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henqtic · 3 years

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𝘈𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘔𝘦 𝘈 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: Draco Malfoy. His name was registered in your mind as your enemy, plain and simple. A platinum blonde idiot who you’d find much more likable if he’s just shut up everyone in a while. But what would happen if your parents arranged for you both to attend the yule ball together- would some hidden feeling shine their way out?

warnings: mentions of arranged marriages, mentions of feeling anxious, feelings of self doubt, kissing, angry love confession, crying, a little angst, please contact me if theres more !

a/n: Also this is an au where the yuleball is in seventh year and no Voldemort <3

masterlist. // gif creds // taglist form.

When Dumbledore announced the yule ball to the school in the middle of the dinner, you were a bit excited. Excited at the idea that you’d have the chance to be asked to the dance by some nice boy and that could potentially lead to a relationship.

But being born into a family like yours, you couldn’t hope for much. Not even a week after they got the news, your mother and father made an arrangement with the Malfoy’s that you would have to attend the ball with their son Draco.

You could've sworn they had been trying to set you both up for some kind of arranged marriage. Maybe them pushing you together was a way to soften a blow when it finally happened? But still, out of any one they just had to choose him.

You had grown up with him, Draco, and if you hadn't already known— he was what you called a... bitch boy. He’d tattle about small things, throw a few temper tantrums, and cry to get his way. This is why even though your families had been so closely connected for years, centuries even— he was your enemy and nothing could change that.

That fact wasn’t hidden from your parents, not in the slightest. They saw the numerous dirty looks you’d throw at each other when you thought no one looking, not to mention the childish pulling of hairs and elbowing with shoulders.

But they also saw the good things about your relationship, how'd you do little things for each other that made a bigger impact than you thought, like it was second nature.

Like whenever another dinner party would come up where there were random families of investors, business owners or, just more snooty rich people— Draco would always make sure you were seated right next to him in the case that both of you had to show up.

It honestly wasn’t that much of a big deal from his view point. Only an idiot couldn’t tell that you found yourself uncomfortable around new people and him saving you a seat was just common decency.

And there was always little moments where they’d find you both curled into each other after one of the tense meetings you had to attend seeing as you’d be graduating soon and still had the responsibility of up keeping your family names once you were adults.

Draco would be there tenderly playing with your hands and venting. Because while he did come off as confident about everything in his life, how he had both the Malfoy and Black fortuned to fall back onto, you could tell he was still scared of the future— of growing up.

That fear is also what led to the very rushed apology he had offered to the golden trio for his past behavior. You did have to physically push him into them and he did choke up on the words of kindness that were supposed to make the apology sincere but he still did it.

They hadn't forgiven him of course, they just sort of stared like some one had cast an unforgivable curse on the boy seconds before, but at least they were now, they were civil towards each other.

And even though you did do those things for him, that didn’t stop you from not wanting to do this and neither did it stop you from impatiently waiting outside of the great hall doors.

Your dress was made out of nothing less of the finest fabrics and silks you could get your hands onto. You knew it wouldn't make a single dent into your families Gringotts account but you felt that the purchase would make some sort of statement.

“You’re five minutes late,” you seethed, watching as a head of white-blonde hair finally round the corner. His hands brushed his jacket in a smug manor, getting rid of the invisible dust particles.

It really wasn’t that much time, many other students could still be found wither waiting for their dates or just standing around to show up ‘fashionably late’.

But you knew Draco had spent those minutes staring at himself in the mirror and fixing his oh so perfect hair.

“Some of us like to look good when showing up to these things,” he sneered before eyeing you in disgust.

“Oh please, this dress cost more than the gel you have piled in your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you along with a scrunch of his nose as he offered you the junction between his folded arm to lead you down the steps.

The night had gone pretty well so far, both of you somehow never finding the right time to leave the others side as you had planned. It seemed as if your friends had all decided to hide themselves away from you both— like they were planning something. Of course, they were.

Blaise fucking Zabini

That idiot talked Professor Flitwick into playing a slow song, one that every couple had to join in on. And while that did sound good at eye view, you had to sign a paper at the begging saying if you coming as a couple or single. And the only people who had signed single to not face embarrassment were the staff—not counting Filch and Mrs. Norris.

Was this real, you being the living cliche of dancing with your enemy?

“If you step on my shoes one more time, I’ll leave you,” he growled into your, tightening his grip on your waist. Yeah, it was.

“What do you think I’ll do? Cry?” You asked in a mocking tone, sticking out your stuck your bottom lip out in a pout to taunt him even further.

Suddenly your front was pressed up against his back— your attention had been else where. Else where being reaching the goal of getting on his last nerve so when a husky voice whispered in your ear, you were shocked.

“Oh don’t act like I haven’t made you cry before.” He turned you back around swiftly, the only thing indicating what had just happened being the proud smirk on his face.

“Says you. Weren’t you the one who cried over a guy asking me out in fifth year?” You challenged, bringing up the incident that happened two years ago.

He hadn’t cried but he might as well have and you just needed something to tick him off for the moment. Whatever he had just did caused something to happened within you, and you weren’t sure if you liked it or not yet.

It was a situation that the blonde deeply wanted to regret—George Weasley asking you out. You and Draco had been finishing up on your work in the courtyard when he had invited himself to sit in between you and Draco and then proceeded to ask you out on a date.

Draco hadn't given you the chance to answer, a new found jealously fueling him to gather both of your things and drag you away from the scene.

He knew the chances were slim that you would reject the boy, and deep down tucked inside of him, Draco knew that the Weasleys were better than him— in some aspects.

Over the years Draco had found himself growing into a separate person from his parents, a person who had could think on their own and didn’t have to rely solely on his parents' truths.

And through that process, he realized that maybe his ideals were not the best out there. Including the way he treated many of his pears even if he was too proud to say it out loud.

That being said, he always stayed up wondering while you stayed. Why’d you even stick with him in the first place. And that’s what Brough him to find out his second greatest fear, loosing you.

Yes, you were insufferable at times, but you were still you. Someone that he liked having around and talking too. And someone that listened to him even if it was something as stupid as why gingers exist and why they shouldn't.

Yes that was an actual conversation that you had. In conclusion, you were a person he loved. But he never did think to tell you that because, why risk losing you over something that was most likely unrequited.

“I was protecting your future y/n. Would you like for your children to come out as gingers,” he spat as if what he had just made complete sense.

“Draco I was fifteen and he was sixteen at the time and we barely ever talked before that because you were always bad-mouthing his family.”

Now that you think of it, he had always been this way about you and boys. It was an ongoing thing where it didn't matter what blood type, what house, which people they associated themselves with, they were always ‘below you and you could find better’.

“Why do you always meddle in my relationships?” You were irritated. Maybe it was the close proximity of your bodies or maybe it was how oblivious he was.

“Meddle? You’ve never even been in a relationship,” he snorted making your point clearer than day.

“Exactly. Why are you so jealous of me wanting to break out of whatever shell we have enclosed over each other? What if I want to branch out and you know, talk to new people?”

Ouch.

It didn’t hurt that you considered him to be somewhat of an enemy, it was your thing—but you didn’t even consider him to be a friend?

“Alright then when about Pansy? I tried to break out of our ‘shell’ as you call it when I started talking to her.”

“Parkinson was not good for you then and now even more. We both know that.”

You weren’t a person who used the word hate. In most times it was used out of anger and would be regretted later on. But Pansy Parkinson? She was very deserving of the title of someone that you hated.

Commenting on someone else’s hair when she had been walking around with a bowl cut for the last last five years? It didn’t make sense to you how she always found a way to put her input in places where it truly wasn’t needed.

“Yeah alright. Then who is good enough for me y/n?”

“Oh I don’t know me,” you mumbled under your breath not expecting him to hear it— but he did.

That’s how you found yourself once again getting dragged away. But this time it was form the great hall to a more private place where none of the ears of Hogwarts could hear you both.

“What do you mean you’re good enough for me?” He asked with more disgust in his tone than wanted, and it crushed you.

You scoffed before going on, “Well I’ve known you since we were in diapers. Would it be so horrible to consider me good enough for you?” You asked watching as some emotion flickered past his eyes.

“I mean I know so many dumb things about you like how you hate the feeling of those sweaters that your mother always buys you and you turn them inside out. And then when she ask if you're wearing them you aren't lying to her face. Do you know how cute that is, that you don’t even harbor the ability to lie to your mum about something as small as that?”

Cute?

“And don’t get me started on how your favorite food is not that ridiculously priced stake that you try convincing people- even me. I know that it’s that tomato soup that your mum makes when you’re sick because it reminds you of being a kid. And guess what? I don’t even let the house elves make it for you when I say that they do—”

“Then who does y/n?” He asked softly while slowly bringing you to be trapped between his arms by one of the thick walls. He always had the suspicion be never thought you’d actually—

“Well I uh- I do it myself because I want it to have the same feeling of home as it always does and I sort of asked your mum the exact details on how to cook it like she does,” you explained peering up to look into his eyes.

“You hate the smell of tomatoes,” he said with a light laugh, it wasn’t out of amusement but pure adoration. Never did he think that you’d actually do that for him— of course, you were there when he was sick but it was more of making fun of his ‘weak immune system’ and throwing tissues at him.

“Well I love you more and don’t pretend like you don’t slip those house elves thank you letter—” You were once again cut off but instead it was by his hand reaching the side of your jaw to look up at him fully.

“Repeat that,” he whispered with a small smirk.

oh no

Tears started to cloud your vision, the realization hitting that you had may just ruin your relationship with your childhood- enemy- friend- frenemy?

“Don’t cry I’m not- I’m not mad at you. I’m happy, unbelievably so. I just need you to repeat exactly what you just said to me,” he said moving both hands to cup your face giving his thumbs access to wipe the liquid from under your eyes.

“I love you Draco and I’m sorry that I ruined this. We could honestly just forget it if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to forget anything. Would it be a surprise if I told you that I loved you back and that I have for a long time?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Was he serious, or was this some sort of sick joke?

Noticing the worries floating around in your head, he gave you a look, one that wordlessly asked that if the next move he was going to make was the right one and that you would both be fine after.

And it was

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everythingsinred · 3 years

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 13)

Oh no... 13 is an unlucky number! Oh, well.

Up to this point we've seen Natsume fall in love with Mikan. This next arc is all about discovering Natsume, however, and we've pretty much already talked about that so maybe my analysis for his perspective will leave some things to be desired, which is fine, because Mikan's will come in due time! That being said, there's plenty of stuff in this arc, especially at the start of it, to analyze for Natsume as well.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Takahashi-san has dressed all the Elementary children in their New Year’s kimonos and they are now ready to celebrate the holiday together. They eat a New Year’s feast in the dorms lounge, a rare day where the children don’t have to eat according to their star rank.

It just so happens that New Year’s Day is also Mikan’s birthday. Everyone pretends like they don’t know, because Hotaru told them to leave it a surprise. Mikan is trying to let everyone know about the special day, but the New Year’s cards come in and everyone gets immediately and understandably distracted.

Of particular interest to everyone is Ruka’s card from his mother, who references Natsume and Aoi in her letter. Now everyone is in Ruka’s business and teasing him, so Natsume steps in to help, taking the card from Mikan, returning it to Ruka, and making a very good point that she shouldn’t go looking at other people’s cards without their permission. Mikan is uncomfortable, so she decides to change the subject by asking Natsume how many cards he got this year.

With that, Natsume goes cold and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't want to sit around watching them all gush about their dumb cards anyway!

The truth is Natsume has never gotten any letters or cards, no matter what time of year or holiday it is, and he never will. We can think back to when he told Mikan that the academy would never send her letters to her grandpa. He’d said that the school would never, under any circumstances, allow them to contact the outside. Turns out, the only person who can 100% count on that is Natsume. Sure, he and Mikan are similarly targeted in strange and unfair ways, but he will always be just a little more targeted, because he’s strictly not allowed to have fun or be happy. It would make him happy to hear from his father, to know that he’s safe. The school can’t have anything like that, so they have Natsume sit in the same room as all the other kids, watching them excitedly gush about how many cards they get, while he knows very well he will receive zero each year without fail.

Natsume wants some time to himself, understandably upset about his situation. He’s thinking about Aoi and probably beating himself up because he tends to do that when it comes to his sister and his past. He genuinely has no idea where Aoi is, or if she’s safe, and the school likes to keep it that way, so they can hold it over his head. Aoi is always one of the people they threaten, somebody he works tirelessly to protect despite the fact that he hasn’t seen her in years, doesn’t know where she is, and probably won’t ever see her again.

Natsume looks out the window, sitting on his own, and sees Mikan crying to Narumi because of her guilt and because nobody remembered her birthday. We can see pretty immediately that he isn’t actually upset with Mikan, just with his own situation. He watches her, always lovelorn. Then we see him put his hand on a little bag with a holly decoration. Because of the holly, there’s an instant relation to Christmas. We can’t know what’s in the bag yet, but eventually we will discover that it’s an alice stone.

He's just been carrying this around since Christmas at the latest. How embarrassing.

Natsume made this stone at some point. I would assume it was after his birthday party, before Christmas. Because of the bag, my guess is that he had wrapped it to be a Christmas present but had never given it. That’s understandable. He’s not supposed to woo her, after all, and giving a girl an alice stone would be pretty romantic, even if she has no idea what it means. We will see this stone time and time again, because he likes carrying it around in his pocket. Perhaps he likes imagining that he could give it to her, but never actually goes through with it. Just like today, on her birthday, he will not give the stone, but he’s still carrying it because he’d like to.

The alice stone is proof of at least one thing: Natsume is very much in love with Mikan and he knows it.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Mikan is happily celebrating her birthday. Natsume has returned to the lounge, but he hasn’t said anything, so she’s still feeling awkward about what happened.

The class decides to make mochi once Tsubasa and Misaki arrive. Tsubasa tries to greet Natsume but Natsume responds coldly, with a thumbs down. Now properly irritated, Tsubasa has decided to pull a prank.

Natsume does not make mochi. He sits on his own, napping with manga over his face like always. Once the class is finished, Permy quickly offers her mochi to him, but his attention is immediately on Mikan, who is giving her mochi for him to eat. She tries to apologize, but can’t get the words out, so she leaves the bowl on the table. Natsume can tell that she’s still feeling guilty, even though he isn’t really mad at her. She was thinking of him, so it’s no surprise that he ends up eating the soup, even if it is disgusting.

It doesn't matter if it's disgusting. He's gonna eat it anyway. Because she made it. Zoe and I joke that Natsume would eat all her food (out of his unending love, of course) and eventually get used to the bizarre combinations she puts together. He might even start liking them, who can say.

Hotaru has been invited to the Hana Hime den to be a flower princess, a girl hand-picked by the middle school principal and who carries a heavy amount of prestige and status. Misaki mentions some rumors about the MSP, namely that she locks up her favorite girls in a dungeon, and that immediately gets Natsume’s attention. He’s struck, and to a first-time reader, this might seem odd. He’s strangely intrigued by a girly flower party where guys aren’t even allowed. But he’s not interested for himself. Natsume can guess based on this new information that if Aoi is anywhere on the Alice Academy campus, it’s in the Hana Hime den dungeon.

There’s always an extra invitation ball that is given to a random girl each year, so she can also attend the prestigious party, but the chances that it would land in the hands of an Elementary student are very low.

The Class B girls look for one anyway, but their search doesn’t get too far because suddenly the kids are flying across the room, sticking to each other, like Hotaru and Youichi to Ruka, Anna to Nonoko, Koko to Kitsu, and even Natsume to Mikan.

Turns out Tsubasa’s payback scheme for Natsume giving him the cold shoulder was to put sticky mochi flour into their mochi as a prank, which will keep all the children stuck to the people who ate the same mochi for a full hour.

He was counting on her never finding out he ate it, but alas.

Mikan then realizes that since she’s stuck to Natsume, that he must have eaten her mochi. He can’t argue that he didn’t, but he turns quickly to insults to distract from how sweet of a moment that could potentially be. He says he choked it down, which might very well be true, but it leaves the question of why he’d put himself through the trouble of choking it down if it didn’t mean anything to him. Hmm. Check mate, Natsume.

Then, Mikan finds out that she’s the recipient of the prize jewel, and has thus been invited to the Hana Hime party. There’s something quite fishy about Mikan being the recipient. It’s too much of a coincidence, and it isn’t one. This is all an elaborate trick to trap Natsume in the dungeon forever, and it’s not by the MSP.

Most of the groups have become unstuck, except for Hotaru, Youichi, and Ruka. Tsubasa reads the packet and discovers that some people may be stuck for two or three days as a possible side effect. Mikan and Natsume can become unstuck, but Natsume grabs her hand and keeps her still.

He's not going to miss this opportunity, even if it puts him on the spot and is kind of embarrassing. To be honest, this could possibly unravel all the work he's been doing to downplay how much he likes Mikan. What if she starts thinking he has feelings for her? It's all so risky, but he's willing to do anything for Aoi.

He’s going to do everything he can to go to that party and possibly find his sister. Getting stuck to Mikan and then her being invited to the Hana Hime den is all just too good of a chance to miss. If she can somehow still go while attached to him, it gives him an in to check out the palace and try to find the dungeon.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Natsume is adamant about keeping up the charade that he and Mikan are still stuck. It’s important to him and he’s desperate. He would do anything to save his sister, so if it means threatening Mikan a little, he’s willing to do it. It doesn’t matter that Mikan has no idea what’s going on, what matters is even the chance of going.

Narumi returns to say there’s not a good probability that Hotaru and Mikan would still be allowed to attend the party, because boys aren’t allowed and they are firmly attached to three of them. Mikan has more and more reason to not want to be stuck when she realizes that going to the bathroom and sleeping will be tricky business. Natsume is obviously not a huge fan of it either. He’s usually cold and snippy, even when bickering with Mikan, but this time he’s yelling just like she is. He’s uncomfortable too, but it’s something he’s willing to sacrifice for Aoi.

Mikan only gets more and more upset, screaming about how much she hates Natsume. He doesn’t seem to take it very seriously until Koko, who is reading her mind, asks Mikan if she likes Ruka better than Natsume, and she responds that she does.

Natsume is hurt, but sadly it’s not anything he can’t eventually come to terms with, like every other disappointment in his ceaselessly disappointing life. For now, he’s bitter, but this is great news for Ruka, isn’t it?

It’s time for sleep, and they’re standing in Natsume’s fancy special star room. At her discomfort, he offers that they can sleep in her tiny room if she’d prefer it, but the venue isn’t exactly her problem. He proceeds to be unpleasant, saying that he’s not interested in sleeping with her either, since she probably kicks a lot and talks in her sleep. But then he’s serious, still bitter when he tells her “Sorry for not being Ruka,” and promises that the whole charade would be over tomorrow.

It's on rare occasions like this that Natsume can express even the tiniest fraction of what he's really feeling, in this case jealousy and hurt.

He really never would have done this to himself if Aoi’s safety wasn’t potentially at stake. Having Mikan be so angry at him, hearing her say she much prefers Ruka to him, having to share his bed with her--it’s all stuff he doesn’t want to do! Further, he’ll probably be in serious trouble tomorrow if he does manage to find and rescue Aoi. There’s nothing fun going on in Natsume’s brain, just worry and the skeleton of a desperately laid-out plan to save his sister.

Sleeping with Mikan is something he doesn’t want to do, no doubt, but not because she probably talks and kicks in her sleep. That wouldn’t actually bother him so much. Natsume usually waits until he’s alone in his room at night to let himself be sick. According to the chapter where Tsubasa found out about his condition, Natsume sometimes wakes up in a coughing fit until he coughs up blood. He suffers and struggles and is in pain when he sleeps, and Mikan will be there this time, up close to possibly see it.

How soft his eyes get, just looking at her. It's interesting whenever he drops his facade, like now in a state of half-awakeness, and we can see just how affectionate he'd be if he wasn't always sacrificing his happiness.

But Natsume falls asleep first anyway, and pretty quickly starts having a nightmare. He’s breathing heavily and struggling, having a PTSD flashback nightmare about Aoi. But Mikan wakes him up, sitting up, concerned for him. Natsume is barely awake, but his eyes turn soft. She saves him from his nightmares in more ways than one, like walking-talking serotonin. He reaches for her, in a state of half-consciousness, because his nights are usually awful but the time he spends with Mikan usually isn’t. Maybe combining them is the way to sleep peacefully for a change. So he snuggles her. She starts freaking out, embarrassed, but Natsume tries to reason with her, and maybe with himself too, half-asleep as he is. No, no, it’s just for tonight, just for now. It’ll be like it never happened tomorrow, it’s fine. She can go right back to Ruka tomorrow, since she prefers him anyway, and it won’t be a big deal. He just wants this for now, just for a little bit. Just while he can.

It’s sad that Natsume always thinks of these moments with Mikan as aberrations. They’re little moments that he borrows or steals just to have them for now, thinking they’re meaningless to her, but carrying them like they’re precious to him. He doesn’t think they belong to him, or that he has the right to want anything from her. He holds her during the SA class’s RPG as a joke. He tells her he likes her hair down after fighting with her. He dances with her, knowing that she’s danced with lots of other people and it won’t matter as much to add him to the list. He kisses her after he assumes Ruka already has, just so he can have keep it in his memories. And he cuddles with her now, even though she’s freaking out, because he needs some comfort, even though it isn’t his place to be hugging her. He always has to reason himself into these situations, like he’s convincing himself that he’s allowed to do this one selfish thing, just as long as she doesn’t understand how much it means to him, just as long as it won’t mean anything to her, just as long as he can get away with it.

And because he’s borrowing, the next morning he acts as though her holding him is some kind of bother. He acts all irritated and pretends like nothing happened, because he was borrowing the moment to begin with. It wasn’t his right to take it, and she can’t know it meant something. It also could be that he genuinely can’t remember the last night that clearly. People do all sorts of crazy things in between sleep that they can’t remember. Maybe his lack of sense and restraint helped him get the courage to hug her in the first place, and now that he’s fully awake he can hardly remember. If this is the case, then he's probably scolding his sleepy self for being so ridiculous.

It's up to you to decide if he really can't remember or if he's pretending. Both are possible and neither would really surprise me tbh.

It’s possible, but knowing Natsume, it’s also possible he’s pretending like he doesn’t remember. Either way, he has to do damage control, because she absolutely cannot get the wrong right idea and think that he has affection for her.

The morning brings good news as well, because Natsume, Ruka, and Youichi are allowed to accompany Mikan and Hotaru, as long as they’re dressed as girls.

It’s all working out a bit too conveniently. This is Persona’s scheme to trap Natsume, so of course it would all work out in order that he could make his way to the dungeon. Natsume might be relieved that his plan is working, but it won’t go so smoothly once they’re actually in the Hana Hime den.

Conclusion

The most interesting scenes to analyze from Natsume's perspective are the ones where he chooses to be selfish just once in a while. They're such silly things to call selfish, but they are to him. Being sweet or affectionate to the girl you love should be second-nature, not something to deny yourself, but it's what he's trying to accustom himself to. We also see just how desperate he can be in trying to protect people important to him, like Aoi. The lengths he goes to in order to find her are impressive and show just how determined he is. Going forward, we'll only see more of this kind of determination.

My sister (Zoe) and I made three playlists for NatsuMikan, just like I'm making three essays. One playlist for Natsume's POV, one for Mikan's, and one general playlist for their relationship. I've been listening to the Natsume one while writing these and it's been a lot of fun! This is my long-winded way of plugging Love Song Requiem. Good bye.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #go listen to trading yesterday and maybe youll understand the pain and selflessness involved in unrequited love with a girl made of sun #also im nervous abt this arc. it really might be underwhelming in this essay.#currently i just finished analyzing the sports festival arc and i had some trouble extrapolating in a fresh way #this arc is really hard bc natsume is absent for so much of it and then after a while he's not quite as active in it #whatever! hopefully itll be fun to read anyway #i always try my best #ANOTHER SONG particularly for this essay!!!#is the run and go by twenty one pilots #hehehehe its cute

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fukurodaze · 3 years

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five stars: part 1 | one look

suna rintarou, the second year middle blocker, seems to have an unapproachable crush on you, the third year cheer captain and the definition of a perfect façade. but it’s thanks to one mistaken encounter that the embarrassed meets the embarrassing.

wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing

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the monthly calendar is the only thing hung on the furthest wall in the locker room. it’s a large rectangle, with random pictures of trees and various images from the nagano prefecture - the last location of the spring high tournament. now, the calendar is half as thick, with a large number seven plastered on the left hand corner.

for the volleyball team, this means one thing: the summer interhigh is around the corner.

suna rintarou, now in his second year of high school, knows this very well.

a slamming sound fills the room with every ball that is spiked and blocked. the second years are staying back to play another two-on-two match. it’s osamu and suna against atsumu and ginjima.

there is a delighted grunt from osamu as the ball falls on the other side of the court through ginjima’s arms. the makeshift scoreboard tells a miniscule point difference of one after three sets, and seeing as none of them seemed to feel any sort of prideful victory, the four almost agreed to call it a day.

almost.

“alright! take it from the top!” a familiar voice rings from the other side of the gymnasium. suna hasn’t heard your voice in a while, even though it’s been weeks since the cheer team had started practicing in the same gym as the volleyball team. he tries not to mind.

“let’s do another.” suddenly, suna fixes his posture, pupils moving frantically between the group of cheerleaders across the court and his teammates.

ginjima snickers. atsumu exchanges a glance. osamu smirks, “okay.”

the court is quiet with suspicious looks. there is a hidden laughter underneath all their faces. “what,” suna deadpans, only to meet three mysterious shrugs.

the next set unfolds the same way the past three did; plenty of practice for every skill set in the game, reminiscent of beach volleyball, and a tiny point gap at the end.

only this time, suna looks like he’s about to cartwheel and fall into the splits all the while shouting “got it!” or “osamu!” ten times his usual vocal frequency. strangely, there are grunts and groans that make ginjima chuckle, contorted backs during spikes that have atsumu cursing, and sweaty hands through even sweatier hair that eventually lead to the end of the practice session.

suna doesn’t realise why his blood suddenly pumps faster than it usually does when he plays. he also doesn’t realise how his eyes waver constantly between the court and the opposite end of the gym. atsumu thinks it’s almost better that he doesn’t - suna had played well, after all.

“’m kind of cravin’ some yakiniku bowls,” osamu chimes in as the four begin to head out.

“ah, we should get some,” atsumu adds.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ starving.” ginjima calls out, turning to suna as they walk.

suna steals a glance at the cheerleaders, finding you already rested on the bench, talking to your teammates. he’s still seated against the wall of the gym, taking another gulp from his water bottle.

ginjima quirks up his eyebrows and motions towards the door. suna shakes his head.

“oi, suna! ya comin’?” atsumu asks, and is met with a shrug.

suna watches as the three walk out of the gym in moderately noisy chatter. it’s not long before the group of girls bid farewell to each other as well, walking out the gym in smaller groups of close friends.

not you, though.

suna doesn’t yet dare to speak up in the large space that now only occupies the two of you. it’s been months since you last talked to him anyways - and that was back in his first year - so there was no point.

instead, suna puts down his water bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rubber soles of volleyball shoes squeaking against the wooden gym floor.

he picks up a ball somewhere on the floor, in a corner a little closer to you, and runs back to his side of the court. he stands still, and bounces the ball a few times, watching its yellow-blue-white lining seemingly mix as it spins and bounces, before holding it tight in his hands.

he throws it up in the air, feeling the ball fly. he waits a few milliseconds before he finds himself launching into the air, hand hitting the ball the way he always does it. a jump floater.

the inflatable mass is shot over the court, hard and fast. it goes far, and as suna’s feet meet the ground, he knows it’s gone too far.

“shit.” his head snaps your direction. you’re buried in your notebook.

suna sighs, retrieving another ball from a near corner. he doesn’t usually do serve practice, and he doesn’t really use spike serves in the first place.

some practice is never bad - he knows that - but why does the gym feel so stuffy?

he figures he might as well try a few more jump floaters, watching his wrist so that it keeps still while he jumps.

suna hopes it’ll at least be some good company for you.

“suna.”

the boy almost jumps internally at the stern voice, hands gripping onto the locker’s edge in surprise. he cringes a bit, slightly dreading the interaction. not that he disliked the person, of course, but suna had felt a bit too tired to put up with anyone, really.

the captain, kita, stands in front of his own locker as suna nods a greeting.

“were you practicing your serves alone?”

suna cringes again. i get it, i don’t usually care about serving, is what he wants to say.

“yeah. i know i don’t really do it often.” suna peels off his sweaty shirt, tossing it into his backpack. he needs to wash it later.

there is ruffling and a zip in the background, then kita tells him, “it seemed like you did well.”

suna’s mind wanders to the question of how and why kita is still at school after not seeing him all afternoon, but it’s not like suna really cares who sees him at practice.

“i wouldn’t know, though, y/n-san told me.”

correction: it’s not like suna really cares who sees him. unless it’s you. because now he really cares.

suna tries not to button his shirt up the wrong way. “what did she say?”

“she said it looked like you were working hard.”

“ah.” silence fills the room and suna’s gotten his tie in a rookie mistake. oh god. are you and kita classmates? he wonders. do you have a boyfriend? is kita your boyfriend?

soon, kita closes his locker, backpack and duffle bag slung on his shoulders, full summer uniform back on. he almost walks out without a word.

but kita stops at the entrance of the locker room, “i heard y/n-san had a boyfriend?”

suna has to stop his eyebrows from raising too high, so he attempts to shrug it off. he kind of feels bad for kita, seeing as it seems like he’s getting turned down at any chance of conversation.

then he hears kita chuckle. (kita chuckles?)

“just kidding. you don’t have to panic.”

kita genuinely amazes him sometimes. both ironically and frustratingly.

“anyways, keep it up. nationals is just around the corner. don’t be late tomorrow.” suna hears kita’s voice fade out as he exits. suna saves his disbelieving scoff for later.

when suna finally ties his tie without making a fool of himself, he takes all of his belongings in his backpack and heads home with a bit of a fire in his step.

of course he’s not going to be late tomorrow.

suna rintarou was definitely not late to school. in fact, he was the second one there.

apparently, the first person had passed herself out on the bottom most seat on the bleachers, with notebooks and papers laid out all over the occupied area.

suna takes a closer look, just in case the person was no longer alive. just in case.

it feels like a violation of privacy when he finds that it’s you sprawled over the bleachers, now in your uniform blouse and skirt, lip tint and eyeliner already neatly applied.

yet, your eyes are wide open with your pupils slightly crossed, and suna hates how he has to hope that he doesn’t accidentally laugh.

he’s not sure how to wake you up, since it’s currently six in the morning, and his practice starts at six-thirty, and class starts at eight. it takes a few seconds of standing in silence in front of your passed out body.

two things come into his head: you are pretty. this is pretty weird.

he figures that he might look like he’s looking over a dead body, from the position he and you are in.

it does seem like you’re breathing, so suna opts for a slight poke of the finger to your shoulder. his long arm and fingers extend in your direction, his body staying back in order to avoid any false misunderstandings when you eventually wake up.

poke. snore.

poke.

“mmkay, taayk eet fruhm da tap.” your hand moves to extend your pointer finger, the same way suna’s hand looks like now as he pokes you.

suna sighs through a clenched jaw. he clears his throat softly, “senpai?”

you let out a groan. he tries again, louder this time, “y/n-senpai?”

suna’s taken aback when your hand catches his wrist, pulling it as you sit back up, eyes blinking rapidly.

“i saw that you had fallen asleep, so.” suna regrets his actions when he sees you yawn. maybe he should’ve let you sleep. you shift in your seat, fixing your ruffled skirt. it looks uncomfortable, and you’re thoroughly embarrassed. (you think you feel a tiny trail of drool down your mouth. you wipe it away. yuck.)

“wait, suna rintarou, right?” you blink, “i, uh, i tutored you last year, physics...?”

suna nods, “yeah.”

you let go of his wrist, mumbling, “volleyball players are so tall.”

suna catches that statement of yours. he doesn’t ask, though, even if it makes him grin inside.

“oh god. how long was i asleep for?” you reach for your phone on the other side of the bench, gasping at the time, “it’s ten past six...”

you look up to the boy, then your papers, then the boy, “uh, suna-san, i’m so sorry for this, but could you help me gather everything? i was revising our cheering programs for the basketball and volleyball games, so there’s just a lot of past papers and everything.”

suna hums in response, quietly complying and collecting your papers. there are numbers on each of them, and suna makes sure to put them in order as you continue to sort out your papers on your side of the seat, muttering short curses that suna hadn’t believed would come out of your mouth so easily if he had seen you a year ago.

“do you have practice for cheer too in the mornings?” suna flinches at the short silence between his question and your answer, but you look at him with what he thinks is the sweetest, most tired smile he’s ever seen.

“no, not really. our schedules are basically the same as the basketball and volleyball teams, but without the morning practices,” you continue, “recently, school’s been starting up this new badminton team and having them outside instead, so we just have to compromise.” your tone turns slightly sour, unfiltered by your lack of sleep.

“doesn’t the cheer team have a supervisor?” suna questions, genuinely concerned at how you seem to be the only one making plans for the cheer team.

you shake your head, “it’s just me and yuki-chan. we have two captains, in case we ever have overlapping games, but it’s really it. we just make appointments with the principal from time to time, to make sure she doesn’t forget about us.”

“ah. that... sucks.”

you shrug, catching his gaze on you. he looks away. “tell me about it.”

suna hands you the rest of the papers and you murmur a quick thank you before you’re hugging the folder of papers to your chest, backpack still somewhere on the floor. you’re about to exit the gym when you feel a lightness on your shoulders that is far too nice for your responsibilities, and that’s when you make a u-turn, “shit, my backpack.”

“i got it.” suna has his backpack on his shoulders and one strap of your bag in the crease of his elbow. in his arms, your bag looks light. your head tilts in amusement.

“thanks. i’ll-”

“i can carry it for you, if you want.”

you near him, eyes laced with burden. you tell him not to worry, trying to lecture him about his morning practice and how people might already start coming to practice, but suna tells you that it’s only quarter past six in the morning and that he can walk you to class because it’s nicer to sleep on desks instead of the bleachers.

so you smile, because how could you not?

"would kita be mad if you’re late?”

suna grimaces at your mention of kita - without honorifics. are you two that close? suna wishes you could call him without any honorifics, too, maybe even his first name-

“suna-san?”

his eyes pierce into yours and he cocks his head forwards, brisk walking out of the gym. there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, and it reminds you of the last time you had really talked with him, less than a week after he had gotten a well-deserved 89 on the final physics exam - it was almost a 50 point improvement.

suna shakes his head, chuckling, “we won’t be late.”

his voice is only a little bit deeper now than it was then. his summer uniform fits him well.

you realise that he is handsome before he is your underclassman.

taglist: @maitenight @natszoo @ssuna @erens-piss-cleaner @osamus-onigiri @volleybloop @etherealiwa @agaashesmilktea @bicchaan @anngelllla @tycrackculture

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 4: Anxceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 4: There is a trail of color only you can see that marks out where your soulmate has been.

Content warning: parental death from heart attack (none of the sides), homophobia, religious themes regarding said homophobia, concert, minor sensory overload (Virgil is technically autistic but it’s not explicit).

Word count: 3.3k

The last thing Janus Natter had ever wanted to do was return to his hometown.

It only held bad memories that stemmed from living in a small town, of homophobia and school bullies and dirty looks from neighbours. Granted, he’d never actually been kicked out of his home after coming out, but word spread like a wildfire and the people in his neighborhood weren’t the most open minded. His mom didn’t talk to him; she blamed herself, and there were all too many nights he walked past her room and heard her praying and crying for the repentance of her baby boy.

So the moment he turned eighteen, he was out of there. Waved goodbye to the woman who stiffened every time he tried to hug her and moved halfway across the country, starting a new life for himself in a rundown apartment and a minimum wage intern job and not regretting it for a second. Everything seemed better for a while. A promotion followed a couple years after, and his apartment was upgraded to one that actually had a separate kitchen and dining room so he wasn’t eating on the counter anymore. Until he got a call from one of his aunts at three am, four days after Christmas.

Obviously, he cried when his mom died. He broke down as soon as he hung up the phone, sitting on the edge of his bed and letting the news slowly integrate into his system. Sure, they hadn’t had the best relationship, but she’d been a great mom up until he admitted the truth that drove a wedge between them. And he’d never really blamed her, knowing his own internal homophobia would only be heightened in her. But it still hurt that she hadn’t reached out whatsoever when she was put into the hospital after the first heart attack. Maybe he would have been there when the second one hit and been able to save her. Or at least say goodbye.

The funeral was rough. None of his family bothered to talk to him, and the one little cousin that ran up to give him a hug was swiftly pulled away. Not like he was expecting much else, but c’mon. It’s not infectious. At least no one commented on him crying again.

He was on the first flight back out, and after a couple days off work to recenter himself, things seemed to back to normal. It wasn’t as if any part of his daily routine was disturbed. He wasn’t missing any motherly catch up calls, no little packages, no life advice, that he’d never gotten before, so it was almost easy to pretend that nothing had changed. Until he got another call.

This time it was his uncle, calling in the middle of his work day, to tell him that he needed to come back home and clear out his mom’s house. He was reluctant at first. Why couldn’t someone else do it? What was so important that he had to do it? But the family seemed determined to distance themselves from the house as much as possible, and when his uncle insisted that “we’re all still in mourning, Janus,” as if to imply he wasn’t upset at the death of his own mother, he hung up the phone with a curt agreement to come back as soon as possible. He later got a text that stated the house was going to be put on the market in the coming week, so he needed to get there soon.

That’s what led to him exiting a cab three days later in front of his childhood home, suitcase in hand, with a disgruntled expression. The house was much less threatening than it had always seemed when he lived there, unassuming and indistinguishable from the other houses on the block, but the memories of lonely nights of crying himself to sleep and craving a hug from his mother were at the forefront of his mind. You’re never going to get another hug from her. He quickly snapped out of it before the tears could rise, thanking the cab driver and walking up to the front door.

His mother had taken his key when he left, claiming it was to give to a neighbour to water her flowers when she went on a cruise or something equally far fetched, but Janus figured she just wouldn’t want to be surprised by him visiting. This was, afterall, the first time she’d been free from his disappointing presence in years. Luckily, they’d always kept a spare under the plant by the door, now wilted and crusty and dropping leaves when he leaned it over, hand slapping the concrete underneath.

Nothing.

He picked it up off the ground entirely, sweeping the ground directly under it and then scanning the surrounding area with growing irritation. Had someone taken it after the funeral? How the hell did they expect him to get into the house? Oh yeah, come clean the house but we’re gonna take the key! Fuckers.

A loud crash from behind the door startled him enough to drop the plant, the ceramic pot smashing on the stairs. Whoops. Another sound from inside, something that sounded like a chair scraping on the tiled kitchen floor, and Janus realized with mounting horror that the front door was open a crack. His family had all claimed to not be able to even come near the place, so… Fantastic. Someone had broken into a death house and he was going to have to deal with it.

The wise choice would have been to call the police.

So Janus pushed the door open and walked in, ignoring the sudden flurry of memories in favor of following the source of the noise.

“Hello?” Yeah, smart, Janus, that always works in the horror movies!

Another scrape in the steadily approaching kitchen, accompanied by muffled swearing. As an almost last thought, Janus picked up the first small object he could feel on the entry table, acknowledging its heft and hoping it would be a suitable weapon without taking his eyes from the hall. Here goes nothing.

Then, in a move to top all stupidity, he turned into the room in a whirl, hoisting the weapon above his head, ready to beat down on whoever was rifling through his dead mother’s drawers. Only to freeze.

“Remus?”

“Janus, what the fuck!” The statement was said with a surprising amount of glee. Remus was the only person he knew who could turn swears into something joyful.

Janus turned his gaze to the floor and the chair Remus was standing on, surrounded by a pile of glass shards. It looked to be the remnants of the entire glass collection, if the amount was anything to go by. Remus gave another shuffle of his chair, the loud shriek sounding again, as he tried to scooch closer without stepping on the shards in his bare feet.

“Why are you holding a banana?”

It took him a solid second to process Remus’ question before he looked down at his own hand, his fingers curled around the metal banana from the decorative fruit bowl in the entry.

“No reason. Why are you in my house, destroying my dinnerware?”

“Help me not step in glass and I’ll tell you.”

Finding a broom was easy; it was still in the same place it always had been before he left. Cleaning the glass took longer, what with Remus’ flurry of questions and Janus’ focus between answering him, sweeping, and not whacking Remus on the head with the broom handle. Apparently it didn’t take long for him to become annoying again.

Still, the grinning man had been the one and only reason he’d had trouble saying goodbye to the town, the only person who still gladly befriended him after coming out. He hated to admit how much he’d missed him.

When the floor was clear, Remus hesitantly stepped down off the chair, wiggling his toes on the ground.

“Why did you take your shoes off when you came in? It’s not like anyone’s gonna be pissed if you track mud in anymore.”

“I didn’t wear any.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

Remus shared a softer look with him, the manic smile drooping, “Hey, I’m sorry about your mom. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Was Janus’ incredibly eloquent response. He shook his head, and Remus accepted the subject change with no questions, “So why are you here?”

“Well, I heard you were coming to clear the place out eventually, so I thought I’d get here early and start. Help you out.”

“And…”

“... And snoop around a little bit.”

“There it is.”

“Not like, bad stuff! Just… I don’t know. Deep, dark, family secrets.”

Janus sighed, taking in the kitchen for the first time since entering. “The biggest secret this family tries to hide is me.”

“Dark.”

“Mmhm.” He gasped as two arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into the most physical contact he’d had in… years.

“Welcome back, Natter.”

“Yeah, well,” He cleared his throat of voice cracks before continuing, “I only got two days off work. So I’m not staying long. I somehow need to completely clear this place out in 48 hours,” He ran a hand down his face, pulling away from the hug reluctantly, “You wouldn’t actually be interested in helping, would you?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Remus ignored it completely. “You’re only here two days? Inconceivable!”

“You’ve been watching Princess Bride again.”

“We gotta hang out!” The pleading expression on Remus’ face was almost enough to sell him on the idea.

“Weren’t you listening? I literally don’t have the time.”

“I’m going to a concert tonight in Brookton. Come with me!” Remus continued as if he hadn’t spoken, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Just one night, Jan. Pleeeease? I’ll even come here and help you the rest of the time.”

With an affectionate snort, he shook his head, “As fun as that sounds, I’m broke.”

“I can get you in.”

“You’re not paying for me.”

“Who said anything about paying?”

Janus raised an eyebrow, though it was more like how a parent would scold a child than surprise. They’d always gotten into trouble together as kids, and this was just… a level up, in a way. Not that he condoned it.

“I know one of the security guards. He’s one of my hookups, and he happens to owe me a favor or two.”

Wait. “You’re gay?”

“Shit, I didn’t tell you?!” Remus shrieked, grabbing Janus’ hand and dragging him to the front door, key waving in his face, “I’ll tell you all about it on the way. C’mon, it’s an hour drive.”

Well, looks like he didn’t have a say in it. And he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t missed hanging out with his old best friend… or just a friend at all, really.

“Fine, but you’re stopping by your place to grab shoes!”

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

It wasn’t a small venue by any means. It wasn’t Beyonce big, but enough to know that if he lost track of Remus, he’d be fucked. In his rush out the door so soon after a morning of traveling, he’d forgotten his charger and his phone was conveniently dead. Janus kept a careful eye on Remus, following the bob of his neon green and black jacket through the crowd and only distantly wondering what band they were actually about to see. The gremlin kept pushing through, ignoring the annoyed shouts of people he shoved, leaving Janus to hastily apologize each time as he followed in his wake.

When Remus slowed just for a moment, stretching on his tiptoes to find a good spot over the sea of heads, Janus lunged forward and grabbed his sleeve. The taller man raised an eyebrow.

“As fun as it would be to get lost, I’m not in the mood.”

“Ah,” Remus’ eyes settled on a spot near the stage, one that Janus couldn’t see being a head shorter than him, “Good timing. Hang on tight.”

And hang on he did, because Remus fully embodied the physicality of a snow plow and plunged back into the crowd with new ferocity. Janus just closed his eyes and blindly let himself be led, letting the bubbling breathiness of a laugh escape his mouth. It had been too long since he’d just been able to have fun like this, without the threat of work and bills in his peripheral. The chatter was deafening in the best way possible, drowning out his worried thoughts, and the flashing lights that were still visible through his closed eyelids was invigorating. The promise for more elated him.

When Remus finally stopped, Janus didn’t get the memo on time and ran into his back full force. He grunted and opened his eyes, focused on his throbbing nose, before realizing how close to the stage they really were. The taller man was staring down at him, grinning maniacally, seemingly impressed with their placement as well.

Then a flash to the side caught his attention, and his throat went dry.

“Remus, look me in the eye and tell me you see that.”

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion before he followed Janus’ line of sight, seeing nothing but the dense crowd. “See what?”

“The light, the light trail…” Janus inhaled sharply through his nose, grip on the other’s sleeve tightening, “It’s my soulmate. He’s here somewhere.”

“Your soulmate? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I…”

“Well, fuck! You’re welcome, eh, Natter? I told you you should have come!” He gave Janus’ arm a light punch, smile widening. “Go find him!”

Janus seemed hesitant, eyes flickering between Remus and the deep purple light trail, weaving between the people and heading towards the back of the venue. “How will I find you again after?”

“That’s a problem for future you. Go, you idiot!”

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Just don’t leave without me!”

He was off before he could hear Remus’ answer, ducking under raised arms and trying his hardest to follow the quickly dissolving trail. Now that he had his eye on it, it had decided that it was time to disappear, and he was quickly losing sight of it.

No, scratch that, it was definitely getting brighter now. And more concrete around the edges, instead of fading out. Was he close? He weaved past another small group of people, eyes following the purple line until-

There.

Holy shit.

He was stunning, that was the first thing Janus noticed. The purple trail stopped at him, covering him with a faint lilac aura before fading completely, content with it’s work. At first he thought the slight tint to the other’s hair was left over from the soulmark, before the lights switched and he realized, no, his hair was dyed purple. The most eye catching thing, though, besides his makeup, was the bulky pair of… were those headphones on his ears? At a concert? Granted, it hadn’t started yet, but still.

Apparently he was standing in one place for too long amongst the constantly moving hoard of people, and his stillness got the attention of the boy in front of him. He gasped sharply when they made eye contact, shocked from what Janus assumed to be the soulmark that probably surrounded him. And then he started hyperventilating. Bad.

“Shit! Okay, hey, calm down, okay? It’s fine-”

He was cut off by a loud riff of an electric guitar, almost immediately drowned out by the screaming fans that surged forward like a tidal wave. The boy in front of him curled in on himself, hands pressing into the headphones around his ears in an attempt to drown out the noise. Despite his more cautionary side, Janus reached forward and took his arm, guiding him gently towards the door.

“Let’s go outside and talk, alright?”

Maybe following a stranger outside alone wasn’t the smartest idea but… Virgil had seen the soul mark, a gentle yellow glow around this man that quickly dissipated, leaving behind a man sharing an equally shocked look on his face. So that had to mean he wasn’t totally bad, right? Either he was his soulmate or some kind of guardian angel, and neither of those were necessarily bad options.

As soon as they stepped outside the main arena, it was as if the tight band around Virgil’s chest loosened. Not gone completely, but enough that he could catch his breath. He reached up and pulled his ear defenders off his head, relieved that the quiet was enough that he didn’t need them anymore. They were definitely a life saver, but sometimes the way they muffled noise was indescribably uncomfortable as well.

The man noticed his immediate relief, letting go of his guiding arm and slowing his pace so Virgil could walk beside him.

“I’m Janus.”

“Virgil.”

In a blur, they ended up outside the venue, sitting on the curb directly outside the main doors. Virgil was fiddling with his ear muffs, eyes trained on the inky darkness surrounding them. Besides the dull resounding of the bass echoing from inside and steady stream of traffic just out of their view, it was reasonably quiet.

“So, you live in Brookton?” Janus finally broke the comfortable silence, leaning back on his hands.

“Yeah. Not for long, though.”

“Oh?”

“Planning to get out soon. Don’t know where, don’t know how. But I’m not much of a ‘small town’ guy.”

“Brookton counts as a small town?”

Virgil hummed, finally placing the head gear down beside him and closing his eyes, breathing in the smell of fast food from the variety of food trucks around the area. It was a strange cacophony of oil and salt, oddly enticing even if just the scent was enough for his skin to break out.

“What about you? From around here?”

“Sort of?” He explained his story in as few words as possible, flying over his mom’s general unacceptance and her death, and the fact that he had to clean out her house in two days. “Less than that now, I guess. One and a half. It’s gonna be hell.” His head fell into his hands, fingers rubbing at the temples as if to soothe the headache he was expecting.

Virgil was a good listener, nodding along to the right parts and avoiding those stupid sympathetic looks he was so tired of. It was a nice relief to actually feel listened to, not pitied.

“My parents are kind of similar. It doesn’t feel like I have much to complain about, though, because… I mean, they didn’t kick me out. Don’t openly hate on me. But it still sucks. They don’t even acknowledge me half the time.”

“Exactly! And then you see people who have it worse, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit for feeling upset!”

“Good match, universe.” Virgil flopped onto his back, purple hair splayed out on the concrete. “It’s the subtle homophobia for me.”

“Ah, you’re a ‘meme person’.”

“Sucks for you, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I’ll manage,” Janus joined him on the ground, suddenly disgusted that he was still in the same outfit that he’d flown in today. He hated the smell of plane, and he must reek of it. But Virgil didn’t seem to mind his general disheveled appearance as he made an abstract comment about the moon being full today, and how that generally meant bad things. Janus made the mistake of asking him what he meant, which turned into a full blown lecture on mythology and cryptids, one that Virgil didn’t have the capability to control. It made him smile though, seeing the emo so utterly delighted to explain it, and he realized with a start that he was going to get to enjoy this man for the rest of his life. Two people who could talk, matched with a person who loved to listen equally as much. Virgil had been right. Good match, universe.

#virgil definitely comes over and helps him clean the house the next day #but i wanted to leave it here #lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #soulmateseptember #ts soulmate au #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #anxceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction

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plumoh · 3 years

Text

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

#matchablossom #joecherry #matcha blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #kaoru is like 'i know i have feelings but i'm making the decision of not seeing them'#i'm fascinated by his change from punk high schooler to stoic adult #i also have more thoughts about kaoru+calligraphy relationship that i'll eventually write down #when i have the time o(-(

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (4/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama —–

When you pick up the call, Alex is talking to someone else in the background.

The flame of excitement you feel flickers, and for a second you deflate. You stop your stride down the street, shadow falling long from your feet and quivering in the glow of the moon.

Did he dial you by accident?

You hear his voice, but it sounds distant. “—Shut up Ben, I know what I’m doing!”

Another voice you don’t recognize cuts in, sounding like he was holding in laughter.

“Man, Gogo, I think you pressed the call button already.”

“What? Oh shit, you—”

There’s distant, hushed arguing, then loud rustling. Suddenly, Alex Go’s voice is right by your ear, breathy, sounding as sheepish and awkward as ever.

“Oh, hey there! What’s up?”

You feel your lips turn up again, the burning in your chest and cheeks slowly returning. You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“You tell me, Alex Go. You’re the one who called, after all.”

There’s a pause, and you can almost see his face now, eyes darting, a dumb smile, leg bobbing with a nervous jitter.

“Hah! Haha. Yep, that’s me. Me who called you.”

He pauses- a thing he does when he’s nervous, and you count, one, two, three seconds until he speaks again.

“So, ha, what are you up to tonight?”

You think you hear someone give an exasperated sigh in the background, but it could just be a car passing by a street down.

“Not much. Pretty much the same night as all the others.”

You swing one foot in front of another, less focused on taking steps and more focused on balancing on the curb. Wonder if you always felt this way talking on the phone, wonder if it’s just Alex.

Alex hums on the other end, the sound tickling your ear.

“And what about tomorrow afternoon?”

A cartwheel flips in your stomach, and you almost loose footing on the curb. It sounds too smooth, and you bet he’s been practicing it in the mirror. It almost takes you off guard, but you keep a level head.

“What about it?”

There’s a dare in the question, and it sits boldly in the silence hanging between you and him.

He flounders, like you expect him to, but you smile regardless.

“Well I, uh,” He gives a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften. “I was wondering if you’d want to hang out tomorrow."

You give your head a tiny shake, feeling your eyelashes brushing your cheekbones. “Are you asking me on a date, Alex Go?”

He laughs gently, it’s sweet, but there’s a bit of a raw edge from nerves. “It depends how you answer.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then I’d tell you to meet me at Eungang High School at two thirty, tomorrow.”

The fingers curled around your phone are alight with tingles and you flex your grasp on it, wiggling your toes in your shoes.

“I’ll be there.”

You catch Alex breathing a sigh of relief, attempting to dilute it with an airy chuckle. It’s cute, you think, and funny.

“That’s great- it’ll be great, I promise. I know just the place.”

“Anything’s better than another cup noodle lunch, so I’ll take your word on it.”

Alex laughs, and this time he’s not holding back. It’s real and it’s sunny, warm. It reminds you of something, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“I should’ve known you were still eating that stuff. You’re in for a treat tomorrow, I’ve heard people say their cakes are the best in Yeongduengpo.”

“Sweets, huh? I haven’t eaten out in a while.”

You turn a corner and stop at a red light, the dim scarlet glow splashes over the street, the sidewalk, colors your shoes. When was the last time you hung out with a group of friends? Hung out with anyone?

A thought pops into your mind and you turn back and look at the restaurant you came from.

“No way!” Alex’s voice sings into your ear again, just as the light turns green. “There are so many good places that opened recently, we gotta check them out!”

Your lips curl at his enthusiasm, and you turn back to cross the road. Listen to the tik tok tik tok of the countdown. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too.”

You can almost hear him smiling through the phone when he pauses, trying to find more things to convey his excitement. But he reels himself back in.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your night, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yessir, unless you get cold feet.”

Alex laughs again. “Nothing to worry about then, seeya later.”

“Goodnight, Alex Go.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the call time, crawling up second by second, until the call drops and the screen goes dim.

The next day rolls around without much nuance. Your head is pounding when you wake up, but not as much as it usually does after a night out.

Was it because you had something to look forward to today, or because you couldn’t drink with Wolf staring you down?

The question bounces around in your head for the duration of your morning classes, but fades by the time you’re pulling up directions to Eunjang High.

The school is relatively easy to find, given it was the only all-boys academies in the area. You wait outside the main gate, and chuckle at all the strange looks you’re getting, no doubt wondering what a student with your uniform was doing at Eunjang.

Eventually you catch a glimpse of black hair and a shock of green eyes in the upcoming wave of students, and wave. Alex perks up and throws up an arm in greeting as well, almost hitting a familiar, bowling-alley-carpet-eating redhead beside him.

Alex claps him a few times on the back in apology, and a taller boy with green hair taps his shoulder and points in your direction, lips moving to form a question.

Your gaze wanders and catches a purple one. The way his eyes shoot through you sends a cold shiver down your spine. His eyes pierce you, like he’s trying to remember something. Then his eyes snap up to your outstretched hand, in a wave. Unnerved, you retract your hand and pull your arms back into your body, turning and placing your back flush against the stone gate.

What the hell was that? You wonder, wringing your hands. Why was there so much space between Alex and his friends from the rest of the kids? Did they have a reputation or something?

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Alex’s face pops up from behind the stone gate, plastered with his usual goofy smile and all your thoughts melt away. Alex Go? A reputation?

“Haha, nothing. Just something silly.” You uncross your arms, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Where did your friends go? They were with you a second ago.”

Alex folds his arms behind his head, leaning back a bit to peer back towards the school. His button down rises a bit, and you have to snatch your eyes away from the tantalizing sliver of skin that unveils itself.

“Ben said he left something in the classroom and made everyone go back with him to get it. He’s so scatterbrained, I don’t know what to do with him.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Alex what the real reason probably was, so you don’t.

You both begin your walk to the location, Alex leading the way.

“So, that uniform is pretty fancy huh?”

You look down at what you’re wearing. “Oh, this?” You tug a bit at the hem of the blazer. “Right, you haven’t seen me in my school uniform yet, huh?”

Alex shakes his head with a smile, his hands in his pockets. “Nope! To be honest, I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s like you’re a whole different person with an academy uniform on.”

You watch your feet next to Alex’s, faux leather uniform shoes beside brand name sneakers, both falling into sync. A bit of a half-smile slips onto your lips, teasing.

“Oh? My clubbing dress isn’t that flattering, is it?”

Alex holds his hands up, pink tinging his ears. “H-hey! You know I didn’t mean it like that!” He rubs the back of his neck abashedly, casting his gaze elsewhere.

“I was just a bit surprised you attend Jagga Academy. I mean, I’ve heard they’re super selective.”

Your smile takes a gentler curve, and you sigh. “Yeah, I studied really hard my eighth year to get in. Those were the days.”

Memories of your younger self flood your mind. You were fresh out of middle school, hopeful, bright, and stubborn. Unstoppable, that’s what all your teachers had used to describe you. A fighter. A writer. And memories they would stay.

His face flashes in your mind, like a haze, like a dream. One second he’s there, then he’s gone. You push the thought back into your mind.

Right now was about having a good time, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

Alex takes a turn and you follow him, willing yourself out of your thoughts.

You look up, skimming the area, unsure of where you were.

You look to the left, just past Alex, and see a familiar karaoke center. You look to your right and see the flash of a familiar scaffolding, leading to a bank you knew the name of without reading the sign.

A cold wash of something creeps up your body, something that feels like a licking flame, a cold fire. It inches up your back and into your fingers, and you ball them up, pressing your nails into your palms until the force has you trembling.

Something in your chest aches, and it keeps twisting, turning, throttling itself in your body and this can’t happen here, not now, not with him, not after being alone for so long.

A hand appears in front of your face, waving.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You jerk your head up, pearls of sweat beading down your back and dotting your temples.

“Huh? Yeah?”

Alex gives you a look, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together. “Are you alright? You’ve been looking kind of out of it for a while.”

You swallow thickly and give what you hope is a convincing smile, but you can see a glimmer of yourself in Alex’s eyes. Shaking, scared, and shrinking, shrinking, shrinking away.

“Hah, yeah. Sorry, I’m just…”

You trail off. Don’t let yourself finish. You hate that your voice sounds so thin, so weak. You hate how you can’t even finish a sentence because of how your words sound like they’re teetering on the edge of oblivion, scared of falling into that dark, endless pool of vulnerability.

“…Tired.” You choke out, and it sounds like a cough. Feeble and sick.

Alex looks concerned now, but doesn’t ask any more questions.

He looks around, like he’s looking for a distraction, and you hate that he has to do that, hate that you’ve made this awkward, made him feel strange, fucked up this shit, again. It’s just past this block, you think. Then you’ll be fine, this will be fine.

“Hey!” Alex’s fingers graze your arm, and his fingers feel like freezing static on your body. “Look at that!”

He points a finger at something, you don’t know what, so you follow his gaze upward.

“Check it out!”

He jumps up and slaps the hard plastic backing harshly, the sound booms against your ears like a car crash, like any crash, like--

“Me and Ben used to do this all the time!”

Your lips feel dry when they part, you want to ask what he’s talking about, why he did that. But when you speak, no questions come out. Just a small and pathetic squeak,

“Huh?”

His green eyes glitter in the sun, his black hair is tousled, he’s happy and laughing and beautiful but you feel so so cold.

“We’ve been doing it since middle school, haha! We used to have competitions to see who could hit it first on the way home from classes.” He demonstrates with a few swings, but you’re not looking at him.

You turn around to focus on the traffic light again, remembering the noise it made when Alex’s hand struck it, like unrelenting thunder.

“The traffic light?” Voice like crinkling paper.

“Yeah, but there’s kind of a funny story here. There was a day Ben said I wouldn’t be able to slap the top of the traffic light, so I took a running start from half a block down and struck that baby right where it hurts.”

He laughs and it hollows your heart like a great echoing cavern.

“I hit it way too hard though, and the thing started spazzing out. I think it took them like a whole three months to get it replaced!”

Alex smiles fondly at the memory and you try hard to smile with him, but turning up your lips feels like a dreadful task. Your heart thrums in your chest and it feels strained with each beat, like it’s imploring you to run.

There’s a huge storm now, whipping into a hurricane in your head. Two pieces of the same broken person trying to pull themselves together by tearing someone else apart. It’s not his fault, you know. You think this, but you keep seeing his face, those eyes, and the memories stay with you, make it impossible to move on.

You want someone to blame for everything that’s been lost, for every day you’ve had to live with blaming yourself not reacting fast enough, for not doing something.

The screech of tire, the scent of burning rubber, the beeping of the heart monitor echoes in your mind, the clicking of hospital tiles underfoot.

And then you see him. He’s there, illuminated by the halo of yellow light, flickering, flickering, then gone- and instead now you see green eyes, black hair, a radiant smile, and it’s so blinding.

The tik tik tik of a broken stoplight echoes in the back of your mind, like a haunting melody in the abyss of a night.

It couldn’t be Alex, you think, but you can’t stop clenching your jaw. Alex is too sweet, you reason, too kind, too oblivious, too careless, too reckless-

You stop yourself and take a shaky breath in, no. When would you ever learn to stop pointing fingers, to move on from this? Would you ever even get there? This wasn’t anyone’s fault, you think, but it was also yours. No one but yours, who was there and failed to stop it.

And Alex? Well…

You take in another stuttering breath of air and it floods your lungs, and you wonder how long you’ve been holding it. Your hands are shaking, so you push them into your pockets, carefully.

Alex has his gaze turned away from you, but his arm is hovering a bit, like he’s ready to grab you in case you pass out, and only then do you realize how pallid you look, you feel.

…Alex Go, silly, thoughtful, bright Alex Go.

And you remember his smile, the way he shines like the sun when he smiles at you.

Smiles.

At you.

He helped you feel things you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years, he had given you wings to fly with again. And for the temporary moment you were with him, you were free to soar through the endless sky.

You gulp, and feel the warmth of his arm hovering over your body. Like an offer, an invitation. You want to lean in, to lose yourself in his touch, in his grasp. But something is stopping you, and you don’t.

For now, being afar is good enough, it’s as much as you deserve.

You both make another turn and he slows beside you, pulling you out of your trance, a gentle smile on his face, patient, and warm.

“We’re here, (y/n).”

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #weak hero x reader #alex go #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #alex go x reader #daybreak

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sleepingvalley · 3 years

Text

Futakuchi Kenji Brainrot Angst

Warning: Sad, Angst, and sad

Characters: Futakuhi Kenji, Kanji Koganegawa, Aone Takanobu, You

The sun takes a gander at you and your lover in bed. What a rude awakening it brings you. Rolling over to the opposite side of the small bed, kenji groans at the shift of the bed but once the sweet comforting weight is placed back, his annoyance turns into hums. "Ugh...what time is it..." "We're late" your chuckle is accomodated with light slaps to his cheeks. A friday such as this was much more appreciated with a quick day at school and some street candy afterwards. As the monotone pur of the microwave heats up your bentos, kenji reaches for you in the kitchen. "I dont have practice today, wanna go to the arcade later?" he struggles to open his eyes, however opening his eyes to you was never an unrewarded task really. His perfect match, you were. Your perfect match, he was.

Almost in synchrony both of you get ready. Opposite coloured mugs,pastel green and pink, of your chosen drinks. His a dark brew of coffee, yours a light cup of tea. Footsteps in harmony, a piano and violin accompaniment, towards the shower. Once both of you finish drying, you climb on top of your boyfriend's shoulder while you reach for the blazer at the back. His uniform unhanged from the lower cloth rack. Kenji crouches down, you getting off him, taking both of your shoes from the side. He passes the shoes to you, you passing his bag. "Hey did you charge th-" "Phone" passing your phones before he even finishes. You hurry to the kitchen to lock the gasoline to then reach for the bentos. Wrapping them up in a food cloth, the brunette giant walks to you carrying your bag and other school materials. "I got the lunch this time, burger patties." informing him, him giving you a smirk pulling you out of the apartment by now.

"Lock" "Key." He finishes. With each paired rythmn down the flight of stairs, a beep from his and your phone comes in. "Who was that?" Futakuchi takes a glance at your screen, clear with aone's messages of how late you both were. Always so respectable of course. "Ah shoot, we missed Ms. Hina's lecture again. You know how she gets when we-" " 'Have the audacity to even show up late together' I know I know hahhaha You think she'll get tired of it?" The hazel bowled boy mocks the mentor you two know so well by now, always scolding you two for the double trouble you bring. "Who texted you?" your voice not really striken with any emotion, "Probably aone as well. I'll let him know, we're on our way." he responds and brings his phone a bit closer to himself.

Soon approaching the awfully steep down hill path, you run down with all the resistance to not tumble. Kenji snorting at your silliness, "I hope you fall on your face!" He jokingly tease at you, "Oh yeah? I hope you trip and fall with me!" a fiery glint in your eyes with that mischevious smile he falls for. Running towards you, like the two stupid teens you are. You spin and laugh racing towards the school's backgate.

You remember being so scared the first time he even convinced you to jump. You were just first years then, so young and so scared of the rules, but he didn't care. You were miss careful, dubbed by kenji himself, as you thread carefully to every situation you came accross. You were careful in every decision until you chose to be with your long term boyfriend now.

You were in middle school when you first met him. He was tall for his age, like his best friend aone, but unlike the latter boy he wasn't any sort of a gentle giant. He'd pick on the other team if they even so do something wrong when playing. He was a bit of a bully, he even teased you at one point, nevertheless it didn't make you less in love with him then and now. You remember confessing at graduation, an impulse decision, a decision you accidentally made while your best friend nobu tried to ascertain your feeling for the 1/3 of your friend group. As an asshole does after shamelessly evesdropping on the conversation, kenji obnoxiously comes out and teases you right before he goes...

"Woah I didn't even know how obssessed with me you are! That's soooo crazy, like you. Well I can't leave you disappointed, Humour me. Let's start dating then!"

It even took you a minute or so to understood his bullshit way of just saying he liked you back.

Crawling into class with him, both of you take your seats behind aone's massive frame. You apologize to the frost giant, but your apology was rather piled up at this point.

With the time passing, and the passing of morning bread underneath the table, break time comes where you just apologize to aone for once again covering for the 2/3 of the group. When the free period gives you the time to finally get to your spot, you invite nobu and drag your complaining hazlenut boy there. Nobu sets up the cloths for you to sit on, kenji comes back with the drinks and from chatting with the girls from the other class, and set up the food with ease. When he comes over you smile at him reaching for your drink, "Who was that?" you question but more likely just asking for a question's sake. "Ah the girls were just asking about the next time. Shall we?" he drives the attention back to the food where you all say your prayers.

"Thank you for the food" kenji thanks. "Thank you for the food" You thank. "Thank you for the food" Nobu thanks. "Thank you for the food" Kogane thanks.

Wait kogane? "Oi! Get your own damn food!" The whining boy points to the newly arrived blonde. "But Y/N-chan's food is too good!" "Yeah, obviously, but Y/N's food is also my food so buzz off"

Despite futakuchi's protests, you hand the rice ball over to kogane. You bring out another for your partner to settle his steaming head. A couple of minutes of chatter and aone huffing about the train problem, you suddenly grow a craving for some curry.

"Kenji, curry for dinner later?" he glances over at you, thinks to himself and makes a note on his phone. "Shopping later, then?" almost asking you. With your nod, you two go back to the group's banter.

Curry was somewhat a special dish for both of you even if it didn't seem like much. You still remember both of your awkward demeanors as you met up for your first date. Gosh you both had no sense of fashion. You showed up in an awkward get up, but you would never forget the dumb shirt futakuchi wore to look cool. Sleeveless and all. Considering both of you were only first years back then, all you two could really afford was the family diner near his place. Both of you fidgeting, a cat catching your tongues even when the lady at the front desk was asking you where you two would like to sit. Your faces too hot and too evident of embarrassment to even face each other. It was funny how your fingers fumbled to reach for each other's hand under the table. You mispronounce his name a few times, and his stomach churned at the curry plus milkshake combo he had. Why did he ever think that was a cute idea?

You two seperately thought both of you would surely leave the other because of this. Strangely enough, this dumbass never let you go. Strangely enough, he never let this dumbass go too.

Your hands both linking like cogs, he rests his head on your lap along with kogane sleeping at your shoulder. Sometimes you thought that the blonde boy was just your adopted kid, he synced in with you and your bully-of-a-boyfriend quite nicely. Scrolling through his phone, nobu signs to you about the incoming summer festival plans. You three always going together since you were little. With the gentle giant even being the one to choose which flowers to put in your hair when your mother decorated it. Futakuchi being the one to decide what kind of games the three of you would go to. It was your favorite memory of them.

Yellow tinted stones, loud crowds and jingling of bells, an attention grabbing stall every once in a while. Oh how you loved your second year summer festival with all 3 of them. The same year you first started inviting your boyfriend to sleep over at your place. He hates to admit it but he knew you caught him studying how to dress you in a yakuta the few days before the event. If you hadn't fallen in love with him before that, you surely did afterwards. The day of the festival rolls with you and him even wearing matching clothes, a splash of wonderfully coordinating colours. Kogane was the only one wearing a more casual outfit really. With nobu tracking behind you, all of you climb up the hill nearby for the fireworks. Dazzling into their eyes. The picture of that night bore into your mind while you inform your bestfriend of the plans.

"We should get candied apples too! They're the best treat-" you were interupted by the sudden awakening of the two. "WHAT?! Noooo... Y/N-chan, takoyakis are the best!" "Now I know that's not true because you can't have a festival without the yakisoba..." kenji's annoyed voice ready to start a fight. As the two bicker, you glance over the sweet one agreeing with your sentiment of candied apples.

The bickering, and mundaness of the discussion had left you with a sense of contentment. Ever satisfied to be so young to simply argue over yakisoba and takoyaki. Ever so young to simply discuss curry and festivals. This was the epitomes of your youth. The ever radiant light of the sun always followed the young.

But the sun would not follow you for long. As the overzealous moon grabs one's attention, the same goes for such promiscuous women.

You squeez and stiffen at his collared jersey, a piece of clothing you had once adored and taken care of. Practically clawing out his clothing from the cabinet, you hear his please in the living space. "What the fuck is going on with you? Babe, tell me please" "You, that's whats fucking going on." Clothes and sentimentals being thrown at him from across the room. Your anger high comes down after a bit of screaming and throwing, with your knees giving up sitting you down. "What happened? Tell me..." His eyes were true and his voice was sincere. "I know you're fucking her." it was supposed to be a whisper but it had sounded in the room as a sharp hiss at him. His eyes widen and taking a few steps back he sighs deeply. "I-im...Im sorry..." 'Dont...just leave. Now."

Seeing his way out, his back on display before the creak of the door erases him. He hadn't explained or given you any room to ever doubt what he did. He simply gave up. You knew behind that broad back, he wanted to say something. He wanted to dispute every claim you maid but he had enough dignity to stand back when he needed to. And as that rusty bolted door closes, your highschool love, your youthful memory was simply a memory to look back on now.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reade #hq dateko

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goldenretriever-nicknelson · 3 years

Text

Blurbmas ~ Day 8 (P.P)

A/n: Day 8 and yes it’s a Hogwarts AU blurb! this doesn’t tie in with the AU I’m writing I just had the idea and really wanted to write it. I made it house neutral so you can decide yours and Peter’s own Hogwarts houses in this one (even though he’s hufflepuff imo).

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: none :)

Peter’s hands shook as they straightened out his dress robes for the 5th time that evening. He was staring at himself in the mirror, wondering to himself how he had got here. He was about to take the girl of his dreams to the school dance and not just any school dance; the Yule Ball.

The Yule Ball was a tradition at whichever school was hosting the Triwizard tournament; a dangerous competition that pitted magical schools against each other to fight for the Triwizard cup. Peter purposefully hadn’t signed himself up, it was dangerous and stupid and even though he had powers that didn’t mean he should use them.

But going to the Yule Ball was something that Peter had been looking forward to. As much as he hated school dances, this time he actually had someone in mind to go with. He’d spent weeks brainstorming with Ned about how to ask you since you had been his crush since 4th Year. Every idea didn’t seem good enough and every plan he had failed spectacularly.

It was exactly one week before the dance after his head of house had just given them dancing lessons that he felt brave enough to do it. He didn’t plan it, didn’t have some grand idea, he just asked the question as it slipped from his lips in Potions class.

You turned to him in surprise. You’d only just asked Peter to pass you an ingredient so you could finish your potion and he’d said those 8 words that you had spent all term thinking about. Peter was sweating and it had little to do with the heat of the cauldron as it boiled beneath him.

“Yes, I’d love to.” You whispered and rested your hand over his with a large smile. Peter returned your smile as he grinned from ear to ear and jumped a little on the spot which earned a look from Snape.

“That’s great.” Peter smiled and went back to helping you with the potion. The smile never left either of your faces for the rest of the lesson.

And now here he was ready to head downstairs and meet you. He gave one last look in the mirror before Ned pulled him in the direction of the door and left the common room.

The school’s halls were really decked. There was a christmas decoration on every wall and corner, even the moving staircase railings were wrapped in sparkly tinsel. Peter smiled as he headed downstairs, a pit of nerves building in his stomach the closer he got yet he couldn’t feel more excited.

Ned almost tripped down the stairs as he rushed towards Betty who looked pretty in a simple pink dress. She was standing with MJ and a few other girls from their year including you. The moment Peter saw you his jaw dropped.

You were like a dream in a perfect long dress that matched the colour of your Hogwarts house. Your hair was just as beautiful as the dress, done up in a simple updo with a few strands of hair framing your face.

Peter could hear his heart picking up pace, feel his hands clamming up and sweating as much as his curls were and he swore for a moment that you had literally taken his breath away. Ned looked back at him and furrowed his brow.

“Dude are you okay?”

Peter nodded sheepishly and blushed darkly as he realised his gaze had been fixed on you. He made the rest of the way downstairs and walked towards you, hoping you wouldn’t notice as he wiped his hand on his dress robes.

“H-hi Y/n, you look beautiful.”

You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling wide. “You don’t look too bad yourself Parker.” Your comment made you both laugh and Peter felt the nerves start to slowly leave his system. It was just you and Peter was comfortable with you, probably more so than anyone else.

Peter took your hand in his and kissed the back of it sweetly. You giggled and blushed hard, gazing back at him in a lovingly way. It wasn’t long before the doors opened and everyone start filing in, the champions waiting until last so they could lead the dance.

Peter had never been more thankful not to be a champion than in that moment. He watched them dance across the floor, some stumbling more than others as the music played. It was only then that a thought hit Peter. He was going to have to dance with Y/n.

It wasn’t that Peter was terrible at dancing but he’d stepped on too many toes over the years to claim to be good at it. Even with his powers Peter just looked awkward when he danced, much like a struggling fish out of water.

Before he knew it the professors and more students had made their way onto the dance floor, spinning and twirling around to the song. Peter felt his palms sweat again and you must have noticed because you turned to him and kissed his red cheek.

“We don’t have to dance Pete.”

Peter looked at you sweetly and smiled, considering his options. He could just go and get drinks with you and talk but he could see how much you wanted to be out there on the floor with your friends and tonight was about making you happy so Peter made up his mind. He led you onto the dance floor and started dancing with you.

You giggled happily and danced around with him, both of you deciding not to take it too serious and instead choosing to be a little crazy. Peter had never had more fun dancing than he did with you. Both of you laughed and smiled all through the night, sugar filling your system from the punch bowl and snacks.

Eventually Peter and you decided to get some fresh air away from the crowd. You led Peter outside, being able to tell that it was getting a little much for him with all the different sounds and senses going off.

Peter smiled at your thoughtfulness and walked with you through the snow. You didn’t even seem to care that you were in heels and a dress as you walked hand in hand. You swung your hands together as you walked past the beautiful scenery that was Hogwarts in the snow and past hormonal teenagers making out in the back of carriages or behind school walls.

You and Peter giggled before stopping at an overlook point. You could see the great lake and the quidditch pitch from here, all of it looked almost unreal in the snow.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You noted, your eyes transfixed on the glorious view. Little did you realise that Peter’s eyes weren’t looking where yours were anymore but instead at you. To him you were the only view he needed in that moment.

Your hair was slightly littered with snowflakes, making it look even prettier. Your smile was twice as wide as when the night had started and sparkled more than the ice that shone on the great lake. You were perfect.

“Yeah it is.” Peter sighed happily and squeezed your hand in his, kissing your cheek so gently that it felt like the touch of a feather. You blushed and smiled wide before turning to face Peter who’s cheeks were just as red as yours.

Just then as if by magic, something twinkled above you and a sparkle caught your eye. You both looked up and giggled.

“Mistletoe.” Peter whispered and looked back at you, his hand shaking a little from the nerves that had once again reared their head. You bit your lip and nodded, still smiling at the nervous boy in front of you who looked who you felt on the inside.

Now or Never, Peter thought and started to lean in closer to you. He took a deep breath as you leaned into and he knew that this was it. You both met in the middle, your lips meeting in a perfect harmony as the snow fell around you and the mistletoe sparkled above in the archway. The kiss made you both feel warm and fuzzy despite the cold air outside.

When you finally both pulled away, you giggled and smiled goofily at each other, Peter held you close in his arms, his cold hands cupping your rosy cheeks.

“That was-” You took a breath and smiled, your warm breath visible in the cold air. You tried to find the right words but none came to mind, you were speechless as you gazed at Peter.

He knew it was cheesy but there was only one way to describe the kiss.

“Magical.” He finished for you, pecking your lips again and sighing happily as he kissed you again.

Even though you could hear the music playing from the Great Hall and all the sounds of the castle, it felt like there was no one else in the world but you as your lips met again.

~~~~~~

Taglist

Permanent - @eeyore101247 @geminiparkers @darlingspidey @ameelia @calltothewild @parkerpeter24 @rebekkah4766 @peaches-parker @tom-hlover @parker-hollandx @call-me-baby-gir1 @cosmicvibecheck @outshineallthestars @theliterarymess

Peter Parker ~ @teen--marvel @musicalkeys @spideyspeaches @kickingn-ames @shakespeareanqueer

#peter parker x reader #hogwarts au #katiesblurbs #katies blurbs #blurbmas #12 days of blurbmas #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #reader insert

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thefactsofthematter · 3 years

Text

we’ve all lost our way before

a bittersweet, jack-and-medda-centred prequel to this fic i wrote last year. no one requested this, i just felt like pouring out some emotions, so if you’d like to Feel Things with me, be my guest! this can be read as a standalone fic as well, if you haven’t read the original.

read this on ao3 if you want!

javid (sort of); 2.3k; modern au; warning for drug abuse, addiction, and overdose.

Jack is nineteen when he overdoses for the first time.

The saddest part is that he sees it as a strange sort of victory. He's been playing with fire for four or five years now, but only just OD'd. No one— at least not anyone important to him— will know that he was hooked on drugs as a literal child... they'll think of this as a recent problem, that art school was the catalyst in turning him into a junkie. He thinks it might be less shameful this way.

Medda is there when he wakes up in the hospital. He knows exactly what's going on as soon as he comes to consciousness— the familiar ache in his joints tells him that a withdrawal is starting to hit, and the rhythmic beeping, in sync with his heartbeat, is enough to fill in the story of just what happened. He overdid it.

"Mama..." he groans, hardly able to open his eyes. He reaches weakly towards where he can see her sitting in a chair and typing on her phone, with a nervous scrunch to her eyebrows.

She looks up, and then she's there in an instant, right beside him to take his hand.

"Oh Jack..." she whispers, wrapping both her hands around one of his and squeezing. Her voice is wet, like she's been crying. "What've you done to yourself, baby?"

There's a lot he wants to say— that he's ruined his own life, and he's sorry, and he can't believe he's done this to her, and he probably should've just died from the overdose so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore, and he's so so so sorry for everything. None of those words leave his mouth, though.

"I did something bad, didn't I?" he mumbles, feeling his fingers twitch between her hands, but not quite in control of the movement. The doctors must be medicating him somehow, because this isn't a normal comedown. Why is he so tired?

"You sure did," she sighs. She pauses and swallows, as if she's trying to figure out what to say. She finally shakes her head and continues. "You overdosed on heroin, Jack— I found you on the bathroom floor, and your lips and fingers were blue. I thought you were dead."

Jack feels a horrible, horrible little ball of shame start to twist in his gut. It's not regret, necessarily, but he feels bad that she had to see that. He feels bad that he scared her, and that he's making her deal with all this now. He's a horrible son.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his words shake and his fingers twitch again, the nervous jitter that comes with the drugs leaving his system. "I didn't mean to."

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. He can tell she's trying to be empathetic, and that she's angry with him but she doesn't want to show him that.

"I know you didn't," she says. "I know, darling." She rubs her thumb in little circles on the back of his hand. "But did you even think for a second, when you decided to shoot up in there, that one of the boys could've found you?"

This is a point that she likes to drive home whenever he's in trouble. Jack is the oldest of four, and he needs to be responsible because his brothers look up to him. He was a teenager when she adopted him, and he knew that by joining the family, he was stepping up to be a role model for Crutchie, Race, and Albert. He'd been so honoured, and he really thought he could do it, at the time.

"No," he finally croaks, because of course he didn't consider it— he wasn't planning on overdosing. "I'm sorry."

The youngest, Albert, is only twelve— and even at that, he's awfully naive for his age. He probably doesn't even know what heroin is or what it can do, and now Medda's going to have to tell him that his brother almost died from it. Of course the boys are going to ask questions, and Jack knows Medda will answer them honestly. She's not a fan of keeping secrets.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks, after a moment. She sounds so hurt, like the thought of Jack's addiction physically pains her. It makes him want to vomit. "The doctor said some of the needle marks on your arms look like they've been there for years. When did it start?"

Jack can't bring himself to answer. It's too embarrassing.

He was such a stupid, gullible fourteen year-old that he let the older boys in his last foster home before Medda's place do this to him— it was a group home where they were horribly abused in every way you can possibly think of, and everyone was searching for a way to cope. They told him drugs would make everything better, and they held his arm still while they injected him with the tiniest amount of heroin, and suddenly he wasn't scared or in pain anymore. He couldn't feel anything. It was the best he's ever felt, and he knew right then that this was going to become a problem. His parents had been addicts, he knew it ran in his blood, but he let himself fall into the trap anyways. It's horrible.

"I want to go to sleep now," is all he says, purposefully avoiding the question. His eyes feel droopy and heavy, and the ache of the withdrawal is growing stronger, and he knows that if he doesn't sleep now it'll only get worse.

"Please, Jack," Medda whispers, not giving it up. She's squeezing his hand almost desperately. "How long?"

He lets his eyes fall shut and weakly attempts to wrench his hand away from hers.

"I'm tired, Mama."

A heavy sigh.

"Okay."

She lets go of his hand and moves instead to pet his hair, even as he turns his face away from her and tries to roll onto his side in a pitiful attempt to show that he wants to be left alone. She hums softly as she does so, and it makes Jack's chest feel tight like he's going to cry. He finally has a mother who loves him, after all these years of wishing for one, and all he can do is disappoint her.

Medda is on the phone the next time he's awake.

"Did you know he was abusing drugs, David?" she asks, and her tone is almost accusatory, like she thinks Davey had something to do with this. "He overdosed on heroin last night."

Davey must panic on the other end of the call, because her tone suddenly goes much softer.

"No, no, he's okay. He's in the hospital, but he'll be alright." She pauses and sighs. "The doctor said it looks like he's been using for a couple years, at least. You didn't know?"

Jack decides not to open his eyes just yet— he's nauseous and his stomach aches. He's sure that if he were to force himself to vomit it might alleviate it somewhat, but he wants to hear what Medda and Davey might talk about, so he just doesn't move.

"Okay," Medda sighs. "I understand. I had no idea either— it's scary how well he hid it. He overdosed in the bathroom at home; he must've been using drugs in the house this whole time, and I never caught on."

Jack's awfully ashamed of that bit. He didn't used to do it at home— he only did it on occasion when he was younger, and he'd save it for when he was with friends, or if he had a really bad day. It's just the past few months that have gotten so bad... he can't go a day without it anymore. He gets dope sick, craves his next dose until he can finally shoot up, and it doesn't even really get him high. He needs heroin to feel normal these days. He's been at home, around his little brothers, with that god-awful drug coursing through his body. He hates himself so, so deeply for that.

He needs help. He knows he needs help. But he somehow doesn't want it— he knows it won't work. He'll end up checking himself out of rehab, or wherever Medda tries to send him, and he'll go right back to the drugs. Being sober is hard, and being high is easy. He likes that easy, relaxed feeling, and he knows that any amount of time he spends sober will just make the next high feel even better.

"I'm going to try to get him straight from the hospital into rehab," Medda says on the phone, which makes Jack feel horrible that he's already planning on refusing that idea. "You've got school, sweetheart, this isn't your responsibility. Come by for a visit if you'd like, but don't get to thinking you have to look after him or anything... oh, I know you love him. I know, dear. But you have to put yourself first, alright?"

Jack doesn't like listening to this anymore. Medda's going to convince Davey to break up with him, isn't she? She doesn't think Jack deserves to have a boyfriend as lovely as Davey, since he's such a disappointment— she's right, but it makes his chest ache anyways.

"Mama," he groans, finally letting her know he's awake. He feels like a helpless little kid as he reaches out for her yet again. "I feel sick. I'm gonna puke."

The light hurts his eyes as he opens them, and he barely registers Medda pressing a little paper bowl into his hands for him to vomit into. He leans forward and gags into it, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sunlight while she rubs a hand gently up and down his back.

"I'll let you go, Davey," she sighs into the phone. "Text me when you get here, alright?"

Jack tries to ask if that means Davey is coming to see him, but it comes out a little garbled when he realizes he's not done throwing up. He interrupts himself to shove his face back in the little bowl and heave yet again. It takes until he's finished puking to realize that he began to cry somewhere in the middle of it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," he finally says, once he's sure it's over. He leans his head back against the pillows and finally says the words he's been dreading. "I... If you don't want me anymore, I understand. It's okay."

This must catch Medda off-guard, because it takes her a second to process it. She's perfectly calm as she takes the little bowl from him and sets it somewhere for a nurse to take away, but then she turns back around to him with a confused frown.

"Hang on, what?" she asks. "Jack, baby, what are you talking about? Where did you get that idea from?"

Truthfully, the thought hasn't fully left his mind since the day they signed the adoption papers, a little over two years ago. He's always figured that she'd get sick of him at some point— he's even looked into how an adoption can be annulled, so that he's prepared for when the day eventually comes. She'll realize he's not worth all the trouble he causes, she'll see how messed up he is, and she'll get rid of him for good.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, not quite able to look her in the eyes. He wipes pitifully at the tears on his cheeks and forces himself to keep talking. "If you want to, like, cancel out the adoption... that's alright. It's not fair that you have to deal with me when I'm so awful."

She's silent for a second, and Jack is sure that this is it. She'll undo the adoption, kick him out of the family, and he'll be all on his own again. He doesn't want that, of course, but he understands why she would do it.

"John Francis Kelly," she finally says, and she comes over to the bed to cup his cheeks and hold onto his face. "Look at me. Nothing you could ever say or do could make me even consider that. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Nothing could ever, ever make me stop loving you."

This is where Jack finally breaks. She's too good to him— he can't understand what he's done in his fucked-up life to deserve to meet someone like her. He's done nothing to earn her love, but she gives it to him unconditionally anyways, and he simply can't comprehend it. He sobs, leaning forward into her arms; she hugs him tight and just holds him there.

"You're my son, Jack," she whispers, as his head rests in the crook of her neck and she rocks him back and forth. "Okay? It doesn't matter that I've only had you for a few years... that doesn't make it any less real. No matter how many mistakes you make— no matter what you do or where you are, I'll always be your mother. You're not getting rid of me." She gently combs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "You got yourself into a tough spot, but we'll get you out, baby. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm sorry," Jack sobs, as if he hasn't said it enough today. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," Medda replies. "I know, baby. You made some mistakes, but it's not the end of the world. We're gonna fix it together, alright?"

Jack can do nothing more than cry at this point, so Medda just rubs his back and pets his hair. She shushes him softly, as if she's soothing an infant, and he simply clings onto her for dear life. He doesn't deserve how wonderful she is.

#my writing #jack kelly #medda larkin #davey jacobs #javid #newsies fic #if you read it on ao3 the end notes are about what happens between this and the og fic #please rb!! it helps people see it!

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bangtanoneshotsx · 4 years

Text

Debate-Seokjin

The air was crisp, the leaves crunching underneath your feet as you made your way to class. Your bag was heavy on your shoulder, your feet cold as you decided against wearing boots. Entering the building through the nearest door, you quickly found the classroom, finding a wall to lean against while you texted Jin. The boy would be late. He always was. While you got up early to make sure you could find a seat, Jin would always slip in at the last minute counting on there being an empty seat beside you. And there always was.

Today was unusual though. As a class left the lecture theatre, your class slowly making their way in, you heard someone shout your name. Turning in the direction of the voice, you found Jin running in your direction, two cups of coffee in his hands. With a grin, he stopped just in front of you, passing you a cup.

“Thought you’d be late.” He hummed, taking a sip of his coffee before talking.

“Line was shorter than usual.” You yawned, letting him enter first before quickly finding your place beside him again.

“Must be field trip time.” The first-year students always had a ‘great adventure’ their first year, under the pretense of education, the students often found their way to make it just another way to get drunk.

The lecturer entered, her own coffee in hand, and a pile of files tucked under her arms.

“Morning class. As talked about previously last week, I’ll be splitting you into pairs, one of you will be for, and one will argue against.” You gave a small sigh, resting your head on your hand as Jin groaned. It was your debate class, the one subject you hated due to the amount of public speaking. Jin, however, loved it, he threw himself into any role he was given, no matter what side he actually agreed with. This time, the topic was relevant, with the end of year ball only a month away. The question was ‘Are Social Balls really worth it, or do the movies romanticize it?’ This was one you didn’t mind arguing about. Your high school prom wasn’t one you were particularly fond of. Your best friend had had a massive crush on one of the more popular boys. She was full of glee as he asked her, making a big deal in the cafeteria, his smile seeming genuine. You were happy for her, excited for the dance. That was until she called you on the night, saying he had stood her up. Instantly, you had left the dance, catching a taxi to her house. You spent the rest of the night with your heartbroken friend, watching ‘The Notebook.’

You watched as the lecturer brought up the group list on the board, a collection of reactions emitting from the class. Squinting your eyes, you tried to peer at the small names, trying to find yours. Yours sat under Against, whiles Jin’s was under For. You gave a laugh as Jin held out his hand to you, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Good luck, and may the best man win.” You grinned, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Oh, she will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Books covered the single long desk you occupied, your laptop balancing on the edge, plugged into the wall. You had a notebook in front of you, your messy handwriting scrawled over the two pages. While you had your own opinion on the topic, you were currently researching for any figures to add to your argument.

“You know that’s pointless, right?” Jin chuckled, placing another takeaway cup full of coffee beside you. Sticking out your tongue slightly, you quickly turned back to face your laptop after thanking him.

“Let me guess, you’ve already gathered all your material.”

“Yep.”

“And what lecture did you miss?”

“Gender studies,” Jin muttered, shoving you slightly as you laughed, shaking your head. At Jin’s loud noise of protest, you could see a couple other students lift their head, their eyes narrowed, the librarian shushing you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You had met Jin in your first year of university. You weren’t sure how you didn’t notice him straight away, but the truth was, you were too busy trying to grab the back corner seat to really notice anyone. It wasn’t until the seat next to you was the only one left that you met Jin, watching as he stumbled into the lecture, nodding his head in apology to the lecturer who had briefly stopped talking.

“I don’t think she likes you.” You whispered to him, not knowing where the sudden burst of confidence came from. Jin gave a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“I think it’s because she’s never seen me arrive on time.” From that moment, you found yourself coming out of the corner seat, always leaving a space for the boy who would arrive late, no matter what time the lecture was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A steaming bowl of ramen sat in front of you, your chopsticks already resting against the side of the bowl as you took a break. Your tongue burning, you tried to cool it with your coke. Jin only laughed at your wide eyes, slight panic in them. Subtly, you raised a middle finger, a smile gracing your lips as you received one back.

“So how is this semester going for you anyway?” You asked, you only saw him for one class that happened twice a week. You tried to meet up every couple of days for lunch, but sometimes both of your schedules didn’t allow it. This was one of the rare times they did.

“It’s okay, Namjoon’s doing a project with me, so he’s starting that while I focus on winning this debate.”

“You mean, loosing.” An unknown emotion flashed in Jin’s eyes as he grinned at you, his head shaking slightly.

“Sure, when I lose.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands were shaking as you held your cue cards. The small rectangles of pink card held all your arguments, all the facts that would hopefully stop you from becoming too emotional. Jin stood behind the other wooden podium on the right side of the front of the room.

“Whenever you’re ready guys.” The lecturer announced, quietening down the rest of the students. With a broken breath, you started, your voice shaking slightly.

“The media sets up unrealistic expectations for any social event, especially things like dances. Prom is a good example of this, many high school students can’t wait until their last year, to dress up and slow dance with their crush. However, their dreams are crushed when they realize this isn’t reality. The university just now is doing the same thing. With all of the hype around dresses and drinks, and who’s going with who. People tend to forget what it’s really going to be like. No one finds love at the ball, no one socializes outside of their already established social groups. It’s only an excuse for students to get drunk after a year of stress.” You weren’t quite sure what the emotion on Jin’s face was. His eyebrows were furrowed, though he wore a small, sad smile.

“I actually disagree with everything Y/N has said. It is no secret that movies exaggerate everything to do with high school. If you truly believed that what you saw in the latest chick flick was real, you’d have to believe those 26-year-olds were teenagers.” You could hear a couple of chuckles, mainly from the lecturer as she scribbled something down. “Social balls give you the chance to have the courage to ask someone out. When you ask someone out in everyday life, there’s a pressure to plan the date, to talk to them, to know how to keep the conversation. With a social ball, all of that goes away, you can dance, you can test the chemistry without any pressure.” Jin took a deep breath, his hands shaking as his voice got quieter. “I, for example, met my first love at university. I’ve been in love for her for two years, ever since I sat next to her for the first time at the back of a lecture hall. I would love to gather the courage to ask her. And it’s those moments that the society ball provides. Those small moments of hope that we students need in a time of exam prep and assignments.” Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly open as you noticed Jin’s cheeks and ears were now flushed red. How did you not know any of that about him? Who was this mysterious girl he was so caught up on? Thinking about it made your heart ache.

After a couple questions, you and Jin sat down back at your seats. For the rest of the lecture, Jin avoided you, his cheeks still burning.

“Jin!” You shouted after him as he ran out of the classroom, his backpack barely on his shoulder. “Jin wait! Please!” At the desperation in your voice, he stopped, slowly turning.

“Is what you said about your first love true?”

“It is.” He muttered, his eyes on the floor as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“So why don’t you ask her to the ball?”

“She doesn’t like them.” At that small confession, your heart seemed to stop. Your sudden silence made Jin look up, his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said anything. But it’s just... I was planning on asking you, but then hearing your stance on the dance. I don’t know, maybe I could change your mind. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry if I ruined this friendship. I’m so...” Jin was cut off by your lips softly pressed against his. Drawing back, you gave a shy smile, your own cheeks covered in red.

“I like you too.” You hesitated, your heart beating fast. “I wouldn’t mind the ball if it was with you.”

49 notes · View notes

longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

Text

Nightmare

“You stupid, worthless brat! How am I supposed to get ahead in life with you and your sister dragging me down? If it weren’t for the two of you brats, I’d be living like a king!” Leonard Snart doesn’t move a muscle. Despite being twelve years old, practically an adult, his father is still twice his size and over four times his weight, so fighting back would be pointless.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No, sir.” Trying to defend himself will just make his father angrier.

“I should just throw you both out to fend for yourselves! Maybe then you ungrateful brats would learn to appreciate me! After all, if it weren’t for me, you’d both be dead in a gutter! Nobody else wants garbage like you.” When Leonard fails to respond, his father punches him in the stomach, then slings him over his shoulder. Leonard doesn’t react until he realizes that his father is heading for his sister’s room. Then, in desperation, he bites his father’s hand, producing a yowl of pain. Unfortunately, the bite doesn’t deter his father from his intended destination, and he storms into Lisa’s room, shakes her awake violently, and then grabs her as well. She immediately starts crying, and her tears only come faster when her father shakes her in an attempt to shut her up. Leonard tries to calm her down, but in his position, there’s not much he can do. His father opens the door to their trailer and violently deposits Leonard and Lisa on the front step.

“See how you like living without me!” his father yells before slamming the door. Leonard tries to open the door, but it doesn’t budge, and he starts to panic. His father has locked him and his little sister outside their home at three in the morning! What is he supposed to do? He can’t go to the neighbors-they all think he’s a juvenile delinquent-and he can’t call CPS because if he does, he and his sister will be separated and he’ll be thrown in jail just like his dad had told him. His sister starts crying again. He doesn’t think she fully understands what’s going on yet, but she can clearly tell that something is wrong.

“Shh….I’m here, Lisa. I’m not gonna let nothin’ bad happen to you, sis.” She hugs him, clinging to his thin frame as though her life depends on it, and asks,

“Are we in trouble again?” Leonard nods.

“Dad locked us out of the house,” he says, trying not to sound panicked.

“Is he gonna let us back in?” Leonard shrugs.

“I dunno, baby sis. I hope so.” At that, Lisa starts crying again.

“Shh...sis, we’ll be okay. Just pretend we’re having a campout.”

“Like the one Barbie had on TV?” Leonard grins.

“Yeah, just like that. Only ours’ll be better, ‘cause ours has us.” Lisa smiles.

“Okay, then why don’t we sleep over there?” she asks, pointing at a pile of leaves.

“Looks good to me, little sis.” He leads her over to the pile, takes off his shirt, and hands it to her.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s your sleeping bag. You can’t have a campout without one.”

“But where’s yours?

“I don’t need one, ‘cause I’m a man,” Leonard replies. He doesn’t want her to worry about him, and besides, tough guys like him don’t need sleeping bags, so it’s not a lie.

“Okay, Lenny.” Lisa lies down, and Leonard spreads his shirt over her.

“Good night, little sis.”

“Wait! Lenny, could you tell me a story before I go to sleep?”

“I guess so. What do you want me to tell you about?”

“The one with the princess and the superheroes!” Leonard manages not to groan, but it’s a close thing. Lisa asks for this story all the time, and it’s hard to tell. Superheroes might exist, but they don’t care about trailer trash like the Snarts. Why get her hopes up? But then again, it isn’t like he can refuse his little sister, so he launches into his story.

“Okay, so once upon a time, in a faraway place like New York, there was a beautiful princess named Lisa. Now, like all princesses, Lisa was smart and nice and all those things girls like to be called, but she had a problem- a big one. You see, when she was just a little baby, her kingdom-which I think is like a really old city-was cursed, so everybody and their Aunt Mariah forgot that she was their princess, and her loving mom and pop were replaced by a loose lady and an ogre who drank too much. The lady ran away, and the ogre was real, real mean to her and beat her up all the time for stupid reasons. Oh, and he also made her do chores and stuff, like cleaning up all his beer bottles while he was watching football.”

“How could he be watching football? Princesses don’t have TVs!” Leonard sighs.

“Okay, then he watched it with his crystal ball. Anyways, as bad as things were, the princess did have one friend. Before the curse, he’d been preparing to be a knight, but the curse had made him forget who he was, so he thought he was her brother and didn’t know how he was supposed to protect her from the ogre anymore.”

“What was the knight’s name?”

“Uh, his name was, uh….Sir Leo, the knight of, uh, Cold, and he could shoot ice! I mean, before the curse made him forget how. So anyway, Sir Leo and Princess Lisa were in a huge mess, and after years of living under the curse, they had given up on ever getting out. But that all changed when a superhero named-which one do you want?”

“The Flash.” Leonard nods, unsurprised. Jay Garrick has always been his sister’s favorite, probably because he lives near Central City just like them.

“Okay, so the Flash arrived to break the spell, and he did by, uh, running really fast. And then he punched the ogre in the face and gave the princess her real parents back, and she and the knight, who had his powers back and could protect her now, lived happily ever after. The End.”

“Thanks, Lenny,” Lisa says drowsily. Five minutes later, she’s fast asleep. Upon realizing that his sister is unconscious, Leonard finally allows himself to panic again. What’s he going to do if his father doesn’t let him and his sister back inside? It’s already October-if it gets much colder, Lisa could freeze to death. He wants to start crying, but doesn’t. Twelve-year-old boys-men-don’t cry. Ever. Instead of crying, Leonard decides to get angry. Someday, his father will pay for all the stuff he put Lisa through. He’s gonna pay-Leonard will make sure of that. With his tears firmly under control, Leonard falls asleep, determined to prove that he’s stronger than his father. The next morning, Leonard wakes up to find his sister still sleeping peacefully, her blonde hair a rather tangled, leaf-filled mess. In fact, she looks so happy that he almost hates to wake her, but if he doesn’t, she’ll be late for school.

“Lisa, wake up!” Her eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, Lenny.” Leonard pulls her to her feet and carefully brushes the leaves off of her, then takes his shirt back and puts it on.

“So, did you like the campout?” She nods.

“You’re the bestest big brother in the world.” Leonard smiles. If she’s happy, he’s happy. He leads her to the door of their trailer and turns the handle, and, thankfully, the door opens. The pair slip inside and find their father passed out on their couch, beer bottles strewn all over the floor and the TV still blaring. Leonard sneaks over to the couch, slides the remote out of his father’s hand, and turns off the TV. He proceeds to start picking up the bottles his father had left lying around. A few minutes later, he is joined in this endeavor by his sister, who is smaller and can more easily reach the bottles that had somehow ended up under furniture. About ten minutes later, the pair have successfully cleaned up the living room, and Leonard starts making breakfast.

“Go get dressed for school, Lisa.” Lisa obeys and vanishes into her room. While she gets dressed, Leonard finishes making cereal and sets the two bowls on the table. After doing this, he goes to the refrigerator, grabs the package of beer bottles, and fills all but one of them with water. If he only drinks one today, he’ll be sober enough to go to work tomorrow. Lisa returns from her room in a t-shirt and jeans long enough to cover the scars on her legs, and they both sit down at the table and start eating.

“Is Daddy all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” They spend the rest of the meal in silence, and then Leonard takes the dishes to the sink and instructs his sister to brush her teeth, which she does. He washes the dishes, puts them away, and then pulls out his math homework that was due two weeks ago. His teacher had been bothering him about it on Friday, and he can’t afford any more trouble at school. The principal had already made it clear the last time he’d gotten detention (for mouthing off) that if he was sent to the office one more time, he’d be expelled, and if that happens, he’ll be stuck at home with his father all day. Stupid school. It isn’t like he is going to benefit from school anyway-he’d heard one teacher tell another that he’d never make it through high school-so why do they force him to come? School doesn’t make him any money, so how do they expect him to support his sister? He needs a job, not algebra. After a minute or so of struggling, he gives up and decides that he will just take another F. It isn’t like he’s going to pass the class anyway. Just then, his sister returns with her backpack and asks him to walk her to school. He does, and about twenty minutes later, he is waving good-bye to her as she enters her second-grade classroom. He leaves the building and walks to the middle school.

“Hey, Leonard,” another kid says. Leonard nods in greeting but doesn’t reply. There’s no point in trying to make friends when your dad’s got a rap as the town drunk and a thief, so he never really talks to anyone except when he needs to prove how tough he is when he gets into fights with other kids. His day goes pretty typically until math class. Normally, it is his least favorite class of the day (because it’s at the end of the day), but today, when he asks his teacher to just give him an F on the assignment and expel him already at the end of the class (after sleeping through the rest of it), the teacher doesn’t yell at him, call him a punk kid, or expel him. Instead, he gives Leonard an odd look and asks him to sit down. Leonard obeys reluctantly.

“Is everything all right at home, Leonard? I know you and I have never gotten along well, but lately I’ve noticed that you’ve come in with bruises and odd-looking marks on your arms fairly regularly, to say nothing of how tired you always seem to be. Is something wrong?” Leonard freezes. How had he failed to realize that his injuries hadn’t been covered up adequately? If he’s not careful, the teacher might call CPS and then he’ll lose Lisa forever.

“What, are you stupid or something? Don’t you know that I’ve been sent to the office for fighting three times already?” No one really cares about him, so he might as well make sure that this guy stops pretending to.

“Leonard, no one gets injuries that look like belt marks from fist fights.”

“Belt marks? What’re you talking about?” Leonard asks, before rattling off a string of swear words. In response, the teacher gently rolls up his left sleeve, revealing several barely-healed scars from his father’s belt. Leonard’s mind whirls as he tries to come up with a plausible explanation for the marks, but before he can, the teacher asks,

“Leonard, who did this to you?” Leonard swears again and looks at the floor, trying not to meet his teacher’s gaze.

“Look, sir, it was nothing. I did it to myself for a dare, that’s all.” In response, his teacher rolls up his other sleeve, revealing marks from a hand clearly much larger than Leonard’s own.

“Is your father doing this to you?”

“Yeah, but it ain’t none of your business. I’m just an idiot, that’s all. If I wasn’t such a delinquent, he wouldn’t have to keep me in line. I’m just garbage, okay? I deserve everything I get,” Leonard replies, parroting his father. If the teacher believes him, he can go home and take care of his sister. So, even though his dad would’ve beaten him if he’d been a goody-good like that Barry Allen guy in ninth grade, he is perfectly willing to use his father’s words if it gets him out of his current situation. Lisa is probably worried about him.

“Leonard, no one deserves to be beaten so badly that they’re still black and blue days later. I agree that your behavior could use a lot of improvement, but I would never lay a hand on you unless you were to threaten the life of me or another student, and I have no reason to believe that you would do that. Your father is wrong to treat you the way he does.” Leonard shrugs.

“Maybe. But sir, you’ve gotta keep quiet about this. If you call CPS, I’ll be separated from my sister and they’ll put me in jail or something.”

“Who told you that?”

“My dad. I mean, he ain’t a great guy, but he used to be a cop, so he would know.” The teacher frowns and shakes his head.

“If your father told you that, he’s lying to you. CPS isn’t going to send you to jail-in fact, I don’t know if they even have the power to do that.”

“Look, sir, everything’s fine at home! Please don’t tell anyone about this-please. I don’t want to lose my sister.” His teacher sighs.

“Very well. But if I see you with injuries like that again, I will call CPS.”

“Whatever,” Leonard replies. He mutters a few more swear words and leaves the room, hoping that his teacher is angry at him now and determined to keep his injuries covered from now on. He leaves the middle school and picks up Lisa, then asks,

“So, sis, how’d your day go?” In response, Lisa frowns.

“Lydia Brown made fun of my clothes again and said that her mommy had told her that I was trash and would probably rob the whole class blind,” she says sadly.

“It’ll be okay, Lisa. When you’re bigger and become super famous, she’ll regret making fun of you. Besides, her older brother is in my grade, so I’ll just tell him to tell her not to mess with you, or he’ll have to answer to me.”

“Thanks, Lenny. You’re as brave and heroic as the Flash.” The two walk home to find their father gone. Leonard breathes a sigh of relief. Since he isn’t here, Lisa’ll be able to do her homework. Lisa sits down at the kitchen table and pulls out a math sheet, and Leonard starts making dinner. He’s still making spaghetti when Lisa asks him for help.

“Lenny, what’s nine minus four?”

“Five.” Despite his math grades, Leonard is actually really good at figuring. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to buy groceries and help his father pay the bills. He wonders what his teachers would think of that. After all, they all think he’s a stupid delinquent. None of them would ever guess that he’s responsible for taking care of his little sister, and he prefers it that way. Mockery is better than pity. Five minutes later, Lisa finishes her homework and Leonard finishes cooking the spaghetti and puts it in the fridge. This accomplished, he puts the clothes in the washing machine and then asks Lisa what she wants to do.

“Can we play dolls, Lenny?” Leonard groans. He hates playing with dolls, but he can’t disappoint his little sister. Except for their grandfather, who’s in the hospital, he’s all she has.

“Sure, sis.” The two of them get out Lisa’s collection of dolls (the majority of which come from either Goodwill or social service people who felt bad for her) and he asks,

“So, little sis, what do you want them to do?” Lisa grins.

“Let’s have Lydia (the creepy-looking porcelain doll she’d insisted he purchase at Goodwill) and Mariah (a rag doll with red hair) have a tea party and then go visit Tina (a Barbie doll with very short hair thanks to the previous owner cutting most of it off).” If it were up to Leonard, he would have all the dolls punch each other, but then again, he’s a man. Men don’t play with toys like little kids do.

“Sounds great, little sis.” An hour later, the game has somehow morphed into a really weird Star Wars parody featuring a female Flash (played by a knock-off Barbie) fighting the evil empire, which was lead by an evil emperor named Lewis (who was played by a cracked lawn gnome that had also been a Goodwill purchase), and both Leonard and Lisa have collapsed into uncontrollable giggling because Lisa had had the female Flash declare that she would defeat Lewis by vibrating him through a wall and then making him clean up all his beer bottles, only to realize how weird that sounded and declare that she wanted a do-over.

“Little sis, you’re the greatest,” Leonard says after he stops laughing-only to freeze in fright when he hears the door slam open and then slam shut.

“Leonard! Lisa! Get in here now!” The two rush to the door and find their father standing there with a bottle in his hand. He swears violently, slaps Leonard hard across the face, and then calls him a name that had gotten him suspended for three days when he’d used it at school. Lisa shrieks and clings to him, and he sighs and wonders how it’s possible that his father is drunk again when he’d made sure that only one of the bottles had had alcohol in it.

“So, you think you’re pretty smart, don’t you, you little punk? You filled my drinks with water and made me buy more to replace them. You moron! If it weren’t for you wasting my money, I’d be a millionaire, but no, I had to have a dirty, no-good punk kid instead! You’re supposed to respect me, not waste my money, you stupid brat! And now you’ll pay.” Leonard sighs and goes to fetch his father’s belt. Hopefully, it won’t hurt too much this time. Then his father grabs his shoulder and violently stops him in his tracks.

“No. I got a more effective way of punishing you.” He smashes his beer bottle on the counter and motions Leonard towards him. Leonard complies, unsure of what his father plans to do but too afraid to anger him. His father raises the bottle and brings it down hard across his arm, creating a spurt of blood. Then he shoves him into the counter and punches him in the ribcage. Leonard glances at his sister. She looks terrified, but hasn’t been hurt. Good. Leonard braces himself and his father gives him a black eye, then hits him with the bottle again, drawing more blood.

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I-I just wanted you to be happy, and you don’t seem very happy when you’re drunk.” He doesn’t really think he did anything wrong, but his father is scaring Lisa, so if he can bring the punishment to an end by apologizing, he will.

“You’re sorry? That don’t change a thing, you little sissy! You’re a sniveling little coward and I wish that you’d never been born!” He hits Leonard in the mouth, and Leonard tastes blood.

“Dad...please….”He has to protect Lisa!

“Shut up, you worthless yellow-bellied ninny!” His father raises the bottle to hit Leonard again, but suddenly, Lisa runs into his path and receives the full blow from the bottle. It opens up her shoulder and blood spurts everywhere.

“LISA!” His sister doesn’t reply. His father is right. He really shouldn’t have been born. If it wasn’t for him, Lisa wouldn’t be bleeding.

“You...you hurt Lisa!” he yells at his father.

“And if you don’t behave, I’ll do it again the next time. Maybe threatening to hurt her for your mistakes will make you give me some respect.” Leonard’s eyes widen in fear. Most of the time, he doesn’t know why his father gets angry at him. If his father starts hurting Lisa for his mistakes, he’ll never forgive himself.

“Dad, please don’t do that. Please, leave her alone! I promise I’ll never, ever sass you again, I swear. Just don’t hurt her again!” His father scowls.

“Whatever.” He looks over his daughter, then says,

“She’ll be fine. I know somebody who can stitch her up-and boy, if you even think about calling 911, I’ll tell them that you attacked her.” Leonard nods. He’ll never call 911 anyway, because if he ever does, he’ll lose Lisa. His father takes Lisa away a few minutes later, leaving Leonard alone with his thoughts. His little sister is hurt because of him, and he’s terrified. What if she dies? What if someone finds out what happens and he is separated from her? What if she decides she hates him for not protecting her? How much money is the surgery going to cost? How can he possibly trust himself to protect her after this? His father is right-he is worthless, and he always will be. He contemplates calling 911 so that Lisa will be taken away from their father, but quickly decides against it. Lisa will be terrified if she’s separated from him, and besides, what if the police believe his father and put him in jail? His grandfather will be so disappointed if that happens. Instead of calling 911, he grabs his father’s broken bottle and deepens the cut in his arm. If Lisa has to bleed, he should, too. Two hours later, his father returns with Lisa, dumps her on the floor, and demands dinner. Leonard gets the spaghetti out of the fridge, heats it up, and places it on the table. His father starts eating mechanically, and Leonard runs to Lisa. Much to his relief, her eyes flutter open after a few seconds, and she bursts into tears.

“Daddy hit me!” she wails. Leonard checks her shoulder and sees that it has been awkwardly stitched together. His heart breaks for her. Why does his little sister have to live like this when she’s done no wrong? She isn’t a delinquent like him or a drunk like his Dad. She doesn’t deserve this pain and poverty. Why has she been left with only a delinquent punk kid to raise her?

“Get your sister to stop crying or I’ll give you both something to cry about!” Leonard winces at the sound of his father’s voice and starts hushing his sister. About a minute later, she’s stopped crying and asks,

“Are you okay, Lenny?”

“Don’t worry about me, sis. I’m fine. How are you? Are you all right? Do you need anything? I’m so sorry that I let you get hurt.” His little sister isn’t supposed to worry about him.

“I’m….okay. Is Daddy still mad at us?”

“I dunno.” Leonard replies. He rocks her for a few minutes, and then his father finishes his meal and turns on the TV, then walks over to the couch and collapses on it. Leonard cleans up his plate, tells Lisa to eat, and then puts the wet laundry in the drier.

“Get me a beer, boy.” Leonard sighs and hands his father a can from the fridge, then joins his sister at the table and eats dinner. A few minutes later, Lisa finishes her food and tiptoes off to her room, and then Leonard finishes eating, cleans up the plates, puts away the laundry, and goes to Lisa’s room to help her plan her outfit for tomorrow. He leaves the room while she changes into her PJs, then helps her brush her teeth and tucks her into bed.

“Can you tell me another story, Lenny?”

“Sure, Lisa. What about?”

“Maybe one about some beautiful imaginary creature, like a fairy or a unicorn or a nice mommy who actually lives with her kids.” Leonard almost swears, but catches himself. Why does his sister have to live without a mother? What has she done?

“Okay, sis. Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Lisa, and her brother, Leonard. They lived in Central City and they were the best of friends, but they had a problem-their parents didn’t want them, and neither did anyone else, because they were poor and people thought they were bad and mean just like their Dad was, and their Grandpa was too sick to help them. But then, one day, Lisa met a nice man and lady while she was ice skating. They were really impressed by her, so they asked her who she was, and soon they became friends with her, and when they learned that nobody wanted her and that he dad was loud and angry all the time, they called the police and he got taken away forever, and then she and her big brother got adopted by them and lived happily ever after.”

“And they had a pony and their house was made of candy!”

“And that. The end.”

“You’re the bestest storyteller ever, Lenny.” A few seconds later, she’s asleep, and Leonard kisses her on the head.

“Love you, sis.” He leaves her room and goes back to the living room, where his father is still drinking. Someday, he’ll make his father regret this day, when he gets older and can fight him. Someday, Lisa will have everything she wants. But it won’t come from imaginary caring parents. They don’t exist. He’s the only one who can give her her happy ending, and he will-no matter who gets in the way or what he has to do. After all, his future is doomed already. But if he can keep hers bright, he will have succeeded in protecting her, and that’s the only thing that matters. He certainly doesn’t.

#trigger warning for abuse #flash rogues #len snart #lisa snart #dc comics #Lewis/Larry Snart's A+ Parenting #fanfic #@gorogues

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dracula-in-purple-story · 3 years

Text

Trick and Treat

The benefits of being underground heroes means no one would recognise you. A fact that three certain heroes (plus a sentient quirk) exploit it mercilessly.

Halloween. An event where people of all kinds get to excuse themselves for pranks and indulged themselves with tooth-rotting candy. It’s also a certain event where two gothic-theme heroes are free to cursed their mothers for bringing them to life far too soon or far too late.

“That’s not a reason to cursed my in-laws, Fumi, Shi.” Shoji Mezou huffed before turning two of his appendages to mouths as to pecked his gloomy husbands. Shoji-Tokoyami Fumikage, who draped himself with a dark cloak and held a handmade scythe, fumed pettily alongside with Shoji-Kuroiro Shihai, who decided to wrapped themselves an equally as black bandages.

“Mezou love, I didn’t agree to marry you to hear you stand in defence for our mothers who let us down for the first time in the beginning of our lives.”

“Fumi’s right in a way. If only they could at least put in more effort on giving birth before the sacred event had ended-”

“Or wait a bit more longer-”

“Okay, guys. I kinda didn’t agree to waste my day off on listening to your brooding. So, could we get moving?” Ojiro Tooru wiggled around in her plain-white cloth while exaggerated her frustration, earning some laughs among her husbands.

“Take care and have fun, Ruru,” Mashirao softly spoke as he setting up the makeshift pillow fort around Hitoshi. The Ojiro husbands decided to spend their rare day off to watch horror marathon with the main Shoji patriarch.

The invisible lady just giggled before dragging off the other Shoji husbands for their play dates. Mezou waved them off, even blew the sentient quirk a kiss back, before settling down besides the pillow fort.

“Five thousand yens they come back with more candies than they are allow to have.”

“Six thousand.”

“Bet.”

“Toshi! Mezou!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Any gummy packets? All I got is candy corns.” the boy with four arms and dressed as Red Riot grimaced.

“Nope, I only got two packets of strawberry marshmallows and some Miruko-branded carrot candies, Red Riot Junior. What about you, Deku Junior?” the green-skinned girl dressed as Shemage quietly answered before glancing at the bulking boy with scales that dressed as the Symbol of Hope.

He smirked before lifting up his bucket, making the other kids jaw dropped. In there, three huge packets of Bakusquad-branded fruity gummies, five king-sized Fatgum-branded chocolate bars, two swirly red and white lollipops, and a box of bite-sized candy bars themed after Pre-Debut UA Class A.

“Impressive, huh?”

“No jokes, Ken- I mean, Deku Junior! How?!” the Red Riot ‘Junior’ tried to reach out before getting his hand slapped by the now-sneering boy.

“Don’t touch it! Anyways, I just roamed around the neighbourhood that filled with old farts who got too much money to spend. One glance at my mega awesome costume then they throwing me prizes after prizes!” The scaly boy exclaimed proudly as he showed off his goods, “Wish you have this amazing influence than some two-bits characters you two decided to dressed as!”

“You got some nerves insulting the chivalrous hero and the mushroom heroine, kid.” All three kids quickly turned towards the voice down the alley. Seeing that it’s someone who decided that draping a white blanket is a good enough costume, the boy scoffed rudely.

“What, blanket girlie, you think you have the rights to tell me off when you have a lame ass costume?” “Wrong, it’s an awesome costume!” the blanket girlie huffed out her chest proudly, “You just didn’t see what is under these ghost sheets.”

“Ghost sheets?” the green girl snickered, “Yeah, right.”

“Why don’t we check it out, eh?” the four-arms boy grinned at the Deku cosplayer, who smirked back as he reached out to pull the sheets. As he did so, the kids paled. There is... nothing under the sheet. Not even the girl who is supposed to be draped over.

Suddenly, eerie radio screeches can be heard behind the ghost(?). Two little lights are flashing red at where the head are supposed to be located. The lackeys, scared out of their wits, dropped their buckets as they ran away, leaving the leader behind.

“You took a look under my sheet, and now...” the ghost(?) floated even higher, “YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED! MUAHAHAHA!”

“AAAAA!” the scaly brute dashed off immediately after throwing his bucket at the ghost(?). As the boy disappeared down the street, Tooru immediately emptied out the buckets into her Invisible Bag, which is almost filled to the brimmed with her delicious loots. Hearing another group of little trick-or-treaters coming in her way, she immediately set into her position.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is just plain stupid. This horror story telling is too repetitive. The dead girl in the toilet. The spooky piano that plays on its own. The suicide forest. Sure they can scared and spooked Hanako at first but listening to these stories over and over again seems to lose its charm.

Her peers didn’t seem to think so. Sitting in a badly formed circle in the middle of an empty park with an electric candle right in the middle of the said circle. Some third-rated spooky music supposedly to put people in the mood to get scared.

“... and there she sat, drinking the boy’s blood like a drug!”

“You sure this is a true story? Sounds fake.”

“Totes not! Search ‘blood drinking girl’, man!”

Even if it’s a true story, Hanako doubt the legality of the story. If this T.H. girl supposedly love this guy, she should kill those girls instead of the boy. Eh, she shouldn’t question it.

“Sooooo, who’s next?”

“Can I have a turn?”

“Sure!”

A husky voice chuckled, making the horror-numb girl trembled. That was new to her, not one of her peers sound like that. Even her seat partners shivered too.

“Let’s see, anyone ever heard of a certain narcissistic man who killed anyone who said he’s ugly?”

Oh, this is new. Perhaps her peers didn’t disappoint her yet. After affirmation, the rasping voice continued. Due to the light is too dimmed, she was unable to see who’s telling the tale with such voice.

“There was once a man, with a face no one could ever compare to. His visual is second to none. Women praised him, loved him, worshipped him. Men hated him, cursed him, and some even fell for him.”

Hanako lighted up. A total original story! She listened with rapt attention, ignoring how her horny peers groaned and moaned at the suggestively rough voice.

“One unfortunate event is all it took for people to turned away from the man. An arson planned by envious men who couldn’t take it anymore, seeing their supposedly lawful spouses dreamed and loved a man that isn’t them. How envy drove them mad. The damage is dealt. His entire body is burnt to crisps and yet, he lived.”

The music stopped. Before the person in charge of it could fix it, it suddenly played an ominous song that she had never heard before. She didn’t know that the harsh-sounding peer have good taste in music.

“Truly unfortunate it is. The once handsome man lost all his supporters in one whole swoop. His haters jeered and hurling faux-pity at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Wrapped in his measly black-burnt bandages, he asked each and every single one of the people, ‘Am I handsome? Am I gorgeous?’. People jabbed jokes at him before they get stabbed to death.”

Hanako is curling into her jacket as the air getting chilly. Weird, as inattentive as she was, no one have a quirk related to wind. Now she think about it, not even one of them have a husky voice, even the her male peers are just getting their puberty hit on them.

“One by one, they dropped to their death. Even children and the senile were not spared. The man went mad with his vanity spiralled out. He asked, he cried, he stabbed. Then, he came onto a group of teens who sat around in a circle telling stories after stories. Can I ask?”

The girl suddenly felt dread coursed over her body. She thinks some of her peers piss themselves. Before anyone could react, the electrical candle went off. Hanako quickly reached out to turned it on and, lo and behold, a man wrapped in black-burnt bandages stood in the middle of the circle.

“Am I handsome?” the man who owned said husky voice gleamed at them with flashing black eyes, “Am I... gorgeous?”

Screams could be heard throughout the neighbourhood. When people found the source of said scream, teens would either huddled up or straight up fainted. The only thing missing among them are the candies they collected. Hanako might cried a bit, but whoever that man is, he earned himself a fan.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Happy Halloween!”

Waving off the kids, Mrs Gokudera beamed at her almost empty candy-bowl. Ever since her grandkids started their high schools, they almost never visit her in this lonely home, which makes this holiday truly joyful. Just as she was about to filled the candy-bowl with her homemade striped candy balls, her doorbell rang. Sighing blissfully, she opened up the door.

Instead of little children, few masked people appeared the other side of the door. Mrs Gokudera usually pleased to see that other people enjoyed the good old trick-or-treating but her quirk, Intentions, alerted her as she saw them with dangerously black aura.

“Heya, old lady. Trick or-”

“Definitely trick, imbeciles.”

Interrupting the one who started to sprouted blades out of their arms, the group of masked people turned towards the other side. Mrs Gokudera couldn’t see who it was as the malicious people blocked her sights but she saw a white aura coming out from that person. Knowing she was in good hands, she immediately slammed her door and dialled the police. As she dare peeked out of the window, she gawked at a hooded figure fighting against people with an obviously fake scythe and a manifested shadow(?) that seems to basked in the chaos.

When the police arrived, the fight is over. The hooded figure and his shadow companion came out unscathed but his prop is broken. Sensing his frustration through a grey aura, Mrs Gokudera beckoned the bird-headed figure, who seems to finished his statement to the police.

“Hello, dearie. You okay?”

“Don’t worry, madam. We are perfectly fine. Although we had to cut short our fun due to this unholy festive spirits that decided to bother you.” the hooded figure solemnly nodded.

“Oh dear. Sorry to cause you trouble.”

The shadow companion seems to beamed at her loudly, “Don’t worry, lady! We are heroes! This is nothing!”

Ah, that explains why the police didn’t bother him for vigilantism. Clearing her thoughts up, she thanked him by giving most of her stashes. It’s really funny seeing how the bird-headed hero humbly accepted while the shadow just cackled in delight as they dumped the wrapped candy balls into their goody bags.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We are back, hubbies!”

“Welcome ba- why are there ten gigantic bags? Did you guys steal them?”

The three trick-or-treaters sheepishly chuckled as they got stared down by the tail hero. Behind Mashirao, Mezou handed a few paper money to Hitoshi, who tried to snickered quietly before got stared down by his disappointed husband too.

#Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #Shoji Mezo #Tokoyami Fumikage #Hagakure Tooru #Ojiro Mashirao #Shinso Hitoshi #Kuroiro Shihai #Shotoko #Shitoko #Shokuro #Shotokokuro #Shinoji #Ojitooru #Shintooru #Shinojitooru #draculainpurple

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kellykadesperate · 4 years

Text

the earth pulls me back

read on ao3:

Robert’s sipping a glass of red wine and Aaron’s trying to take Jacob seriously as he tells them he wants to start working at the garage.

“Mate, you’re too young.”

“To what? Wash some cars.” Jacob brings out his phone and starts going through a list. “Come on, it’s basically in my genes.”

“Your genes?” Aaron plays with the remote in his hand, stares at how animated he is about all of this and he feels this sense of pride whack him over the head.

“Yeah. You both were —“

“Grease monkeys?” Robert says, and Aaron feels his hands wander around his waist as they lay back together a bit more. Aaron smiles, faint and gentle and enough to make Jacob look at them like they’re mad. “Fine. Trial run and we get to speak to your uncle Cain before you start.”

Jacob leaves them in peace after that, gets back on his phone texting whoever’s listening and Aaron stares up at Robert with soft eyes.

“What?”

Aaron shrugs, tiny but there. “Something really cute about our son working in the garage we …”

“First shagged in?”

Aaron sits up, hands firm around Robert’s middle. “I was going to say got married in but …” He leans in close and then pulls back again. “He doesn’t find out about that.” He cringes, Robert’s left staring at his adult husband embarrassed about sex.

“Hmm. Can I find out about it again?” Robert bucks his hips, gets them both all excited and Aaron leans in to kiss him when the door goes.

Seb’s got this look on his face and Aaron instantly gets up and goes towards him. He’s eighteen years old, taller than both of them, lanky and in need of a hair cut but so suddenly he looks like he’s just fell off his bike and needs a plaster.

“Mate.” Aaron says, his voice nearly goes because Seb’s face is red and blotchy and his eyes are puffy enough to make Robert stand too. “How was the fil—“

“We didn’t see it.”

Robert comes forward and then steps back again. “Well you could always …”

“What’s happened?” Aaron can’t stop the words rushing out and Seb looks at him. He just looks and then he’s shaking his head and sighing.

“We’re done.” Seb shrugs, he puts his keys down on the table, goes to take his jacket off.

Aaron frowns, he looks at Robert and then back towards their son. “What do you mean you’re …”

“It’s over.” Seb sounds like Robert, Aaron latches onto how deep his voice has become and the way his shoulders hunch like he’s protecting himself. “It’s over because she was sucking the face off someone else by the time I got there.”

The silence speaks, makes Robert’s head almost burst. “She was what?” He turns to Aaron and sees that he’s got tears in his eyes like it’s happening to him.

“Cheating on me.” Seb twists at his lip to stop from crying the way Aaron does and Robert’s forced to look away. “And why wouldn’t she? Why would she want to be with a loser like …”

Aaron’s there so quickly that Seb doesn’t even finish his sentence. He swoops in and holds him like he’s a baby and Robert stays where he is, silently wanting to murder every teenager he can think of.

Eventually Seb pulls away, face wet and this look on his face. Aaron’s holding him still, a hand on his shoulder and a soft voice in his ear.

“She’s mad.” He’s saying. Seb’s already shaking his head and Aaron’s struck by himself. He sees who he was when he was Seb’s age and it’s like he’s his mum. It’s terrifying in all sorts of ways. “She is. Seb you’re …”

“You were too good for her. Do you hear us?” Robert says, voice like he’s in a meeting because if he shouts it’ll only end in Seb telling him to stop trying to take control.

Seb has his head low and then he moves away, pulls his arms over himself and says something about getting a shower.

“I can bring you up something.”

“No I’m fine.” Seb lies and he’s good at it. Robert watches him go, hears him run into Annie and she asks about how Molly is almost straight away.

Molly. Robert thinks about her as he moves towards the kitchen and pours them both another glass of wine. He looks at the table and remembers when she came for dinner, she was all smiles then. He should have seen something about her, tried to halt his son from feeling like this but he didn’t.

“He’s always felt like that.”

“Like what?”

Robert holds the glass out towards Aaron and watches his husband pull a face in disgust as he gulps it down. “Like he wasn’t good enough for her.” He sighs hard.

“I want her to pay.” Aaron’s saying, his fist in a ball. “And the idiot she thought she could just kiss and —“

“Aaron.”

“Robert, our little boy is crying upstairs because of her.” Aaron folds his arms over and remembers Seb getting dumped at his school prom a few years ago. It was nothing, he was still so young, different to how he is now. He remembers feeling like someone was ripping out his own heart.

“You don’t think I know that?” Robert says, and it isn’t a question, it’s this plea that he’s given because he doesn’t want to think about it at all.

Aaron gets it, steps forward and brings his hands around his husband until their chests are pressed together.

“We’ll get him through this.” Aaron places a kiss to Robert’s head, breathes in and out until Ella’s by the stairs demanding another story.

—

He’s quiet. Seb’s got his head stuck down into a bowl of cornflakes and Robert’s watching him from the sofa as he plaits Annie’s hair.

“Why’s he so sad?” Annie’s a terrible whisperer, a terrible liar too and Robert just kisses her head and tells her not to worry in the slightest.

Aaron comes down with Ella on his back and Jacob trailing behind him and as soon as the chaos of the school run is done with the little ones, Jacob’s waiting in the car and they’re talking.

Seb’s got his tie on funny, has his hair pressed against his forehead like he’s not even bothered to style it.

“You know you look just like your dad when he’s first woken up.” Aaron says, he sits down slowly and then watches Seb’s shoulders hunch, tense. “Come on Seb.”

“What?” Seb looks up finally and Robert comes over to sit down. “What do you want me to even say?”

“I’m taking the bus!” Jacob comes in, backpack on and headphones yanked off.

“Hold on, no —“ The door slams shut and Robert sighs hard before looking back at his son. “Just talk to us.”

Seb bites his lip. “She was with some guy when I got to hers. I saw them through the window.” He breathes in. “And it hurt.”

Robert looks over at Aaron, rubs at his thigh to calm him down.

“What did she say?”

“That she was sorry. It didn’t mean anything. But then he was saying everything anyway.” Aaron stares, and he thinks of his hands on a marble counter, tears rolling down his face and his heart beating out of his chest.

“Saying …” Robert closes his eyes, hears shouting, feels like he’s going to break down if Aaron doesn’t stop shouting. “What was he saying?”

“That they’d been seeing each other behind my back. That he was her ex so …” Seb’s eyes flicker. “So she was bored of me and …”

“That doesn’t mean she gets to break your heart.” Aaron leans over, his knee starts bouncing and then he sees Seb’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Molly said it meant nothing but he was saying that … he was saying when and where and everything. He was enjoying it.”

Robert’s jaw locks. “Just tell me his name.”

“You think that matters?” Seb asks. He has a hand clasped over the other and he blinks gently. “I don’t care about him.”

“Well then what’s with …” Aaron pulls his hands over and sees the bruising on Seb’s knuckles. “Seb.”

“I’m going to be late for school.”

“So I’ll drive —“

“I don’t want you to.” Seb looks at Robert, there’s something he isn’t saying and Robert notices. He notices and the door slams shut anyway.

—

Robert watches Aaron come into the scrapyard complaining of back ache and making him hold back something to tease him about.

He would, any other day he would but now he just sort of stares out the window.

“Robert?”

Robert turns to him, plays with his wedding ring and then sits up straighter.

“How could she do it?”

Aaron sighs. “She’s a kid.”

“A stupid one.”

“Robert.” Aaron says, he looks up from his paperwork and shakes his head. “Look I know she’s messed everything up. Trust me. But us saying we hate her won’t make Seb hate her even more will it? It’ll probably do the opposite.” He thinks of conversations with his mum, Robert at the centre of it all and him being told countless times to just stay away from him. It was all “evil Robert” back then and he didn’t really listen to a word of any of it.

Robert closes his eyes. “She made him feel safe. He was happy with her. She couldn’t keep it in her —“

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Well what were you like at her age?”

Robert looks up sharply and then stares right at his husband. “Nice.” He says. “I’m allowed to be a hypocrite about this, he’s our son.”

Aaron shakes his head. “I didn’t mean — I’m just saying.” He tries, feels like he’s on egg shells and Robert’s about to crack.

Robert starts waving his hands about and Aaron knows where this is going already. “How could she cheat on him? That’s all I’m saying.”

“I know …” Aaron whispers, his eyes dart for a second and he’s stuck in a thought he has. When he looks up next, Robert is staring at him with a frown on his face. “What?”

“What was that look?”

Aaron pulls a hand over his eyes, sighs hard. “I didn’t give one. At all.” He shrugs. “I’m not defending her, I’m just saying that these things happen. We’ve all …”

“No. You mean I have.” Robert says it before he has the chance to consult himself on whether he wants to blow everything up for no good reason. The thought has been pressing on his mind for too long now though and he has to say it. “That’s what you’re saying.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re paranoid.” He watches Robert circle the desk and pick up his car keys. “What are —“

Robert shakes his head. “Clear my head.”

“Just hang on a minute.” Aaron says, but Robert’s already getting out the door and walking towards his car. “You’re being —“

Robert turns. “No. I’m saying what we’ve both been thinking about since he told us.”

Aaron keeps his mouth shut. It serves as one heck of a reply.

—

Robert’s got a massive chip on his shoulder and Aaron’s deciding to leave him alone for the time being.

It makes sense to which is why he’s bothering his mum and sister about all of this instead.

“I’ll kill her.” Chas says, she’s holding a kettle like she’s ready to whack someone over the head with it and he tries to calm her down. “Molly seemed like such a lovely …”

“She’s clearly not.” Eve helps, gets her head out of her phone and stares at her brother. “Everyone at school knows about it.”

“Shouldn’t you be there?”

Eve looks at Chas. “Women’s issues Aaron.” She says, and he’s certain it’s to see the face he pulls.

“Now Robert’s got it into his head that I’m somehow linking this to …” Chas rolls her eyes. “What?”

“They’re kids.”

“That’s what I tried saying.” Aaron comes further towards his mum and watches Eve grab a bottle of water before getting up the stairs. “This lad was there going through every detail though. Just like I did. Maybe that’s why …”

“Too close to home.” Chas says for him and he tries to keep his head down, make out like he isn’t worried it’ll cause something bigger between them.

It’s a reminder of something he’d rather never have to think of again.

The day he blew everything to pieces and watched Robert scramble for what was left of his life.

—

He meets Robert by the swing park with Ella almost an hour later. The air is crisp and he sticks his mouth into his jacket, pulls up to stop the cold getting in until he’s clearing his throat and watching his husband spin.

“How was the drive?”

Robert turns, eyes flickering and he looks a little embarrassed. “Ended up picking this one up from nursery early.” He says and then he sighs. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

Aaron bites his lip. “I wasn’t trying to say anything.” He says, he watches Robert come further towards him and then he’s waving his hands out aimlessly.

“I know. You were trying not to.”

Aaron opens his mouth and then shuts it again. “I didn’t want to upset you.” He says, honest and enough to make Robert feel bad for marching out like he did.

Robert looks back at Ella swinging herself with her little legs and then starts pushing the swing for her again. Aaron stays behind, leans over to hold Robert around the waist.

“But I have. Haven’t I?”

Aaron leans away, watches Robert watch him. “It made me think of me and you. Cheating. You telling …” He gulps hard and the memory’s always been lodged into place in his mind but now it’s front and centre and banging about with a drum. “It made me think of stuff and I was just angry. I was angry at —“

“Me?”

Robert’s eyes widen. “No. No. No, me. I was angry at myself.” He frowns. “Why would I be —“

“For blowing the whole thing up in the first place.”

“That was years ago.”

“Yeah I know.” Aaron steps forward. “I know but …”

Robert closes his eyes. “Yeah it was … one of the worst days of my life. All of it.” Aaron knows what he’s saying but also knows talking about that time in a swing park isn’t the best of ideas. “So when I heard it, I just … I just hated him being in that position.”

Aaron has a hand on Robert’s shoulder, squeezes down and then looks up into his eyes. “I get it.” He says. “And you cheating in the past … it has nothing to do with being there for Seb.”

Robert breathes in, nods gently. “I hope you’re right.” He sighs and then turns his attention back on Ella.

—

Seb comes home with a bright red face and it’s clear he’s trying to be pretend like he isn’t still angry about everything. He says he’s not spoke to her, he’s text, said that he needs time to think.

Aaron has Ella bouncing on his lap and he kisses her head, watches Seb slope upstairs before he turns to Robert.

“See. Time. That’s all he needs.”

“I can tell the time.” Ella says, and Robert manages to laugh through his unease.

He comes home three days later at half twelve at night clearly tipsy and talking about being just as bad as her.

“You need to sleep.” Aaron tells him, a hand over his shoulder and already asking Robert to get him some water. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah I’m not an idiot.”

Robert huffs. “No. You’re just absolutely mullered.” Aaron snaps his neck up, gives Robert this look. “What? It’s true.” He closes his eyes. “Mate, where have you —“

“I kissed some girl.” Seb says, like it’s the worst thing he’s ever done in his life. “Why did I even go to that party?” Robert goes to speak and Seb shakes his head. “For Isaac.” He rolls his eyes. “I kissed someone else. I cheated too.” He sits slumped on the sofa and Robert tightens his dressing gown and sits next to him.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Seb’s green eyes turn into watery wide circles and he frowns. “Doesn’t it? I cheated on her dad. I did exactly what she did to me.”

Robert scoffs, leans over and he really thinks he’s helping. “She was seeing someone behind your back. You don’t have anything to feel bad about.”

“Then why do I?” Seb says, his chin wobbles and he places his head in his hands, closes his eyes shut.

Aaron sighs, comes a little closer towards him. “Because you’re a good person, and you’d never want to hurt her.”

Robert looks like he doesn’t understand, scoots closer as well. “But she hurt you Seb.” Aaron looks at him like he wants him to shut up, like he’s digging a grave and making things worse.

Seb looks at him like he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. “What so this is just some revenge?”

Robert scrambles, tries to stick to whatever price of advice he was trying to chuck about a few minutes ago. “No. I’m just saying that this isn’t cheating.”

Seb blinks out this look. “Well sorry I didn’t learn it all from the expert.” He practically shouts it out and then he’s flying up the stairs.

Robert feels frozen against the shock.

—

The light in their bedroom glows amber, spreads this warmth across the room that they desperately need to feel.

Robert stares hard into space, feels everything inside him stretch and pull before Aaron’s climbing into bed and putting his arms around him. They haven’t spoken about it since it happened, Seb said absolutely nothing over dinner and when Jacob sensed something was right he made up an excuse about a headache.

Robert doesn’t want to talk about it but he does too. He wants to speak about all his worries and fears until there’s absolutely nothing left but it’s more difficult than that and he knows it.

He starts with something, Aaron’s hand on his hair palming through locks in silence.

“He meant that.”

“He’s angry.” Aaron says it like it doesn’t matter, like it’ll pass. “That’s all.” Aaron takes a hand from his Robert’s hair and runs a hand it up Robert’s middle, smooths a circle. “His head’s all over the place.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Robert whispers, chin tilted down slightly. “But he’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t even listen; it’s like he can’t. “No, he isn’t.” He says, because he’s trying to stop this going any deeper and make his husband feel any worse.

Robert tries turning towards him, finds that he can’t. “I’m a cheat. Now he knows how it feels to be cheated on.”

Aaron sits up and Robert slides down a little further so that he can’t face him. It doesn’t stop speaking though. “It’s not as simple as that is it?”

Robert sighs. “What because their kids? I was doing it back then and I’m …”

“You’re what?” Aaron says, Robert suddenly notices that he’s got his jumper sleeves rolled up and he stares at his forearms with his head still bent. “You’re a bad person? Is that why you’re trying to say.”

Robert sighs. “No.” He says, because maybe he does think that but saying it now will only make Aaron look at him like he’s heartbroken about it.

Aaron breathes in, turns Robert so that he’s facing him. “We need to do this together. You need to talk to me. So if it’s not that then —“

“I’m trying to say that I can’t comfort him without being some sort of mad hypocrite.”

Aaron eyes widen and he leans back, looks down at the duvet and then up at Robert again. “You said it before and you were right. He’s your son. You get to be a hypocrite.”

Robert thinks about wanting to be, going over to Molly’s house and giving her and her parents a piece of his mind about how much she’s messed up his son. He contemplates finding out whoever her ex was and forcing him to stay away. It would make things better for a little while and then Seb would hate him for it.

“You really do.” Aaron repeats it all because Robert looks lost.

Robert sighs hard though, almost like he’s falling into something and he has no control over it. “Yeah? Well I don’t think he sees it like that.”

“Yeah ‘cause he’s a kid.”

“A kid who knows all about how much his dad put it about.” Robert groans. “He doesn’t want me around him.”

Aaron folds his arms over. “Maybe not now. But give him time.” He leans over and kisses at Robert’s forehead slowly, it makes Robert reach up, squeeze at his arm and relax.

—

Seb’s changed and Robert isn’t going to pretend like he hasn’t. It’s like he’s carrying around this sadness he’s pretending he doesn’t have. It makes Robert stare at him a little longer, worry about everything that’s going on in his head.

Ella’s on his lap and he’s reading her a story when Seb comes in from school later than expected. Robert tries to bite his tongue against, watches as Seb kicks off his shoes by the door and keeps his back towards him. He thinks of leaving it until he’s thinking about his own dad and it causes this thing to press through him.

He just says his name. It barely comes out really. “Seb.”

“I’ve got homework.”

Robert closes his eyes, he squeezes around Ella a little tighter as he tries to say something. “You haven’t said a word to me all day.”

“I’ve been at school.”

“Don’t.” Robert sighs. “You know what I mean.”

Seb closes his eyes, waves a hand out and pulls his rucksack off of him as he looks up the stairs. He looks at Ella and then at his dad. “I don’t have anything to say.”

Robert nods. “Yeah you do.”

Aaron comes in with Annie seconds later and Robert stops speaking again. He wonders what Aaron thinks he should do about this tension and then he realises he wants them to talk. He comes towards Robert and picks Ella up from his lap, gets her upstairs.

Annie stays, eyes glued on her phone before she looks up. “What’s with the face?” She suddenly frowns. “What’s going on?”

Seb stands awkwardly before going to turn upstairs.

“Is this Molly again?” Annie tuts and then looks at Robert. He suddenly remembers how sensitive she is to anything bad happening, how she’s resilient because she’s had to be but they’re always going to want to protect her from any angst. “Seb. Forget her.”

“It’s easier said then done.” Robert says, “Have you got any —“

“Homework? Yeah.” Annie goes towards the stairs and then Robert stands, kisses at her head and she looks up with a smile on her face. “Don’t be weird.” He smiles as he watches her go and then she looks at her brother. “Some girl in my class fancies you if you need a boost or —“

“OK up you go.” Robert says and she goes willingly, leaves Seb stuck exactly where he was until Aaron comes back down the stairs again and Robert tries to think of how to approach this.

“What’s happened?” Aaron asks, it’s a normal question but it so quickly gets Seb’s back up.

“Nothing. I’ve got homework and I’m getting my head *pecked.”

Aaron frowns, folds his arms over. “Your dad’s just trying to talk to you Seb.” He looks at Robert, tries to communicate something between them and then watches Robert nod out a “thanks” before sighing.

Robert steps forward, waves a hand out. “You’ve been looking at me differently.“

Seb scowls. “Why’d you think?” He says, and Robert feels his heart pound hard and fast in his chest. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he tries to get past the feeling.

“Whatever you think, he’s your dad and he’s trying to help you.” Aaron’s saying all this stuff, he’s trying to help and be on Robert’s side but Seb’s still looking at them like they’re mad. He’s still looking at Robert like he doesn’t want to have this conversation at all.

“Listen.” Robert still has that hand waving about. “I’m not an idiot, I know that —“

“No, you’re a cheater.” Seb just says it, he doesn’t hold back and it’s just floating about in the air until Aaron speaks.

“Seb.” He says, eyes wide like he doesn’t want to hear any of this himself. Robert thinks about if Aaron’s been laying awake at night thinking about it all too. If he’s been remembering how much of a cheat his husband is, how it was something everyone used to think of him. Womaniser one week and gay the next but also a cheater in between.

“No. No.” Robert says, he doesn’t want him to stop, he can’t have him just stop. “Carry on.” He pleads, arms folded over as he stares at Seb.

Aaron steps in, knows that this is about Robert wanting to punish himself for things that happened decades ago and it won’t help. It’ll just bring up so much old shit that they don’t have to think about anymore. It’s just ripping open old wounds for absolutely no reason at all.

“What good will that do?” Aaron looks at Robert, tries to get him to listen.

“He needs to get it off his chest.” Robert says back, eyes wide as he looks at Aaron and feels his panic about melt into him. “You think I want him keeping all this in like I …”

Like he did, with his dad, years ago. Things brewed up until the point where Robert hated his dad in this way he knew he could never get over. He wipes a hand over his face and then looks at Seb.

“Go on.”

Seb’s eyes are wet and he looks more upset than angry now. He looks like he doesn’t want to be saying any of it but he can’t not say it either. “How could you hurt someone like that?”

Robert hangs his head in shock and he shouldn’t be. He knows this exact question was bobbing about on the surface since Seb came home that now. “I was … I couldn’t be honest about who I was back then Seb. Me and your dad … having an affair wasn’t my best move but —“

“But you did it anyway? To my aunt.”

It’s all so close to home and it makes Robert feel like he can’t quite get anything out that’ll make that much difference.

He frowns. “You think that’s the same as this? It’s no where *near the same —“

Seb rolls his eyes. “What because I’m just a stupid kid?”

“No, because she’s a teenager and I was a grown man who couldn’t admit to what he really wanted.” Robert hasn’t had the chance to reflect, to rake everything back up again but now it spills out.

Aaron steps in when Seb doesn’t say anything. “Seb, your dad isn’t the enemy here.”

“I didn’t say he was.” Seb shrugs and then looks towards the ground.

“I’m not the only person who’s ever cheated Seb.” Robert scoffs. “Try half the flaming village.”

Seb scowls. “They’re not my dad though. You are.” He says, and then he looks back towards the floor like he can’t say anything else.

Robert crosses his arms over and tilts his head so that he can look down at his son. “You’re right. I know. But we just want to be here for you. So don’t push us away and don’t … don’t beat yourself up over a stupid kiss.”

“It was cheating.” Seb says, like it’s definitely the case. He looks up. “To me at least.”

Robert frowns. “What’s that meant to mean? I wouldn’t know the difference right.”

Seb just looks up, shakes his head and then sighs. “I did what she did to me.”

Robert sees Aaron as he tries to speak, he wants to shake him by the shoulders and stop the way he turns everything back on himself when things happen to him. He doesn’t shake him, instead he sighs and breathes in.

“Seb you made a mistake, it isn’t the same thing. Why can’t you just —“

Seb takes a step back. “As what? As having a full blown affair like you did.”

Aaron gets in the middle of them like they’re going to start hurting each other soon. “You need to calm down.”

Seb shakes his head. “Why? I’m right. Don’t tell me I’m missing something.”

Robert feels something in him snap. “Yeah. Fine. You’re right. I cheated on your aunt, but it’s the reason why your dad is —“

Seb cuts him off dead, he stares right at him like all he sees is a hypocrite. “And we all know the reason why I’m here don’t we? Because you did it again.”

Robert takes in a breath and his heart thuds loudly. He wonders if they can hear. He just stills, stares, and he doesn’t know what to say again. “Me and your dad weren’t in a good place.” He says, eventually, eyes flickering as he speaks.

“So you cheated, so you broke someone else’s heart.”

Aaron’s eyes widen. “Seb. Stop.”

“No. No. Why? Stop or I’ll hurt his feelings? I’m his son, it’s in my blood to fuck things up for other people.” Seb stops abruptly, the hand that was flying about stills and his eyes are wide.

Robert staggers back, feels himself hit Aaron’s chest when he didn’t even know he was standing behind him. He gravitates towards him maybe and then feels his hand instinctively against his arm.

Seb doesn’t say anything, no one does. He looks like he’s been caught eating a biscuit when his dinner’s nearly ready. It makes everything feel even worse.

“I didn’t …” Seb says. Then he stops and stares at Aaron like he wants him to say something to make it go away.

“You did.” Robert says. “And I hate how true everything you’ve just said really is.” He picks up his car keys and Aaron tries to stop him from leaving, says they have to talk. “I just need a minute.” He says, and what he really means is that he needs to drive around lonely country roads and try to forget the way Seb thinks of them.

—

Aaron watches from the window as the car rolls off the driveway and out of the village. His arms are crossed and he taps a finger against his hand before turning back towards Seb.

He’s sat slumped against the sofa in silence and Aaron can only hold on to the fact that he hasn’t disappeared as well.

“I know you didn’t mean that.” Aaron comes forward, stops at the sofa and then looks up at the stairs again to hear Annie telling Ella she’s going to karate chop her head off. He sighs, hears Jacob prizing them apart and yanking Ella over his shoulder and into his room.

“What if I did?”

Aaron gulps hard, feels like suddenly there’s all his biggest fears coming out of nowhere. There’s his kids not seeing their dad the way he sees him.

“Then I’d know for sure that you have no idea how amazing he is, how lucky you are that he’s your dad.”

Seb breathes in heavily, his shoulders bunch like he doesn’t want to speak. Then he does. He lifts his head and sighs. “What ‘cause he could be worse?”

Aaron frowns. “No, because he loves you.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t.” His voice is barely there as he speaks.

“No you’re saying he messes everything up because you know it’d hurt him to hear that.” Aaron comes closer. “And I get you want to hurt someone but it isn’t him. I won’t have that.”

“Well I have now haven’t I?” Seb kicks again the sofa, this anger in him that Aaron’s never wanted to have to see.

“Seb. Come here.” Aaron whispers. Seb doesn’t budge, he keeps his head down and Aaron sits closer to him on the sofa.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Come here kid. It’s OK.” It isn’t, it feels like everything is becoming more difficult to get Seb to listen to them. He knows how teenagers are; he remembers how *he was himself but this is all so scarily new that he’s still terrified of messing it up.

“It’s not.” Seb says, after a minute of this heavy thick silence. He sniffs, pulls a hand up to push off of his dad and sit up again. Aaron watches him rub his nose until it’s red raw and his freckles are bright against his paling skin. “I don’t like who I’m becoming.”

Aaron feels the words chip at his heart. “You’re not *becoming anything, you’re growing up.”

“Hurting people along the way.”

Aaron studies him for a second, remembers when he didn’t win an egg and spoon race for his team in year four and he spent the whole night worrying about letting everyone else down. He remembers how nothing they said could stop him from being so upset with himself. It was already there, this absolute ability to turn things on himself.

“That’s what happens sometimes. No one’s perfect.” Aaron says. “God. At your age I was … more than a little bit of a mess.”

Seb turns to him. “Yeah ‘cause you were struggling with being gay not being cheated on.”

Aaron huffs, sits up the way Seb is and watches their knees bump together. “I did and said a lot of stuff. Things that I’m not proud of, things I wish I could take back because they hurt people I loved.” He runs a finger over his knuckles in remembrance and then tilts his head.

“Like who?”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Want a list? Could start with your nan, grandad Paddy, sure I screamed in Vic’s face a couple of times. Basically anyone who didn’t know what I was feeling.” He gulps hard. “But I know how you’re feeling Seb.”

Seb blinks out, keeps his eyes on his dad like he wants to believe everything he’s saying.

“It’ll pass.”

“What? And I’ll get back together and we’ll get married and have four kids.” Seb shakes his head sadly. “You don’t get it. Chrissie would get it. You were Molly’s ex. Not me.”

Aaron’s eyes flicker and it’s weird hearing her name said by his son. He tries to think of an argument against it all and then shrugs. “Fair point.” He clears his throat and Seb looks up, surprised. “But I get the other bit. I get … feeling like you’re cheating somehow.”

Seb’s green eyes are wide suddenly and he looks like Vic as he frowns. “I don’t get it. You were with someone else?”

Aaron almost cringes, thinks back to a relationship that he needed and didn’t need at the exact same time. He nods his head.

“During … your affair with dad?”

“No.” The idea is almost hilarious and he bites his lip to stop from laughing. “After. After we … when we were broken up.” Seb pulls this face. “What’s with the face? You might hate to think it but I was quite the catch.” He wasn’t fighting them off but considering he met Alex whilst looking like a wreck and smelling like the pig’s pen up at Wishing Well’s, he did all right.

Seb’s face gets even more warped and then he shrugs. “No, it’s just … it feels wrong picturing you with someone else.”

Aaron likes it that way, smiles a little about it and then he’s back to being an actual parent. “I know what you mean. I knew then. I know now.” He shrugs. “We were over, I’d screamed it in his face, given back my wedding ring, he’d moved out and everything but.” Aaron’s hangs grow clammy as he thinks hard. “It was like I was betraying him you know?”

Seb nods his head just a fraction.

“But it’s OK to move on.”

Seb stills. “That girl at the party was no one.” He says quickly, like he needs his dad to know.

“Yeah. OK. Fine. But they’ll …”

“Be others?” Seb blinks. “There wasn’t for you.”

Aaron huffs, smiles. “Yeah well that’s cause I’m crazy.” He says.

Seb bites at his lip, frowns. “Did dad?” Aaron frowns. “Move on? Or try and fail miserably.”

Aaron thinks about Robert’s disastrous behaviour up until they were with each other again and decides not to mentioning him drugging Seb’s grandad and all of that. He sighs, runs a finger of his eyebrow as he sits. “Well no. He was being his … mischievous self let’s say and then you were here. He stepped up.” Seb smiles. “He was like a duck to water with you.”

“He says that about you.”

“Obviously.” Aaron waves a hand over himself and Seb nearly laughs. He leans into it, feels himself smiling and then he straightens his back. “But actually, that’s how we got back together. Your auntie Vic and Bernice and — basically every woman in the village was trying to get him to move on once and for good.”

Seb frowns. “And someone didn’t like that idea.” He says.

“Which is exactly why he came home with me that night instead of some random.” He still hates the random, still sometimes thinks about what would have happened if Aaron didn’t ask Vic for a cheeseburger to go with his pint that night. Maybe they both would have ended up in that garage freezing their balls off just because they couldn’t leave each other alone anymore.

Seb sighs. “Then you were back to normal?”

Aaron thinks about how easy it all seemed, was. “Yeah.” He shrugs. “He loved me. I loved him. I didn’t want to waste anymore time.” He blinks and then sighs. “We never looked back and your dad has done *everything he can not to mess things up again.”

Seb closes his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He closes his eyes. “Just sometimes I do something and I think …”

“Think what?” Aaron breathes in, then brings a hand up and touches Seb’s face to make him look at him. “What do you mean?”

“That I’m like him.” Seb’s eyes are glassy. “Lachlan.”

“Because you did something wrong?” Aaron’s heart thuds and then he gulps hard when Seb nods.

“He must have started like this. Doing something wrong and then he was —“

Aaron’s horrified in this way he can’t even explain. “Don’t be — you’re nothing like him. I promise.” Seb looks at him. “You want to know how I know that? Because you’ve got me and your dad and …” There��s this sound of Ella knocking something over upstairs and Jacob screaming down that he’s sorting it. “He loves you so much you know.”

Seb nods. “I should go tell him I’m sorry.” He rolls his eyes. “He thinks I hate him.”

“No.” Aaron shifts, feels confident in speaking for his husband for now. He saw the look in his eyes. “He just feels like you think of him differently now.”

“I don’t.” Seb looks up. “I just didn’t get how he could do it. I probably won’t ever really but …” He blinks. “That doesn’t mean I should make out like he’s a monster.”

Aaron smiles and then sits back on the sofa before Jacob’s coming down the stairs with a frown on his face.

“What was all the shouting about?” He’s not stupid, in fact, he’s fully grown out of the wanting to punch and kick and scream the house down faze now. “I heard you.”

“Molly.” Seb decides to say and it’s enough to get Jacob looking sorry for you again.

“Ella nearly broke our game console but it’s fine, I’m fixing it.”

Seb smiles at him.

“Come help?” Jacob asks and Seb nods before Robert’s coming back through the door again.

“Yeah. In a minute.”

Aaron stands, gets to the door as Jacob is up the stairs again. He eyes Robert up and down like he’s trying to check that he’s all right before looking at Seb. “Give us a second?”

Seb stays put and then nods and walks out into the garden.

Aaron squeezes Robert’s arm. “Are you …”

Robert can hardly look at him. “How bad is it?”

Aaron frowns. “Is what?”

Robert sighs, puts his keys down and then sits on the sofa. “Him hating me.”

Aaron shakes his head. “He doesn’t. We’ve … had a bit of a talk. He didn’t mean to say that.” He says it like it’ll help but Robert’s stuck and he has to drag him out of his own head. He squeezes his husband’s knee until Robert is looking at him. “Where did you go?”

“To the farm. You know, Jacob really wants to work there one day. Funny isn’t it? I hated it and he … can’t stay away.”

“He’s a mechanic this week remember?”

Robert nearly smiles and then he closes his eyes. “He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I cheated, I hurt people and now he knows how bad it all is properly.”

Aaron tuts. “He was lashing out.”

“No. He’s growing up. He’s finally seeing things in this new way and … finding out stuff about me that I never wanted him to know.” Robert pushes the words out. “And now he hates me.”

“I don’t.”

Robert spins and sees Seb standing by the garden door with his red hoodie on and big round eyes like he’s panicked at the thought of all of it. Robert thinks of him as a toddler again, how he used to appear out of nowhere with something to say and it’d make Robert smile.

Now he can’t.

“What I did then.” Robert says, he scrambles at the thought of Seb seeing him look so weak and tries to wipe at his face. He watches his son come into the room further and his shoulders bunch up.

“I just don’t get it.”

Robert sighs. “There’s not a reason that’ll make you get it.” He shrugs. “But if you think kissing some girl after what Molly did you you makes you as bad as me then you’re wrong.”

Seb frowns. “You’re not … bad.”

Aaron almost smiles and Seb looks at him for some sort of encouragement on how to go about this. He nods back because he’s doing fine, because their son is almost as useless as they are at talking about things when it’s hard to.

Robert has his hands up towards his face and he leans down. He tries to think of something to say but Seb beats him to it again.

“I was just angry.” Seb says. “Because yeah you regret cheating … but you don’t regret it really.” He frowns and it’s that that’s twisted up in his mind like some loose branches.

Robert looks at the ground and then at Aaron and then at Seb. “You mean I don’t regret you? No way.” He says passionately. “Or the fact that my first marriage ended. No. No I don’t regret that but I regret all the pain. I do. I’m not a monster Seb.”

“I don’t think that.” Seb stumbles and Aaron smooths a hand across Robert’s thigh.

“He’s trying.” He whispers, gentle and he realises that Seb really is as bad at words as he is. Robert settles, shoulders loosening as Seb sits on the coffee table and sighs.

“What I said … about me ending up hurting people ‘cause I’m your son, that was … wrong.” Seb gulps down something and looks nervous, Robert’s already shaking his head before he finishes speaking.

“Not really.”

Seb blinks out something again. “Maybe before I came along. But since I’ve been apart of your life, all you’ve shown me is how to love people, be kind, savvy —“

“Jammy.” Aaron pokes, eyes wet because Robert needs to hear all of this so many times before he’ll believe it. He didn’t know how much until right now.

Seb smirks, then tilts his head down. “So I’m not judging you on things you did before I was even here.” He shrugs. “That’s not fair.”

Robert stares at his son, overwhelmed and a shake to his knee as he tries not to cry. “Yeah?”

Seb nods a little. “I love you dad.” He says, his voice is gentle, like he doesn’t want to push and Robert leans over and grabs him close to hug him.

“Don’t ever forget how much I do OK?” Robert whispers as he holds Seb closer and kisses his head like he always used to after he’d washed his hair in the bath. He closes his eyes and smells the baby shampoo, breathes in lavender.

“Pretty hard to with all your hugging.” Seb says as he pulls away to breathe. He sits back, stares between his dads and then his phone goes. “It’s … Molly.”

He takes the call, Aaron sits holding Robert’s hand and putting off making dinner as Seb paces the garden on his phone.

“You think he’ll take her back?” Robert asks, trying his best to watch from where they’re sitting.

Aaron chews at his thumb. “No. Yes. No. No I don’t think so.”

Robert gulps hard and they wait a little more until Seb’s coming back in, quiet, slowly.

“Everything OK?” Robert asks and Seb actually nods his head.

“Yeah fine. We … well I … yeah it’s over so.”

Aaron breathes in. “Mate. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s better like this.” Seb nods, smiles a little and then he sighs. “Thanks for putting up with me being an arse.” He comes closer towards them. “But I think I’ll be OK now.” Robert squeezes his hand as he goes towards the stairs.

“We’re here. Always. You know?”

Seb does. He nods. “Thanks.” He says, and it means the world as he leaves.

“See, he’s OK.” Aaron runs a hand across Robert’s arm and then feels Robert pushing his mouth against his, hands falling over his face. “What was that for?”

Robert licks his lips and then sighs. “Forgiving me for everything.” He says, and it’s been absolutely years but it’s still something he’s grateful for. He still thinks about it all sometimes.

Aaron frowns. “How couldn’t I? I’d be nothing without your roast dinners.” He jokes, kids, but he’s got tears wet in his eyes and he leans in to kiss Robert again. “And I’ll always love you. There’s that too.”

Robert smiles gently, kisses him back until he’s stroking at Aaron’s cheek. “You mentioned my cooking because you can’t be arsed to cook yourself right?”

Aaron nods confidently. “Correct.” He says. “So slap the apron on and maybe I’ll return the favour later.”

Robert bites at his lip and gets to the kitchen, pulling out pans and asking Aaron to cut up some peppers at least. Seb watches from the landing as his dad complains about not knowing how to cut the peppers finely enough and his other dad tells him to stop trying to get out of doing any work.

Jacob calls him back in, says the controller is working fine so he can easily fix an engine now. Seb looks down again to see his dad’s hands all over his other dad’s waist as he helps him put an apron on.

He smiles before going back into his room.

#robron #robron fics #emmerdale #seb white

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shutupandshipit · 4 years

Text

Little Life - Ch.9

Summary: A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 9/16

Previous <- Chapter 8

Chapter 10 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 9: 7 Months

Katsuki glared at his reflection in the floor length mirror Mina had mounted on her closet door. His pants hung low on his hips, open so he could stare at himself. Between his hip bones, he could see the small bump gently distending his abdomen like a very small tumor. A very, very small tumor that at any point in the next two months could blossom into a full fledged beach ball, but he doubted that it would this late in the game. Thank god for that.

His jeans didn't fit like they used to anymore, both because of his still rather rigorous workout schedule, but also... There was a squishy layer of fat around his waist. He was fucking developing love handles, and wouldn't stand for that.

Not only that, but his chest had begun to fill out more. It distressed him every time he pressed against his pecs and felt the squish instead of immediately meeting firm muscle, and his nipples had started to leak a watery white substance every time he did. He knew it was just his body getting ready for the baby that would be welcomed to the world soon, but it didn't make him happy.

He didn't have to be happy about any of the changes to his body, much less almost-milk leaking from him. He'd hated the whole concept and process of pregnancy before, and he still hated it now. Like he'd said to himself multiple times, 'The joys of pregnancy, my fucking ass.' He was absolutely not thrilled that he'd had to improvise pads to soak up his weird nipple liquid so he didn't leak through his everyday clothes.

"Bakubro, what are you doing over there? Don't you, like, have a date or something?" Kirishima asked from the bed where he, Mina and Ochako were spread out agonizing over the mass amount of homework Aizawa had assigned for the weekend. He's already finished it, and Kirishima and Mina had dragged him down, grabbing Ochako on the way when they spotted her in the halls.

An impromptu meeting of the 'Baby Boom Protection Squad' as Mina had started calling them.

"I'm getting fat," Katsuki growled, still staring at himself. Even his face had lost a little of its sharpness, and not to puberty. He couldn't handle it. Catch him the very day he gave birth pressing weight like a madman with a newborn strapped to his chest. He couldn't live like this.

Ochako lifted her head from where she'd been face down against her book, blinking blearily up at him. "I don't see anything, Bakugou. If there is something different, then I can't tell. You look the same as ever. Which is to say, hot. Which is not fair. I'm not going to look that hot when I'm pregnant."

"Then I guess you can't see this baby bump either?" he growled, turning to pull down the waistband of his briefs a little lower for their appraisal.

The three aspiring heroes scrutinized his abdomen before sighing in unison. "I don't see anything," Mina whined, rubbing at her forehead, "I'm still a little bitter about being robbed of big pregnant Bakubro, to be honest. How are you not even showing?"

"That'd be so weird if he were though," Kirishima said, dropping his head back down.

Katsuki sneered over at them. "Just because you're alphas doesn't mean you get to slack on knowing what your omegas' pregnancies are going to be like. Everyone's bodies are different and every baby is different. That goes for betas and female alphas too. Not everyone is going to look like a pregnant woman on television."

"Right," Ochako piped up, "My aunt is small like Jirou. When she was pregnant, she didn't show until the second trimester, and even then, it only looked like she was carrying around an apple under her shirt."

"Point made. I'm most likely not going to show at all. Thank god for that. And I don't want to show. Fuck all of that."

"But come on," Mina wheedled, "You would look so cute all big and round. Imagine how dramatically Mido would die seeing you like that. He wouldn't be able to stop touching you."

"Like I'm ever going to let him touch me again after this," Katsuki sniped back, zipping up his pants with finality.

"You're such a liar."

Ochako jumped in before the conversation could veer too far off track, and returned to the original point. "Anyway, if there are any changes, it's no wonder you notice them. It's your body after all. You would notice any small changes first. Well, you and Deku maybe."

"Yeah, don't remind me. I've been avoiding that fucker like the plague whenever we get back from school so he doesn't smell this tit juice on me."

"Ew!" Mina screeched, sticking out her tongue in disgust, "Why did you have to describe it like that!"

Kirishima sighed. "Or you could just tell him, you know, as the father of your child? Solve one of the problems?"

Katsuki snarled and glared at him as he pulled on his improvised padding and then his undershirt before layering over his button-up. "Yeah, no thanks. That shit would give the game away, and I'm almost at the finish line."

"Okay, whatever you think is best," Kirishima conceded, but the look on his face told Bakugou all he needed to know about what his best friend thought of that particular course of action. "Stubborn ass."

"Whatever."

"On the plus side, you look great!" Ochako chirped, smiling.

"I always look great." God, he was hungry. He wanted ice cream, and he glanced down at his phone for the time. There was still another thirty minutes before Izuku was supposed to come back from his errand. He turned for the door.

Eyes wide at the sudden change of pace, Mina asked, "Where are you going?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "To get ice cream."

The three scrambled after him out the door.

.....

"Waaah?! You guys are eating ice cream without me?" Kaminari cried indignantly when he found them in the common room crowded around a table with an empty carton of ice cream and four heaping bowls. "And you ate it all too!"

"Should've gotten here faster instead of having a disgusting PDA session with your boyfriend and girlfriend," Katsuki said as he deliberately stuck his spoon in his mouth.

"You're one to talk!"

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize my boyfriend was sitting in my lap. You guys should have told me. I would have shared."

Ochako snorted into her bowl and smacked around fruitlessly for a napkin. Katsuki silently pushed her napkin against her searching fingers.

"That's not fair!" Kaminari shouted before grumbling, "Should you even be eating that? You've been putting on some weight recently. Right around the middle." He indicated the region, sweeping his hand over his stomach and waist. "And here." He pointed at his own cheeks.

Katsuki stopped breathing as anger boiled up. Mostly anger at the liars sitting at the table with him.

"Man, who says stuff like that?" Kirishima complained before Bakugou could blow up and ruin the whole treat they'd been enjoying.

"Yeah, that was so mean, Denks," Mina chimed in with a frown, "Bakugou is as fit as ever. Where did that even come from? Did the date not go well?"

"It went fine!" Kaminari uncharacteristically spat defensively, but tears were bubbling up on the rim of his lashes.

Thinking about it, Katsuki hadn't seen him come in with either Jirou or Shinsou. His omega whined plaintively, and with a growl, he kicked out the chair near him. "Get a fucking spoon, sit the fuck down, and don't start crying. If you get tears in my ice cream, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

Kaminari slouched off to the kitchen to grab a spoon and slumped into the chair before scooping out a small bite from Katsuki's offered bowl. They ate in repressed silence until Izuku came through the doors with Shinsou, looking surlier than normal, and Jirou, looking rather put out with wet eyes, behind him. Kaminari didn't look up, and Izuku sighed as they got to the table.

'Here come the class alpha, pack leader, whatever the fuck, to the rescue.'

He took the spoon with a mound of partially melted ice cream that Katsuki offered him before leaning in for a kiss. Their mouths were sweet and minty, and Katsuki could have stayed there forever.

But Izuku pulled away after a moment. He handed back the spoon and gripped Kaminari's shoulder. "Come on, Kaminari. Let's go talk, all four of us." He looked to Katsuki apologetically. "Can you give me another thirty, Kacchan?"

Katsuki waved him away, shoving the rest of his bowl at Kaminari before diving into Ochako's proffered bowl.

The four walked away, Izuku in the lead, and back outside the way they'd come.

"I wonder what happened," Mina mused.

"I know. Those three always get alone so well, I thought," Ochako piped up around a full mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, gremlin," Katsuki scolded before waving his spoon around, "Isn't it obvious? It's pre-post-graduation drama bullshit. Most likely. None of them are applying for the same agencies or even in the same city, and with all three being alphas, it's probably mate related too."

Mina and Kirishima glanced at each other. They'd dated back in second year, but had decided to see if they could find omega mates before settling down together. Katsuki was pretty certain that no matter what happened, they'd still end up mated with a gaggle of pups in tow. Alpha-alpha matings, fundamentally different from alpha-omega and alpha-beta matings, had a low success rate primarily due to their biology telling them to go fuck themselves. If any alphas could make it work though, it would be those two.

"He never talked to me about any of that," Mina mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you have shit hearing. It's not that hard to figure out if you just pay attention. That and he only ever talks to Deku about that shit as far as I can tell. I just happen to be there sometimes. Perks of being mated to the pack alpha." Katsuki also knew how to keep his trap shut, clearly.

Kirishima sighed. "That'd be too bad. Kaminari is head over heels for both of them."

"Yeah," Mina sighed as well, and Katsuki scowled as the mood soured.

"Hey, sad sacks, quit with that shit. My hormones are too high for you all to be sad."

Ochako interjected before either of the pair could shove their foot in their respective mouths, opening up a conversation for what they thought finals would be like and what agencies they'd been considering.

Katsuki fell into the rhythm of conversation, but was out of his seat when Izuku finally came back inside with tear stains on his shirt.

He huffed as he wrapped his arms around Katsuki. "Let's get out of here. Everyone is too emotional right now. I'm drained."

"Agreed."

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #omega!katsuki #alpha!izuku #my writing #multi-chapter #little life

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jisungsmochi · 4 years

Text

shining star - chenle

literally came up with this idea at 2am and just kept writing so i’m posting it bc it’s my first chenle imagine and i am pretty proud of it hehe, hope you all enjoy, idk how long this is but its very fluffy and has some angst in you squint.

prompt(?):

“you have detention?” you question the boy.

“and you’re in a musical?” he strikes back, followed by a small grin.

highschool!au , friends to lovers?, musical themed hehe

————-

“all students who are taking part in the next musical production, please meet in the theatre after school for your first meeting” the announcement over the speakers echoed through the halls and in classrooms.

“imagine being in the school musical” you heard boys behind you tease, followed by obnoxious laughter. you turned around to see who they were, not to your surprise it was chenle, and his group. chenle’s eyes met yours, he saw the expression on your face and instantly stopped smiling.

what a jerk, you thought to yourself.

you turned back around and resumed listening to the lesson, taking down notes before placing a reminder on your phone that you had a meeting for the musical. you weren’t the lead, this time. but you were hoping that in the next production, you will be. you were happy with playing the supporting role, just as long as you had some lines. the musicals at school were a safe haven for you. you were supported by people who had the same passion and the activities your drama teacher allowed you guys to participate in, made you enjoy lessons even more. although most of the school focused on the sporting teams, you were pleased with the theatre group. aside from occasional teasing, such as from chenle and his friends, you adored being in musicals.

“you haven’t handed in your assignment from two weeks ago, despite the extension. i have to put you in detention” your english teacher shook his head in disappointment as chenle groaned. you weren’t sure if he was annoyed or upset that he was in detention. you could never really tell.

your eyes met his again, he immediately broke the contact and made his way back to his seat.

the bell rang, signalling the end of school. your phone dinged with the reminder for the meeting. you rushed to the theatre, placing your bag in the designated spot and focusing on your teacher’s instructions.

“okay, today will be quite an easy day since it is our first meeting. i will be going over the opening scene with the leads so all other crew members, please begin to brainstorm costume ideas and set designs!” your teacher ordered, and immediately everyone dispersed into their designated roles. you decided you were going to read over your lines and highlight them in some pretty pastel colours. you situated yourself near the steps on the stage, legs crossed and focusing on reading.

after a few scenes, you decided to take a break, something caught your sight on your left. you furrowed your eyebrows and followed your senses. before you knew it, you were met with chenle towering over you, with a blank expression on his face.

“what are you doing here?” you spoke.

“what do you think?” he crossed his arms and looked at his feet.

“you have detention?” you questioned the boy.

“and you’re in a musical” he strikes back, followed by a small grin. you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“so what? you’re here to help with the sets?” you questioned him further, honestly trying to pass time.

“i’m more of just a stage hand i guess.” he shrugged, finally looking you in the eyes.

it wasn’t like you hated him. you didn’t really hate people. but sometimes, the things he said just got on your nerves.

“are you the lead, in the musical?” he loosened up, standing more comfortably in front of you as you continued this casual conversation.

“um no i’m not. i’m the supporting lead, it’s still something!” you smiled shyly, afraid he might tease you.

“what? you’re not the lead?? and soojin is? but you’re a great singer” his face was contorted in a confused expression.

“how would you know that?” you perked up, while smiling.

“i’ve heard you at the talent show, and you do know that you post singing videos on instagram?” he chuckled softly, making you pout.

“oh right, well i don’t know, maybe she’s just better at acting!” you tried to excuse, but he wasn’t convinced.

“possibly, well um, while we’re talking, do you mind if we just chill during these meetings? until my detention is lifted and all, i literally have no one” chenle proposed, which made you quite flattered that he enjoyed your company.

“oh yeah sure! i’ll teach you about stage directions and stuff, just so you’re not confused and all” you offered, which caused him to smile widely and nod.

“thankyou so much” he held his hands in a prayer pose.

“my pleasure” you laughed before telling him where to move certain objects.

——————

two weeks passed by and you’d say that chenle had picked up the theatre terms pretty quickly.

“you sure you don’t wanna be in the musical?” you joked as he was playing around with the microphone settings.

“oh yeah for sure, can’t believe i missed auditions” he joked in return, shaking his head before handing you the microphone.

“should be good to go” he smiled before giving you a thumbs up. you mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ before facing your teacher. you began singing your duet with the supporting male lead. it was going smoothly until you completely blanked and forgot the next lines. the music automatically stopped,

“y/n! what’s going on? you’ve had 2 weeks to prepare so far” your teacher sounded disappointed and slightly annoyed. you sighed quietly before apologising and running off stage. chenle was about to stop you before you shoved past him, tears leaking from your eyes. he heard your sniffles and ran after you. you stopped running as you left the theatre, backing yourself against the wall. chenle caught up and faced you.

“i can’t do it” you sobbed. your chest was heavy and your breathing was irregular. he noticed and placed a hand on your arm.

“look at me, just calm down first okay? breathe with me. in.... and out” chenle tried his best to help you.

you followed his orders before speaking again.

“i can’t freeze up like that in the real show. i just can’t. i need to keep singing. even if i fuck it up” you sighed to yourself, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. he copied you and sat next to you, your shoulders touching.

“hey, at least this was rehearsal. you’ve kicked ass, all the way up to now. don’t let this scare you!” he spoke to you in such a lovely manner, it eased your worries.

“i know i know. i just can’t help but feel this way” you look at him. your face stained with tears, but you still gave him a small smile. he wiped some of the tears with his thumbs, before saying,

“let’s cut this rehearsal short. you deserve some ice cream” he pulled you up from the ground and pulled you in for an embrace. you would admit that you had come to a liking of chenle. he was so helpful as a stage hand, and always showed up on time. he always gave you a small thumbs up before you were about to sing, and always waited for you when rehearsal was finished to catch the bus home. you nodded at his offer, grabbing your bag you had placed in your locker and walked out of school with chenle by your side.

—————-

chenle had served his detention, but still remained as a stage hand, in which your teacher didn’t mind as he was genuinely helpful with the props and tech equipment. it was two weeks before opening night. after almost every rehearsal, chenle would be right by your side when going home. the entire time you both had been working together, he hadn’t said one negative thing about musicals. he had become accustomed to the quick paced yet laid back nature of the theatre. but what he wouldn’t admit, is that he enjoyed watching you on stage. you smiled so brightly, you sang like an angel. he couldn’t get enough. his friends often teased him for wanting to remain a stage hand, but he ignored them, knowing it was worth it.

after this particular rehearsal, you ran up to chenle and hugged him tightly. he was taken aback, slowly placing his arms around you and patting your back softly.

“i didn’t make any mistakes today!!” you cheered, pulling away from him, still leaving your hands around his forearm.

“i know! you were great, as usual” he complimented, which made you blush. you shook your head before speaking,

“thankyou for always having my back. i’ll treat you to an early dinner. what do you want?” you offered kindly.

“actually, i have to get back home, but how about, this weekend? we can go out for lunch or something” chenle crossed his fingers in his mind that you would agree. you nodded immediately,

“yeah sure!! message me when you’re free!” you smiled before completely letting go of him and leaving the theatre.

he couldn’t control himself, as he fisted the air and cheered quietly.

————-

saturday afternoon, you had agreed to meet with chenle at your local bowling alley, as the onion rings were to die for there.

you were onto the eighth bowl, chenle leading by 40 points.

“this isn’t fair! you’re too good!” you complain, poking his sides.

“am not! just know where to focus that’s all!” he defends before taking a bite of an onion ring. you giggled before taking your turn.

“here i’ll show you” he came up behind you, helping you position yourself properly.

you felt his fingers touch yours and you couldn’t help but blush.

“okay so you see that middle pin? just try your best to aim there and keep your arm steady!” he looked at you for assurance as you nodded in response. he left your side to watch, as you did exactly what he had said. you both watched as the ball rolled right towards the middle pin, although you did not get a strike you still managed to known down nine pins. you ran over to chenle, arms wide as he embraced you warmly and spun you around shortly.

“did you see that?!” you were ecstatic, he admired your excitement.

“i know!! you’re a pro already” he smiled.

“ah you’re too kind!” you complimented.

on the way back to your house, chenle had been walking close to you, where your shoulder touched and at any moment your fingers would link.

“thank you so much for today!! only a week or so until opening night!! this really helped calm my nerves. i appreciate your support over these past few weeks. i hope we still stay friends after this” you didn’t know why that last sentence felt so uncomfortable to say. you didn’t want to be just friends.

“oh yeah no problem!! you really kept me sane. i’m sorry for talking bad about musicals before, i just never really paid attention to them! you’ll smash it on opening night! i’ll be cheering! and yeah, we will be friends” a part of him felt hurt to finish off that sentence as well.

you gave him one last hug, which lingered for longer than your normal hugs.

“see you next week” you waved before entering your house, watching as he returned the action. what did you get yourself into?

—————-

it was the afternoon of opening night, everyone was running around everywhere. you had just finished the final rehearsal and were currently resting. you sat with chenle outside of the theatre again.

“you nervous?” he questioned, looking over at you.

“a little, i just don’t want to make any mistakes!” you sighed.

“and you won’t! here’s something to make you feel better” he pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket. you raised your eyebrows before opening the box, it was a key ring that had a star hanging from it.

“you didn’t have to get me something oh my god, flowers would have been perfectly fine!” you pulled him closer to you, listening as his laugh filled your ears.

“it’s okay! you deserve it. you’ll still be a star, even if you mess up. you’re such a good performer i can’t stress that enough” he avoided your eyes. you tried to gain his attention again, in which he complied.

“can i tell you something?” your stomach was going so many flips, you couldn’t contain yourself. he nodded slowly, allowing you to continue.

“without you, i would have probably given up by now. thank you for staying by my side. i can’t thank you enough for how nice you’ve been to me. and i think it would be a good time to say that, i really like you. like a lot. like i think about you after every small positive thing that happens to me because you are just such a positive person! and this gift is just so meaningful. you are such an amazing guy, and i hope you like me too” you blurted out , watching as his face became stunned. words refused to leave his mouth. you pouted softly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“i was going to tell you that i liked you after the musical but you beat me to it. if it weren’t for you, i would have quit being a stage hand after my detention. but i really wanted you to see how amazing you are. i’ve known how amazing you were since the talent show. i was surprised to see that you were a supporting role. you deserve so much more. i admire all of your confidence, and i can’t get enough of you” he spoke with such admiration you began tearing up. you hugged him tightly, refusing to let go, mumbling ‘i like you so much’ in his chest. he softly giggled, “i like you too cutie”.

———

opening night was a success. as the final bows were being taken, you looked over at chenle and ushered him to join you on stage. he quickly shuffled to you and took a bow with the rest of the crew.

“congrats on everything” he whispered to you.

“you’re adorable” you mumbled before placing a quick peck on his cheek. he looked over to you in shock. you were unpredictable, quick witted and he was completely whipped for you.

musicals weren’t so bad after all.

#nct imagines #nct dream imagines #chenle #nct chenle imagine #chenle fluff #chenle fic #chenle imagine #nct dream fic #nct dream fluff #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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