but just enough to make her grab her head for a moment and utter a small groan. But before she had the chance to wonder where it had come from, it was gone again. Ayano shook her head, slightly confused by the sudden headache.    "That was... strange."    She took a step forward, then realized something. "Oh no, I forgot to check near Senpai's locker for anything suspicious! Or something he left behind!" She turned around to head back into the school, but where the school should've been, there now was something completely different.   A giant building resembling a castle had taken the place of Akademi High. It was large and imposing, with dark walls and small towers. Nearly very one if the large windows was covered from the inside with golden curtains, and the glass doors that usually gave way to a school building had their place taken by heavy-looking ebony doors giving way to who knows what. The entire building's atmosphere was radically different from the school's. Whereas the school had radiated cheerfulness and carefreeness, this building that had taken its place had a strange, dangerous feeling to it. The skies above had somehow changed, too, and they were now stormy and dark, instead of sunny and bright.    "What..." Ayano muttered. "Where did the school go? What happened?"    Unable to control her curiosity, Ayano cautiously walked to the ebony doors. After listening for any suspicious sounds, she slowly opened the weighty wooden doors. When she got inside, what she saw went above and beyond her understanding of her already confusing situation. "What the hell is this?" she said, worried and perplexed.    A big hall that seemed to be a reception hall bathed in the dim light from the chandeliers hanging above. A golden staircase was in the centre of the room, leading up to the similarly golden balconies arouns it. The walls were decorated with dozens of paintings that showed off Mida Rana, in all kinds of poses, ranging from smart and scholarly to sensual and seductive. Ayano walked up to the centre of the room and looked around.   "What is up with this place... And those painti-"   "Stop right there!"    A raspy voice interrupted Ayano, and made her turn around. She was faced with a strange creature towering over her threateningly. It looked like a medieval castle guard, with a sword in hand and wearing heavy iron armor, but what was visible of its masked face seemed to be made of a strange red-and-black substance, which swirled about like water in a whirlpool. It was however, much more solid, as Ayano noticed when the creature grabbed her.    "How dare you intrude like this! You should be punished!"    Up until then, Ayano had been too bewildered to react, but when the creature grabbed her like that, she was suddenly pulled back into reality. "No! I don't even know what this is, and yet you want to punish me for mere curiosity? I'll leave, if that's what you want." she said.    The thing laughed, and before Ayano knew what had happened, it had hit her with the hilt of the sword it carried and knocked her out cold. 

 The first thing Ayano noticed when she woke up was the fact that she wasn't in her own room. Her bed was an actual bed, not the bench she was lying on now. Her room's walls were beige-colored, not bare stone walls, with chains hanging off of them. And the entrance to her room was definitely not a jail cell door.     As soon as she noticed this and recalled what had happened, Ayano got up and ran to the bars opposite her bench and shook them, in a weak attempt of trying to open them. After a short while, footsteps could be heard nearing the jail cell, and on the other side of the iron bars, accompanied by two creatures similar to the one from earlier, appeared...    "Mida Rana?"   The woman wore something very different from her usual school outfit. It was even flashier; a black dress with an incredibly low neckline, fishnet stockings and crimson stilettos. On top of her head was a golden tiara, similar to one little girls might play dressup with. It matched well with the red ermine cape hanging from her shoulders. The whole ensemble looked like she wanted to make a noticeable first impression, but didn't care enough in the end and raided her little sister's dress-up box for missing accessories.   The things with her opened the door, letting Rana enter before they did. Ayano quickly stepped back before one of them would walk into her. The creatures stayed near the door, making sure Ayano couldn't escape.    Rana, once inside the room, turned to one of the creatures, and asked with a voice that sounded just a bit off: "Guard, this is the intruder you were speaking of?"    The guard replied: "Yes, my queen. She was discovered nosing around in the reception hall."     Ayano snorted at hearing the guard-things call Rana a 'queen'. Rana seemed to have heard that and walked up to Ayano threateningly, until Ayano was with her back against the wall. Up close, Ayano noticed that her eyes weren't chocolate brown, but a golden yellow. And they were glowing.    "What was that, girl?"    Ayano didn't say anything. She still barely knew what was going on, and realised she only had her wits to help her out, but those were of little use with her being so completely overwhelmed by the events of this odd afternoon. So she simply watched everything play out, trying to make sense of what was happening.   "Wait..." Rana said. "I think I recognize you. You're that girl who's always spying on me and my Taro!"    Something in her expression must've showed some of the surprise and disgust Ayano felt hearing that, and Rana continued.   "Did you seriously think I didn't notice you?" She laughed. The guards laughed with her.    "Oh, but of course I didn't in the beginning. However, when someone always seems to be around at those specific moments and never otherwise..."    Ayano bit her lip and glared at the woman. She hadn't expected her to be so observant.    "And now you suddenly show up in my castle, unannounced, and start snooping around! I do absolutely not acc-"   "My queen?"   Rana's speech was interrupted by a soft, all too familiar voice. The guards who had been standing near the entrance of the cell, stepped aside to make way for a young boy. Behind his black bangs, the boy's stormy grey eyes looked at Ayano and Rana. He wore tight black pants and dress shoes, and a red shirt so thin you could see his bare breast underneath. Just like Rana, a crown was on his head, but it was less impressive -if you could call a dressup tiara impressive- than Rana's. Ayano could barely get the word out of her mouth.    "...S-Senpai?"    Hearing her, Senpai looked at Ayano with a face of contempt and disgust, and it was like someone had just kicked her in the stomach. Then, even worse, he walked over to Rana and stood incredibly close to her, as if he were her boyfriend.    "I have been looking all over for you. I didn't know you were checking on the prisoners."    Prisoner? The bars might've been a dead giveaway, but up until the moment she was actually called a prisoner the reality of it hadn't hit her yet. But now it did, and she was hurt and insulted by it, and by Senpai acting so close to Rana. Trying to keep her nerve in front of him felt like all she could do in this situation.    "This is a unique one, honey. She was found nosing around in the reception hall. What do you think we should do with her?"   Senpai seemed to think for a moment, and then, with a smirk, he said: "The punishment for unlawful entry is death, right? How about you just have her killed, my queen, and be done with it?"   This shocked Ayano to her very core. The Senpai she knew would never just agree to killing someone for trespassing. Trespassing, of all things! Why did he act like this? Why did he call that horrible Mida Rana his queen, and act like he was actually her boyfriend? No... This... This couldn't be her Senpai. No matter how much he looked like him, sounded like him, smelled like him, walked like him... this wasn't Senpai. This was an impudent imposter.   "Good idea, sweetie. I don't know why I even bothered with this. Guards!" Rana called. The guards heaved their swords, came walking at Ayano, the blades glinting menacingly...    "No! Wait!"    Ayano found herself yelling. She felt her panic, surprise, sadness, anger and confusion she had tried to supress suddenly all going wild.   "Being in the dark as to why I'm being punished so harshly for nothing drives me crazy! What did I ever do to you that deserves this treatment?"   Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing, caught off guard by the up until then tacit prisoner's sudden outburst. The prisoner, knowing waiting and watching wouldn't work out anymore, continued.   "Rana, you are not a queen! A queen doesn't act like this. You are merely a selfish girl who spends her time seducing innocent schoolboys for fun, claiming to teach them."    The self-proclaimed queen seemed to not be used to people talking to her like that, her eyes betraying absolute horror at the statements of her prisoner. But Ayano didn't stop there. The words kept coming out of her mouth, like a dam finally breaking and all the water flowing through. She turned her gaze to 'Senpai'.    "They didn't ask for that, and neither did I ask for this!"    It felt surprisingly good to yell out all the things she had been thinking and feeling all that time. It was satisfying.    "This is just you abusing your position, the power it holds! And I have no idea how it came to be in this place, but if at school the other teachers, the counselor, or even the damned headmaster back at school won't stop you, then I'll take it upon myself to make you stop!"   The guards quickly ran to Ayano, protectively stepping in front of their queen. Knowing she was nearing the end of her outburst, Ayano used her momentum to make a final statement.    "I'll tear you down! Starting here, in this miserable cell, all the way back to your miserable classroom from where you first started infesting this school!"

About time.

Suddenly, another woman's voice spoke loud and clear... in Ayano's head.

Are you finally done waiting?

Ayano screamed. Her head was suddenly hurting again, but so much more worse than last time. It was as if a thousand daggers were being thrust into it.

Aren't you tired of dancing to someone else's melody? Of someone else pulling the strings?

She wasn't dreaming. She was actually hearing a voice in her head that wasn't hers. Ayano screamed again, and grabbed her head in frustration and pain.

If someone else is pulling the strings, how about cutting those strings? Or pulling them yourself? Such is the will of your inner self, after all...

The pain wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. It was still there, and so was the voice. Ayano's legs were shaking, and would probably fail continuing carrying her soon.

Do you understand? Are you willing to do what it takes? Then, let us forge a contract...

The voice became louder, silencing everything else. Even the pain's chaos became a little less dominant. 

I am thou, thou art I...I will grant you my strength...

   With the voice continuing, oddly enough, within the pain and chaos, Ayano felt an growing feeling of determination, a strange determination she had never felt before.

 ...so that you may orchestrate this world's melody from here on out!

 And then it was gone. The pain, and the voice. In their place, a mask and a newly found determination.    Ayano didn't think or question anything of this. She merely acted out of instinct, and started pulling of the mask. It hurt immensely, but this was a different kind of pain, one she simply endured, and didn't fight against.    The mask came off. A split second after, everything faded to white.     When Ayano's vision and mind cleared up, it felt amazing. She felt a new kind of power at her fingertips, one that would allow her to do all the things she could never have done before. She could take on this miserable excuse for a teacher, and this disgusting imposter claiming to be Senpai.     She laughed. "I see now." She knew where this new power came from. It came not only from herself, but from her Persona as well. Ayano didn't have to look to know what the being now hovering behind her looked like. She knew it was a female humanoid, with light blue skin, her azure hair tied back in a ponytail, a few loose strands here and there. The multi-layered dress made her even more imposing, and beneath the mask similar to the one Ayano had teared off her face, sharp golden eyes that looked in the same direction Ayano's silver eyes did. A smile was on the Persona's lips as she played with the bars she held that controlled the marionettes hanging from them.     Ayano enjoyed seeing the confusion and surprise she had felt this entire afternoon on everyone's faces. She didn't linger on it long, however. She was finally finished waiting, done holding back, and yelled:    "Let's make these puppets dance, Medea! 

#yandere simulator #yandere simulator au #ayano aishi #yandere-chan #senpai #taro yamada #mida rana #p5 au #persona 5 au #alternate universe

[orangebatsanctuary]

Have an excellent treat for today~*☆

Haven 

by TururaJ

What you seek may not be what you need. Let’s find out the true beauty of love with rousing passionate that so sweet you could drawn into the nectar river breathlessly. Come and touch the h(e)aven. 

click ‘Keep reading’ below.

***Please wait a while for reading on OrangeBat-Sanctuary website, due to some technical problem occurred. I could only post on Tumblr at the moment, and soon the authors will post on AO3***

Enjoy Reading!

Love,

Rosiel

Haven

by TururaJ

 Rating:  R-18

Category:  M/M

Relationships: Kaizuka Inaho/Slaine Troyard

Tags: Alternate Universe, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, R-18 smut scenes, a bit of angst, mentions of past relationships, mentions of abuse, mentions of violence, violence, foul language, minor character death.

  Author’s Notes:

 The song, playing in the pub, is “Cotton Eye Joe” by Rednex, which, actually, gave a start to this story. I wanted to write something light and fun to make the characters happy, but then they suddenly decided they needed a more serious turn for the sake of the “hellish” theme. However, I still had my fun with all the quotes and sex and dialogues and, of course, the ending.

 There is also one more quote inside the text:

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”

© Ian Fleming, from “Goldfinger”, 7th novel about James Bond.

 That said, English is not my native language, so I’m not sure the translation is perfect, but I tried my best for the sake of Inasure. I’m deeply thankful I got an opportunity to participate in the anthology project. Thanks everyone who had helped me with translation, especially the wonderful hakumei_hogosha, who agreed to beta this monster (all the rest mistakes are mine), and, of course, thank you, Rosiel-san for letting me join the fun!

TururaJ

-1-

 “It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg.”

© C. S. Lewis

 Inaho jumped off the last steps of the side ladder and straightened, finding under his feet the solid pavement. The deserted quay was unremarkable: a low iron fence separated the shoreline from the bay bathed in the sunlight; a bit further off a few dirty cars were huddled together on the small parking lot; a thin road ran into the distance, merging into the mountain spiral highway. Fluffy clouds danced on the lazy waves that were caused by the arrival of the ferry. High in the sky the wind carried the loud voices of the silver gulls.

 Yuki was leaning back onto the blue door of the low van and fanning herself with a plastic binder, the documents inside looked ready to escape. She met Inaho with a cheerful smile, and he obediently slid into his older sister’s arms, closing his eyes and finally allowing himself to relax. They may not have seen each other for the last five years, but no one could ever replace a family member. They were together when their parents died; they had survived all the troubles of the orphanage together; and together they grew up caring about each other. Neither distance, nor jobs, nor personal relationships - nothing could break these strong family bonds.

 “Nao, I’ve been waiting for ages!” his sister grumbled, puffing out her cheeks. The plastic binder gently bumped into the back of Inaho’s head, but he didn’t move, enjoying the sudden feeling of peace. Yuki, sensing that he needed a minute to cope with the unexpected emotions, only hugged him tighter and patted his back. “You should’ve quit your damn job four years ago.”

 The playfulness in his sister’s voice was too quickly replaced by a soft tone, giving away her worry. Inaho merely nodded, stepped aside and placed the duffel bag back onto his shoulder as it tried to dart down to the pavement. Yuki was right. If only he had stopped chasing the unattainable at the right time, he wouldn’t have to deal now with frequent migraines and dangerous epileptic seizures. He should’ve dismissed all thoughts about Asseylum, at the very least when she had announced her engagement to Mazuurek. It seemed strange that he - a person who always preferred logic to emotions - got bogged down by his feelings so much that almost paid for it with his life.

 Throwing his bag inside the interior of the van, Inaho settled next to his sister, buckled the seat belt and leaned his elbow upon the lowered passenger-side window. Yuki skillfully directed the van onto the highway, under the green canopy creeping along the narrow road. Fresh air permeated the van; Yuki started whistling an unfamiliar tune and seemed in no hurry to bombard Inaho with questions.

 He smiled faintly when his sister happily signaled to the oncoming car and got a friendly beep in response. From time to time Yuki liked to boast in her letters that she was deeply loved by the townsfolk, and although Inaho never doubted Yuki’s cheerful and unreserved nature to win over many people, to see the proof with his own eyes was more than nice. Yuki was happy in the place she decided to make her life. Inaho, on the contrary, appeared to become an outsider and a squeezed orange so much so he was never visited at the hospital over the past year of the rehabilitation. The only thing he received was an unsigned card and a completely impersonal gift.

 Inaho shifted his gaze to his left hand. The black strap elegantly encircled his wrist, the expensive brand watch was made of white gold; the tag, which Inaho left in the gift box, stated that the strap was produced of the alligator leather. Inaho didn’t know who chose the gift - Asseylum or her husband, but, in all honesty, considered such costs to be meaningless. He would’ve been content with simple gratitude, but when he had regained consciousness the desired visit never happened, and he finally understood that the time to radically change his life had come. However, he didn’t have enough heart to throw away the gift, and now it accompanied him everywhere.

 The smartphone, which Inaho carried inside the hidden pocket of his blue uniform blazer, commenced the insistent vibrating. He pulled it out into the light, not paying attention to how Yuki playfully wiggled her eyebrows after noticing a photo of Inko on the display. Inaho reluctantly replied to the message - the girl was wondering if he had arrived safely - and placed the phone back. His relationship with Inko also had to be severed, and the process was quite painful, despite the fact that Inaho had long ago warned her to never expect anything from him. Perhaps, it had been most inconsiderate of Inaho to exploit the girl who was in love with him, more so his childhood friend, but he couldn’t help it. Enduring Asseylum’s closeness and at the same time unattainability was extremely hard on him. Inaho didn’t have any hypersexual disorder, but letting his body suffer without the much needed relief was pure madness, it distracted him from work.

 At first Inko tried to seem strong, then came the tears. Over and over again she offered to move in with him, to attempt living together at the new place, but although her words weren’t without a fair share of reason, Inaho refused. He had no other feelings for her but gratitude. Inko was a good-looking, kind and a very modest girl, very gentle and docile in bed. Inaho was sure that when she’d recover from stress, she’d quickly find a suitable partner. Sadly, Inaho had many chances to ascertain that even on the verge of death his heart belonged only to Asseylum.

 The fresh mountain air filled his lungs. Inaho closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, feeling the little jumps the van did while making its way over the small bumps and potholes in the old highway. The quiet roar of the engine and his sister’s inarticulate tunes were soothing, however, the memories of the past, the ones he desperately wanted to leave behind, still loomed persistently inside his head.

 Inaho couldn’t resist running his fingers over the wristwatch the same way the sunbeams were scurrying over its face. The first time he met Asseylum Vers Allusia she was dancing around the garden, holding up the skirt of her white festive dress in her hands, looking exactly like one of these fleeting sunbeams. Dazzling and beautiful, she fluttered among the guests as a free little bird, looking like a complete stranger amidst the bunch of people, dressed in austere evening wear.

 Inaho had been charmed since their first meeting and alarmed, because Asseylum Vers Allusia was the granddaughter of none other but Rayregalia Vers Rayvers - an outrageous politician who was widely known for his radical views. The old schemer and billionaire had managed to make too many enemies in his long career. Although Asseylum’s parents never planned to be engaged in politics, the news of their murder became known all over the country. The terrorists wanted Rayregalia’s resignation, but he refused to meet the terrorists’ demands and thus spared neither his own son nor his son’s wife. But he did spend a lot of money on arranging the reliable security for his granddaughter since the tragedy - a security force Inaho was part of.

 Inaho always demonstrated responsibility in the way he handled his work, and that was what allowed him to quickly rise above the crowd of other employees, but meeting Asseylum made his life different. Perhaps, for the first time since his admission to a specialized school, training there, graduating and working in one of the most prestigious security guard companies in the country Inaho was pleased that he had become a professional bodyguard. He felt himself needed.

 But as it turned out, love brought not only joy but also pain. It made no difference how many times he saved her, how many times he threw himself in front of the bullets, how many times he believed Asseylum’s words that he was “a part of her” - in the end there was nothing but disappointment. If only Asseylum had found the will to turn him down earlier... Inaho would’ve accepted her rejection and backed down, but even after getting engaged she continued to thoughtlessly allure him with bright smiles, wonderful chirping and naïve sweet words.

 Inaho pulled the sleeve of his black shirt over the wristwatch and looked at the endless road. The climb was over, opening up a view of the hilly plain dotted with the cozy cottages. Green hills stretched for many miles, until they were absorbed by the softwood forest, beyond which lay the horizon line together with a chain of mountains shrouded in mist. Amidst the vast expanse of fields Inaho noticed the lazily moving white spots: a flock of sheep was grazing on the lush meadow. The owner was nowhere to be seen, probably, was using a GPS tracking device for observing the animals’ movements.

 “The town is about twenty minutes away,” Yuki said and frowned slightly, lowering the sun visor: the sun reached its zenith and was blinding, it was time for lunch. “Don’t worry, Nao. Though your house is on the outskirts, there is no problem with the Internet or TV. It’s the perfect place to rest: very quiet, lots of fresh air. We can find you a nice simple job later. No more staying in hospitals.”

 Inaho silently touched his sister’s hand after she shifted the gears. For a moment her hand quivered, but Yuki forced a smile, and Inaho just now realized how much she must have been worried every time he ended up in hospital with serious wounds. The bulletproof vest was useless against a sniper aiming for the head, and the last wound robbed him of his health. A heavy head injury induced him into a coma for two weeks and afterwards gave rise to many complications: dizziness, headaches, epileptic seizures. The doctor wouldn’t stop showing surprise at his survival after Inaho had been discharged from the hospital, and even now he remembered the doctor’s words: to never skip pills.

 The hills continued to roll, but one-storied houses, surrounded by low fences and well-kept pieces of land, started appearing along the highway. A thief wouldn’t have a problem to maneuver over such fences, but Inaho immediately halted his train of thoughts: the crime rate was much lower in small towns. Most people knew each other in person; furthermore the only way into the town, hidden among the valley of hills, deep forests and pathless mountains, lay across the bay, and the ferry arrived to the quay once a week. Only a foolish thief would put himself into such difficult escape scenario.

 While Inaho was speculating on whether he should ponder on the safety measures of his new home, the van slowly moved into the broad streets of the town. Stopping the van at the behest of the rare traffic lights, Yuki kept leaning out of the side window to greet her acquaintances. The reflections of light lazily caressed the roofs of two and three-storied buildings. Inaho noticed several cafes and bars, a huge supermarket and several administrative buildings, also a sports centre, the sign on which said that there was a swimming pool inside. Yuki directed the van towards the clinic to show Inaho her office.

 Trees and bushes decorated the lawns, adjoined by the comfortable benches. People smiled and wandered through the tidy streets, walking their excited dogs. There weren’t many cars, but wherever Inaho looked he saw the bicycle parking racks. Inaho planned to rent a car, but the idea to buy a bicycle now appealed to him more: despite taking the pills, the likelihood of seizures remained, and if it happened while Inaho was driving, the passers-by could get hurt.

 “We’re almost there, Nao.”

 The town was left behind, giving way to the similar hills and fields with a lot of lonely cottages. At one point Yuki got off the highway, steering the van up the country road, and Inaho quickly figured out which cottage they were heading to. A one-storey house stood close to the hillside and seemed to grow from within the earth: the special footing supported the veranda above the ground. A narrow balcony circled the house and led to the front steps, thereby allowing the owner to enter the house from the main entrance or the veranda. The blue sky was reflected in the wide panoramic windows. The expensive ceramic tile covered the gable roof, looking like the red-brown scales.

 Yuki stopped the van at the parking place made of paving flagstones. The stony pathways began there and ran in different directions: one led to the steps ascending to the front porch, and another went round the cottage footing and disappeared into a small grove. Inaho picked up his duffel bag from the interior of the van, slammed the door shut and covered his eyes from the blinding sun to take a better look at the gazebo, which peeked out from under the shadows of the tall pines. The golden rays of the sun were illuminating the round table and wooden benches, accusingly exposing the places where the maroon paint had come off.

 The keys clinked happily in Yuki’s hands, and Inaho followed his sister up the stairs, towards the porch with a wall-mounted canopy. There were some ornamental trees and shrubs on the hillside: they enveloped the house from all sides. Inaho felt an overwhelming urge to take a nap and touched the back of his head, feeling heavy. It was quiet, only the wind played with the foliage, making it rustle. Yuki opened the door and let Inaho go first inside the narrow space of the entryway. Inaho left the shoes next to an empty chest of drawers and went into the living room. The wood block flooring was done in the diagonal pattern; the plaster walls design displayed the mysterious tousles of plants: judging by the delicate work, it had cost the previous owner a lot of money.

 There were two doors in the living room: behind the first one Inaho discovered a moderate kitchen, and the second one led to the bathroom and toilet. The veranda was separated from the living room by a glass partition wall - Inaho could see a wide sofa, a dining table and several randomly placed chairs there. The living room had only a double bed and a wardrobe, which meant he would be using it as a bedroom. Inaho dropped the bag near the bed, took off his blazer, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undid the top buttons, then settled on the bed. He had enough money to furnish the cottage as he wished, but right now he wanted to rest after a long journey.

 Yuki came closer, gently stroked his forehead, smoothing back hair out of his eyes.

 “Feeling tired, Nao?”

 Inaho gave a barely noticeable nod. Despite the long rehabilitation he was tiring very fast and often fell asleep as soon as his body was in a horizontal position. Yuki quietly moved around the room, and her voice sounded like it came from afar.

 “Then take a nap, I’ll make something for lunch.”

 -2-

 “We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation.”

© Lily Tomlin

 Sometimes Yuki could be very stubborn. Messages kept attacking his phone until Inaho wouldn’t agree to leave his bed to visit Yuki in the town and also to buy the necessary provisions. He still hadn’t acquired the bicycle, but long walks were good for his health. If Inaho wasn’t feeling well, Yuki always took him back to the house or asked to help one of her friends. That was how Inaho made acquaintance with Calm: the young man’s side job at the clinic was to transport the patients from their homes and back. Unfortunately for Inaho, Calm turned out to be no less stubborn than Yuki.

 “Inaho, you should get out of the house more!” he insisted, spamming Inaho’s mailbox with directions of how to get to the bars, where he hanged out with his friends in the evenings. “You’ve moved here for good, right? The guys are already sick of each other. Come join us! The girls will be happy.”

 Inaho regularly took his pills and felt good: he exercised a lot, did the jogging and spent much time outdoors, lounging with a tablet in the gazebo. The summer ended, replaced by a gloomy September. The cold winds came down from the mountains, carrying a curtain of gray clouds. The rainy season had yet to start, but Yuki had warned Inaho that next month the rainfall would be inevitable: the town would resemble a swamp for two or three weeks, therefore, she advised him to round up some supplies just in case.

 Inko still sent him messages, and though she never hinted at anything, Inaho’s replies were brief and to the point. The thought of Inko, however, was what made him accept Calm’s offer to visit the pub. His body finally began to liven up after the severe stress and recently reminded him of the certain physiological needs. No, he wasn’t going to look for a sex partner, but deemed it impossible to amuse himself with memories of Asseylum for the rest of his life, so the opportunity to meet Calm’s friends finally made sense.

 Calm picked him up on the way and laughed, smacking him on the shoulder, when Inaho got inside the mid-sized SUV, careful not to dirty his black trench coat with mud which was covering the car door and its bottom.

 “Inaho, you look as if you’re going to an official reception.” Calm scratched his freckled nose, started the engine and darted a mocking look at him. “The girls will be thrilled though.”

 Calm was dressed in plain blue jeans and a green t-shirt with a bright yellow inscription that said ‘You look at the man of your dreams!’ The image of a simple country guy was supplemented by the sneakers with wrongly done shoestrings. However, to think about the town as of a small village wasn’t exactly right, the infrastructure was very developed. There was even a helicopter pad on the south side of the town used by the emergency service for transporting critically ill people.

 Inaho looked at his perfectly pressed black pants and a white shirt tucked under the belt, at his polished shoes, and came to the conclusion that right now he and Calm were as different as night and day. Actually, Inaho hadn’t yet renewed his poor stock of casual clothes; he had brought only a tracksuit and a couple of shirts from his past life. And wearing a tracksuit for the evening gathering in the pub seemed inappropriate.

 By the time Calm parked the car near the pub with a flashy fiery red neon sign “The Hellish”, the sky was already engulfed by the darkness. Inaho got out of the car and followed the young man through the grotesque arched door, stepping into the semi-darkness which reigned inside. The pub had only one room, but it was spacious. The metal chairs were aligned along the bar counter, their height could be adjusted. There also were several wooden tables and leather sofas near the far wall. The pub’s interior was decorated in brown and red tones and matched its name well: the malicious devils were smirking from the paintings, their tails wrapped around each other; the waitress was wearing a wig with horns; and the menu cover demonstrated the curved lettering: “Open me all ye who enter here”.

 Few people were in the pub. Calm introduced Inaho to Nina - a fair, but excessively communicative girl - and started calling his crowd of friends who seemed to be late. Inaho ordered an orange juice: he didn’t want to mix booze and pills. After half of an hour the place became full of strangers but no one harassed him with questions, and if the girls’ curiosity was going overboard, Calm proficiently diverted their attention with stupid jokes. Inaho didn’t experience any discomfort being surrounded by people: while performing his duties he often had to attend different events and establishments, but for this very reason it was difficult to relax. His eyes surveyed the room by habit, memorizing faces and measuring the guests’ behavior in search of possible threats.

 When the time shifted past eleven o’clock, and the assembled crowd got high on alcohol, Rayet - Calm’s fierce friend - slammed her beer mug down on the table in a manly manner, fixed her purple blouse and dragged the boys to the dance floor. Inaho used this moment to stealthily move to the bar counter. Dancing was not one of his fortes and he believed such skills to be a waste of time. Despite that he was in no hurry to leave: walking home at night and under the impact of the autumn wind was ill-advised. Inaho took one of the vacant chairs and ordered more juice while his eyes studied the dancing crowd. One of the women had long blond hair and looked very similar to Asseylum. Although he knew that it wasn’t her, his fingers once again longingly caressed his wristwatch.

 “The girl is already taken, her boyfriend is sitting over that table. You’re not very observant, Kaizuka Inaho, are you?”

 Inaho turned slightly to the owner of a pleasant voice, resting his elbow on the counter. Thin fingers held a glass of whiskey, and sea-blue eyes wistfully followed the movements of ice cubes in the glass. Short blond hair fell over the man’s forehead and cheekbones. A red cotton button-down shirt clung tightly to his torso, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the delicate wrists. He wore tight black leather pants and pointy-toe shoes. Inaho didn’t have time to examine the young man earlier when Calm was introducing them to each other, because at that moment a new group of Calm’s friends had entered the pub, but Inaho did remember his name.

 “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he answered back.

 “Humor me.” Slaine Troyard smirked, taking a sip of whiskey.

 Inaho once again looked around the pub to reaffirm his findings and, catching Troyard’s eye, said:

 “You’re gay.”

 Troyard choked on his whiskey. Inaho helpfully moved the paper napkin holder closer so that Troyard could clean up the mess on the counter. The bartender turned up the music at the request of the dancing guests. “Cotton Eye Joe” evoked the absolute delight: laughing, whistling and clapping became louder.

 “You... I... W-what makes you think that?” Troyard’s face was flushed. He wiped his mouth in a too abrupt gesture, and his hands trembled treacherously for a second.

 “First of all, the man in the far corner is ogling you too much, but doesn’t take any action, which makes me think, that you’ve already turned him down,” explained Inaho and didn’t miss the way Troyard warily frowned, but held himself back from turning around to verify his words. “Secondly, girls don’t ask you for a dance, yet even Calm, despite his unkempt appearance, won some of their attention. Thirdly, you too don’t seem like you want to be noticed.”

 “M-maybe I’m m-married?” Troyard stuttered, signaling to the bartender to pour him more whiskey.

 “There is no ring on your finger and no trace of any ring. Besides, if that was the case it’s unlikely you would’ve come to the pub alone,” Inaho summed everything up.

 “To hell with you, Kaizuka!” Troyard hissed and moved his refilled glass closer. “You’re right, I’m gay. Now you can start insulting me as they love to do on the mainland.”

 “I see no reason for insulting you.” Inaho blinked. During the last couple of minutes Troyard’s self-confidence transformed into embarrassment and confusion, then the obvious dissatisfaction with himself which changed into alertness, and now Troyard was mad at something he thought up. Even Yuki had never surprised Inaho with such an immense range of emotions.

 “You’re not gay, are you?” Troyard asked with suspicion. Inaho genuinely tried to understand the course of his thoughts, but failed.

 “I cannot say.” Before Asseylum no one had caught his attention, and the encounters with his right hand while taking a shower had been enough to relieve the tension. Inko became his first and last girlfriend. Sex with her was good and had a positive effect on his ability to concentrate and on keeping his body in good shape - of course, together with the other specialized training - but it went no farther than that.

 “What do you mean you don’t know, Kaizuka? You do not look like some lame virgin who has no slightest idea about his orientation!” Troyard was so nervous that almost knocked over the glass of whiskey with his elbow. Inaho was fast enough to move his hand and catch it at the edge of the counter, and his fingers accidentally touched Troyard’s. Troyard jerked back his hand as if burned.

 “I have never tried to indulge in sexual activities with men, so I do not know,” Inaho explained patiently.

 “If you... if you won’t stop saying this nonsense.” Troyard flushed even more, hid his face, and his hands took a tight grip on the glass. “I m-might think it’s a proposition.”

 Inaho sat back, staring at his silent company. The conversation took a completely unexpected turn, but he wasn’t in a hurry to reject a possible offer. It had always been difficult for him to get along with people: the lack of visible emotions on his face scared potential acquaintances even though it was highly valued at his former job. Inaho perfectly understood that a long period of time would pass before he would be able to find a woman who’d like him enough to share a bed with him. With Inko it was a different matter as she had known him since childhood. Inaho unhurriedly finished his orange juice, weighing all the pros and cons, but in the end didn’t come up with any weighty arguments against the idea. In the worst case scenario he simply wouldn’t get aroused.

 “We can try. However, I’m not very familiar with the details,” Inaho warned Troyard, and the man looked at him like he suddenly saw a ghost.

 “You’re joking, right?” Troyard coughed, rubbing his neck. His Adam’s apple moved nervously. Inaho imagined pressing his lips against Troyard’s neck and running his hands under the fabric of the red shirt to hold the lithe waist, and felt interested. “I can’t believe a straight guy offers to spend the night with me.”

 “And I don’t drive,” Inaho made the last comment, letting the final decision lie with Troyard. Troyard gave him an uncertain look, but then decisively finished his drink, left the money on the counter and sprang to his feet, still trying to hide his red cheeks. Inaho followed suit.

 “I have a car, and I hope I’m not that drunk to go off the road,” Troyard said, picking up a leather jacket from the entrance coat rack. “But we are going to your place, because renting a room at a hotel there is like telling the whole town that I had seduced the newcomer, and the neighbors at my home are too nosey.”

 Inaho put on his trench coat and moved behind Troyard across the road. A cold wind assaulted his back, tore off some yellowing leaves from the tree branches, and Inaho watched them descending to the back of a gray pickup truck, towards which Troyard was heading. The car was obviously not new, but seemed well-cared-for even under the poor light of a street lamp. There was an inscription on the hood which said: ‘Aldnoah Car Repair: we shall revive your car, even if it’s been to Mars.’

 Troyard waited for Inaho to get inside and then guided the pickup onto the road, asking Inaho for the right directions. Troyard handled the driving confidently, yet Inaho noticed some nervousness in the way he carried himself. The tense silence and the lack of attempts to start a conversation only confirmed Inaho’s observation.

 “You don’t seem like a person who is used to one night stands,” Inaho voiced his doubts when the town lights disappeared behind the car. The black clouds swarmed in the night sky, hiding the stars. Only the lights, which came from the windows of the houses scattered across the valley, glimmered mysteriously in the middle of boundless darkness. The pickup headlamps were lighting up parts of the endless road. Troyard had slowed down, probably weary of coming across an unexpected surprise in the form of an astray sheep. Yuki had told Inaho that once or twice a year such incidents enlivened the headlines of the local newspaper.

 “Do you really think the townsfolk share my preferences, Kaizuka?” Troyard snorted, gripping the wheel more tightly. “You’ve already seen my only admirer, and the bastard is married. Besides, I don’t trust people. You’re just... a safe option.”

 “A safe option?” Inaho’s curiosity was piqued.

 “You’re Miss Yuki’s brother. She is the only person I trust.” Troyard frowned, bit his lower lip and, stuttering, asked: “And l-let’s end this pointless conversation. I still think t-this endeavor is a stupid idea, and I will leave your house f-five minutes after I get there.”

 Inaho kept silent until the car turned onto the country road. Soon Troyard was already parking the pickup near the cottage. Inaho got out and belatedly realized that they hadn’t stopped by the drugstore: he didn’t have any lubrication or condoms at home. However, Troyard’s actions stopped him from voicing the apology: the soon-to-be sex partner blushed again and pulled out of the depths of the glove box all the requisites. He put them in his jacket pockets so quickly as if was afraid of someone watching him. It looked amusing because the nearest neighbor’s home was stationed more than two kilometers away.

 Troyard closed the car door and the light inside the interior went out. The darkness made the solar-powered garden lights, installed along the paths around the house, more visible: despite the gloomy weather during the day, the stored charge was enough for lighting to keep on until the middle of the night. Inaho searched for the keys in his pocket and climbed the stone steps. Troyard hovered behind him, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot while he was opening the door. The motion sensors in the entryway worked as soon as they stepped inside: scarlet lights, arranged along the lines of the ceiling and walls, shooed away the lurking darkness. Inaho carefully hung his coat on a coat rack, turned to Troyard, and they both froze, wondering what to do next.

 “Okay.” Troyard breathed, stepping back. “It was stupid. I’ll just go.”

 Inaho barely had the time to catch him by his jacket’s sleeve. He gently pulled the unresisting body closer - turned out that Troyard was taller, but not by much, maybe five centimeters or so. Warm uneven breathing caressed his cheek. Inaho lowered his hands on the flat chest and slid them down, feeling how Troyard’s abdomen immediately tensed under the soft fabric of the shirt. Troyard parted his lips slightly, and his hips unconsciously drew near, allowing Inaho’s hands to stroke the protruding hipbones and his fingers to slip under the leather belt to touch bare skin.

 Inaho’s lips brushed Troyard’s face, moved along the jawline and slowly reached his neck, kissed his Adam’s apple and that particular place where the man’s pulse was beating wildly. Troyard compliantly tilted back his head, closed his eyes and held on tight to Inaho’s shoulder. The smell of autumn and whiskey, of Troyard was enchanting. Inaho couldn’t restrain the impulse to run the tip of his tongue around the sensitive spot under the outside of his earlobe, and gently bit the smooth skin there. Troyard gasped so loud that Inaho felt shivers running down his back.

 Groping the backside hidden under the tight-fitting pants, Inaho pushed his guest against the wall, slipped his knee between the other’s legs, and then pressed his hips into Troyard’s. The availability of an alive body fueled the want in his blood, stirred a maelstrom of wild desires within the depths of his consciousness. Troyard was responding to his touch so cooperatively, that Inaho had no more doubts about who would take up the role of a woman in bed. He was not against trying something new, but it seemed like Troyard was afraid to scare him away so much that was willing to do literally anything.

 Inaho undid the lower buttons of the red shirt and put his hands under its edges to pat the warm back and sides, then returned to the buttocks to knead the seductive forms and to push his groin into Troyard’s hips. Troyard’s head hit the wall, his sunshiny hair rubbed against the barely discernible pattern design of plants. Inaho bent down and grazed Troyard’s collarbone visible in the shirt’s collar with his teeth. Troyard’s knees suddenly gave out but Inaho was fast to support him. Sea-blue eyes opened, disoriented, and looked at the owner of the house. It didn’t escape Inaho’s notice that Troyard was already aroused. He probably hadn’t had sex in a long time.

 Inaho eased himself away, realizing they were still standing in the entryway, footgear still on. He finally shut the front door, took off his shoes and helped Troyard to take off his jacket - it was clear that the man was too busy trying to regain his composure: he was leaning on the wall and gasping for air. Inaho fished a large pack of condoms and a tube of lubricant from the pockets - at the sight of it Troyard hurried to conceal his face and hunched to remove his shoes. Inaho went across the living room, turned on the nightlight and left the necessary items on the bed.

 He had to go back, because Troyard cupped his hands together and froze on the spot like a wax statue, not daring to make a move. Inaho took his hand and escorted him into the room as if Troyard was a shy little child. Warm fingers under his hold trembled. When they stopped near the bed, Troyard looked at their reflections, which appeared in the glass wall, and anxiously smoothed his messed hair. Inaho released Troyard’s hand, but hauled him closer by grabbing his belt buckle, and thus successfully turned his attention to himself.

 “Are you afraid of touching me?” Inaho asked quietly, stealing a glance at the tempting lips. “Aren’t you more experienced between the two of us?”

 “M-may I?” Only after the verbal confirmation Troyard began awkwardly unbuttoning Inaho’s shirt. The buttons were obeying him very reluctantly: Troyard couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. Inaho patiently watched how shame and desire fought for the domination on his night guest’s face. At last, the white fabric was shoved aside, and Troyard’s palms made contact with Inaho’s body and started to explore his collarbones, chest, ribs and waist, then went back up and lightly rubbed his shoulders. Troyard suddenly clung to Inaho, burrowing his nose in his neck, and clasped his hands behind Inaho’s back. “Please, tell me that you like this. Just, please… I don’t want to go back home.”

 In response to the desperate whisper Inaho grabbed Troyard’s wrist and wordlessly moved his hand to his groin so that Troyard could feel how much Inaho approved of what was happening. The arousal had devoured him slowly, with almost zero stimulation, if not taking into account the frottage in the entryway. Inaho didn’t fully understand what affected him that much: was it a male body under his hands? Or the genuine way Troyard responded to his simple touch? Or maybe it was the prolonged absence of physical contact? One way or another, Inaho couldn’t deny the obvious: he liked to listen to the quiet gasps, liked being the cause of these gasps, and liked the obscured way in which Troyard was pleading him to continue.

 Troyard drew breath in sharply, and Inaho was overwhelmed by a wave of desire, but not because Troyard palmed him through the clothes, but because of how provoking his low moan sounded. The belt buckle clinked, and Inaho felt fingers gently reaching under the layers of his pants and underwear, touching his cock. Inaho allowed Troyard to carefully explore its length and to fondle with his balls. As if under a spell, Troyard slowly nuzzled Inaho’s neck while his hand was further acquainting itself with Inaho’s cock, which was pressed to his body. When Troyard’s thumb teased the sensitive head, Inaho reluctantly retreated and heard a displeased grunt. Troyard looked at him with a confused look.

 “Strip.” The word sounded more like an order, but Inaho assumed that the moment when Troyard could wish to stop their actions had already passed. Troyard obediently unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped the leather pants and took them off along with his underwear, dropping everything on the floor.

 “The shirt... stays, okay?” He averted his eyes to the right and nervously shrugged his shoulders.

 Inaho nodded: to cavil about minor points would be insignificant. Most likely Troyard had a reason to hide his bare back. Respecting your partner’s preferences in bed was one of Inaho’s principles anyway. He reined in the growing curiosity and looked at the male body in front of him: it was surprisingly eye pleasing. Under his intense scrutiny Troyard’s cock twitched, and his cheeks shamefully reddened once again. Troyard embarrassedly touched himself, his toes curled: the floor under his feet was cold. Inaho decided to install the carpet in the room later.

 Inaho got rid of his clothes without hurry, took off his wristwatch and left it on the shelf, then put his hand on Troyard’s thigh and yanked him close. Their cocks met, teasing each other. Troyard painfully dug his fingers into his elbow, but it only spurred Inaho more: the heat was taking over his body, forcing him to become more active. Inaho wrapped his hand around Troyard’s hard cock and stroked it several times, appreciating its warmth and firmness. He didn’t feel any disgust. Touching Troyard was like touching himself only with some gratifying bonuses: Troyard was holding onto Inaho, moaning softly and lightly nibbling on his shoulder. His arousal was sincere: Troyard couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to.

 Inaho set out to re-examine the enticing backside, this time not hidden by the black leather: he caressed Troyard’s buttocks in a circular motion, slowly increasing the amount of pressure, then suddenly gripped them tightly and pressed his groin into Troyard’s. His partner’s knees gave out, but Inaho had foreseen this and managed to turn them so they both landed on the bed. Inaho settled over Troyard, feeling how a hot body moved and shivered beneath him. Troyard moved one leg over his hip as though he wanted Inaho to become a part of him.

 Inaho caught the thin wrists, pinned them to the bed above Troyard’s head and paused, admiring the picture: the blonde hair shined against the white fabric of the blanket, sea-blue eyes failed to focus on Inaho, Troyard’s chest heaved and fell, and his shirt’s edges slipped down a bit, opening a seductive view of his bare shoulders. Troyard was arching his back, trying to rub his cock against Inaho’s groin and pull him closer with his leg while anxiously biting his lips.

 In the dim illumination of the nightlight shadows wandered along the curves of the pale body. Obeying their mesmerizing movements, Inaho lowered himself to leave one more kiss on the vulnerable neck, to move his tongue over Troyard’s collarbones and kiss the exposed chest and sexy abdomen. He let go of Troyard’s wrists, but reached towards his knees and searched them for the sensitive spots, leisurely moving his hands up and down the inner thighs: his touch varied between light and feathery and greedy and harsh.

 “Nnnnn,” a loud moan escaped Troyard’s lips, he raised himself upon his elbows and eased away from Inaho in search of the forgotten tube. Inaho didn’t object to end the foreplay: he wasn’t sure he’d last long. Troyard’s hands trembled again so much that Inaho had to open the lid for him. Water-based lubricant oozed into Troyard’s palm, a couple of drops landed on the blanket, but Inaho didn’t mind. Troyard bent forward in front of him, knees spread apart, nestled his head into Inaho’s chest and began preparing himself. Inaho watched intently as fingers slid between the provocative buttocks. By now Troyard’s shirt was damp and stuck to his back, but Inaho didn’t use the moment to explore the hidden secrets beneath it. Troyard’s words of distrust still loomed at the edge of his consciousness.

 The condom wrapping rustled. Troyard brushed his lips against Inaho’s chest and midriff, pressed his cheek to his cock, gave Inaho a lewd look, his eyelashes fluttering a little, and rolled the condom on Inaho’s cock. Inaho felt as if he was in a daze when Troyard faced away and encouragingly raised his hips. His red shirt slipped up a bit, and there, right under its edges, a swarm of bats suddenly loomed black. Inaho stroked the unusual tattoo with his thumb, pulled Troyard closer and guided his cock inside.

 The hot tightness didn’t accept him right away though there was plenty of lubricant. Inaho gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to start frantically thrusting in, and pushed his cock balls deep, slowly winning over the resistance of muscles. Troyard’s elbows buckled and he lay on the bed, breathing heavily and taking hold of the pillow. Inaho was observing Troyard’s face and pose carefully to make sure that there was no hint of pain. Of course, it probably would’ve been hard to stop at this point, but he didn’t see the point of feeling good alone. Two persons were intended for that.

 “Wait, wait a bit, nnn,” Troyard suddenly pleaded when Inaho held his hips, wanting to try some moving.

 “Does it hurt?” he asked, tracing his fingers along the mysterious bats on Troyard’s lower back in an attempt to distract himself from the persistent desire.

 “N-no, just...” Troyard started, when Inaho leaned down and ran a trail of kisses along his vertebrae over the damp fabric. “Just give me a minute.”

 Inaho drew in breath and let his hands roam wherever he could reach: Troyard’s hips and backside, his tensed abdomen. He slid his palms under Troyard’s chest and rested his cheek over the clothed shoulder while his fingers teased slightly the hardened nipples. His heart was beating fast; a bead of sweat ran down his temple; his cock was pulsing impatiently, ready to begin the age-old dance of bodies. Finally, Troyard shot a languish look at him over his shoulder, and Inaho straightened his back yielding to his body’s demands.

 Troyard was meeting his thrusts; his fingers clung desperately to the bed linen. He was tight, hot and craving, and repeatedly tried to offset the rhythm of Inaho’s thrusts, tried to make him lose himself, to lose control. However, after Inaho intentionally slipped out of his body, he quickly hauled in horns. Inaho teased the entrance with the tip of his cock and was satisfied when his disobedient partner pleadingly grabbed his thigh.

 The indecent sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room. Inaho kept advancing onto his now tamed partner, from time to time brushing against the spot inside Troyard which almost made him whimper. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as their reflections copulated in the glass wall. A lithe body, messed up blonde hair, hips moving erratically, his own thrusts getting more and more uncontrolled - there could be only one more shameless image aside from this one - the sight of his cock disappearing inside Troyard.

 Inaho felt how his balls tensed: the orgasm was close. He seized Troyard by his hair and pushed him into bed, frantically moving his hips. He never allowed himself to be so rough with Inko, but Troyard’s groans made him go wild. He would certainly apologize later: maybe make breakfast or buy a bottle of good whiskey, but right now - now... Troyard suddenly cried out and clenched around him so tight that Inaho felt himself soaring - all the tension in his body along with the heat broke free, plunging him into an immeasurable bliss. Troyard’s trembling under his hands’ grip was the only thing that didn’t let him get lost amidst the ethereal nothingness.

 A pleasurable experience ended with the sounds of heavy breathing. Inaho came to his senses and discovered he was pressing his forehead between Troyard’s shoulder blades. Sea-blue eyes slowly closed, the body beneath Inaho relaxed, and when he finally found enough strength to pull his cock out and to get rid of the condom, Troyard was already asleep. Inaho couldn’t resist the temptation to take a quick shower and fetched a wet towel there. A pleasant lassitude was forcing him to go to rest, but before that he turned Troyard on his back and wiped his chest and thighs.

 Inaho turned off the nightlight, pulled out the blanket from under his guest and covered them both. The truth was, after spending a year in a hospital bed, he was unaccustomed to the presence of another person in his bed, that’s why he didn’t fall asleep immediately, despite the fact that Troyard was quiet: he didn’t snore or kick or move around, just sighed once or twice in his sleep and turned to his side. The irrational desire to touch the warm body, fueled by fatigue, had won and Inaho stroked Troyard’s thigh, then stopped at his waist and left the hand lying over the place which was hiding the flying bats.

 Inaho felt how the bed dipped for a moment and opened his eyes. It was dawn already: the gray sky brooded above the hilly plain. The rain was beating against the roof, steadily murmuring and drumming on the veranda windows. Sitting on the edge of the bed Troyard stretched out his arms, then moved a pile of clothes on the floor with his foot and lazily put on his underwear and pants. Inaho rolled over onto his side and leaned on his elbow. Catching his glance Troyard abruptly got up, made several unsure steps, and seemingly satisfied buttoned up his wrinkled shirt. Inaho surmised that Troyard wanted to leave while he was sleeping.

 “It’s raining out there, how about breakfast?” Inaho didn’t plan to stall Troyard, but he wanted to thank him for the intense night. For trusting Inaho. Especially since Inaho didn’t spend enough time over the foreplay. Even if Troyard had already been desperate when they entered the house, it wasn’t a good excuse. Inaho had too many rough times at work to be rough in bed. It seemed yesterday Troyard was not the only one driven by the carnal hunger, Inaho too, but he controlled it a little better than Troyard.

 “No, no need.” Troyard shook his head and disappeared in the entryway, where he pulled on his jacket and shoes judging by the rustling sounds. Inaho lay back down on the pillows; rain was lulling him to sleep. He drew the blanket over his shoulder, but saw Troyard peeking out from the entryway corner. His cheeks were burning. “But thanks for the night.”

 The front door slammed, marking the logical conclusion of the previous day. Inaho checked his smartphone and messaged Calm that he got home without any problems: the call history revealed that Calm tried to contact him in the middle of the night, but the sound was muted. Inaho took a deep breath and wrapped the blanket around him. The smell of sex and Troyard filled his nose, but Inaho put off changing the bed linen until later.

 Maybe that’s why that day he dreamed of how a swarm of bats invaded his living room and snuggled up to his shoulders.

 -3-

 “Well, look who I ran into,” crowed Coincidence.

“Please,” flirted Fate, “This was meant to be.”

© Joseph Gordon-Levitt

 His head was hurting since morning. Pills didn’t help, but Inaho forced himself to get out of bed and get dressed. He had made an arrangement with Yuki yesterday to dine at the café across the clinic and didn’t want to cancel it and disappoint his sister. The cold beginning of October was marked by an epidemic of flu and a common emotional distress. Yuki complained that the clinic was sieged by the townspeople and the queue to her office had grown to gigantic length: half of the town was suddenly in dire need of help of an experienced counsellor. Yuki stayed at the clinic till late at night, listening to the complaints of housewives, and couldn’t find time to meet with Inaho, so he decided that he’d endure the migraine, since lunch wouldn’t last more than an hour, and Calm promised to take him to the town and back.

 “Call me when you’re done, mate.” Calm waved his hand; Inaho closed the SUV door and followed the retreating car with his eyes. His eyes burned, fingers of his left hand trembled, and a chill ran down his body. He checked the time on his wristwatch, rolling up the sleeve of his trench coat: it was still forty minutes until the meeting.

 Inaho crossed the road, but didn’t enter the café. All of a sudden the image of a bright green sign with a picture of a coffee cup doubled, and he rubbed his face, leaning unto a low street lamp. A child ran past him, his laughter reverberated in his ears along with the clatter of heels clicking against the pavement: a woman rushed to catch her misbehaving offspring. Inaho pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to focus. The gray sky was rapidly devouring the roofs of the houses; trees merged into emerald mire and crawled amidst the roadway; the zebra-stripe crosswalk darted under the manhole cover.

 “Kaizuka?” Inaho wanted to turn to the sound of a familiar voice, but didn’t remember what happened next: the world around drowned in darkness.

 He regained consciousness lying in an unknown bed, moved his hand over his chest and realized he was dressed in nothing but his underwear. Behind the closed curtains, which were hiding a small window, the night had already descended. A dim lamp stood at the edge of the bureau, illuminating the narrow room; Inaho’s smartphone was placed there too: the memory of how he put it inside his coat pocket before leaving home emerged from the tangle of incoherent thoughts. There was a writing desk behind the bureau, amidst which lay a pile of books in colorful covers and an opened laptop. The sound of a working cooler was clearly audible in the silence.

 Inaho tried to reach for his phone to call Yuki, but his hand fell back on the bed in an instant. A terrible weakness consumed his body, echoes of pain flickered inside his head. Even if he didn’t feel all the discomfort, the memory lapse clearly told him that he had suffered an epileptic seizure. He should have rescheduled the meeting and stayed in bed, but he greatly underestimated his physical condition: became too relaxed after moving and relied too much on pills, postponing his visit to the clinic to register with a local doctor.

 Inaho tried to settle his mind and figure out where he was. He had visited his sister’s house only a few times, but the room he was in right now didn’t look like Yuki’s spare room: it had too little space. Yuki had long ago put down roots in town, and her house was set up with maximum comfort, also it was conquered by mess: Yuki confessed she was doing cleaning only once a year or so. The room where Inaho woke up was spit and polish. He didn’t notice any dust on the floor, the bed sheets were fresh and smelled a little of a washing powder, the stack of clothes he could see inside the opened wardrobe was carefully ironed.

 The door suddenly burst open, letting inside the owner of the room. Inaho recognized Troyard immediately, although the man had his back to him and was holding a huge pile of clothes, among which Inaho noticed his own jeans and shirt. The lock on the door clicked, Troyard put the clothes in the wardrobe and took off his faded t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. Inaho wanted to draw his attention, but the words stuck in his throat: long horrid lines of scars littered Troyard’s back, leaving almost no place intact. The scars were old but apparently an accident was out of question: the nature of the wounding hinted at human cruelty.

 After putting on a zip velour jacket Troyard turned to look at Inaho and froze discovering that he wasn’t asleep. Frustration was evident on his face, and fingers, holding the zipper, balled into fist, crushing the fabric. Troyard forced himself to make a deep breath right away, pulled a stool from under the desk and sat down near the bed. His thin fingers moved the hair out of his face, and his shoulders slumped - Troyard looked tired.

 “How are you feeling?”

 “As per normal after a seizure.” Inaho answered. The hope that under the influence of the pills seizures would not occur had gone away, replaced by the sober assessment. Inaho had always kept strict control over his body and honed his reflexes: at his job a fast footwork, an ability to prioritize and the reaction time were highly valued. During his time at hospital Inaho was watched by the doctors and nurses, and seizures seemed like a necessary evil, accompanying his recovery. But here, in the town, Inaho was on his own, so probably the time to admit that he would never regain the previous control of his body had come.

 “So it’s not a one-off thing?” Troyard frowned, cupped his hands and began nervously moving his fingers. “To be honest, you scared me. To see a person who you slept with convulsing violently down on the ground... I was lucky a doctor was passing by. When the seizure ended, and you fell asleep, he told me what to do and what to expect, and talked me out of panicking and carrying you to the clinic, although it was across the street. He also helped to bring you here - fortunately, I live not that far away.”

 “Thank you.” Inaho once again glanced at his smartphone. Troyard was quick to catch and leaned forward, relocating the phone on the bed, leaving it near the pillow, where Inaho could easily reach it.

 “Miss Yuki called,” he added. “I told her I met you outside, and you felt sick, so I took you home. She asked to call her as soon as you wake up.”

 Inaho nodded, searching for his sister in the contact list. He was grateful to Troyard for keeping the incident a secret. He didn’t want to worry Yuki, although it would’ve been wiser to ask for some help. But Inaho had already taken a lot of her personal time when he was planning his moving. Yuki picked up the phone at once: no doubt was waiting for his call. Inaho assured her that he was feeling fine, apologized for the cancelled meeting and skillfully avoided the question of when exactly he got to know Slaine Troyard.

 “He is a good guy, Inaho,” Yuki thoughtfully said. Inaho was glad that Troyard had moved away at this point to the other end of the room, was sorting out the clothes in the wardrobe and couldn’t hear the conversation. “He didn’t have a nice life too. I think you really could become good friends, it’s just... well, okay, it’s not my business. Rest, please, I’ll see you at the weekend.”

 Any doubt Inaho had about Troyard seeing Yuki for psychological help now vanished without a trace. Then again, the man, whose back was covered with such terrible scars, could never escape mental wounds. Inaho put his phone at the edge of the bed, but the treacherous device slid down the bedsheet and collapsed on the floor. Inaho turned on his side to reach for it, but Troyard was faster: leaving Inaho’s phone on his desk, he pulled the blanket over Inaho’s shoulders.

 “You should sleep, Kaizuka. I’ll take you home in the morning. If you want to drink or need something, tell me.”

 Inaho shook his head and closed his eyes, succumbing to the persistent weakness. He rarely had dreams, but unexpectedly found himself sitting on the porch of an unfamiliar cottage, holding a fragile female body, dressed in a white dress, in his embrace. Birds were chirping around, Asseylum was smiling, looking at the fluffy clouds, and Inaho was running his fingers through her long hair. Something made noise behind his back. Inaho turned to see how a bat was desperately crashing against the inner walls of the cottage, unable to find a way out of the house as if it had lost the ability to echolocation. Asseylum was finally in Inaho’s arms, but yet he could not focus on her and continued to glance back, until the bat suddenly bumped into his shoulder.

 “Did I wake you up? Sorry,” Troyard whispered in the dark, arranging himself on the bed next to Inaho. “Actually I rent a room in someone else’s house, so I have only one bed. Move over a bit.”

 They fidgeted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but the bed was too narrow for both of them to stretch comfortably. In the end Inaho rested his hand over the tense shoulders and buried his nose into Troyard’s hair - they smelled of shampoo. After a couple of minutes Troyard relaxed and stopped moving his hips, hidden under a loose-fitting t-shirt, away from him. Troyard’s behavior was amusing: Inaho saw no reason for embarrassment because they had already had sex, even if they didn’t plan to do it again. Inaho didn’t remember how he fell asleep, but there were no more dreams.

 The next morning he opened his eyes first. During the night Troyard moved so that he now lay on Inaho’s chest with his knee over Inaho’s legs. Inaho felt much better than yesterday, but reminded himself to take the pills first thing upon returning home. A car speeded outside past the window, and the glass rattled from the loud sound. Troyard’s hand caressed Inaho’s chest, he stirred, sleepily rubbing his cheek against Inaho. Inaho stopped his hand halfway to his groin - Troyard opened his eyes, blushed and hastily fled from under the blanket, disappearing behind the door.

 A bit later Troyard drove him home as he had promised but before that he had made Inaho some tea and gave him back his washed clothes. Inaho didn’t put on his trench coat: it got very dirty while he was writhing on the ground from seizure. But in any case it was very warm inside the pickup. Inaho suspected that Troyard specially warmed up the car while Inaho was drinking tea alone. When they arrived at the cottage, before getting out of the car Inaho placed his coat over his elbow and caught Troyard’s eye.

 “Do you want to come in? I’ll make breakfast as a thank you.”

 “Coincidences...” Troyard was stubbornly staring at the endless line of the road, ignoring Inaho. “...should remain coincidences, Kaizuka.”

 The pickup’s engine roared furiously, carrying the car away.

 -4-

 “I am not a stalker. I am just an unpaid private investigator.” ©

 Inaho was absolutely not worried about minor everyday troubles, be it a broken cup or a meeting with a rude neighbor. He always had a clear plan of action in store for every accident, which helped to deal with the problem quickly and effectively instead of wasting precious time. However, he had never expected to find himself in the aforementioned role of a “minor everyday trouble” one fine November day. Logic told him not to react in any way and to go on about his business, but Troyard was too fiercely glaring at him above the shopping shelf full of bright oranges.

 Inaho was forced to acknowledge his presence, especially after Troyard grabbed his cart and prevented him to head for the free cashier. A spacious supermarket hall surrounded them from all sides; a few customers slowly walked between the endless rows of shelves crammed with food and goods: there weren’t many people who dared to leave the workplace in the middle of a weekday. Troyard had a large container of donuts in his other hand and looked very unkempt. Dirty coveralls were hiding under the unzipped gray jacket: apparently, Troyard had swung by the shop during his break.

 “This is the third time today, Kaizuka!” he hissed while Inaho’s eyes roamed his disheveled hair. Right now Troyard looked like a hedgehog that had sensed danger and put up its quills for protection.

 “It’s just a coincidence,” Inaho assured him. It wasn’t strange that they had encountered each other in the morning while visiting the clinic. Troyard had just come out of Yuki’s office and Inaho was heading to the consulting room; he had registered with the doctor soon after his last seizure. Troyard nodded to him in irritation and rushed to flee to the reception desk. Later, after talking with the neurologist, Inaho decided to venture into the town as Calm would be free to take him home only after three o’clock - and this time he met Troyard in the middle of the street. He was helping a car owner change a tire, but after seeing Inaho dropped his wheel wrench on his foot.

 “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, Kaizuka!” Troyard, burning with righteous indignation, narrowed his eyes, but Inaho simply handed him an orange after tossing it into the air.

 “Calm down, Bat, you’re too tense. I’m just acquiring some groceries.”

 “B-bat?” Mentioning Troyard’s tattoo worked without a major hitch. In the blink of an eye Troyard blushed to the roots of his hair, brushed Inaho’s shoulder on purpose and, ignoring the offered orange, escaped from the supermarket, almost forgetting to pay for his donuts at the cash register. Inaho felt how the corners of his mouth moved up, forming a smile, but didn’t follow Troyard: the realization that in recent years he had smiled only in Yuki’s company had come to him so suddenly that he had to linger while his eyes absently examined the orange fruit in his palm. Inko often complained that Inaho was apathetic in everything that wasn’t connected with his work, but he didn’t understand the nature of her discontent back then.

 Memories of Asseylum were still frequent despite the past year and a half. Back then, before moving, he decided to take neither photos of her, nor her letters which once made him so content. It wasn’t an easy decision, but he held to it. Naive words and false promises had been giving him a ghostly hope, and he had lived too long on it. Despite knowing the future outcome he kept waiting near the closed doors, like a dog that would sometimes get a few scraps. But he had saved Asseylum so many times from death. Why could she never find the courage to free him from the deadly mire of illusions? Why didn’t she - even after the engagement? How much more time would he have devoted to her if the sniper hadn’t turned out to be a little faster than him? Would he have died for her? Would he leave Yuki to cry alone at his grave?

 No, it was finally time to accept the truth of Inko’s complains. Asseylum brought Inaho nothing but troubles. And maybe he realized it now, in the course of a very usual November day, when Troyard’s behavior made him smile. Inaho pushed the cart toward the cashier, feeling as his phone started to vibrate inside his pocket. Calm was probably already waiting for him at the parking lot.

 The days went on with insane speed. Inaho wasn’t in acute need of money, but at the end of November he started searching for a job because he didn’t want to spend his days meaninglessly. However, there weren’t many vacancies: in a small town people desperately held down their jobs in fear of losing opportunity to earn money. The post of a security guard in a warehouse didn’t interest him as it would interfere with his regimen, and causing more harm to his health was unreasonable. Yuki found Inaho a place in a local company as an office worker, but Inaho came to the conclusion that sitting in a stuffy office and staring at a monitor for eight to ten hours was absolutely unjustified. He could easily do the same thing at home, doing translations and other freelance work through the Internet.

 The beginning of December gave birth to the first snow which generously covered the town. The rooftops shined under the sun, kids rushed to make snowmen; the serene view of the valley was making Inaho sleepy. Inaho spent more and more time in the town, settling down with a laptop in a cozy café. He found the café by chance, while looking for a drugstore to purchase the necessary pills. The comfortable sofas had cushions and were placed along the walls: Inaho got into a habit of sitting down by the window and ordering breakfast. Eggs here were cooked perfectly, the chief always used different recipes and spices, among which Inaho identified pepper, garlic, oregano, balm, and even onions, spinach and avocado. Inaho though, if he had a chance, would dare to add a touch of nutmeg, ginger, cardamom or cinnamon.

 He was reading news and slowly drank his tea, pondering over Yuki’s present for Christmas. The holidays were steadily approaching, artificial trees filled the streets, shop windows sparkled with colorful garlands and balloons. Unfortunately, Yuki was going to leave for the holidays: last year she had promised to visit a friend, and it was rude now to go back on her promise, that’s why Inaho had accepted Calm’s invitation to the party. He wasn’t going to sit alone in the cottage and reminisce about the Christmas before the last, when he was freezing out on the street, while Asseylum dined in the company of her grandfather and fiancé.

 “Are you kidding me?” Troyard said pulling a chair toward Inaho’s table. “I’ve been missing breakfast for ten days, Kaizuka! Just because I come here and see your arrogant face in the window!”

 “I’m not stalking you, Troyard.”

 “Of course you’re not stalking me!” Troyard snapped, unbuttoning his winter coat and removing the red scarf. It was warm inside the café, but the color in Troyard’s cheeks had yet to fade. “It’s just that every day I meet you out in the street, in the clinic, walking past my work… and now you are determined to steal my favorite place!”

 “It’s an adequate establishment,” Inaho agreed, ignoring Troyard’s anger, and went back to reading the news. For some time Troyard breathed furiously in front of him, but then made a little demonstration by loudly ordering food and clanking his fork against the plate in a vain attempt to make Inaho lose his temper. A bit later Inaho felt how Troyard moved his dirty boots on top of Inaho’s winter footwear. A vindictive smirk lightened Troyard’s lips, but Inaho merely freed one foot and gently rubbed it against Troyard’s leg as if their unseen battle under the table was routine. Troyard hastily pushed his chair back, took his plate, moved to the other end of the area and started up a conversation with an elderly man in glasses, who sat there holding the newspaper. Troyard didn’t turn to look at Inaho anymore.

 Of course, Troyard’s accusations of Inaho stalking him were baseless, however, as the days went by, Inaho too began to notice that the number of their encounters increased. Most likely, the reason for that was the small size of the town. Inaho already knew many people by sight and had no doubts that in a year or two would learn their names. Be it as it may, he bumped into Troyard almost everywhere: they ran into each other while crossing the road and shopping, and sometimes even during driving. For example, yesterday, when Calm had stopped the SUV at a traffic light, a nearby car suddenly turned out to be Troyard’s pickup. Inaho raised his hand in greeting, and Troyard angrily punched the side window and then pressed his forehead for a second to the steering wheel. When he straightened back Inaho gestured him to buckle the seat belt, but didn’t see Troyard’s reaction - the traffic light turned green, and Calm guided the car forward.

 Inaho saw Yuki off and helped Calm to prepare for the holidays. Christmas had snuck up too fast. Calm had rented a roomy cottage so that he could gather all his crowd of friends at Christmas night. They bought snacks and drinks, pushed back the furniture standing in the way, lay a few fluffy carpets and set the music equipment. Calm had encouraged Inaho to try out the karaoke, but Inaho refused and walked around the cottage, checking out of habit how securely the windows were locked. The parking place near the cottage soon became crowded with a good amount of cars. Inaho found Troyard’s pickup among them and smiled. The night promised to be more interesting than he had anticipated.

 Troyard was dressed in jeans and a fitting red turtleneck jumper. Calm shook his hand, and Troyard nodded in a friendly way. Inaho was watching them, standing in the shadows of the stairs which led to the second floor. Although Inaho was sure that Calm preferred girls, for a moment he felt an irrational desire to go down and slide his hand around Troyard’s slender hips to pull him close. Perhaps Inaho’s body hunger was awakening again: enough time had passed since September.

 Troyard didn’t notice Inaho right off the bat, but, probably, was expecting his appearance, because he glanced only once at Inaho’s outfit and quickly looked away. Inaho just in case examined if his orange racerback tank top didn’t get dirty while he moved all the snacks and drinks, but everything was in order. A month ago he had finally purchased the new stack of clothes. Right now Inaho was wearing comfortable jeans and a casual blazer with short sleeves. Despite the holiday Inaho chose to dress in black: according to Yuki, the color looked nice combined with the orange.

 By nightfall the party was well under way. Half-drunk girls weren’t ashamed to bother Inaho, but this time Calm couldn’t become his shield: the poor guy was so drunk that he was now lying across the sofa and sleeping like a baby. Inaho didn’t touch the alcohol: it could easily provoke another seizure. Troyard actively participated in the ongoing festivities, even won the karaoke contest, but seemed strange: clenched his fists when he thought no one was looking at him, rubbed his cheeks in anger and drank only one glass of champagne.

 The time was nearing dawn, and some people had already followed Calm’s example, napping on top of the fluffy carpets. There were people who were still dancing and finishing the last bottles of Martini and people who had disappeared inside the upper bedrooms of the cottage. Troyard tried to get into the hallway unnoticed, and Inaho quickly escaped the embrace of a clingy girl, although she was clearly not averse to continue their acquaintance. Troyard was putting on his boots, sitting on a shoe storage cabinet, and cast a puzzled glance at him when Inaho did the same.

 It was not light yet outside; snowflakes were lazily falling from the dark sky. Cold wind immediately found a way under Inaho’s winter jacket, but Inaho determinedly followed Troyard to his pickup. The road to the cottage was illuminated only by a thin ray of light that came from the cottage window. Troyard turned off the alarm and unlocked the car, and Inaho wordlessly opened the door on the passenger side.

 “Kaizuka!” Troyard grated his teeth, but Inaho had already climbed inside.

 “Drive me home.” Inaho was not going to be involved in cleaning the chaos that guests would see after getting up.

 While the pickup moved along an empty highway, Inaho shamelessly stared at Troyard: at his thin fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, at the tips of his hair, touching his cheek, at sea-blue eyes, carefully watching the road. Inaho was experiencing an unfamiliar thirst. Troyard didn’t resemble Asseylum, and wasn’t as unreachable as she had been. Yet Inaho couldn’t say he was as compliant as Inko. Troyard lay down his own terms, drew the lines, wasn’t afraid to indulge his desires and was quick to keep Inaho at bay, if there was something he didn’t like. Nevertheless he still helped Inaho when Inaho needed it, didn’t shift the responsibility onto someone else. There was no naiveté in Troyard, not a bit of childishness. He was a man of sober judgment who understood his own weaknesses. He seemed to move with Inaho in the same plane, considered Inaho an equal, and wasn’t afraid of challenging him and of expressing his demands. He fired Inaho up, and Inaho had never felt like this.

 The pickup headlamps exposed the familiar parking area to light. The cottage was barely visible against the night sky. Troyard turned off the engine, but Inaho was in no hurry to get out of the car. He could clearly hear Troyard’s heavy breathing in the silence. The interior lights died out and Troyard blew out a breath. The seat belt loudly clicked, letting the driver free.

 “Fuck it!” Troyard whispered and moved himself onto Inaho’s lap, pushing Inaho into the seat. Inaho only had time to let his hands wander under the soft fabric of the red jumper and slide them up Troyard’s back, gladly studying the domain of the mysterious scars. Troyard halted for a second, goosebumps ran down the warm skin and then - Troyard covered his mouth with his lips. Inaho didn’t remember when the last time he kissed was, but the process had always seemed to him unnecessary and meaningless. Up to this day.

 Troyard’s lips were warm and alive, daring and relentless. His hands forcefully held Inaho’s head back, pressing it into the seat. Troyard kissed him as if he wanted to suck out his soul. Inaho had to fight for every lip movement, for every breath, had to extract revenge for every bite. His head was pleasantly spinning, blond hair tickled his forehead and cheekbones, Troyard clung to him, leading in a strange unfamiliar game, and they both couldn’t get enough of it. Inaho didn’t even realize when Troyard pulled away - it was the first time Inaho didn’t notice that he closed his eyes while the kiss lasted.

 “Come in?” Inaho’s voice was hoarse.

 Troyard brushed his lips against his chin, and they awkwardly got out of the car. Inaho inserted the keys in the keyhole only on the third attempt: a short walk to the front door hadn’t cooled him down. What happened next, Inaho remembered very vaguely: together with Troyard they moved around the entryway and the living room, dropping clothes on the floor, kissing and touching each other and stumbling over furniture. Inaho snatched a condom from the wardrobe, pushed Troyard to the veranda, and Troyard obediently raised his hips, bending over the sofa’s armrest. Inaho caressed the bats on Troyard’s lower back and slipped inside the blissful hotness.

 Later, they had fallen asleep on the same sofa. Inaho brought a warm blanket, and Troyard cuddled up with Inaho for the rest of the night, breathing into his ear. He also stayed for showering in the morning and agreed to wait for breakfast. Sunrays were sieging the kitchen table, the cold wind kept attacking the window, and Troyard was eating Inaho’s scrambled eggs with pleased murmurs. Inaho touched the spot on his shoulder where Troyard had left a hickey and enjoyed the sudden peace.

 -5-

 “To appreciate heaven well, it’s good for a person to have some fifteen minutes of hell.”

© Will Carleton

 When spring came Inaho was already accustomed to hearing the loud knocking at the front door. Sometimes Troyard would bring cakes for dinner, and Inaho would go to the kitchen to turn the kettle on, and sometimes Troyard would simply push him against the wall and cover his lips with a demanding a kiss, and they would unsuccessfully try to reach the bed before succumbing to passion. In the middle of April Inaho, whilst doing the spring cleaning, suddenly realized that, wherever place his gaze dropped to, the memories of hot sex would immediately pop into his mind. They did it on the floor, against the walls, on the kitchen table and even on the veranda, leaning into the panoramic window: Inaho was glad it was covered with a special layer of glossy reflection - no one could’ve seen them. Not that anyone cultivated a habit of disturbing Inaho’s privacy.

 Once Yuki stopped by to see Inaho without warning and met Troyard on the doorstep. Troyard blushed, then paled, mumbled something incoherent and fled, literally jumping inside the pickup. After Inaho poured Yuki some tea, she silently took it and played with the teaspoon for half of an hour. Inaho wasn’t going to start the conversation first: if Yuki began to suspect something, she could always ask him a direct question. On top of that, Inaho wasn’t sure what exactly he could say: sex was definitely good, but there was no talk about anything else.

 However, if Yuki would’ve asked Inaho to describe his relationship with Troyard in one word, the first thing that came to mind was, oddly enough, not sex. It was comfort. Inaho felt very comfortable in Troyard’s company: they could remain silent all night, could talk over tea on abstract subjects, could lazily argue about which donuts had a better taste: with chocolate or strawberry dusting, and then slowly advance to bed. Troyard always noticed if Inaho was feeling shaky and would send him to lie down while he’d shoulder a cooking duty. There was no tension between them, not since the winter holidays. They also didn’t have any disagreements in sex: Troyard wordlessly yielded the leading role, although usually he was the first to initiate the intimacy.

 The rainy season started in May, and green hills were curtained by the grey mirk of rain. Inaho closed his laptop when he heard the familiar sound of the engine, coming from the parking area. There was still much time before sunset; the clock pointed towards the middle of the day. On Fridays Troyard usually arrived later, but perhaps there was no work in the car repair shop and he had left early. Inaho opened the front door and went into the kitchen to make some tea. He washed out the cups and left it on the table, but upon returning to the living room discovered that Troyard was still not in the house.

 The rain steadily assaulted the roof and balcony. Inaho pulled on his shoes, picked up an umbrella and went outside. Troyard was standing near the pickup, leaning his forehead against the door and resting his hands on the car roof; his t-shirt and jeans were drenched, but he was in no hurry to move. Inaho went down the steps and walked forward along the curling pathway.

 “I shouldn’t be here,” Troyard said when Inaho came closer. He gently touched Troyard’s elbow and led the guest to the house as his actions met no resistance.

 Inaho forced Troyard to take a shower and then found some spare clothes for him in the wardrobe: an orange racerback tank top he wore at Christmas night and loose linen pants. Troyard’s distrait look wandered around the room, his shoulders were slumped and he hadn’t even snorted when Inaho gave him the clothes: usually Troyard laughed at Inaho’s choice of garments. Inaho dragged Troyard to the bed, wrapped him in the blanket, put a cup of hot mint tea on the coffee table, which he recently purchased, and finally received a quiet chuckle. Troyard buried his nose in the pillow with a heavy sigh.

 Inaho settled with the laptop on the veranda, but the noise of the rain and Troyard’s presence distracted him from work. He kept turning around to look at the napping visitor to make sure he didn’t have any nightmares. Inaho was used to Troyard always being full of energy and fiery emotions. But it seemed as if today his inner fire was extinguished, and Inaho would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to know the reason. He rubbed his face, put down the laptop and quietly moved back to the living room.

 “Mmm?” Troyard sleepily stirred when Inaho maneuvered under the blanket and embraced him with one hand. Troyard was very warm and Inaho closed his eyes, content. Spring was blooming behind the cottage walls, yet the heavy rains birthed chillness. Any kind of cold made Inaho wish to never crawl out of bed, which was why the presence of a living heater was a big plus. “Kaizuka, your feet are cold.”

 “They’ll get warm soon,” Inaho assured him, pressing his feet to Troyard’s legs. Troyard muttered something in irritation, but quickly calmed down. Echoes of the rain drowned the room. Inaho almost fell asleep when he felt how Troyard touched his open palm and began caressing it with his fingertips until he entwined their hands. Inaho didn’t give himself away, but the simple caress sent a shiver through his body.

 “You are not sleeping, Kaizuka. What, spying on me even in bed?” Despite the playful wording, there was no humor in Troyard’s tone. But Inaho was more worried that Troyard didn’t release his hand as if he desperately needed proof that Inaho was close.

 “Did something happen?” Inaho wasn’t going to press for an answer, but he wanted to help if it was in his power.

 “No… Well, yes, but it’s really not a big deal...” Troyard crumpled the edge of the blanket and tried to pull it over his head, but Inaho didn’t allow him to hide: nuzzled Troyard’s cheek and tried to catch the sea-blue eyes. Troyard indignantly growled, jerking his shoulder. “What infuriates me more, Kaizuka, is that I want to tell you.”

 “Then do.”

 Troyard chewed on his lower lip, thinking, while Inaho soothingly played with his slightly wet after a shower hair and left kisses on the tempting neck. However, he stopped when Troyard hid his face in his palm and muttered through clenched teeth:

 “Someone grabbed my ass today.”

 Inaho blinked, totally failing to understand how such an incident could affect Troyard. If there was one thing Inaho was sure of it was Troyard being able to stand up for himself.

 “Did you let...?” The desire to hold Troyard’s backside increased tenfold.

 “Of course not, Kaizuka! What do you take me for?” Troyard hissed, angrily giving Inaho’s ribs a dig with his elbow. “The bastard’s jaw must be pretty colorful right now, and I don’t even care what his wife is going to say. It’s… it’s something else.”

 “Explain.”

 “I’m not sure I want to cross that line, Kaizuka.” Troyard’s grip on Inaho’s fingers unconsciously tightened, his nails left the red marks. “And I’m not sure you want to hear this, even though you’ve already seen... the scars.”

 Silence again cut in the conversation. Inaho used the pause to think carefully about his next words. It was easy to admit that he was feeling so comfortable in Troyard’s company that was ready to take their relationship to the next step. But would this “comfortable feeling” be enough to give birth to something long-term and stable? He couldn’t know. He failed with Inko, but Inko had never been a treasure-trove of emotions that Inaho wanted to solve and tame and calm or, contrariwise, to set them afire and then get burnt in its flames.

 “What if I tell you that I want to?” Inaho preferred to avoid dangers, but not when something important was at stake.

 “Then you’re an idiot. To get involved with someone like me!” Troyard replied, scowling. Yet he didn’t escape Inaho’s arms, but turned and rested his head on his shoulder, becoming silent. Blonde hair deviously tickled Inaho’s chin. Inaho ran his hand over the relaxed shoulders, brushing the scars, peeking from under the garment.

 Troyard didn’t say anything for a long time. Minutes dissolved into nothingness, Inaho thought he could almost hear the frantic ticking of his wristwatch, which he had left on the coffee table yesterday evening. The screen of his phone suddenly lighted up: Yuki sent him a photo of a dirty kitten. She found the kitten a few days ago on the street and decided to take it in after making Inaho promise that he would look after it if she’d leave for a long trip.

 “While my father was alive, I felt just the same as this baby - unwanted, miserable. Mother left us, I don’t even remember her face.” Troyard smiled wearily and ran his finger across the display, over the little red face with whiskers. “My father drank himself to death, and I was taken in by a foster parent. He was a very strict and religious man, but his house was always warm, and I was dressed and well-fed, although the responsibilities I had could sometimes become tiresome: I had to do a lot of cleaning and laundry, studied the Bible and different prayers. It was fine… most likely, I would’ve finished school and left the house, but... at thirteen I suddenly realized how... disgusting I was.”

 Troyard embraced Inaho’s side tighter as though looking for reassurance. Apparently, the memories didn’t bring him joy. Inaho grabbed the back of his knee and moved it closer, putting Troyard’s leg over his thigh. He regretted they were both wearing pants: lying naked next to each other would have been much nicer.

 “I couldn’t hide it, I tried, but... the boys at school brought a magazine to laugh at the “queers”, and I was stupid enough to take it from the waste-basket. Curiosity got the better of me and... I hid it at home. I thought my foster father wouldn’t find it, but he did. And then everything went hellish: the punishments and beatings began. He kept me in the basement for the whole summer, trying to “re-educate”. I’ve been living like that until I turned sixteen: no one suspected anything, that city was much larger than this town. Then one day the man used the whip and… I almost died. I got lucky that he repented in time, called an ambulance and didn’t resist the police... Well, the scars stayed anyway.”

 Inaho smoothed back Troyard’s hair from his face and turned a little to press his lips to Troyard’s forehead in silent support.

 “When I was discharged from the hospital, I had nowhere to go, but I was still a minor, so the folks up top found me a nice guardian. He brought me to this town, rented a room for me, hired a psychologist and promised to take me into his car repair shop as soon as I finish school. But I stopped trusting people and shied away from everyone as if I was some freak. I don’t even remember how I took my exams, my hands shook so much that the pen was tearing the paper.” Troyard smiled bitterly, getting lost in his memories. “The psychologist didn’t help me. Perhaps, I wasn’t ready to talk yet or maybe he lacked the experience… or maybe I was scared too much of the cross he always wore around his neck. I could barely go on when Miss Yuki moved to the town. If it wasn’t for her, Kaizuka, I would’ve hung myself. Your sister is a wonderful person.”

 Inaho nodded. Unlike him Yuki always knew how to get along with people.

 “I don’t know how she did it, but I learned to trust her, to confide in her. We talked a lot, and that really helped. Then...” Troyard thoughtfully traced Inaho’s collarbone with his finger. “A man came to the town, by that time I was already working. And despite that he was in his thirties... well, it so happened that we got together. He didn’t promise me anything, but was patient enough to teach me things and let me feel that I wasn’t some freak of nature. He left when he realized that I was becoming attached. I knew that he was going to do so, he didn’t love me - the person he was in love with had died long ago - but I still wasn’t ready for that. I haven’t been looking for a relationship since then and didn’t like being around people. I should probably say thanks to Calm though: if not for his patience I would’ve had no friends now. Anyway… the town is so small that visitors hardly ever come here, and there are no people who share my preferences. The only exception is that married bastard, you saw him back then at the pub. I thought I’d throw up today: he was waiting for me outside when I finished work. I don’t like being touched in any way without permission, and what he did…”

 Inaho remembered the night he met Troyard: the unusual but cozy pub, the loud country music, the clinking of glasses, the stamping of the guests’ feet. The man was sitting in the dark corner and smoking, but his filmy eyes watchfully followed Troyard’s every movement. He was taller than Inaho, but apart from his unpleasant look and the bowl haircut Inaho didn’t find anything remarkable in him. There were no open threats in his posture at that time.

 “If he is bothering you, you should contact the police.”

 Troyard, annoyed, punched Inaho’s shoulder, freed himself from his embrace and went barefoot towards the wardrobe, where Inaho had left Troyard’s clothes to dry. He emptied the jeans pockets, muttering under his breath:

 “I can’t believe it! Here am I laying my heart bare, and the only thing he says is about that bastard! Kaizuka, you’re unbelievable... Damn it, where is it? Did you pull out my phone? I’m waiting for a call after eight to confirm the order for the spare parts.”

 “No, the pockets were empty.”

 “Did I leave it in the car? I’ll be right back.” Frowning, Troyard headed to the entryway, and Inaho heard the shoes being shuffled. He reluctantly got out of bed. It wasn’t dark yet behind the window, but rainy weather was creating the illusion of night and making him sleepy. Inaho went into the kitchen, pondering on whether to cook something fresh for dinner or just heat up the chicken with vegetables which was left from yesterday. The fridge was almost empty, so the shopping trip sounded good. Troyard could easily drive him there and back: he was always free on Saturdays.

 The electric kettle clicked, earnestly proclaiming the end of its mission. Inaho checked the brew, poured its remnants into the sink and opened the cupboard in search of tea. For a moment he paused, thinking he heard a sharp cry outside, but there were only sounds of rain. Inaho warily looked in the direction of the front door: enough time had passed since Troyard went out, he should’ve been back by now. Inaho’s instincts were alarmed in a second, and his drowsiness was gone. His hand reached under his left shoulder where Inaho had kept his gun holster - a reflex from his old job -but fingers predictably touched air.

 Inaho quietly returned to the living room and looked out of the panoramic window, but the rain was still hiding the sight of the parking area. He couldn’t see what was happening near the blurred gray spot that was Troyard’s pickup. A view from the balcony would’ve been clearer, but up there Inaho would be open for an attack - especially if the criminal had a firearm. Inaho slipped into the entryway and made sure that nobody was standing behind the front door, then put on his boots, tucked his trousers and fastened tightly the shoe-laces: the bad weather dictated him to wear the footgear with more steady soles.

 Inaho noticed that the umbrella wasn’t at its place, Troyard must have taken it. He didn’t plan to use it anyway: the bright orange color would stand out too much against the greenery of the hill. Inaho decided against putting on his jacket too: in case of danger it would only hamper his movements. He still hoped that Troyard was just sitting in his car and talking on the phone, but he couldn’t exclude the possibility that Troyard was attacked, considering the story he told him. It wasn’t that hard to find out where Troyard was spending his free time: any townsman could follow him here. Approaching the cottage stealthily was also a piece of cake: the car could be left in the distance, and the rest of the way - covered by walk.

 Cautiously looking around, Inaho went down the wet steps, feeling how his thin shirt was immediately soaked by the cold drops. The world within Inaho’s line of vision was sinking under the onslaught of rain, the lawns around the stone pathways resembled a swamp, and the small bushes and trees were leaning towards the ground. Inaho didn’t reach the pickup: halfway through, he clearly saw that the car was empty, the opened umbrella was lying near its wheel. Next moment he had to crouch down and hide behind an overgrown bush as he caught sight of someone moving around in the gazebo.

 Inaho quietly made his way through the bushes and sneaked into the pine grove, making sure not to step on the brittle twigs. Boots were sticking in the mud, but rain concealed all the squishes of his footsteps. Wet hair was obscuring his vision, and shirt clung tightly to his body. Inaho leaned back against a tree, slightly out of breath. The smell of the pine tar was strong, but Inaho didn’t pay attention to the secondary sensations, it was like a switch had flipped inside his head. He looked out from his cover and realized his negative predictions had come true: Troyard wasn’t alone in the gazebo, the man from the pub was there too.

 “Trillram, have you gone mad?” Troyard was desperately trying to free his arms, bound by the rope over his head. The rope was wrapped around one of the wooden props, supporting the gazebo roof. The knots were simple, five minutes would’ve been enough for Inaho to disentangle himself, but Troyard was unlikely to have the necessary experience. But above all things Inaho was worried of how the man managed to capture Troyard, because obviously Troyard wouldn’t have willingly agreed to this.

 “Be quiet, baby, I’ve warned you.” Cold shivers ran down Inaho’s body when Trillram smiled in satisfaction and took out a pistol from the inside of his jacket. With one hand he roughly grabbed Troyard’s hair and forced him to bend his head back, his other hand lowered the barrel to Troyard’s abdomen, and Trillram slowly moved it up from Troyard’s belly to his chin, rubbed it over Troyard’s lips and then shoved it in his mouth. “Oh, how I want your pretty lips to play with my cock the same way, Slaine. Why are you so stubborn? If only you’ve slept with me after your ex-lover left… What was his name? Barouhcruz? ...Who knows, maybe I’d have already forgotten about you. But no, you didn’t allow anyone to approach you. Up until recently.”

 The shadow of fear flashed in the wide-open sea-blue eyes. Inaho’s fingers gripped the tree trunk so hard the top layer of its bark came off. He choked down his anger only when Trillram began rubbing his groin against Troyard’s thigh, still holding the pistol inside Troyard’s mouth and forcing Troyard to look at his face. Inaho took a deep breath, calming down. He tried to calculate his chances of success: he had no weapons, and an open attack would make Trillram instantly blow out his brains. Still, to return to the house to call the police meant to leave Troyard for a long period of time, and then nothing would stop Trillram from carrying out his despicable plans. Also Inaho knew he wouldn’t succeed to get behind Trillram unnoticed: the space between the grove and the gazebo had nothing but the green lawn.

 Inaho smoothed back his wet hair so that it wasn’t obstructing his view, and moved away from the safe screen of trees. All he could hope for was to distract Trillram with a conversation and to get to a distance where he’d be able to knock the pistol from the man’s hands and turn the possible resistance into a close fight. The plan was basing on improvisation, absolutely unreliable and put in jeopardy Inaho’s life. Yet when he realized what misery would befall Troyard, Inaho ceased to think about himself.

 “Well-well-well, look who we do have here!” Trillram drawled, stepping away from Troyard and pointing the pistol at Inaho. Inaho’s guess that Trillram wouldn’t fire immediately if Inaho wasn’t attacking him was correct: it was harder for civilians to pull the trigger, and, going by Troyard’s story, the man had a wife, and that fact could become a deterrent. Maybe his wife was why Trillram waited for so long before committing an assault upon Troyard. “Kaizuka Inaho, the piece of shit who stole this yummy ass from me.”

 Trillram stroked Troyard’s buttocks, and Troyard jerked, turning away to avoid both Inaho’s and Trillram’s staring. Trillram laughed mockingly, but Troyard’s acting didn’t deceive Inaho. Troyard was still trying to work his hands free from the ropes. Inaho made an attempt to distract Trillram with talk.

 “Have you thought how the consequences of your actions are going to affect your wife?”

 “I don’t fucking care about that bitch!” Inaho took a couple of steps forward, but Trillram lifted his pistol in warning. From a closer distance Inaho recognized the model: a self-loading Czech Kevin ZP98, small size, frame made of a high-strength aluminium alloy, the barrel and slide of steel, 6 rounds magazine capacity - an ideal choice for a self-defense weapon, and, most importantly, accessible on sale. “You shouldn’t have come here, Kaizuka. Slaine and I would’ve just quietly sorted things out. Slaine is a smart boy, I doubt he would’ve complained, but now I’ll have to get rid of both of you. Maybe I’ll even play with both of you, how do you like that? Stand there and don’t move. I’ll come closer to tie you up.”

 Inaho gave no sign of appreciating Trillram’s idiocy. Of course, neither Trillram, nor Troyard could have known that two years ago Inaho was considered to be one of the best professional bodyguards. Trillram slowly walked out from the gazebo, aiming his pistol at Inaho, and Troyard didn’t waste any time: pulled his body up, sat on the railing, looked at the knots and began to untie them, helping himself with teeth. He, surely, would’ve gotten free much faster if he stopped being distracted with casting anxious glances at Inaho. Nevertheless, Inaho planned to deal with Trillram before Troyard could rush to help him and endanger himself.

 When Trillram was exactly two steps away, Inaho darted forward so fast that Trillram didn’t have enough time to react. Inaho threw all his weight behind the motion and landed a knifehand strike against Trillram’s wrist joint. The man’s grip on pistol weakened, and the gun fell to the ground. Trillram cried out in surprise and pain, but didn’t panic and evaded Inaho’s attempt to grab him and perform a front choke. They battled, ignoring the rain, exchanging blows, moving across the lawn, and Inaho quickly realized that Trillram must have gone through military education and training: he understood the basics of close combat.

 Spatters of rain were flying everywhere, Trillram’s face burned with rage. There was a big bruise on his chin - that must have been where Troyard’s punch landed earlier in the day. Their clothes soaked and became heavier, slowing down the movements. Inaho’s muscles ached: it had been a long time since his body was undergoing such heavy physical activity; excessive focusing also put strain on his head. Inaho managed to knock Trillram on the ground, but missed the foot sweep, and didn’t expect Trillram to pounce on him before he could roll to the side.

 Unfortunately, his reflexes weren’t working as properly as in the past. Inaho couldn’t block the punch in time: he took it right on the chin - firm and precise. Pain flared inside his head, the world before his eyes blurred, the sounds of rain transformed into a continuous ringing. The weight, pressing his body into the ground, disappeared. Inaho blinked, trying to get his bearings, and turned over, spitting out blood and learning to breathe again. The muddy shoe immediately kicked him hard in the stomach, and his elbows buckled from the new surge of pain. Inaho’s forehead touched the dirt.

 “Get away from him, you son of a bitch!”

 Inaho somehow rolled on his back, welcoming the feeling of cold raindrops against his hurting lips. Water was running down his face, preventing him from grasping what was happening behind the mess of what his eye-sight had become: a bright swarm of circles and divided silhouettes. Trillram’s voice seemed like the hissing of an enraged snake.

 “Oh, you wouldn’t dare, you little cock-sucker!”

 There were sounds of footsteps moving over the wet ground, close to him. Inaho buried his fingers in the soil, searching for support, and shut his eyes tightly to chase away the disorientation. When he opened them back, time seemed to stop. Troyard stood in front of Trillram, pointing the forgotten pistol at him. His hands were shaking, but his eyes were shining with an unalterable resolve. Trillram kept slowly approaching Troyard, and just then Inaho knew - Troyard was going to pull the trigger. He would pull the trigger and forever stain his hands with blood, doom himself for a life of nightmares and endless regrets. And Inaho couldn’t allow him to do that. What was the point of his meaningless life if he couldn’t defend a person, who had confided in him, trusted him? The person who was now ready to commit a grave sin to save him?

 Attacking Trillram from behind and trying to hold him was useless: Trillram had already proved that he was in a better physical shape. Inaho wouldn’t hold out long against him with the injuries he had suffered. But Inaho could easily buy some time by pushing Trillram away. It should be enough to get to Troyard and retrieve the pistol. Trillram roared, not expecting an assault from behind, but Inaho pulled him off balance by grabbing his hair and violently bending his head back, at the same time kicking him at the back of his knee. He won only a few seconds but it was enough to stagger to Troyard. Thin fingers obediently released the pistol’s grip.

 “Don’t move.” Inaho spoke hoarsely, but Trillram ignored him and saw red. Inaho raised the pistol and fired, once. He wasn’t aiming to neutralize and wasn’t going to, he was shooting to kill, the years of honed reflexes came to life. The shot resounded, drowning whispers and pitter-patter of rain, crashing against the gazebo roof. There was no blood splatter: the cascade of water devoured everything. Trillram silently fell to the ground with a gaping scarlet hole in his forehead. Slowly, a pool of blood trickled beneath his head. Inaho tossed the pistol aside.

 “In-n-naho…” Troyard’s lips were shaking so much. He pressed himself close to Inaho’s back and hid his head on his shoulder, enveloping him in a painful embrace. Inaho heard a muffled sob, but only had enough strength to squeeze Troyard’s icy hand. The adrenaline rush was clearly over, fatigue and pain welled up inside his body. It was wiser to go back to the house and call the police while Inaho could still stand on his feet, while they both didn’t catch the pneumonia. “I’m s-so sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry. Please. I’m so sorry, Inaho.”

 Troyard continued to apologize, but Inaho didn’t understand what he was apologizing for, and blamed his feverish mutterings on the shock.

 Afterwards Inaho could by no means remember how they had returned to the house.

 -6-

 “What I spent, I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have.”

© German motto, author unknown

 The police continued the interrogation after they had moved to the clinic. Lying in bed, Inaho tried not to fall asleep under the effect of painkillers. Troyard looked like a ghost and sat on a chair near the bed, holding tightly onto Inaho’s hand beneath the white sheet. He was coming alive only when questions were directed at him. The angry clattering of heels echoed from the hall: behind the closed door Yuki was going crazy from worry. The door lock clicked, the shutters shifted a bit, and one more policeman entered the room. Through the haze of the impending sleep Inaho could hear him saying:

 “We’ve found his wife, she was tied and locked up in the closet. She can barely think now. Apparently, he had kept her there for a few days. I think there is no reason to continue questioning, we’ve already learned everything we wanted. Inform Kaizuka to visit the station when he’ll come round, we’d like to clear up some things.”

 Inaho fell asleep before Yuki was able to storm the room. And when he did wake up, feeling a lot of pain, Troyard was nowhere in sight. Yuki had taken his place and was dozing, having flung a cardigan over her shoulders. Inaho looked around the room, hoping that Troyard had fetched his smartphone when they were leaving the cottage in an ambulance, but the bedside locker and the windowsill were empty. It seemed like to check on Troyard he would have to be discharged from the clinic first, and that would probably take several days. At least nothing was threatening Slaine’s life anymore.

 Inaho touched his hand, remembering how Troyard was holding it only a short time ago, and realized that he had called Troyard by his name for the first time in his head.

 Drought had come to the town amidst the hot June, and screaming headlines flooded the local newspaper. Although the names were not mentioned, rumors quickly spread around the town, and after leaving the clinic Inaho ended up being the target of curious and sympathetic looks. However, he was used to it, but whether Troyard could handle the pressure Inaho didn’t know. Troyard was probably hiding at home, because he never visited Inaho while Inaho was staying under observation at clinic. He also didn’t pick up his phone, though Inaho asked Yuki to bring him his smartphone specifically for trying to contact Troyard.

 The sun hovered high in the sky and was adorned by thin clouds. Light wind ruffled the tree tops, but Inaho had absolutely no desire to approach the gazebo. The cottage was drowning in silence, the cups, forgotten on the kitchen table, were the first thing Inaho noticed after stepping inside. He touched one of them, and a thin layer of dust coated his finger. Despite the visit of the police all things were at their rightful places, but Inaho no longer felt the same ease. He wearily slumped on the stool, leaned his arms on the table and rubbed his face. The echo of the shot still rang in his ears as a ghostly reminder.

 He had killed people before Trillram, but had no fascination for murder. First and foremost, the profession of a bodyguard obliged him to avoid danger, and an open confrontation with an assailant was considered to be a desperate measure. Once, Asseylum decided to go to her country residence and ignored Inaho’s warnings. He had been trying to dissuade her from the trip for two weeks, his suspicions about a forthcoming assassination attempt were corroborated by facts, but she just smiled kindly, patted his back and said that he should stop being concerned for her so much, because she wasn’t a little girl. That day Inaho had killed three people, while Asseylum rested calmly within the walls of her luxurious residence. Yet the danger could have been avoided, and those three ugly deaths wouldn’t be now on his conscience.

 Inaho felt the beginning of a throbbing headache. He wanted to see Troyard. To make sure that he was okay. To touch him, to feel how furiously the pulse was beating under the pale skin, to enjoy the familiar warmth of his body. To get in bed with him and bicker about any kind of nonsense, so it could make the bad memories fade and cease to distress him. To take a nap, breathing in the wonderful smell of his body, and smile discreetly when blonde hair would tickle his nose. Inaho rested his hands against the table, thoughtfully looking at the empty entryway.

 When did he become attached to Troyard? Was it love? The warm, peaceful feeling seemed so strange - it was utterly unlike anything he felt for Asseylum. There was no ache, no unease, and he doubted neither his words, nor his actions - neither his own, nor Troyard’s. He didn’t have to ask Troyard for anything and didn’t have to talk sense into him, he didn’t need to explain his actions and receive a saddened smile if something went wrong. There were no more doubts and no more regrets. Finally, he didn’t live in a dream, but simply - lived. And amidst this leisurely flow of everyday life Inaho felt himself more than comfortable. He needed Slaine Troyard.

 The only thing was that, for some unknown reason, reaching Slaine Troyard became impossible. Troyard didn’t pick up his phone, and the owner of the house, where Troyard had been renting his room, just shrugged and said in a dismissive tone that she hadn’t seen Troyard since the “incident”. Inaho went to the car repair shop, met with Troyard’s guardian, but the man also stayed silent. Taking a draw at his cigarette, he examined Inaho from head to foot, smoothed the collar of his red coveralls and said that Slaine would contact him if he’d want to. While Inaho was crossing the street, he could almost feel the man’s smirk burning his back.

 Inaho wandered around the town for a few more days: visited shops, Troyard’s favorite café, waited for him near his work and even asked Calm for help, but all in vain - Troyard seemed to have vanished into thin air. Inaho got used to waking up alone in the morning, when the nightmares were particularly vivid; he stumbled to the bathroom and leaned his forehead against the mirror, wishing for only one thing: to hear an irritated “Kaizuka!” behind his back.

 Help came from an unexpected source. Inaho didn’t hope for a miracle anymore and aimlessly roamed the house, from time to time checking his phone out of habit. The sun was high above the cottage, shades of serene sea absorbed the summer sky, and windless calm ruled over the green hills. Inaho had just come out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, when his phone rang. Yuki’s voice sounded unsettled and a bit shy:

 “Nao, I understand that this isn’t my business, and that we’ve never really talked about it, but...” Yuki paused and sighed decisively. “But you looked so peaceful since autumn, so I think you should know. Slaine leaves today, Nao. He’s just come to see me before leaving, wanted to thank me for everything. I can’t get off work right now to pick you up, but I’ve called Calm, and he said he’d be at your place in a few minutes. If Slaine is important to you, Nao... Please, hurry. Saazbaum must’ve already taken him to the ferry.”

 “Yuki,” Inaho suddenly felt a lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

 “Oh, be sure, we’ll discuss my zero chances of becoming an aunt later!” Yuki added a bit sternly before ending the call.

 Inaho barely had time to put on his jeans as Calm signaled him from the parking area. Inaho buckled his belt and grabbed the first thing he saw from the wardrobe, not even pausing for a second to inspect it. He was already halfway to Calm’s SUV when he slipped the garment on and realized that it was Troyard’s leather vest. Troyard had left it at Inaho’s house back in April and seemed to forget about it entirely. Calm couldn’t resist laughing at the sight of his half-naked chest and arms, but Inaho hastily fastened the metal clasps and said:

 “Proceed.”

 “Aye, Sir!” Calm jokingly saluted him and pushed the accelerator. A few minutes later the country road ended, and the car ran along the empty highway. Hills and dry fields flashed before Inaho’s eyes: nature was obviously suffering from the heat. The town seemed oppressed by the sweltering too, but quite soon the SUV left it behind. Inaho didn’t remember the ferry sailing schedule, but was aware that he would have no more chances to stop Troyard. The ferry arrived only once a week, so if Inaho missed Troyard now, he would have no more ways to pursue him: hardly anyone would agree to send a helicopter to the town due to Inaho’s whim.

 Calm was forced to slow the car down when the road turned into the spiral highway. Inaho leaned out of the side window, trying to get the view of the bay through the abundant thickets, but the wind immediately ruffled his hair, and the sun blinded him. He sank back on the seat, feeling dissatisfaction. Time was slipping away like sand through his fingers. Finally, the brakes screeched, and the SUV appeared onto the familiar quay. Calm had not yet managed to park the car when Inaho already jumped out of it and ran, dodging between the crowded rows of assembled vans: apart from dealing with passengers, the ferry often carried a large variety of goods, which were transported to the town.

 Inaho was relieved to find that the ferry hadn’t left yet, its stern was docked to the quay. The lumpers were actively dragging boxes from the lower deck. Inaho noticed there were only a few passengers walking abroad the ferry, but Troyard was the first one he saw. He was leaning onto a white railing, blankly staring down at the water, caressing the starboard painted with blue paint. Tight jeans fit his legs perfectly; the edges of a gray linen shirt with short sleeves were covering his hips. Troyard also wore sneakers, and one of them was resting against the lower rail, as if Troyard wanted to jump off. A large sports bag lounged at his feet.

 Inaho crossed the quay in a second and ran up the special side ladder for passengers, ignoring the shout of the female employee who was accepting payment for using the ferry services. Troyard turned around exactly when Inaho wordlessly picked up his bag and headed for exit, showing no hesitation. Curious whispers arose around them, drowning out the cries of the gulls; the rays of sun peeked out from under the fluffy cloud and colored the bay with golden lights. Inaho had to stop because Troyard abruptly grabbed the second bag handle and tried to pull his possession back.

 “What the fuck are you wearing, Kaizuka?” Troyard blurted out, his cheeks were instantly covered by blush. “No, wait… What the hell are you doing here?”

 “You are not going anywhere,” Inaho declared, not even thinking of loosening his grip. But he thoroughly studied Troyard’s appearance, noting how much he grew thin. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed the sleepless nights, lips were bitten, and his shirt looked crumpled. Troyard had always dressed with care, he would even take a shower after work before coming to Inaho, despite Inaho’s offer to do it at his place, but right now everything in his being exuded fatigue. A desire to hold Troyard in his arms exceeded all reasonable limits.

 “You have no right to order me around!” Troyard gritted his teeth and once more tried to get his bag back. “It’s better like this, so just… leave!”

 Inaho looked at the pale face and refused to surrender. They moved around the perimeter of the deck, trying to pull each other off balance. The bag handles were almost tearing, people giggled, fetching their smartphones, the female employee tried to persuade them to stop the farce and then asked the lumpers, who were working on the lower deck, to call the security. However, a minute later turned out that the good old security had disappeared inside the ferry to have lunch. An elderly man, supervising the lumpers’ work, climbed the ladder and tamped down tobacco in his pipe. His face seemed vaguely familiar, but Inaho didn’t recognize him at once as the man was without his glasses: it was the same old man that Troyard fled to after their bickering in the café.

 “Kaizuka,” he snorted, lit his pipe and took a few short puffs. “Just tell him you love his ass. And finish the show, both of you.”

 Inaho nodded. Perhaps, it was a good idea, given that Troyard absolutely didn’t want to leave the ferry.

 “Slaine...”

 “Not a word!” Troyard roared, his face flushed again. “Old man Hakkinen, please… what’s gotten into you?”

 “I just want you to be happy, boy.” The man smiled good-naturedly and stepped to the side when the security staff passed him. “Just listen to your heart. It’s not so easy to find a haven where you’d want to stay.”

 The security guards weren’t planning on discussing the problem: two strong men dragged both Inaho and Troyard off the ferry. Troyard jerked his shoulder, but didn’t resist and, as soon as his feet touched the pavement, walked fast away from the ferry, from the quay, from the passengers’ staring and from Inaho, leaving his sports bag lying near the side ladder. Inaho stubbornly followed him under the canopy of trees which surrounded the spiral highway.

 “Stop following me! Have I not caused you enough pain?” Troyard turned to Inaho so hastily that Inaho almost knocked him off his feet, but instead grabbed Troyard’s elbows and steadied them both before they could collapse into the nearest bushes. The sea-blue eyes were full of tears, which Troyard desperately tried to hold back. The body under Inaho’s arms was shaking. “If only you didn’t get involved with me, nothing would’ve happened! Am I not a waste of skin if my lover has to kill people because of me? Why couldn’t I shoot him myself? Why… why did I give you the pistol?”

 “Slaine, I was a bodyguard. I’ve killed people. It’s all right. I’m all right.”

 Inaho tried to calm him down, but Troyard paled even more, and his fingers clawed at Inaho’s shoulders, leaving red marks. Sunbeams were dancing on a beautiful face when a windflaw ruffled the tree tops. Troyard lowered his eyes, his eyelashes trembled, his voice broke into a whisper:

 “I doubt that makes it easier for you, Inaho…”

 “No, that doesn’t make it easier,” he honestly answered, and tiredly pressed his forehead to Troyard’s cheek, closing his eyes. “But if you’re with me, it’ll get easier. I need you, Slaine. Stay.”

 Troyard pressed his cheek against Inaho’s hair and hesitantly hugged him back. A minute later he was holding onto Inaho as if there no longer existed any other footing in the whole world. Warmth enveloped Inaho, and it was wonderful. Unearthly. Heavenly. They didn’t move for some time, silently enjoying the peace and listening to the soothing rustling of leaves.

 “It’s not fair. You know I can’t resist you.” The tension was slowly leaving Troyard’s body, and he pulled away a bit to nuzzle Inaho’s nose. “So… are you saying I’ll have a personal bodyguard now?”

 Inaho smiled, his hand reached under the grey shirt and caressed the place where an unusual tattoo was hiding. Troyard sighed so contentedly that for a second Inaho expected him to purr like a real cat. A yellow van unhurriedly drove past, and the driver leaned out of the window and whistled to them, at the same time honking the horn. Troyard jumped in a very amusing way.

 “We can discuss my salary later, Bat.”

 “Kaizuka!” Sea-blue eyes narrowed, but, despite the voiced threat, Slaine gently traced Inaho’s lips with his fingers. “I swear to God, one day I’ll think of a nickname that you’ll have to hear for the rest of your days.”

 Inaho kissed the delicate palm and stilled, listening: the pleasant melody of bird singing rang amidst the empty highway. The world around was suddenly full of bright colors and sounds, which Inaho never really paid attention to. It was like a wonderful haven had finally embraced him - a home where loneliness no longer existed. A home for him and for Slaine. Inaho thought it wasn’t that bad a plan.

 “I’ll hold you to that.”

#TururaJ #Haven #az anthology #ALDNOAH ZERO #AZ #inasureanthology #inaho kaizuka #slaine troyard #inaho x slaine #orangebat