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#overall the past few weeks are marked with a strange contentment
jentlemahae · 2 years
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Let’s Get Physical – K-pop Fans and The Physical Album Phenomenon (Article)
Data based on this survey.
Here’s a little fun trivia for you – what do physical albums, Blockbuster and dinosaurs have in common? Answer – they are all extinct. With the emergence of MP3 players, smartphones and online streaming services, tangible versions of music have sunk into oblivion by now, becoming but a nostalgic memory for those over 20. But despite that overall decline, physical sales of Korean music have been skyrocketing for quite a while… but why is that? Why are K-pop fans still buying physical albums? Let’s find out!
I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you probably know what physical albums are, but if anyone is unsure, let me quickly put your mind at ease. Physicals are the material format of an album – they are sold by a retailer to a consumer, who then becomes the sole owner. In short, they are what you would commonly call CDs. 
I know what you must be thinking – ‘Grandma alert! No one uses CDs anymore!’. And yes, that is indeed true! With the advent of the digital era and the takeover of streaming services, the vast majority of people have switched to listening to music in online formats, rather than with CDs. After all, why would you spend €15+ to buy only one album, when for a much smaller monthly fee you can have access to millions of records? And that’s not even touching upon the influence of piracy (where you can have all that music for free), or how CDs have become so obsolete, tech companies no longer include space for them in laptops… Simply put, by now physical albums have become a thing of the past.
But while that is true, we have seen a strange turn of events in the past decade with K-pop albums. Whereas the sales of physical Western titles have been plummeting globally at an annualized rate of over 10% since 2010, K-pop physical sales have been on the rise since 2013, when boy group EXO managed to sell 1M units. Afterwards, K-pop physical sales began steadily increasing, both in South Korea and on a global scale. So much so that it is now almost a given that a K-pop artist will become a million seller sooner or later.
Albeit being an impressive achievement, I think it can’t help but make you wonder why. I mean, it’s not like K-pop fans don’t listen to music mainly on streaming services just like everybody else these days, so why are they buying physical albums?
After racking my brain trying to figure it out, I finally got an epiphany last week – why don’t I simply ask them? That is, why don’t I directly ask K-pop fans why or why not they choose to purchase physical albums? And that’s exactly what I did. 
I launched a survey on social media within an online community of K-pop fans, and quickly received a few hundred responses. Very few participants owned no albums at all, as most of the respondents had between 20 and 40 units, and many even surpassed the 100 mark! Some of the results I got were to be expected, while some were rather surprising to me. But I now have a better understanding as to why so many people buy albums, and why so many others do not.
But before we dive into the survey’s findings, let’s talk about what exactly makes K-pop albums so special…
K-pop albums – more than just music
The K-pop industry is best known for many things – complex choreographies, fun and uplifting beats, and charismatic variety content, just to name a few. But what truly makes the industry stand out from its music peers is the constant impeccable attention for visuals. 
Between fashionable and avant-garde-esque styling, and music videos and live performances that could put blockbusters to shame, the visual aspect is placed on the same level of importance as music in K-pop. Thus, it should come as no surprise that even the way the music is packaged and distributed is meticulously cared for. 
Whereas physical albums by western artists usually consist of just a CD in a jewel case and (maybe) a lyric booklet, K-pop acts take the traditional conceptualization of physicals and move it on the next level (pun intended). CDs and lyric booklets are still there, but they are accompanied by photobooks (containing all photos used for the album’s concept and promotions), random photocards (i.e., a hard card with a picture of an idol on the front), stickers, posters, and even innovative goodies sometimes. 
Moreover, K-pop albums can come in many different shapes and forms, foregoing the old jewel case format. They can vary from intricate classics like f(x)’s mockup design of a VHS tape for Pink Tape, or EXO’s comic book-inspired The War: The Power Of Music, to more minimalistic designs like BTS’s Love Yourself trilogy (which even received a Grammy nomination for Best Recording Package in 2019).
Not only does this help the artist stand out more from the masses, it also ensures fans actually enjoy themselves while unboxing their favorite albums. Opening a K-pop album is not just an act – it’s an experience. Fans get to have fun during the unboxing, discovering all the details and hidden features in the packaging, and finding out which random photocard they received. It’s even become a trend for fans to film themselves while unboxing, and then upload their reaction on YouTube, where the videos can even receive millions of views. 
K-pop albums are where creativity meets commerciality – they are the product of a tug-of-war between being art and being a commodity. They have to be fun and creative, but must also be usable and trendy enough for fans to think they are worth the money. And most of all, they have to be so visually appealing they can transcend the music they accompany. The power of a K-pop album lies in the fact that it can make people want to possess it without listening to (or even liking) the music it contains. 
In fact, buying an album and actually using it are two separate activities for K-pop fans, and generally they are not consequential. In my survey, only 40% of respondents indicated they actually use the CDs after buying them, with many specifying they use them only when listening on online streaming platforms is not a viable option (e.g., if their car does not have an auxiliary port). 
But then, why do K-pop fans purchase physical albums? And why do they not?
Pretty and expensive
Unsurprisingly, the main reason behind the purchase of K-pop physicals as indicated by respondents (80%) was “I think the content inside (photobooks, photocards, posters, etc) is pretty / visually appealing”. Why is this not surprising? Well, as we covered in the last section, K-pop physicals are pretty darn nice to look at – so, it doesn’t come as a shock that people want to have them for the aesthetics of it all! 
What did actually surprise me was how many people indicated they buy K-pop physicals for collection purposes, be it photocards or the albums themselves – either option was selected by 35% of respondents. Even though I already knew there were plenty of collectors out there, the statistics still caught me slightly off guard, since K-pop albums are not exactly cheap… actually, they are quite the spendy thing! 
Simpler (= Western) physical albums can already round up to €15+ a piece, but when you factor in the added expenditure of photobooks, photocards, posters, stickers, and so on… you can imagine that K-pop physicals will cost you a bit more. With an average between €25 and €55, they definitely fall on the more expensive end of the spectrum. And on top of that, there are also harsh shipping fees, which are usually pretty steep for those outside South Korea (more often than not, they are as much as the album…).
Not to mention, K-pop physicals face a major scarcity issue. That is, they are hard to get a hold of after the preorder period ends, because the amount of albums in stock is reflective of the preorder numbers. Thus, if you did not preorder, you are not sure to find a copy after the official drop, which forces you to make the purchase in a limited time window. And adding fuel to the fire, there’s the peculiarity of K-pop physicals increasing in monetary value after the official release of the record. Meaning that even if you’re lucky enough to find a copy, the price will probably be inflated. As one respondent put it, “Buying K-pop albums feels like a chase and race”. 
That’s why the fact that “I cannot afford it financially” being the #1 chosen response (61%) for respondents who do not buy physicals did not surprise me in the slightest. Not everyone has 70 bucks to drop on a K-pop album, and that is okay!
The usefulness of the useless 
Another option which I knew was going to be a popular choice among non-buyers was “I do not have any use for them / I do not care about them”, which was chosen by 50% of the cohort. 
Given their price and utility (or lack thereof), K-pop physicals can be categorized as luxury goods purchasable for hedonic consumption, which is not something everyone enjoys. If you are not really sure what that means, worry not – I’ll give you a sparknotes explanation of what that entails. To put it simply, hedonic consumption refers to the usage of products in order to spark emotional arousal in oneself, rather than to fulfill primary needs (which is referred to as utilitarian consumption). Hence, it is something used to describe the purchase of luxury goods (i.e., products that are not essential but are highly desired). 
As the utility of K-pop physical albums doesn’t really go beyond making the owner happy, they check all the boxes for luxury items. Thus, they are not worth the money for people who are not willing to spend that much on something with no practical use. As one respondent bluntly put it, “[K-pop physicals] are just an overpriced decoration”.
Pride and parasocial 
The second most popular reason (50%) for buying physical copies was “I want to support the artist and increase their sales”, which is yet another unsurprising result. 
Parasocial attachments (i.e., one-sided relationships between fans and media personalities) are a widespread phenomenon within K-pop fandoms, and it’s common for fans to feel a sense of pride and/or fulfillment whenever their favorite artists reach commendable achievements. Ergo, it’s not unusual for fans to believe their duties as supporters extend to contributing to the artist’s paycheck by buying anything they put out. 
Knowing this, K-pop companies capitalize heavily on these parasocial interactions by maximizing on the amount of content offered and producing different design versions of the same album. The inside (the music) is the same, but the outside is different, and that makes it worth a few more euros in the eyes of fans. And the higher the sales are, the higher the artist will place on music charts, which is the goal to both companies and the idols’ admirers. 
Companies want their acts to score a high spot on music charts for obvious reasons (more fame and revenue for themselves), and fans’ reasoning is not that much different… Actually, it is not at all different. Fans want their favorite artists to have more fame and revenue not only because they think the idols deserve it, but also so they can have bragging rights on social media. 
Many fans see accomplishments of their favorite celebrities as an extension of their own, and I have long known that this phenomenon is particularly strong within K-pop fandoms. And that’s why it’s a custom among fans of the genre to bulk buy thousands of copies of an album, in order to boost the artist’s final sale numbers. 
As one respondent commented, a short-coming on the idol’s part is “embarrassing [for their] fans”. Being a K-pop enthusiast with an active presence on social media, that remark did not faze me at all. 
K-pop albums go green
Unfortunately, bulk buying has quite the drawbacks. Not only does it call into question the validity of K-pop acts’ album sales (are those 1M albums going to 1M different people, or just the same 100k?), but it also has strong environmental and social negative impacts (which was indicated as a concern by 30% of respondents). 
First of all, the fact that so many units are brought en masse makes you wonder, where do the extra copies go? The answer is both nice and disturbing – they get donated to orphanages. 
That seems nice in theory, but many Korean NGOs who work with orphanages have complained about it at length, pointing out how the donations are actually useless to children in those establishments. “What you’re doing is not donating, you’re dumping your garbage on us” said a spokesperson of an organization, and that “These so-called donations [do not] come with good intentions”. Chilling words, if I may add. 
Moreover, manufacturing so many albums has quite the sizable ecological footprint, and when you take into account that a large portion of the copies will go to waste, that just seems ridiculous. 
Nevertheless, there are some K-pop companies which took this into account, and attempted initiatives to make their sales greener. Several artists have announced their physical albums will be manufactured with recycled materials, and some are even going as far as trying to eliminate them almost altogether, in order to dramatically reduce their carbon footprint. 
For instance, boy group VICTON launched an initiative for their comeback in Jan 2022 called a “platform album”, which offers fans the opportunity to purchase a digital version of the record, where you will only be mailed the photocard and be emailed a download code for the songs. This is a brilliant idea, as photocards usually are the most valued and desired element of the physical contents, and this way the environmental impact won’t be as large. Fans are happy, idols are happy, and the planet is happy – a win for everyone!
The road ahead
So, what is the future of K-pop physical albums? Will people keep buying, or will sales start to plummet?
Well, I think it’s safe to say that sales will not go down anytime soon, at least according to my survey. Despite many respondents stating they have environmental concerns, or criticizing bulk buying and how physicals are used by companies in their ploys to manipulate fans, 75% said they will continue (or will start) purchasing physical copies in the future. 
Furthermore, the notion that buying physical albums is part of your “duties” as a fan is still going strong among K-pop aficionados. To quote one respondent, there is a lot of “inner-fandom shaming that goes on whenever you don’t own any albums”. And that’s not helped by companies actively exploiting this form of mob mentality via the release of different physical versions of the same record.
Just as it’s not likely for fans to stop mass buying, odds are K-pop companies will not stop mass producing. After all, we’re talking about giant corporations here – the choice between ethics and money is an easy one for them, and we all know which option they will ultimately pick. 
It is a vicious cycle, one which neither companies nor fans are likely to exit in the foreseeable future. It’s just like that song goes – they just made a million and they’re STILL not satisfied. But how many more albums will it take for everyone to be satisfied?
thank u for reading <333
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yellourr · 17 days
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WEDNESDAY NIGHT’S ALL THE RAGE ࿐ NANAMI KENTO
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SYNOPSIS. an argument with your husband forces the two of you into life-changing situations for the night, allowing you both to realize what’s important before it’s too late. [ WORD COUNT: 13k ]
✧. ┊     CONTENTS. black fem!reader, semi-canon jjk plot, written in third person (she & her is italicized), use of explicit language, unsettling content ahead so beware, art creds: hugues merle - mary magdalene in the cave (edited)
✧. ┊     LISTENING TO. love drought by beyoncé
✧. ┊     BEHILS NOTE. ah, first time I’ve posted any writing in over a year lol. I'm happy that I stayed dedicated to finishing this because this was so close to going into the pile of fics I've brainstormed and started but never finished. originally, this was going to be a retelling of the shibuya incident but… the original idea felt too boring and played out. I also think that this version allowed me to explore how I wanted to write the reader, nanami, and their overall dynamic. anywho, enjoy and happy reading!… or not ;)
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It wasn’t her intention to marry young. The idea of marrying in her twenties, and committing her entire life to one person whom she met when she was too immature to even know herself was frightening. There was so much to think about and even more to consider. The person she chose to marry needed to be everything she wanted all at once and that was too much pressure for one man to bear. 
In those minor instances, the concept of marriage to her just wasn’t enough- vows weren’t enough. Declarations of love were stale and overdone and anyone could disguise words with a promising tone. Even as she laid there- side pressed against the mattress, hand held to her chest while the other ghosted over her belly- her mind was stuck on that decision. There was no better time to contemplate it than today. The seventeenth of October, a Wednesday. Another day of ordinary activities besides the blaring weight she felt on her lower back. 
The room was cool, air conditioning combating the blaze of heat that washed over Tokyo.  She wasn’t excited to see the additions to the bill by the time November rolled around. Even when the heat prompted a third shower on the previous day, she snuggled closely to her sheet for comfort. No foreign legs were sliding across her heels, or arms wrapping around her waist. Not even a huff of air in her direction or the faintness of snoring. Just his blonde tuft of hair messily plopped on a pillow with his back facing the cushions of the couch, his face buried in them.
Nanami had come in the last few weeks like this. Exhausted, with barely any energy to spare. He’d greet her with a chaste kiss on the cheek as he stripped off his suit to shower. He’d be working after hours, unable to make it to bed by the time she wanted to rest. There were sleepless nights when she’d get up and brew some tea. She’d have it with a muffin from the bakery she got during lunch. The kettle would be left on and a mug with tea leaves in case he woke up. She’d find the untouched mug in the morning.
His hasty distance was strange but his punctuality was more concerning. He never stepped into their apartment later than seven o’clock, usually. But as of late, he was coming in a few minutes past seven. “Something just came up at work. It’s been pretty busy.” He’d tell her with a monotone voice- though it didn’t ease her mind one bit.  He still came in past seven, sometimes past seven-thirty without any further explanation other than busy days.
The behaviour was bothersome, consuming her mind as she showered, and even more as she settled into her clothes. A part of her fought with leaving a message about tonight’s events- but this was too important of a date for Nanami to overlook, not even with his character one-eighty. She found herself marking a post-it note, ‘Don’t forget about tonight, meet me over there @ 6:45.’
Surely there was a reason for his sudden change. It must have been quite the job, what with late-night calls from a Gojo Satoru that popped up on his phone while he showered. Which was as exasperating as the ones from an Ieiri Shoko. 
Jealousy wasn’t her thing. She was hopeful that the answers to her suspicions would ease later tonight, though she was nervous that maybe the truth wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Listening was a trait she learned to take just as seriously as talking. It didn’t even come close to the mounds of listening she had to do for her clients. After all, how else was she supposed to get paid if she didn’t?
“Shall we continue, Mr.?...” She twisted in her seat, attempting to alleviate some pain that pinged in her back. But also because the client today had an aura about him that was unsettling. He was a sight to see- dark attire consisting of a green and yellow robe, black hair that stretched just above his rear, and an unnerving smile. His legs crossed over each other while his hands lay in his lap.
“Getou, Getou Suguru.”
Her glasses hung on the tip of her nose, hairs framing her face as she stared harshly at the notepad atop her lap. For a moment, she looked up at the man, giving him a nervous smile. “When did you arrive in Tokyo?”
His smile widened, “It hasn’t been too long. This December will make it a year since I’ve moved into my new home. It almost feels cozy, though I don’t feel very welcomed.”
She nodded, “It takes a lot of time to get used to. Some find it easier to adjust more than others but that’s dependent on the person.” Her hand planted flatly on the notepad before pushing the glasses up, “If you don’t mind me asking Mr. Getou, where did you live previously?”
“Here, but I moved around after the death of my husband. I’m just struggling a bit with readjusting.”
“Why don’t you tell me about him?”
This time, he smiled fondly. His fingertips grazed over his lips as he spoke, “He was a wonderful man, full of joy. Very understanding, very loving, and very honest. He was always honest with me.”
Of course, this was the client she would get today. One enamored in the memories of his late husband when hers was nothing but distant. She knew that digging herself into a hole by opening her mouth was imminent, but it’s always been a part of the job to judge business that wasn’t her own. She was nothing if not curious, “He certainly does sound like a wonderful man… is he the reason you came back to Japan?”
“No, there’s an old friend I’m here to see. He’s been difficult to pin down.”
“Is he helping you with this adjustment?” She circled the ‘mystery man’ markings written down on the pad. In the last session, he brought him up briefly- only letting it slip that he was a teacher. She assumed this friend was the kind suited to helping him out with an issue as big as relocating.
“No. He will though, once we’ve seen each other.” 
That made her scribblings stop. He came to Japan unsure of whether or not his friend would welcome him. Much like her other clients, he was a creature for punishment. Another twinge of pain hit her, which made her straighten - the change in stature noticeable to the man in front.
“Is everything okay, Mrs. Y/N?” He spoke softly, concern etched into his voice, “You seem very uncomfortable.”
She shrugged, “I’m fine.” Setting the notepad down on the desk next to her along with her glasses as she gave her undivided attention, “About your friend- what if he doesn’t want to see you? What are you going to do then?”
This gained another smile, one that was followed by a chuckle, hearty and deep within her ear. “He hasn’t changed much. Sure there is more for him to lose but he’s still the same man I’ve known him to be.”
Before she could even think to respond, the clock had struck- eleven forty-five. The ending of today’s session.
“Well,” He started, dusting off his kimono as he stood from his place on the couch, “ I’m sure that that’s more than enough material for you to devise a plan of action for me. I’m hoping that this isn’t our last session together- I would love to see you on the thirty-first.” was the last thing he said while he exited the room. If he wished to make another appointment- Kiyoko was the one to chat with. Hopefully, by the end of the month, she’d be gone.
Today’s session was a bit tough. But tough sessions usually came and went. She envisioned that it would be a handful to talk to clients outside of something that she hadn’t personally experienced. When she first moved here, it was because of a position to provide recently moved-in foreigners with some assistance. 
The money was decent enough to pay for rent and groceries but the work was always a reminder of why the job was so daunting. If there was a wall between her clients and her, the wall was a mirror that resembled her frame. The wall reflected her insecurities and pain like light bouncing off water. At times, she even heard the implications of her voice spewing words of sadness, remorse, and regret. Speaking on parental issues and fears of change, the sessions at times were too grave to continue. She had been so eager to prove worth in her decisions that she hadn’t considered the mind state she needed to be in to help her clients.
Even now, what could be said to Getou Suguru that would ease his mind from his husband’s passing when her own would barely even look at her?
Not that there was much to look at now as she stared at the bottle of Marques De Riscal. A quarter of the bottle down and it was only six fifty-eight. Her eyes began to wander around the room, a sea of people accompanied by their partners as they sipped wine and laughed, making the area around her feel lonely.
“May I take your order?” 
“Oh not yet, I’m waiting for my husband- he should be here soon. But thank you!”
Time had passed since then and half a bottle was consumed. She could feel glares move towards her every few seconds, whispers grew, weaving their way into her head. The atmosphere seemed stifling, squeezing around her windpipe as her finger twirled around the rim of the wine glass. Interestingly enough, she found herself reminiscing about her mother. Imagining her in the brown leather couch she begged her father to purchase just a few days after they moved during her senior year. 
She’d sit there with her legs crossed and a ball of red string and needles with her glasses touching the tips of her nose. Paired with gasps in between breaths to spew her I told you so. Her condescending words on how right she was about the course her daughter’s life would take. How much her mother wished she were more like her sister. The last time she had seen her was the last time she made the effort to care. She supposed Tessanne getting into medical school was enough to not look at the failure of her eldest daughter. 
How easy was it to forget about her? Nanami had never been late, not when it came to events or special occasions. Not for something as tortuous as work. He might have been held up there, or some idiot on the road was driving too fast on the highway and built up traffic. She stared at her phone hesitantly. Seven fifty-one and only a simple message pinged on the screen to ease her mind. ‘Running a little late- don’t know when I’ll be there but if you’re hungry, order something.’ Maybe he had other things on his mind- other people on his mind. 
Or maybe, he just didn’t care.
Her phone rang with anticipation as she called. Nanami’s lateness might be prompted by work, but surely the company could let him go for the evening. 
“Hello, this is the Japanese Exchange Group- this is Jin speaking.”
“Hi, can I please get on the phone with Nanami Kento? He’s one of your employees.” She said lowly into the mic. It was weird enough to be in here for over an hour waiting. It felt even worse to have to blast spouts of anger through the phone while everyone around her carried on with their conversations.
“Give me one moment, ma’am.” He said faster than she could respond, leaving her with complete silence on the other line. 
He came back with a low grunt, “The person you’ve requested to speak to is no longer with us.” 
“That’s impossible… he’s been working there since 2015.”
“Actually, he hasn’t worked at this establishment since December tenth.” She felt her fingers tremble. Busy days…? How busy could the days of an unemployed man be?
That was one certain thing- Nanami Kento wasn’t a truthful man. Even though he prided himself on being a person who ruled with morality. With compassion for those who couldn’t provide it for others, or even for themselves. It was, after all, his duty to take care of things that other people wouldn’t dream were possible. 
“I’m gonna be so late to this dinner,” He murmurs to himself as the needle pierces through his lower abdomen. The blood compiled around his side as he laid steadily on the table. The clock above the door read seven-ten. Twenty-five minutes late but he knew he wouldn’t make it to the restaurant until minutes to eight. If the universe was trying to tell him something, it was that he might leave the night a single man. 
“I never told you to go and get yourself hurt, oh great salaryman.” Nanami could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. He let out a deep sigh like a petulant child. Of all the people he could have been stuck with for the moment, Gojo was not the one he wanted to be around. He stood there slanted at the door frame as he watched.
“Please shut up.”
He gasps, hands shooting up to cover his mouth, “you talk to your wife with that mouth?” The comment made him turn up in frustration. Which only prompted a swat from Shoko as she sutured the stitch through his skin.
Nanami also wasn’t the best liar either. But honesty had begun to run low on his scale of importance. And though he would like to assume that it didn’t affect him, it was her who suffered through his dishonesty the most. He could feel the way it changed the tone of the apartment. The both of them maneuvered around each other, never getting in the other’s way. Almost like roommates rather than husband and wife.
“Well look at that, looks like she’s all done.” Gojo called out as Shoko wrapped gauze around his wound.
“Change the gauze every few hours. If it’s still bleeding, you know where to come back to.” She handed him a bottle of ibuprofen.
“Thank you.” She gave him a thumbs up before she rolled her chair over to the nearby drawer, pulling out a stick from a Seven Stars pack. Shoko’s eyes averted from Nanami to above the doorway as she blew smoke through her nose, “It’s already late. Tell Itadori we shall discuss today’s mission tomorrow morning.”
Neither of them could respond as he stepped out of the room- leaving the both of them to look at each other. The heaviness of the room lightened a bit.
What was he to do with his feelings of despair? Ones that disguised themself as love? A part of him regretted it. A chill swiped down his spine the moment he heard the word yes from her lips. What had he gotten himself into? To be the man that he vowed to be on their wedding day just one year prior. And through all of these years of knowing each other- she never knew the truth. Not of what he used to do before he became a salaryman, or of what he does now.
But how could he ever regret her? The radiant curl of her lips showcasing her teeth. The passion in her voice when she’d tell him about whatever new food, or drink she was eager to try. The sound of her voice- stern and informative… but when it turned to laughter- it nearly made his heart constrict. How long had it been since he heard the serene sounds of laughter that vibrated throughout her chest? Or since he felt the heat of her fingertips dance along his skin? 
It felt so selfish to put her through this. He knew that from the moment he asked her to marry him- putting her through the pain of losing the man she loved. But allowing her to walk out of his life would’ve destroyed him. He could handle it, he would tell himself, he could handle the curses that got in his way if it meant he’d make it home to her every night. He swore he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken- especially not on his wedding anniversary.
He only hoped that along with his thorough explanation and an apology- that he’d be able to rekindle their relationship to where it was supposed to be, maybe even better than before. It was all he could think about on the drive home, where he smelt the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine. Her clothes scattered across the bed as he searched for his suit, which dawned a deep blue that she thought complemented his hair colour so well.
Flowers that bloomed reds and pinks were encompassed in his forearms as he closed the car door. The sky was starting to darken but he could see the plethora of lights that spread across the windows of the restaurant. The sight was as beautiful as he imagined.
He stormed through the door to catch the receptionist, nearly exasperated,  “I have a reservation under Nanami for 7:00 pm. My wife should be waiting at our table.”
The receptionist stared amusingly at him. She eyeballed his sweat-ridden face which caused the hairs to stick to his forehead, his disheveled look, and the bouquet in his hand. She popped a bubble in her gum, not even bothering to check the paper in front of her, “The reservation has been closed.”
Nanami watched as her fingers played around with the pages of a magazine she had by the stand, right above the reservation paper. He sighed, brushing the hairs that covered his eyes slightly, “Look, I understand that I’m late. But the spot is supposed to be open for three hours. It’s only four minutes past eight-thirty.”
“And I am telling you, once the spot is empty the reservation is closed.” She said once again, pointing at the empty table at the far right. One that sat next to the vast wall of windows- giving the perfect view of a gorgeous body of water that remained at the back of the restaurant. Ridden with flowers of pink and white, with trees of equal colour. The same table that was being cleared of its glasses and a bottle of wine- one he could smell if he had been close enough. Marques De Riscal.
What an expensive bottle with such an earthy taste to it. Barely any hints of sweetness to cover up the blazing fire in her throat. She couldn’t understand how people drank so frequently- and to drink alcohol that tasted so damn boring. It had nothing on the hints of raspberry and lime with splashes of rum. One that had her chugging on her fourth daiquiri since she sat in the bar for not even a good fifty minutes.
The bar was quiet, nearly vacant. No one would be foolish enough to drink on a Wednesday night knowing the alarm would ring as early as seven. But then again, someone who wasn’t foolish didn’t have a partner who was late for their anniversary dinner. She sat, with her fingers dancing around the rim of the glass before huffing to herself. 
“Tough night, huh?” A raspy voice called from the side of her with slurred words and the prominent stench of vodka. Her eyes peered to two seats down to reveal a woman, with a glass at her fingertips, mouth ghosting over it. The woman’s skin was fair, possessing a button-like nose that raised at the base. She didn’t look any older than her, presuming the lady was in her early thirties as she dawned dark brown hair with strings of silver filling her hairline. The lady possessed equally dark eyes, at equal distance away from her nose, that watched her tentatively. “I mean it must be. Considering you’re sitting in a bar drinking on a weeknight.”
She hadn’t entertained the lady’s point, continuing to sip at her drink while her eyes became occupied with the large fish tank in the corner. Still, as she kept her distance, the woman moved closer- now only one seat separating the both of them. 
“I don’t mean to pry,” she started again, “but you’re sulking a bit. It’s kinda bringing down the mood.”
“I’m sure my ‘sulking’ wouldn’t bother you if you were a few seats away from me.”
“Feisty.” She chuckled, setting the glass on the counter and placing her hands up, they stayed on either side of her head, “My apologies, you just look like you need to vent about something.”
“I don’t.”
“You sure?”
“Very, so please.” She raised her hand to her face, trying to block the view. Another chuckle erupted from her chest, making her tap her fingers on the glass surface in anguish. Surely the lady was drunk or tipsy, the vodka practically stitching into her nostrils with each passing moment.
Another wave of silence washed over the space, before the lady pulled her hand back, reaching for her jacket pocket. Eyes finally moved towards her direction again as her fingers glided through the inner pocket of her woolen sweater pulling out a spout of cash, “Bartender, another vodka sprite for me and a raspberry daiquiri for the lady over here please.”
The man behind the counter nods, taking the money, “Can I also have a separate shot of tequila?” She told him as he nodded a second time and then moved to the other side of the table. Now she was left alone with the mysterious woman next to her. “What? You want my number or something?” 
Another laugh came from her, this one much heartier than the last one, “No, I just wanted to chat- I’m quite bored if you couldn’t tell.”
“And buying me a drink is the way to start.”
“I tried to appeal to you before the drink but you weren’t having it- you’re too,” she taps her temple with her middle finger, “preoccupied.”
This garnered a laugh from her. She didn’t find it humorous but after today, she’d laugh at anything.  “I’m Y/N. and yeah- it’s been a night.”
“I’m Kira.” She mumbled, holding a hand out to her. Her gaze was still fixated on Kira’s eyes as she took her hand.
“Haven’t seen you around here… you just moved or something?”
“I’ve lived here for quite some time, just… never came in here before.”
“So, what’s with the change of scenery? You get stood up or something?” Kira blurted out quickly, causing her eyes to widen as her lips parted. “You’ve got a pretty dress on, your hair’s done and there’s makeup on your face- people don’t dress like that to come to an empty bar with no one to talk to for almost an hour.”
Suddenly, the memories of Nanami and the night thus far flooded her mind. She came here to take her mind off him and here his actions were, loud and bright and plastered all over her body language. It was enough for even a drunk woman to see it. Through the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the bartender. Dressed in full black, they moved swiftly to her and Kira with the dark pink drink in one hand. “A raspberry daiquiri, a vodka sprite, and a shot of tequila.”
“Thank you.” The both of them commented as the two new glasses rattled on the counter's surface. She quickly turned the miniature glass up her head, twitching a little as the cool liquid slid down her throat. She took a deep breath, contemplating the next moves carefully. She didn’t want to give a stranger a one-way ticket into her mind. It wasn’t her concern. So why did she feel this need to explain herself?
“I got married a year ago today, and my husband didn’t show up to our dinner reservation.”
“Ouch,” Kira remarked loudly, dragging out the sound of the word as she gulped her drink, “that’s shitty.”
She shook her head lightly, peering at her lap, “It wasn’t always like that.”
“Well clearly, he wasn’t always like that- or else you’d be somewhere else.”
She snickered, taking a sip of the daiquiri. Her sight moved to Kira’s full body. “He’s been working a lot and it’s taking up a lot of his attention. I don’t know, it just feels like I’ve become second best. To a job no less.” 
“Familiar with the whole second-best bullshit?”
By the time she finished her question, she already was down to half of her drink. When Kira remained still, she decided to continue, “My father loves my mother- supported her through everything, even when she was never right.” Her hand gripped the glass tightly as her mind began to navigate through the emotions that she swore died when she moved from the States. “She was the one who thought it was a terrible idea to become a therapist. Told me I wasted my education and her money on foolishness.”
Another gulp of her drink, “She preferred my sister.”
“Heh, let me guess, she’s studying to be a doctor or something?” Kira remarked, finally bringing the glass in for a sip.
She nodded, “Even my best friend- hadn’t talked to her in years before my wedding because of a falling out we had over her boyfriend. And yes, they’re still together.”
Kira nodded her head slowly, “So, what exactly does this have to do with your husband?”
“Nothing much I guess, I’m just worried about him. Where he is, where he’s been.”
“Worried?... Sounds like you think he might have someone else.” Kira retorted.
She felt like her throat clogged up on the spot. Is he seeing someone else? It wasn’t a foreign concept- it was something she pondered. But it wasn’t possible- not for a man like him. “I don’t know- he’s been distant these past few weeks- more so than usual. Maybe the problem is me.”
Kira’s eyes watched her attentively as if to examine every behaviour she exhibited without having known her ten minutes ago. Kira sighed, eyes dazzling with familiarity, one that she had only ever seen in the office with a client sitting on the sofa. “I doubt it- people don’t change overnight. I mean look at you, years away from your family and you’re still flooded with insecurity.”
“Thanks.” she scoffed harshly, “That makes me feel great.”
“Well, it’s true. Your husband is keeping something from you- probably was waiting for tonight to tell you. That’s why he was late. You’ll probably walk into the house and catch a glimpse of the young woman on his arm.” Kira’s tone began to mutate. The once playful sway that prompted her to open up about the thoughts beating against her skull now prompted a drawback and was open to unwarranted criticism.
“It’s what cheaters do-” She continued, turning the glass completely up her head, “they don’t care about hurting you because they don’t even care about themselves. And they probably hate you for putting up with them.”
Kira turned to her, much to her dismay as the atmosphere of the bar weighed dense with agitation. From Kira’s perspective, the heat that radiated off her body was present. “That’s not Kento. He would never.”
“Really?” She responded with laughter. “And that’s why you’re in a bar drinking away on your anniversary while he’s somewhere you don’t even know?”
Her hands tapped a little faster. Her body resembled a child, sitting and taking a lecture, remaining quiet. Wishing she could rewind before the start of this conversation with her. The lady with dark eyes and a drag in her words. Her hand planted flatly on the table, lifting her off the chair to lace fingers into the silkiness of her jacket, “Thank you for the drink, but I think it’s time for me to go.”
Kira’s eyes remained fixated on the glass in front of her, never daring to look back. It wasn’t until she turned her heel to leave that she spoke in an undertone, “Word of advice, sweetheart- leave. Don’t give him the satisfaction of watching you destroy yourself to keep him.”
All that mused Kira’s thoughts as she stormed out the doors of the bar was how she knew this wouldn’t be the last encounter. Because she wasn’t going to leave. How could she when things weren’t certain? Feelings of doubt like this were only reserved for new couples- not ones who were three years into their commitment.
Not when her mind was so fresh with the first meeting.
━━━━━━━━━━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━━━━━━━━━━
MAY 2015
The air felt warm- the warmest it had been in months as spring made way for new bloomings. There was a faintness of sunlight, the clouds covering any shine. It was eleven thirty-seven- lunch break. She decided to stop by a local bakery, which was empty, except for the workers, a man, and herself. One that’s cologne filled the atmosphere, a gentle smell. She paced around between cakes and muffins, small cookies, and various breads. How could one person be allowed access to such large amounts of food? 
Moments passed, and she finally settled on two danishes before she heard a familiar buzz. Her next appointment was waiting in the office. She couldn’t wait for the blonde man in front to finish ordering as she set the danishes down and strolled out of the store, jogging back to the building. The patience she was willing to exhibit would have to wait. An hour later, the acid in her stomach was bubbling and growling. Causing her to run over to the bakery this time, which was now vacant of any customers. Picking up the two danishes and grabbing her wallet to pay- searching for an extra dollar or two to drop in the jar.
“These are already paid for, ma’am.” The cashier called out, standing on the opposite side. Her eyes moved slowly to the young lady’s face, attempting to see cracks in the expression. Surely she was being joked around with.
“I’m sorry?” She said sternly.
“These are already paid for.” The cashier repeated with a wide curve of her lips, as her fingers gently massaged her shoulder. “The man who was in here before you asked to put it on his receipt and give it to you once you came back.”
She was definitely joking now. The only people who were there were her and the man. But he stood in front of her, how could he have known that she wanted the danishes, or that she’d even come back to get them? Why would he even pay for a stranger’s food without knowing that for sure?
Those words echoed in her head as she walked to the office, with her stomach still growling. The pastries stayed untouched on her desk. Untouched as it dangled from her hand as she stood on the train. Her keys fell to the wooden countertop of her apartment along with it. For days staring at her each time she entered through the door,  growing a thin layer of grey spots over the fruit as it made its way to the now-hardened dough.
For a time, she avoided the bakery, fearing having to face the man and confess that she never even tasted the danishes he insisted the bakery girl give to her. She found herself back in there after four days once she had grown too curious to taste the tenderness of the pastry. The day that her teeth bit into the flaky and buttery crust was the day that she, fortunately, hadn’t encountered him. She intended to thank him and hand him the money it cost him whenever she got the chance to see him again. But every day that she was there, she didn’t catch a glimpse of the man- almost like he disappeared.
She’d imagine it would’ve been a simple interaction. Nothing more than a few moments and then silence. As he imagined that the interaction wouldn’t take more than a few seconds if he ever got the chance to see her again. He’d been working for longer hours, dozing off at his desk with his stomach roaring for attention. Too much work and his appetite was shot- that was a first. 
It had been only two years since his transition into corporate life. And he found himself dragging along, increasing an already wealthy corporation’s stocks. He wanted to convince himself that it was better than being a sorcerer. He was distraught, but accepting of his decision to leave that part of him in the past. He was screwing people over by selling them mucky stocks. But at least he wouldn’t have to see anyone he cared for arrive at the school tattered and dead. A cowardly move yet one that allowed him to have a shred of peace.
However, the peace didn’t satisfy him for long. Not when he’d stepped through the door, the aroma of fresh dough and baked fruits filled his nostrils. Only for his sights to be set on the winged creature wrapped around the cashier’s shoulder like a possessive cat.  It made his eyes burn with disgust, and shame. 
“Can you take a step forward?” The words came out harsher than he anticipated. Still, she took a step towards him- her grin hitched. With a swipe of his arm, too close to her face, he asked, “How is your shoulder?”
She rotated the joint, feeling ease near the point, “Woah, it feels so light.”
“If you still have an uncomfortable feeling in your shoulder, please go to the hospital.” He began to step away, “Pardon me.”
As he turned to make his way to the door, the familiar jingle of the bell rang. He stood there frozen in place, gripping the bag with his cassecroute. There she stood, huffing and ridden with beads of sweat on her forehead. She dressed in a long button-down and a skirt to combat the growing heat that swarmed over Japan’s temperature. The deepness of her brown skin glistened in the artificial lights while her dark coils of hair were held together in a puff high up on her head.
“Right on time, I have your usual Miss Y/N.” The girl called from behind him. A smile flashed across her face, raising her cheeks and showing her teeth. How hadn’t he seen her in here before?
“Thank you so much, you already know I had to run over here.”
“You usually do.” She commented which allowed a sprout of laughter to fill the bakery.
He watched her intensively, fingertips lingering on the packaged goods with a wad of paper peeking out of her palm- face brimming with delight. Her presence was unfamiliar- especially for this part of the city. That piqued his curiosity- she must have moved here not too long ago. The thought, however, wasn’t enough to form a conversation with her- which just prompted him to eye her like a deer in headlights.
“Sorry sir, are you finished with your order?” she asked in a voice that poured into his ears like honey. He wouldn’t be able to process that she’d been referring to him if he wasn’t looking directly at her. Her face began to contort with anxiousness as she raised her hand to his face, snapping her fingers in hopes of gaining his attention. “Um, sir- is everything okay?”
His eyelids fidgeted, “No- sorry.” He responded abruptly, twisting away and catching sight of his head back. Blonde and short, and familiar- though she couldn’t put her finger on why. Then it hit her- the faint scent of his hair. Almost as similar to the aromas that surrounded her but as potent as the cologne he was wearing. The same one she smelled the first day she was in here.
Her legs moved faster than her mind, and before long, she was already out the door. Prepared to chase him down if she needed to, though it wasn’t necessary- he was sauntering. “Excuse me, sir.”
His tracks stopped and his head peeped back over his shoulder, seeing her sweat-ridden face out the corner of his eye. A part of him wondered if he dropped anything on his way out and how awkward it would have been.  “Something wrong, Miss?”
She managed to notice his phone pressed up against his ear. “Uh, s-sorry. You’re on the phone, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It’s not a problem- but you came out here in quite a hurry. I didn’t misplace something, did I?” He questioned, a tinge of irritation in his voice. She’d already felt like walking back inside, the embarrassment wasn’t worth it.
“Oh, is that woman? She sounds pretty.” She could hear the faintness of giggling through the speakers of his phone. Which only made the present irritation light with flames, and lifted a weight from her chest.
“Shut it!” He whispered loudly enough to be heard, resulting in him hanging up.
He turned back, brown eyes searching for hers. “Sorry about that. Co-worker, he’s a special character, to say the least.”
All she could do was stare into the eyes that looked into hers earnestly. There were etches of tiredness above his prominent cheekbones- ones that sunk in slightly, shaping out the rosy tint of his lips.  “So,” he started again, “ something you wanted to say?”
“Right, uh…” Her hands moved to the nape of her neck, fingers gliding over it. “I know this might sound weird, but I think I know you… Well, not really but I’ve smelt that cologne before so I know that I’ve seen you before or been in the same place as you.”
“You mean that place?” He responded, pointing behind her.
Her head snapped at the back of her to catch a glimpse of his direction. Dropping her sight to turn to him again. “You’re a comedian, I see.”
She laughed with saccharine sounds that caused an upturn in his mouth. He thought the peek of her teeth when she did so was pretty. Once she caught his gaze again, she stopped. “The point of me coming out here- I don’t know if you remember but the first time I came here, you kinda paid for the danishes that I wanted in the store.”
“I came back and the bakery girl told me what you did, which was kind of you. But I just haven’t seen you since to thank you.” She fumbled through her bag, getting out the wallet, “And well, give you this.” She stretched out to hand him a few crumpled bills that looked as though she ‘straightened’ them with the corner of a wall.
���There’s no need.”
“I insist,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while now. And I wouldn’t want to have to owe you back in the long run.”
“You don’t need to. It took nothing off of me, especially since you like them so much now.” 
She chose not to fight him on it, with his tailored suits, refined demeanor with high cheekbones, and a warm gaze- money probably wasn’t an issue. How could it be when he looked the way he did? She nodded slowly, “Guess I’ll see you around.” 
He nodded his head, watching as she widened the distance between the both of them. Making her way back to the bakery’s entrance. It would be a dime a dozen if he was able to spot her again. He wouldn’t be back over here getting his cassecroute anymore. Because he wouldn’t even be working that lousy company job.
She pulled him from his thoughts as he noticed her approaching him again, this time with less urgency than the first time, “My manners are shot, sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. My name’s Y/N Y/L by the way.” She said, extending her hand to him.
He took her hand graciously, nearly making her flinch from the chilliness of his fingers. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Nanami Kento.”
She smiled, “Nice to meet you, Nanami.”
━━━━━━━━━━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━━━━━━━━━━
Nanami thought life was so much simpler when he wasn’t involved in the inconvenience of politics. Before he became aware of his ‘condition’. Back to the age of eight, when his parents were happy, and in a way- he was too. When his mother would hum as she cooked in the kitchen. She’d trod off to work with his father who dressed in his nice suits- tailored to perfection. They would always make it back home after his eyes had closed and soft snores escaped his mouth. They’d return to the kitchen where the supper was eaten and packed away by Chisa, his babysitter, who was between school terms.
They never had the heart to tell him about his father being laid off from work- prompting his long-term unemployment and Chisa’s obsoleteness. The difference in the atmosphere came almost instantly. His father was snappier with his eyes glued to his computer screen and his mother was barely home except for a few moments in the morning.  There was no time for the new adjustment, but at least he could stay in the comforts of his room- his little bubble and wait for things to return to the way they were. 
It was naive of him to believe so. Especially when his sight was fixated on the gremlin-like curses that hid from his mother and father’s vision- plaguing his home and tormenting him. How could a child tell their parents monsters existed and were leeching onto them like parasites?
His mother couldn’t fully comprehend what his babbling was about. Assuming that their lack of interaction was the cause of it. “Maybe you’re just imagining it, honey.” She told him with her hands running through his hair. “I promise things will get better soon.” Mumbling and groaning as she flopped on the bed with half-lidded eyes.
His father wasn’t willing to hear it- a child with an overactive imagination wasn’t foreign.  A person living in his own home like a freeloader, on the other hand, was. He nearly jumped at the opportunity to get back into the field, landing his first interview and leaving him to call back Chisa to look after Nanami for a few hours. She accepted though time wasn’t on her side.
Things began looking up as his father shook the CEO’s hand in agreement with his availability to work. He drove home feeling accomplished, excited to tell his wife that she didn’t need to kill herself off by working sixteen-hour shifts. That excitement quickly drained and filled his face with dread. Blood splattered on the hardwood and the walls. Chisa’s body, mangled and torn, laid promptly on the living room carpet.
His father’s eyes searched for him- checking the entry point of their home. Hearing faint sounds of crying coming from his room. Inside the closet, with his legs clenched tightly to his chest, Nanami rocked back and forth repeating through choked sobs, “It was the monsters, I swear.”
It was that thinking that got him into the college in the first place. Seeking out the institution he stumbled upon two guys, dawned in dark clothing covering every bit of their bodies aside from their hands and faces. Watching the white-haired one take down the curse with ease, similar to the curses he’s been seeing all his life. 
It was the dark-haired one who suggested he talk to their teacher, who oversaw the students' tasks and acceptance. The hardest part wasn’t getting accepted, but telling his parents what exactly he’d be doing for the next three years at this school. Making up some lies about how the college was supposed to help them get internships to work at different companies in the country. The lie flowed out so easily, almost scary how quickly it came from him. But to be met with his mother’s warm smile and his father’s accepting eyes was all that he needed.
He spent his days slashing at curses that were much too powerful for his standing. Days with one who was all too enthusiastic about being there. Yu Haibara, the young boy that kept him from drowning in the misery of responsibility. A responsibility that was much too grave for a couple of sixteen-year-olds to handle. That unfortunately resulted in the same fate that came down on Chisa going down on his friend.
He wished for simpler times again. Prayed for that light at the end of the tunnel, a purpose that would make the sacrifices of those around him feel worth it. Just a measly piece of hope- but he struggled to find one. How pitiful he felt when he graduated and left the last three years behind him. ‘It’s what you wanted’, is what he repeated to himself. But how could he when no one knew what they did? No one saw what they’d do to people- how they’d devour their victims without remorse? What type of pathetic man would allow that to happen to innocent people? The same pathetic man who was lying to his wife. 
He tapped his dress shoes anxiously, waiting to hear the turn of the door handle. Pondering his thoughts- how would she react to it? She loved him no doubt, but the play-by-play in his head told him this would end sourly. It was easier to be labeled as a child with an overactive imagination. To be an adult and preach the same gospel was a one-way ticket to padded walls and artificial light.
He heard footsteps before she walked through the door- standing suddenly as the keys jingled through the lock. There she stood, in a gorgeous blue slip dress that highlighted every curve, every rounded edge. A chuckle left her mouth as she finally met his eyes, “Well, it’s nice to see you’ve arrived somewhere before me.” She glanced over the table, toppled with his flowers in a vase and an envelope for her sitting next to it.
“Baby,”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” she stepped past him into the bathroom. He followed behind a few seconds later, catching a glimpse of her back before his hands stiffened close at his sides. On the lower end, stood a slimy green creature, coiled around her skin.
“Y/N, if I asked you to turn around, would you?” he asked as she stooped down to search the cabinets of the bathroom. His comment made her head turn up, straightening herself out.
“What are you talking about?.”
“If I asked you to turn around, can you?” he repeated.
Her shoulders began to fall as a sigh escaped her lips, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Please, just- please?” he begged further- hoping that at least he could do this one thing before she managed to rip him a new one. She turned away from him, hand gripping the edge of the countertop. When he was certain, he stepped forward, swiping his arm across the area. Lucky enough the curse wasn’t anything too big and the relief came almost instantly. It surprised her how lighter her back felt- one swift move from Nanami prevented a drive to the ER as soon as dawn broke. 
“How do you feel now?” he asked, voice present with curiosity. It was faint, the opposite of the tone her own had taken.
She shook her head, turning to face him, “Weirded out.” she whispered, “But furious no less. I mean- waiting in a restaurant for two hours is embarrassing enough but getting stood up by my husband is laughable.”
He could hear the tremble in those words. The rage that was laced with them as she spat more venom towards him. “Nothing to say for yourself?” she said, breaking through his thoughts. Being this close to her face allowed him to catch the scent of alcohol on her breath. The stench of tequila burned through every other aroma.
If the both of them were to have this conversation, it had to be when she was in the right mind to listen to him. Not that he believed he deserved the kindness of her ears, “You smell of alcohol, where have you been?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know…” she scoffed, picking up the wipes from the cabinet, and placing them down on the counter. His eyes stayed fixated on her face. Another spout of laughter came from her, “What?... You don’t believe me? Think I’m keeping something from you?” her head snaked up towards his ear, whispering into it.
He drew in a strong breath, “We can do a little without the sarcasm here, don’t you think?”
“No.” she drew away, and the wipe moved along the surface to clear off the foundation and blush. “What I can do with is the truth. What happened to you tonight?”
“Something came up.”
“Something like what?... Work?”
He kept a stiff face, but his response was even more predictable, “What do you mean like what? You know I have to work.”
“I don’t know, it’s just hard to work when you have no job.” She shrugged, continuing to rub off the foundation. She wished he didn’t make her spell it out for him- he was a smart enough man to know when he’d been caught.  Her frustration grew the longer the silence went on. Once the wipe was done, she turned to him again, “Fine- when did you leave your job?”
His eyes widened at the question, face draining of the red colour that printed over his cheeks and on his full lips. That was the best response she had gotten tonight, “I called the company today to figure out where the hell you were that you couldn’t be on time for our dinner. Imagine my surprise when they told me you quit, after having believed that that was where you were going off to in the mornings.”
His gaze softened, shame overtaking his features as she continued, “So, I’ll ask again, when did you leave your job?”
There was no use in lying to her now. His voice was small, the words coming out muttered. “December.”
“What date?”
He shook his head, jaw clenching at the persistence, “I don’t see how that makes a difference.”
“Humour me, Kento.”
“The 10th.”
“A point for truthfulness, give him an award.” Her hands slapped against one another as she cheered, steamrolling past him out of the bathroom to their shared bedroom. She stripped herself of earrings and bracelets, watching his figure come to life in the mirror- his body just inches behind. His hands were starting to feel moist, a thin layer of sweat ghosting over his palms.
“I had every intention of telling you, I just-”
“Then why didn’t you?” she spat, “Something getting in the way?” 
“I don’t know what you mean.” 
“Like hell you do,” the words came out in a rumble. She slammed the last of the jewelry on the dresser, turning to face him, “Late night phone calls, the distance, you walking through that door almost half an hour past time but I guess now I can see why.”
He said calmly, “Why don’t you just spit it out instead of beating around the bush?”
“Fine! Are you cheating on me?” The statement came blunt. A pin drop could be heard with the space the silence filled between them both. Her gaze moved away- fearful of his response or worse, his expression and ashamed of the insinuation. Nanami wasn’t a cheater- he wouldn’t do that to her. She knew that. She had to have known that.
Nanami could feel his eyes heat up with water. A lump caught in his throat as he followed the direction of her eyesight, focused on her painted toes. “You think I’m stepping out on you?” He took a few steps forward. His hands reached out to touch her face, cupping her cheeks. “That’s ridiculous. How can you even insinuate something like that?” His tone wasn’t berating, though it came off differently.
“Why should I believe you?” she shook her head lightly, “All you’ve been doing this entire time is lying to me.”
“There’s a clear issue here- accusations won’t help.”
Another chuckle erupted from her, “Oh, you’re insulted? Can’t imagine how that might feel.”
Her hands pried his from her face, stepping away from him as she slipped the straps from her shoulders. Her body was now bare, with only her underwear covering her. “What’s so funny?”
She searched through the drawers for a large t-shirt to put over her, feeling an instant chill from the exposure. “You. This. Everything. I mean- I feel like I’m going fucking crazy here.” shouts swelled from her throat, turning to him abruptly.
“You don’t kiss me the way you used to. You don’t talk to me the way you used to, I don’t know how your day was or what you dreamt about the night before… I mean, you’re sleeping on the fucking couch for Christ’s sake.” His stature hadn’t ceased yet, and he remained as still as she left him. A stitch of envy poked through the air- so much of her was exposed when he was shielded. Even his eyes, pools of a honey brown, appeared darker, more reserved. It infuriated her, to pathetically beg for answers to questions that wouldn’t come. Even more when she sensed the hot tears beginning to drench her cheeks.
Her body began to tremble as she spoke, fresh with anguish. She hobbled over to the bed, dragging her feet as she placed herself at the edge. “You come home and it’s like- you’re here but you’re not really here. And today,” she sniffled, wiping her nose, “today of all days, you decided to leave me in the restaurant that we made reservations for three months ago for two hours and only God knows why.”  
His distance was closing in, hands reaching out to touch her. His legs caged her thighs as he stood in front. The choked sobs coming from her throat, the shuddering of her face between his fingers- how could he do this?  She melted into his hands this time, looking up to follow the gaze of his eyes as they twisted in another direction. “Look at me, please.”
Her fingertip lightly grazed under his chin. “Tell me the truth. Tell me that this is all in my head, that I’m just drunk and not thinking straight. That there’s a reason for you quitting your job and keeping it from me for a year. That your behaviour is for a good reason- one that’s too out of the box for me to even have thought of.”
His breathing was ragged, paired with the deadpan of his stare. She knew what she was spewing tonight wasn’t unlikely. But god did she want it to be false. She just couldn’t believe it. She exhaled, tears continuing to drop from her eyelids. A million different scenarios of this conversation played in her head on the way here. Half of those included variations of this exact conversation. Ending with her, broken, rabidly scraping through bits of something that didn’t belong to her- recalling the familiar crack of her mother’s laugh.
She lingered a last effort to get the truth out of him. “Baby, please say something.” 
His expression was unreadable, making her more anxious than she had been the entire night. What more needs to be done? Eventually, there was a swift intake of air and his nostril flared. His eyes, maintaining contact with hers, were gentle,  “I shouldn’t-” He hesitated, his tongue lined with the grains of his answer. Her ears perked up gently, “I shouldn’t have married you.” 
Nanami’s tone came out so softly- she almost hadn’t recognized the words he said. Then the words registered- twisting her face into an unrecognizable expression. Shattering through her resolve, through what little careful maneuvering she did to prevent this. Fear. She searched for any implication that he was lying, but his demeanor remained. His eyes were unwavering- there was no thumping of his heartbeat that pounded against her eardrums. No bob of his Adam’s apple or trembling on his lips.
An isolated vibration echoed through the walls of the apartment. The tremors of her body that had longed to snap, ceased. She pushed past him, skipping to her bag on the dresser top. Answering the phone as quickly as her hands could swipe.
“Hello, this is Y/N,” she greeted politely, hoping her voice wouldn’t be deceitful. Though she focused on the phone call, her attention never left Nanami. “Good night to you- no this isn’t a bad time, is everything okay?”
“No, I should be off for the next two weeks. Tell Mr. Getou he can book with me sometime in November when I get back.” She explained. In the instant, she could see his eyes narrow though she couldn’t understand why. “Any day past November 1st is fine. Okay- no problem. Bye.”
She took the phone from her ear, placing it on the dresser as she blew out a huff of air before she could hear his voice calling out again. “Getou?”  He questioned, fingers tracing over his palm while he stood. Her mouth never opened nor did her eyes make their way back to him.
“It’s late and you’re tired. Maybe we should talk about it in the morning.” He explains- attempting once again to move closer, every step he took- she took one as well in the opposite direction. His whole body felt clammy now. “I should probably go, give you a good night’s rest.”
He moved towards the door, fire burning hot in his belly, creating a pit in his stomach.
“Kento,” she called out, causing him to turn. “There’s a hotel that I passed on my way over here. On route with that bar, you pass to get to…” she paused briefly, “used to pass to get to work.”
He nodded, turning on his heel to exit through the door. She heard the familiar turn of the knob and then the faint click in place as the door closed. Leaving her in the loneliness of the living room as the tears rained down from her waterline.
“I shouldn’t have married you.” She didn’t know if it was one of the only truths he told tonight. But he knew he should’ve stayed, held her tightly with his thumbs rubbing circles into the rolls of her back. He knew it was sinister to have left her to meticulous thoughts. The way his own was inked with the same fixation as his hands laid steadily on the wheel. The streets were quiet with a drizzle and fog covering the once-dark sky- surrounding the car with a thin veil of gray. 
The words tasted of bile and acid once they slipped from his tongue, scorching through tissue and muscle. It’s all that was coming to him at the moment. Here he was met with the opportunity to be honest, to explain what he intended to and his words came out wrong. Maybe he didn’t feel the need to defend himself too heavily. He knew things other people didn’t and kept things other people wouldn’t. Maybe he did regret meeting her- marrying her and keeping her all to himself. Maybe in this scenario, on this occasion- he was the bad guy. 
How could he not be when the love of his life now believed she plagued his thoughts with her inadequacy?
The words replayed over and over, wiggling their way through his brain like an earworm. Even as badly as the utterness of Getou’s name. It had to be a different person. It couldn’t be the person he thought it was. But getting to the school through a vulnerable source- a non-sorcerer, a human who was believed to be a waste- that screamed the person he once knew. It made him even sicker to think about how that source was his wife. It soured his mind even more- what was his reason for even targeting her?
Nanami would have to tell her the truth, in hopes that she could believe him and that through that, she’d understand the dangers that Getou posed to her. She wouldn’t believe him, but he’d be willing to do whatever it took to get her there. His mind also ran on Gojo for a brief moment as he came to a stop at the light. He’d have to call him in the morning too, it could be nothing after all. But their lives were never so lucky.
He pressed gently down on the gas searching around to see the bright signs indicating the entrance to the building. He noticed the light first, the shine of it nearly blinding his view. Then came the screech of a tire that made him crack his neck to the side. The car in the opposite direction collided head-first with his side sending an initial wave of shock over his body, feeling a sharp pain. The car drifted, stopping swiftly due to the dullness of the asphalt- flipping it on its side, again and again and again until the car rested on its top. 
It left him dangled above the ground, blood gushing out of his head. The sharp pain pierced through his sides. Nanami didn’t have the energy to scream so his eyes just moved around slowly, catching a small glimpse of a car next to him. The car was on its side with its driver a few feet away from it, blood drenching the silver strands in their hair. His sight was starting to get droopy, he couldn’t even make out the figure approaching, “Oh my god, someone call the ambulance!” He didn’t hear anymore after that- his eyes grew too heavy and shut too abruptly.
“Someone please call the ambulance.” The man through the screen shouted out with his hands pressed down to the source of the blood. Her fingers pressed the buttons of the remote shakily, with a bag of sweets taking refuge in her other hand. She thought she’d be asleep by now. Ten twenty-six and her eyes were clawing for rest as she flicked from channel to channel. It was apparent that she should be in her right mind to talk to Nanami tomorrow. But sleep was evading her- preventing her from escaping the nightmare of the night into a dream of a new day. Even blinking took too much energy.
She wondered what could even be said in the morning. If anything he said tomorrow could take back the words of confession he revealed tonight. If it could fill the black hole in her chest that widened with each passing minute. The intention of tonight was to get him to tell the truth- the whole truth. He hadn’t told her what she expected but what was the difference in what he said? 
Her fingers continued to switch through station after station, almost on its own before she made it to the news channel. Nothing caught her attention- there were the typical weather reports, local crime in the area- nothing too out of the ordinary. At this rate, she might as well force the sleep on.
Before she could think to turn off the television, something flashed quickly over the screen. A crash- two colliding cars that left one of the participants dead on the spot. Though she wasn’t sure why, there was this awful pit in her stomach that prevented her from switching it off. Her eyes scanned over the bright lights to piece together the crime scene. And then she noticed the car. The car was exactly like Nanami’s- scratches and scraps painting the doors. The same paint job, the same model. The street was the exact one she passed to get home- the one she suggested he take to get him to the hotel. What were the odds, right?
The words of the reporters began to drown out, just mumbles crowded the atmosphere. The only sounds that got through were those of her heartbeat, threatening to burst out of her chest. She could feel the bottom of her belly tingle, the emptiness of her stomach, and the build-up of urine that suddenly appeared. Even the saliva accumulating in her mouth became almost too watery. Her fingers were nimble and trembling as she let the remote slip from her grasp. 
She nearly jumped out of her skin to get to the phone, “Hello ... .this is she.” There were constrictions around her throat, tightening as more warm tears were attempting to spill from her eyes. “Is he okay?...”
It didn’t take long to get to the hospital after the lady had told her where to go. The difficult part was not being able to see him. The doctor let her know that he had some cranial bleeding and two of his ribs had broken. One of them pierced through his spleen, which they planned to remove. Sitting in the crowded lobby, picking at her fingernails, she watched countless people passing in and out. Their injuries spanned from stomach aches to deep lacerations to full limbs missing from their bodies. The blood that dripped from the wounds added to her unease.
“You must be Nanami’s lovely lady. Y/N, right?.” She heard an upbeat voice call to her from above. Her vision slowly examined the slender body of a man who dawned dark slacks and a white button down. Dark glasses over his eyes with a dazzling white smile and hair to match. He extended one hand out while the other was occupied with a can of soda. Her attention left him as she continued to pick at her nail beds.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He continued, placing himself in the empty seat next to her. “I’ve heard much about you.”
Her head remained away from his direction, “Strange, I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
“Ah, the businessman must be embarrassed talking about me or something.” He joked, soft giggles leaving his lips as his eyes studied the pattern of footsteps passing them every few seconds. His gaze made its way back to her face, with the same grin printed on, “Well, in that case- I’m Gojo Satoru.”
She figured if he knew who Nanami was, he was an associate of his. Maybe one from his new ‘job’ that she hadn’t known about. Not that she knew of any friends from the company. But, this was Gojo- the man sitting next to her with his legs crossed over one another- the same man whose name brightened up on Nanami’s phone late in the night. Strangely enough, with this new information of his identity- it made his appearance glow.
How’d he even know to come here? Did he get a call too? Was he watching the news like she had been and decided to rush over here? “Gojo,” She whispered to herself, barely audible to anyone else. One moment with him, and he was consuming empty spaces of her thoughts- the ones that weren’t occupied with Nanami.
Almost as if he had been reading her mind- his voice lowered to a whisper. Taking a sip from his can, he voiced plainly, “The lady at the front desk called me. I was in the area so it didn’t take me very long to get over here.” In the area? This was the closest hospital to the crash- how could he know about it so soon unless he was already here. Was this man on his emergency contacts list? Before his parents? Before…
“You must’ve been so worried. Car crashes in weather like this seem so obvious, but I’m sure that’s not really what you wanna hear, right?” He continued, nearly unaware that her attention was anywhere except the conversation. He briefly caught a glimpse of the vacant expression that washed over her features, “Hey, you okay?”
It wasn’t a long silence as she turned to him, being met with the intensity of his eyes. An icy shade of blue- nothing like the warmth that came from Nanami’s.  “Can I ask you a question?” She asked hesitantly. He nodded, eyes so bright it felt like he was peering into her soul. It left her naked under the lens of his scope. But not vulnerable enough to pass the opportunity to question him, “What’s your relationship to Kento anyway? What is it that the two of you do?”
The smile he had worn before changed, turning it into a solemn expression as he answered, “He didn’t tell you?” His voice sounded concerned, though it only read to her as some sort of confirmation. There was a bob in his throat as he took another sip of soda, “Maybe I’m not the best person to tell you about it then.”
“I don’t think it really matters.”
She focused back on her hands that lay steady in her lap, thumbs circling around each other. He contorted in his chair, resting his knee up on the chair’s back as his elbow rested on the top, “Look, whatever happened between you and Nanami tonight, it’s not his fault- I mean not entirely at least.”
There was a curve of her lips, shaking her head as he pleaded with her. “I’m serious. I mean he’s been ranting about how shitty everything’s been lately- how he wishes things were easier. I mean it took him weeks to find some good plane tickets to Malaysia.”
The sentence made her fingers stop, and her blood ran cold. The envelope on the table… His hands clamped over his mouth as fast as the words came out. “Shit- I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be to him spilling such an important secret. He knew if Nanami was awake, he’d strangle him for opening up his big mouth. But all she did was chuckle, “It’s fine- I’m happy about how unintentional your honesty was just now. I needed it.”
“Mrs. Nanami Kento,” The overhead speaker boomed through the ceiling, alerting every person whose eyes weren’t too tired to close. She took one last look at Gojo and then rushed to the front desk instantly, watching as the woman’s face stared patiently at the blinding screen in front of her. “Your husband’s out of surgery. You can see him now.”
She took a step away from the desk, up the elevator then straight down to the end of the hall- the post-anesthesia care unit. Her body stopped just before she could make it to the opening. She wasn’t sure what to expect, more fearful of what couldn’t be done. She hadn’t seen the effects- all that ate away at her was guilt.
And when she found herself turning the corner to see the damage, she was stunned by the image of him lying there. Half of his face was covered in scratches while a wide gash printed over the base of his forearm up to his bicep. The wound was held together by fresh sutures while his upper torso was covered with a large gauze. Another gauze printed over the other side of his torso, though it was much lower. His blonde hair now resembled a faint red.
“Kento,” she croaked, falling to her knees at his side as the welted tears came forth again. She took his hand in hers, thumbs ghosting over his knuckles delicately. His breathing was being taken care of by the ventilation machine- pulse oximeter tracking his heart rate which was stable for the moment. But the look of him made her stomach collapse inside itself.
“You can’t even allow me the courtesy of being angry with you for the night- you’re so selfish.” She starts up again, attempting to smile through the flames that were engulfing her lungs, “I mean- you weren’t cheating, though a part of me isn’t convinced. Your friend, Gojo… he’s very pretty, too pretty for his own good.”
She waited. After a while, there was no response, only the tranquil sound of beeping. It didn't raise, or slow down at all. There was no flutter of his eyelids, or huskiness in his voice, or movement in his fingers. There was nothing but a shell of him and the shame printed on her face. Whether it be through her suggestion of route or her persistence in fighting with him tonight- there was no denying it.
“Baby, you can’t go now- not like this.” She begged, lips pressed against his knuckles as her forehead rested on his thigh. She felt her eyes growing weary, if only she could fight it. She didn’t wish to sleep, or for the day to end. Not when there was a possibility that tomorrow would come with more pain.
“Please, just come back… come back to me…” Her voice crept into a lower tone, hoping that her prayer would only be heard by the ears of her unconscious husband. 
She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep. Nor was she sure what dreams her mind had come up with to pass the time, but the sound of shuffling, a loud crackle in voice, and a tap on her shoulder were enough to wake her. She was met with multiple attendees by the bedside, pushing her to the corner of the room, closest to the door. 
“Start the compressions now.”
It wasn’t until she was fully conscious, rubbing her eyes to notice the stable noise of the machine. Nanami’s pulse was dropping rapidly, which left her panicked. She attempted to jump through the crowd of people, reaching her hand out to simply feel the tips of his fingers. Only to be pulled back by one of the attendees in the room. “Ma’am, please don’t move.”
Her gaze moved towards Nanami’s hand- the only sight of him that she was allowed to see in the ocean of bodies. The doctor's hands were placed across his chest, pumping up and down. “His vitals are dropping and fast.” He continued, now opting for defibrillators, the nurse attaching the pads across his chest. 
He rubbed the two pads together before yelling “Clear!” A jolt came from Nanami’s body, but the ringing persisted. Another wave of electricity flowed through him though it didn’t do much, the consistent sound continued to torment her ear.
And then came that abrasive chime, the flatline. 
For that moment the room went still, and she found herself in the position of multiple pairs of eyes to stare, inspect her expression. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his still hand, unmoving with the warmth draining as fast as the colour from her face. The words grew stuck on her tongue and the acid in her stomach churned to burn her insides. There was nothing but the sound of the machine.
The doctor finally broke the silence clearing his throat to speak in a low voice, “Call it. Time of death- 11:10 AM.”
━━━━━━━━━━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━━━━━━━━━━
They say death is supposed to be peaceful. To be rid of a hell that wasn’t of a person’s own choosing. Born into a world so cruel and spiteful to its inhabitants riddling them with anger and loss. It was what consumed her throughout the week, as her phone rang to contact her parents-in-law. A piece of her wished she had someone close enough to call, to just bask in their comfort while her head spiraled. To heat the numbness that chilled her exterior.
Here she was, making pointless conversation in the small room as people one by one came to place their flowers and make their amends. Nanami’s mother stood close to her, holding her hand in hers as she wept. His father was closer to the door, talking to colleagues while he glanced at the urn in front, filled with his son’s ashes. She couldn’t wait to step away from the crowds of sadness that drenched everyone’s faces. She caught a glimpse of a similar mess of white hair with the same shades. Next to him stood a much shorter woman with long brown hair and bags under her eyes. There was wetness on her cheeks and her hands were crossed over her chest. All Gojo had done was bow his head to her.
Within the next week’s time, her final sessions came to a close- though she could never get a hold of Getou. She assumed that he might’ve been busy- talking about loss was complicated.
It took everything in her to pack away the life she curated in boxes. To deplete her hopes and dreams into failure. To tear the memories of their love and lust, of their pain and anguish from the walls of their apartment. To see remnants of them in the people she would interact with, in the fragments of him he left her to grasp onto. It turned into an empty lot with the boxes piled away in trucks ready to become pieces of someone else’s memories. Invaluable pieces of her life that she used to end the consistent nagging from the landlord.
If she’d known, if only she had known- she’d never let him walk out that door. She’d never be forced to grip the envelope for dear life- her last bit of him. Even as she focused through the window, seeing wide sheets of clouds over the horizon, the words of him, his last, replayed to her like a song.
To My Y/N, My apologies mean nothing to you- they shouldn’t after how I’ve been behaving these past few weeks. I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve told you sooner- I hope that someday I will be able to let you know about the piece of my life I’ve wished to hide from you. I know I do not deserve the blessing to hold your ears nor your kindness. I know that your love for me is one that I could spend a thousand years looking for and never find anything close to it. I hope you know, that you were never a second priority, you are and have always been the brightest star in my sky. Love, Kento
Marriage was sometimes painful- scornful even. But death was peaceful, just not for those who remained.
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YELLOURR © 2024
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byunbaekby · 3 years
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title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here
author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf​ for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!
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—DAY ONE.
The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 
“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 
“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”
Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 
“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”
“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 
“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 
This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”
“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”
Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”
“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”
“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.
This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 
“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 
The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”
When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 
“You love her.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 
“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 
Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?
“How do I do that?” He finally relents.
“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 
He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 
Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 
“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 
“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 
—THE FIRST NIGHT
It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.
The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.
He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 
He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 
In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 
But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 
Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 
“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”
At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”
“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.
“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 
“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 
“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 
“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 
“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 
He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 
“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”
If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 
“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 
You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 
And he wants you.
Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.
“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 
—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.
If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 
Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 
Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 
It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.
So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.
That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 
It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 
Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.
“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 
“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 
“Wanna come in and hit some?”
Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 
“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.
“You’re giving it up or something?”
“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 
“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”
“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 
Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”
This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”
“Trust me. You can do it.”
—THE FIRST KISS
The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 
He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 
It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 
Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.
He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.
“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 
“You’re lying,” he sighs. 
“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”
Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”
“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 
He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 
“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”
His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 
“Why’s that?”
You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?
“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 
“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 
The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.
A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 
Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 
You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.
—29 HOURS CLEAN.
The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”
His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”
The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”
Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 
“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”
The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”
“I guess, yeah.”
Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”
Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”
“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.
A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”
“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”
“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”
All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”
“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”
“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”
Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”
It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”
“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”
“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”
His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”
Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”
With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.
—THE FIRST TASTE.
The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 
That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 
You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 
“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 
He hums in response, turning to look at you. 
Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”
Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”
“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 
Does he?
It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 
He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 
But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”
Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”
His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”
Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 
But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 
Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 
“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 
You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 
“I want a puff.”
“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 
“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.
But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 
—44 HOURS CLEAN.
The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 
Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 
Shit. 
His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 
He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 
There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 
He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 
His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 
He starts to feel like the old Mark again.
For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 
A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.
A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 
When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 
Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 
“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?
“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.
“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 
He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”
If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 
Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”
“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 
“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.
He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”
You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”
“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”
“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 
“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”
That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.
“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”
He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.
Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.
“I hope so,” is his response.
You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”
He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 
Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 
—THE FIRST TEAR.
“What the hell, Mark?”
You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 
“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 
“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 
“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”
“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 
“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”
“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.
When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”
He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 
Your jaw drops. 
For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 
“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.
“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”
He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”
You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”
“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.
Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”
In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”
“Y/N—”
“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 
Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”
He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”
But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 
He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 
—1 WEEK CLEAN.
It’s been a week. 
A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 
A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 
Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.
It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.
A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”
At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 
“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”
For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“I just need to.”
Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.
“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”
When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 
But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”
Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”
“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 
“No, but I…” 
“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”
“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”
“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”
Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”
“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”
“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 
“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 
“Alright. Uh, later, John.”
Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 
That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.
As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 
“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 
“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 
“Hey, uh… what’s up?”
He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 
There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”
Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”
“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.
When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.
—THE FIRST CRASH.
Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”
Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 
He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 
It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.
You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 
Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”
The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”
Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 
“Don’t tease me, please.”
He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”
The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”
He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?
The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 
“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 
“Kind of.” 
“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 
You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”
“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 
Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.
“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 
“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.
His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”
You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 
“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 
Cocaine. 
It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 
“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 
He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”
A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 
“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 
Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 
You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 
So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 
When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”
“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 
First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”
Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”
The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 
Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 
It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 
As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.
Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 
He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 
Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.
“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”
Breathless, you nod without words. 
“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 
When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 
A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 
And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 
You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 
Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 
With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 
—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN
His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 
Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 
He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.
Luckily, neither will find out. 
Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 
It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.
On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 
The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.
No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 
But that hadn’t happened.
When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 
Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 
He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 
—THE FIRST BURN.
Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.
It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 
When he wakes, you’re burning up. 
More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 
You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 
His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 
It’s the cocaine. 
“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 
It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”
“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 
The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”
Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 
“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 
“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 
“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 
Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 
As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.
“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.
—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN
“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”
Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.
Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.
“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”
He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 
The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”
He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”
“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”
This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”
There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.
“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”
—THE FIRST REGRET.
Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?
What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?
God, he’s fucked up. 
Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 
He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 
The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”
Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”
Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”
“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 
“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”
He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.
When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 
He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.
—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN
He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 
You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 
Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”
“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”
You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”
Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 
“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 
“I’m listening. You know I always am.”
You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.
“Thank you.”
Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”
You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.
“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.
“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 
“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.
“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”
“Y/N, I—”
“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 
He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 
Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.
A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”
Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.
No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”
But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.
—THE FINAL TEAR.
“What do you mean we should break up?” 
Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 
“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 
It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”
“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”
You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”
He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”
“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.
“No, not the drugs. Us.”
“Us?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”
“What do you mean? Tell me why.”
“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 
This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”
No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”
He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”
“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”
“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 
You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”
Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 
“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”
“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 
With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”
He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 
Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.
“Don’t call me.”
—3 MONTHS CLEAN.
“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”
A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 
As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 
“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”
Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 
“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.
He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”
His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”
“And?”
A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”
“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”
“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 
Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”
“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”
Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 
As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.
Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?
He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.
Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 
But you’re not alone. 
There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 
But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 
It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 
He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 
He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 
This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 
He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 
He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.
He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 
—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.
The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.
“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 
“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 
“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 
“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 
It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 
But you’re different now.
You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 
He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.
With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”
You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 
“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”
You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 
Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.
—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.
Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 
Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.
He’s learned his lesson. 
It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.
“Y/N.”
“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 
“It’s not that, I—”
“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”
“Mark—”
“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”
“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”
That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.
“... Oh.”
“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 
“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”
You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 
The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 
“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.
“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.
“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 
When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?
Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”
Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”
He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 
“You.”
Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”
“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”
“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.
“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”
He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”
“Mark—”
“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”
“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”
This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”
“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 
“That was the last time.”
Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”
“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”
“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 
Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 
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neonacity · 3 years
Text
Chapter 10: Clytemnestra
Summary:
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
An NCT mafia AU with OT23. Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.
TW: violence, death, mentions of sex, drugs, and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here.
Chapter 9: In Memoriam
MASTERLIST
Fic Trailer
Chapter Music: I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw
----
"What did he say?"
My eyes scanned over the words written over the piece of paper for the last time. There isn't much there, but I feel like there's something crucial I was missing. I looked up at Taeyong and shook my head. 
"Nothing much. But he wanted me to meet up with him."
"Did he give you an address?"
"No. Which makes it all the more strange. Unless he is planning to send another letter?" I handed him the piece of paper which he quickly unfolded to read. A slight frown settled between his brows as he went over it. 
There were only two lines there, none of which really makes sense. 
I will be waiting. 
22:00. Black Daisies. 
"Do you have any idea what Black Daisies mean?" 
I shook my head, mirroring the same look of confusion on his face. I've been racking my brains about it for the past few minutes but couldn't think of anything that might be related to it. 
"I honestly have no idea. He wrote a time beside it… so I am assuming whatever Black Daisies is, it's a code for a place? I don't have any idea which location he is referring to though." 
Taeyong simply looked at me silently before finally folding the paper away. We were back in my room after he temporarily managed to save me from the barrage of questions I was sure the others wanted to ask when they found out the letter was addressed for me. 
Every day I feel like the line I'm toeing gets more and more dangerous. Like a high strung tight rope that's ready to give up under my footing.
"You're not going to him." 
I looked up to meet his eyes. 
"I wasn't planning to..." 
Taeyong's gaze didn't waver.
"Promise me."
"Why?"
"Because I know you'll change your mind in a heartbeat once he involves anyone you care about. So I need you to promise, even if he uses me or any of our friends."
My lips pursed and I evaded his gaze. I heard a soft shuffling of feet and felt my mattress dip as he sat beside me. Taeyong didn't need to touch me to affect me with his presence. After that brief moment of vulnerability that we shared earlier, something has shifted. I thought I will be able to put my walls up again just as easily as I took them down, but it seems like I was wrong. 
When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Softer. 
"Promise me." 
"Is that an order from my leader?"
"No, it is a request from a friend." 
I turned to look at him and cocked my brow to diffuse the tension in the air. 
"You're ordering your noona around?" 
His lips quirked ever so slightly into a smile. 
"You're only one year older…"
"Hey. Emergency meeting."
"And seven months. One year and seven months. Don't forget that," I said, looking away.
A sharp knock on my door got our attention at that moment and we both looked up to see Doyoung standing on the threshold. He looked grim as he moved his gaze from Taeyong to me. 
-----
Jaehyun sat at the very back of the room that had filled up with all the members after Doyoung sent his urgent message. Everyone was scattered in the expansive space which seemed a little bit smaller now that WayV has joined, some sitting on the leather stools while others made do with the floor. Jungwoo and Taeil were deep in conversation beside him while Johnny and Yuta stood next to the door, flanking the entrance with their overwhelming presence. Being the main fighters of 127, it comes natural for the pair to be on the watch regardless if it's just an internal family meeting that's happening.
...Except this is not just an ordinary meeting. Jaehyun hasn't heard the full story from Doyoung yet after he came back from his business, but he has a pretty good idea of what the issue might be. Despite being just one of the crime families under the current Don's network, NCT does follow the traditional mafia ranking within its system. Doyoung works as the Consigliere to Taeyong's Capocrimine, taking over the responsibility of being the advisor and overall gatekeeper of NCT to the outside world. His connections give him access to normal society, which means if he calls for a meeting, it is probably an issue involving the "above ground." 
Taeyong walked in with an unreadable expression that made everyone fall silent in a heartbeat. He joined Doyoung in front of the room and looked over the crowd before finally speaking. 
"Has anyone here given any orders to their crew about stepping up any of our activities?"
The members exchanged confused looks between each other. Mark answered in lieu of Dream, Jeno looking just as confused beside him. 
"Not us. Why? What's up?"
Taeyong looked at Doyoung who grimly picked a folder on the table. The latter started reading the contents of it out loud into the room. 
"Heist in Dongjak district. The biggest bank there was ransacked last week. Cops also busted an illegal racing event last night. The other day, there was an ambush on one of the strip clubs at Guro. News came around that a new drug was being sold there after a rise of reported overdose deaths from it three days ago. Businesses that should be under our protection in Seocho are being ransacked despite them settling their tariff fees with us," Doyoung looked up from the paper he was reading and swept his gaze over the room. 
"That's just four of the 18 other cases that I got for the last week."
Everyone exchanged shocked looks with each other. Jeno decided to speak up, the expression on his eyes intense. 
"Hyung, it's not us. We haven't done any heists since you came back from Tokyo."
Doyoung gave a tight nod and looked over to Johnny and Yuta.
"The drugs in Guro?" 
"Not from us. The last ones we distributed are those we got from Japan and they're just psychedelic shots. They're clean." 
"WayV…?"
"We didn't bring any with us when we landed. Our jet can only fit the crates of armory we had to transport for you guys," Kun said with a frown. 
Taeyong ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. 
"Taeyong, what's happening?"
It was Doyoung who answered for him. 
"There was a rise of undocumented cases that were being fed to the cops in the past weeks. According to the reports, they were done by us." 
"What? That doesn't make any sense," Yuta said from his position by the door.
"It does make a lot of sense, actually. Obviously, we're hands off from all of these so they can only be done by the smaller gangs that we don't manage. And it all started after that announcement was made."
"But those rats wouldn't have any confidence to go against us. They're too small and disorganized to do this. And to even claim that they're NCT? That's just impossible."
"It is possible, if there is someone bigger asking them to act up," Taeyong answered grimly. Jaehyun watched as the man's gaze quickly flickered over to the pale female face sitting on the couch between Chenle and Renjun. That's when it clicked. 
Of course, Jihoon wouldn't be too lax to actually lie low after the bombing of Anarchy. That was just the start.
"Are you sure this isn't Wonho's doing?" Ten asked with concern. "We just got word from our network in Beijing that he was peddling women from kidnappings."
Jaehyun's attention snapped to the boy then at Doyoung and Taeyong at the mention of the name. A heavy feeling quickly started to gather on the pit of his stomach as he waited for their answer.
"That's an entirely different case altogether. But you’re right. The feds caught wind that he was trafficking kidnapped tourists and now they're after his ass." 
"Did he claim his case to be connected to us, too?"
"No. But because of all these other things happening, the police are definitely pinning everything on us."
"Shit," Lucas whispered loud enough for the good half of the room to hear. Jaehyun mirrored the same internally, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. 
Shit indeed. 
This was all supposed to be a no brainer. He only needed to help the asshole get out of the country and then he can brush him off like dirt from his hands after. Why didn't he do it before things hit the fan? Now everything has become so much more complicated.
"How bad is it?" Taeil asked from Jaehyun's left. 
"Bad enough for us to be in the 8pm news. According to our moles, the Chief of Police is going to announce the manhunt for us tonight."
The room has gone so silent and still that the air felt suffocating. If there is one thing NCT is known for in the underworld, it is the group's efficiency and cleanliness when it comes to its operations. Every job done is spotless, every loophole covered. Until now. 
"Can't we pay off—" 
"We can't. We already tried reaching out to all our associates within the force but they can't do anything about it," Taeyong answered before Taeil could even finish the question. "The cases have reached the public and now there's an outcry from the community. Even the police are pressured to do something."
A round of murmurs swept over the room. Finally, one female voice broke through it to ask the question nobody wanted to say out loud. 
"What are we going to do?"
Taeyong's jaw tightened and he unclasped his arms crossed over his chest. 
"We need to track all those gangs doing these activities and put them in their place. It's going to be difficult to hunt each of them down with their size so we will need to use most of our resources here. Reach out to all the connections you could think of. We don't need more crimes being blamed on us."
Everyone's eyes were on Taeyong as the group waited for what he's going to say next. He stopped for a bit before finally speaking again. 
"And we kill Jihoon. This isn't going to stop until he's gone." 
Glances were exchanged within the room as his words sank in. Jaehyun didn't want to break the silence but he knew that he didn't have any other choice but to ask the next question. 
"And Wonho? What are we going to do with him?"
It was Doyoung who answered this time. 
"We'll kill him, too. We've given him way too many chances already. Once we get rid of him, we take the credit and let the cops know about it. Take them off our backs for a bit. We'll take care of him this week." 
It was fortunate that Jaehyun has mastered the art of keeping an unreadable facade. In his head, the words of the woman he loves echoed once again as the consequences of the situation mocked him. 
"No betrayal… or death of a brother shall be held against any of you." 
-----
Johnny threw his half finished cigarette on the gravelled road with a quick flick of his wrist. He scanned the length of the building from across the wall he is leaning on, gaze shadowed by the cap pulled low against his face. Of course, Jihoon would have the audacity and gall to choose a luxury apartment unit as his mistress' "hiding place" in Seoul. The motherfucker is one proud asshole, acting as if he owns any territory he steps on like the crazy psycho he is. 
He's not here for him though, no. Johnny isn't the type to act out on his own, but things are slowly starting to get messy within the family. People may always credit Taeyong for being the first one to step in the line of fire when it comes to protecting the group, but Johnny is a close second when it comes to his sense of loyalty. Ever since that day he was picked up and saved from that hell of underground brawls at 17 by Taeyong himself, he made it his personal promise to do anything to protect his home. 
That's exactly what he is doing now as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for his prey. If his informant was correct, she should go out of the building doors any minute now. 
30 seconds. 40. 56. 
His eyes caught a familiar form slipping out of the main entrance of the complex. The woman was wearing more casual clothes now than when they last met at Anarchy, but Johnny knew it was her despite her hoodie shielding the good half of her face. His sharp eyes followed her, allowing her to put some distance between them before he finally pushed himself from the wall to trace her steps.
She had crossed three streets when he really started catching up with her. He waited until the traffic light turned red on the street she was about to cross before slinging his arm around her casually. 
The woman stiffened instantly in his arms and looked up at him in shock. Johnny smiled casually down at her and pressed the cold nose of the gun hidden under his jacket closer to her ribcage.
"If you don't make a racket, there won't be a need for a murder scene by this road."
She pursed her lips as anger flashed in her eyes. She gave a tight nod before directing her gaze back into the street ahead.
"Good girl. Go straight then turn left. There's an abandoned building on the third alley." 
The two of them immediately started walking, sides pressed closely together. She didn't speak, but Johnny could feel her anger just bubbling underneath.
He unceremoniously pushed her inside the abandoned shop when they finally reached it. She turned to him with a glare and he didn't hesitate to raise his gun to her face, cocking it slowly. 
The move made her brows raise. Instead of looking threatened, she crossed her arms over her chest. 
"What do you want?"
"Your boyfriend's head on a stick. When are you two going to leave us alone? Your lot is causing a lot of trouble for us already."
"Are you here to kill me then?" 
"Oh no. You're here as payment. It'll be interesting to see how he reacts after we mess up one of his own." 
The woman stared at him for a long moment. Johnny’s gun didn’t waiver during the stare down, his hand steady as their gazes clashed. Then, all of a sudden, she did something he wasn’t expecting at all. 
She laughed.
She laughed so hard her voice rang and bounced on the dusty corners of the room. Johnny reigned in the confusion that overtook him with a frown. Is she acting to throw him off track?
The girl straightened up and looked at him with pure amusement in her eyes. The smirk playing on her lips told him that there is more to this act than what he is seeing. 
“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. You stalked me thinking you’ll budge Jihoon by threatening me? That’s so, so, so amusing.” 
Johnny tightened his jaw but didn’t say a word. He watched as she started moving towards where he is standing, her eyes never leaving his. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she stalked him, and for the first time, he actually took a good long look at her eyes. What Johnny saw there hit him like a firetruck. 
Jihoon’s madness, exactly reflected in her own gaze.
She stopped an inch away from his gun. If she moved a little, the cold metal of it would have kissed her forehead. 
“You could kill me now or torture me to death and my brother wouldn’t bat an eye… In fact, he might even thank you,” she whispered softly, almost fondly. Johnny felt the hair at the back of his neck rise. His emotions must have briefly flashed on his face because her smile widened in amusement. 
“Here’s one thing you don’t understand about Jihoon. He absolutely doesn’t care about anyone else other than himself. All these things he is doing? They are all for his sick fun. He is mad. Inhuman. If you want to have any chance of winning this, you have no other choice but to play the game with him.” 
“You’re his sister.”
“Half sister. That doesn’t change anything. I’m just a piece on his chessboard. I would honestly let you kill me now if you want to, but I can’t. Not until I finish what I have to do.”
Johnny didn’t know what got to him but he found himself slowly lowering his gun. The two of them stared at each other, silent, for what felt like forever. Finally, she moved to walk past him. 
“If that’s all, then I’ll go ahead. I suggest you find a better informant next time. Jihoon doesn’t stay in my building at all. Even I don’t know where he is,” she said casually as she moved towards the door. 
“I have no other choice. But believe me when I say that I want him dead just as much as you do.” 
“If he doesn’t care about you, why are you sticking with him?” he asked just as she wrapped her hand on the door handle. She stilled, her shoulders stiff. Johnny is not an ace when it comes to psychological games but when she turned to look at him again, he knew for sure that her eyes were honest despite being devoid of emotions. 
That made him stop. Before he knew it, he was speaking again to ask the one question that he’s been trying to answer ever since they met at Anarchy.
“Why did you save me? Back in the club. I was standing directly above your bomb.” 
For a while, she didn’t answer. Johnny thought he saw a flicker of emotion pass through her eyes, but it was gone before he could process it. 
“I wonder why too.”
The door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the shadowed room. 
----
Chapter 11
Tag list: @hen-marks99, @negincho, @nctisthecity
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talkfastromance4 · 3 years
Text
Breathing Our Last Breath-- Vampire!Luke Part 2
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A/N: thank you thank you thank you! For all your love and support on my vampire series!🥰 it means everything to me. The title and overall theme correlates PERFECTLY with BMTH’s song ‘One Day the only butterflies left will be in your chest as you march towards your death.’ When I first heard the song I couldn’t believe how well it fit in with the way I wanted this story to go. And once again...I apologize but the angst will be worth it trust me. Love you please don’t hate me @irwinkitten​ 
Word count: 5.7k
Warnings: blood drinking, slight manic episode of the vampiric kind
To catch up:
Giving You My Soul (Part 1)
A bite (blurb)
Fangs (blurb)
Masterlist
• • • •
Him
Luke sought out the help of Michael the next morning after he and Y/N connected last night. It was after he showed her his fangs that while she was sighing his name he almost told her. He almost told her he loved her, but he couldn’t make himself do so. Cheeks flushed, hair splayed across his pillow with his bite marks staring up at him on her left breast, the words were caught between his teeth.
Saying those three words would complicate things more. Change her or keep her human? He stayed up all night wrestling with his thoughts while she slept soundly next to him. When she’d make a noise of contempt, he��d reach over and stroke her face until she relaxed, falling back into a pleasant dream.
He wrote her a note telling her of his whereabouts, gave a quick kiss to her forehead then ran to Michael’s place. He gave a swift knock to the door before bustling in only to find Michael and Kitty cuddled together against the counter.
Kitty’s legs were wrapped around Michael’s waist, their hands in his hair while Michael nuzzles against their neck. Kitty chuckles then opens their eyes when the front door snaps shut. They tap on Michael’s shoulder then says Luke’s name.
“Don’t you knock?” Michael asks turning around. His tone is accusatory, but his face is teasing, his eyes seem a brighter green than normal.
“I did, then just walked right in. Sorry to interrupt,” Luke grins. “Good morning, Kitty.”
“Morning, Luke,” Kitty laughs letting their legs fall against the cupboards. “Is Y/N with you? I can make us some breakfast.”
“No, she’s back at my place still asleep. I came to discuss something with you, Mike.”
Michael notices the change in Luke’s voice, he swallows thickly then turns to Kitty.
“How about you go take a shower and I’ll have breakfast ready for you, hm?”
“All right,” Kitty sighs slipping onto the floor. They peck Michael’s lips. “I want French toast. See you later, Luke. Tell Y/N I say hello.”
“I will,” Luke smiles at them. When he hears the bathroom door close he joins Michael at the counter who’s grabbing the breakfast essentials.
“What’s going on?”
“Are you going to change Kitty?” Luke blurts out. He tried coming up with an easy way to bring up the topic but couldn’t come up with something.
“I haven’t really thought about it or discussed it with them, why? Are you thinking of changing Y/N?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs quietly and leans against the counter.
“What brought this on?” Michael grabs the loaf of bread then moves to the fridge for eggs and milk.
“I feasted on her a couple weeks ago and now…I can’t exist without her, Mike.”
Michael sighs. “And since then you don’t want to change her but also don’t want her to die as a human…Have you talked with her?”
“No. It’s not really a conversation I want to have.”
“No one wants to have that kind of conversation,” Michael chortles cracking two eggs in a bowl. He adds a splash of milk then stirs the contents until it turns a pale yellow. He flicks on the stovetop then continues to stir. “She cares about you, too. Don’t make a choice that’s hers to make in the first place.”
“I feel selfish, asking her to make a choice between human or Vampirism and for what? Me?”
“Luke, she loves you. I know you’ve never really been in a solid relationship, but communication is key. Tell her what you’re thinking. Is this why you’ve been acting strange the last few weeks?”
“I’ve been acting strange? How?” Luke crosses his arms and becomes intent on watching Michael dip the piece of bread in the yolk and milk creation. Y/N likes her French toast with strawberries, cream, and syrup.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” Michael warns lowly, “but Y/N was telling Kitty you two haven’t really been…intimate in a while. Since you feasted now I know why. We haven’t known each other for very long but I can tell you’re pulling away, pushing the thing that scares you out of sight. But while you do that, you’re pushing her away as well.”
Luke is stunned into silence. Has he really not touched Y/N since the night he bit her? He goes through his memory quickly of the last several weeks then sees what Michael is talking about. No wonder Y/N was shocked at his sudden need of affection last night. The whole encounter felt different, something has shifted between them and he’s the cause of it.
“How can I do that without realizing it?”
“You’ve been alone for thousands of years,” Michael shrugs plopping the bread in the pan. It sizzles from the heat. “Kind of funny how I’m giving you words of wisdom, eh?”
Luke rolls his eyes but silently agrees. Michael has given him much to think about and all too quickly that becomes very dangerous. He weighs all three of his options; change her so they can be together forever, keep her human, and the third is discussing the first two options with her. The last one scares the hell out of him. He never wants to put her in danger or a place of discord.
For all of his life—human and immortal—he’s never had to worry about someone else. Hell, what he thought was courting her with the gifts he left was actually a little offensive. Then to ask her to give up her life to spend it with him? Does she love him, too?
His thoughts take over every part of him when he returns home to find her in one of his silk shirts—the teal one that contrasts nicely with her skin—making her own breakfast. His mind is elsewhere but he plays the actions well of kissing her temple and having small chat.
**
Luke hides his thoughts and emotions extremely well around Y/N for the next week. He acts normal. Kisses her, tangles his fingers in her hair and watches over her at the Bar in case Brone tried to approach. On the outside, he played his part well but on the inside he was in turmoil.
He’s been a wanderer, never staying in one place long, never getting attached to someone—human and Vampire alike. This is the longest he’s stayed in one place since Italy and he’s made a friend in Michael and found a deep love with Y/N.
He’s read of love, he even played Romeo at one point in his life. Songs are rooted from love, paintings, movies, poems. He’s observed it in many forms but has never experienced it. This is all new territory for him, waters he’s never swam in before.
Now, he’s faced with the choice to love her for the rest of her days or make her like him. Sure, he lives an extraordinary life, rubbing elbows with royals and celebrities, experiencing history firsthand. He’s seen the world change many times over while he remains the same. Frozen.
Another week goes by filled with questions and more questions. While Y/N sleeps in his bed, her hand is tucked under chin and his shirt hangs off her body, he walks. He walks through the house, examines his belongings, tickles the ivories on his piano as he passes by then he walks his grounds.
He can hear Y/N wherever he goes, the steady lull of her heart and if she wakes he’ll be by her side in a moment. She’s in no danger.
As he walks, he thinks. He imagines the life they would have had back in his time. They’d have a large estate with beautiful furniture and paintings while her closet would be filled with flowing gowns. There’d be plenty of children running the grounds. A happy life, a promised life.
His head snaps to the house when Y/N rolls out of bed and stumbles tiredly into the bathroom across the way. He races back inside taking his place back in bed just as she emerges from the bathroom.
“Where were you?” she asks thickly and falls next to him.
“I got you some water,” he says holding up a glass. He got it on his way.
She rubs her eyes then takes a few gulps before curling up next to him. She fits perfectly against him, her body molding to his shape like the perfect puzzle. Luke stays awake, asking himself a million questions but never finding one answer.
**
Luke starts to spiral as more days go by. He decides to fast on his feedings as if doing so would clear his head. His assumption would soon be wrong.
He distances himself even more from Y/N by dropping her off at her place instead of his after her shifts at the Bar. He uses the excuse that he’s remodeling and doesn’t want to risk her getting hurt or inhaling too much paint.
That’s the first lie.
While he continues to deny his thirst, he starts to go mad, spiraling down a dark place he’s never been before. He’s going to a place which started the mask mandate in the first place. Vampires wanted to exist in society but when they denied their drinking they became lustful and more dangerous for a bite. The savage ones used the form of fasting as their own kind of drug, it made them see things, feel things they haven’t before.
While he looks at his memorabilia he’s transported back in time with whatever object he’s looking at. His eyes are darkened which darkens the world around him as he’s reacquainted with his old friends. He has gallant parties with them in his trinket room, his manic laughter echoing throughout the house. To a bystander or peeping Tom, they would see he’s completely alone while ghosts of his past keep him false company.
He ignores Michael and Kitty’s calls then slips further and further from Y/N. He makes more excuses. The second lie is when he tells her he needs a break. Something has come up in Italy. An old acquaintance needs help. Y/N asks what exactly the break means, and Luke laughs at the simple question that has an even simpler answer.
“A break of us. I need space, Y/N, my feelings have changed.”
That was the second lie.
The third lie is that he’s close to his answer, but he needs a little more time. A little more time of not consuming blood and everything will fall into place. He’s not sure how many days have gone by when he reaches this realization. The lack of sleep and blood alters time. (It’s really been a whole month).
**
Luke wakes from a dream, was it really a dream? Y/N was there, and they were laying in the white sands of Cala Luna beach in Italy. He’s not sure what woke him up, but she was on his mind. Not that she hasn’t been for the last however many days. When was the last time he saw her?
He thinks of calling her but then quickly changes his mind. He ended it so he wouldn’t have to force her to make a decision between her life and him. He’s even more of a danger to her now because he’s been without blood for so long and the way she smells to him? His actions could be catastrophic but that dream…he wants to take her to Cala Luna, kiss her in the sand.
He’s made up his choice.
He searches for his phone, checks the date and time and it’s her day off from the bar so he could go and get a blood bag, replenish himself and go see her. He’s ready to open up to her, wrap her in his arms again and kiss her chest with butterfly kisses.
“The Bar,” he mutters then laughs joyously at his brilliant idea.
He decides to run there and in his crazed mind he somehow remembers to put on his mask, although it’s haphazardly placed. Plus, he’s faster than his car anyway so the faster he gets to the bar the faster he can go to Y/N.
The scents of A positive and O negative tickles his nose and burns his throat. He’s so damn thirsty. His mouth waters as he rushes to the bar and orders two bags. He finishes them in seconds, not even using the glass supplied. He feels the blood drip down his chin and Trixie eyes him cautiously as he asks for two more bags.
Halfway through his fourth, a warm body presses into his back. With the lack of blood for so many days, or weeks, drinking it now and in such a rush has him buzzed. His eyesight isn’t completely back yet, it’s as if he has dark spots clouding his vision. How he’s feeling is the equivalence of drinking alcohol and getting drunk.
Luke turns around quickly; his normally pristine vision distorts the figure in front of him. A warm hand touches his cheek, their blood is sweet with a hint of flowers. In his distorted state, his body is on a fine line of going back to normal and lingering on his blood deprived state, he knows it’s not Y/N.
“Hey, it’s all right. I know who you’re looking for,” Celeste says, but his mind alters it into a singing tone.
“Y/N?” he mumbles. Was she really here?
Celeste’s blood entices him. The blood bags are fine and all but drinking directly from a warm body is better. Being out of human contact for so long, her blood allures him tenfold.
“Yeah, she’s upstairs fixing one of the beds,” Simone sings next to him now.
“She is?” he shifts in his chair then nearly stumbles out of it at the thought of seeing Y/N. Then he’s filled with embarrassment. He can’t let her see him like this.
“We’ll clean you up,” Celeste hoists him against her body. His mind reels at the scent of her blood.
“Yeah, come on, sweetie.”
Their voices sing to him as they lead him towards the stairs. The promise of seeing Y/N allows Celeste and Simone’s help. He doesn’t quite remember the stairs being this long, his body feels heavy and he can feel the blood slosh around. Will she be disgusted seeing it on his lips?
A door opens then he’s rushed inside, his legs knocking into each other as he’s pushed against the back of a couch. He starts to giggle. Was Y/N down the hall and Celeste and Simone shove him in the nearest room to save himself from having her see him this way?
“What’s so funny?” Celeste asks brushing away a curl.
“Hiding while I’m seeking,” he giggles. The girls join in his laughter then is jacket is pulled off.
“You know what will help when you see her?”
“We heard all that happened between you two,” Celeste rubs his cheek.
“Yes, we’ve grown quite close the three of us,” Simone sighs.
“What will help? I’ll do anything,” his words slur together. He keeps blinking his eyes trying to get rid of the dark splotches.
“Feed on us, Luke,” Celeste whispers in his ear. “We can tell you’ve been fasting. Your pretty blue eyes are so dark.”
“Yeah, and you don’t want Y/N to see you like this, right?”
“No! No, no, no, no,” he shakes his head, eyes closing. “She can’t see me. I can’t hurt her.”
“Shh, shh,” Celeste hushes while Simone touches his hand. “We’ll help you…”
“Yeah, we’ve got you sweetie…”
Simone reaches for the button of his shirt while Celeste offers him her neck. In his delirium he’s back at the beach in his dream with Y/N and she’s the one offering her neck. Her blood is so sweet, and he loves her so much, he gives in to “Y/N”’s actions.
“Go on, take a bite.”
HER
Y/N received a note from Michael and Kitty to meet them upstairs at the Bar. She’s very thankful for them because after the whirlwind of confusion with Luke they really helped her out. They kept her occupied and her mind off things while also providing comfort that Luke will come around.
When she walks inside she looks to the Bar in search of Trixie, she gives her a wave, but Trixie is busy with the slew of customers. Y/N climbs the stairs then sees the room the note indicated. Y/N opens the door and is horrified by what she sees. Her stomach plummets, her mouth opens in a silent scream and her heart shatters in a million pieces.
Luke’s shirt is wide open, his mouth latched onto Celeste’s neck while Simone is on her knees in front of him.
“Y/N, Y/N…” he mumbles.
Tears sting her eyes. She’s gasping for breath while trying to speak his name. She hasn’t seen him in weeks, all this time she was hopeful he’d come back. That he would tell her what he was going through, and they could work it out together whatever it was ailing him. How could she be so naïve?
“Oh, look. We have a guest,” Celeste moans. She smiles deviously at Y/N who wipes furiously at her eyes trying to dry her tears.
“Y/N! What—” Michael’s voice appears and that pulls Luke from his stupor.
Luke shoves Celeste away, blood dripping down his chin. He gasps when he spots Y/N, falling apart in front of him. For a fraction of the smallest second, their eyes meet. He tries to say her name while tossing Simone off of him, attempting to fix his shirt and pants. Then she’s gone, running from the room and away from Luke.
“What the hell are you doing, Luke?” she hears Michael shout.
“Y/N?!”
Was that Kitty she passed? Y/N doesn’t know and keeps running, nearly stumbling down the stairs. As she runs Luke tries to get away from the two sirens who used his weakness against him. Y/N’s face sobered him, cleared his vision.
“Get the fuck out,” Michael hisses at the women. They scamper away with Luke trying to follow but Michael blocks his path. “Talk.”
Back downstairs, Y/N’s legs are shaking, her whole body is in tremors. Her heart is breaking and so is the rest of her. Trixie spots her just as Kitty catches up.
“What--?” Trixie’s eyes are wide at the sight of Y/N.
“Luke was upstairs with Celeste and Simone,” Kitty spits in anger. “Y/N, come here.”
Kitty pulls her against their chest, Y/N collapses all too easily with tears falling relentlessly from her eyes.
“Here, have her sit down. Try to catch your breath, babe,” Trixie consoles then runs for a water.
Kitty shuffles over to a chair but Y/N is resisting. She can’t be here. Not with Luke just upstairs and Celeste and Simone.
“No. T-take me h-home…I don’t wa-want to s-see him,” Y/N chokes out. Kitty glances towards the stairs but doesn’t see Luke or Michael. They nod to Y/N.
“Okay, I’ll take you home.”
“What happened?” Trixie asks on her return with a bottle of water.
As if on cue, Luke has flashed in front of them quicker than the speed of light. Kitty places their arms around Y/N protectively, guarding her from Luke and glares at him. Michael appears as well, his hand moving to Luke’s chest that is spotted in blood and still unbuttoned.
“Ask Luke,” Kitty sneers then leads Y/N out the door.
Kitty tries to console Y/N the best they can at her apartment but she’s sobbing so hard it’s hard to breathe. She gasps for breath so much that she dry heaves. Kitty holds Y/N’s face in their hands and recites a breathing technique to her. Her breathing finally picks up but her tears continue.
After a couple of hours, Y/N finally falls asleep, but it isn’t for very long. She wakes up, remembers what happened and her heart breaks all over again. She’s stuck between rose colored dreams of Luke and the dark nightmare that is her reality. She’s not quite sure which is worse to endure.
**
Days go by and she hasn’t left her bed. She’s cried herself dry and is left with her skin tight and dry. Her eyes are puffy. She’s so sleepy but she fights it off not wanting to dream of Luke. While she’s awake she wonders what she’s doing then hates herself for wanting to be with him after what she saw.
Kitty forces her to drink some water but refuses to eat. She simply has no appetite. Like her heart it’s disappeared.
On the seventh day, Michael arrives with a bag of goodies for her. While he was with Luke, Kitty and Michael were in constant communication trying to figure out exactly what had happened. When Michael discovered Luke had fasted he became so angry he shoved Luke so hard he flew out the window. Luke didn’t put up a fight, he knows he deserves way worse.
Luke begged and begged for Michael to bring him to Y/N but Michael refused, he’s done enough damage. When Luke overheard Michael discussing Y/N with Kitty and how they couldn’t get her to eat Luke jumped to her aid. He told Michael that taking a shower helps center herself and she needs a lot of blankets. Her comfort food is a warm cooked meal of chicken and mashed potatoes with brownies for dessert.
Michael stared at him in shock but heeded his advice then made his way to Y/N’s. He sits next to her on her bed, removes his mask then gives her an apologetic smile.
“Hi.”
She doesn’t say anything and continues to look out the window. He reveals the goodies in his bag, says he’ll cook her favorite food and that Kitty will help her take a hot shower.
“I want a bath,” she mutters.
“I’ll make sure it’s nice and warm,” Kitty promises then helps her from her bed.
The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.
Her days roll endlessly together that she loses track of time. Her appetite comes back but it’s slim pickings. Her face doesn’t feel so stiff from her tears, but she still isn’t sleeping that well. Usually when she’d have a nightmare, Luke would hold her and murmur in her ear sweet things. Sometimes it would be in Italian and his words would turn into a song lulling her back to sleep.
She hasn’t returned to work, refuses to because she doesn’t want to come in contact with Luke. If she saw Celeste and Simone she knew she would claw their eyes out. Trixie is more than understanding and has banned Celeste and Simone from ever returning. Trixie made sure Y/N knew her job would be there for her when she returns and would still get paid.
She overheard Michael and Kitty saying that Luke hasn’t left the bar since that night. She wonders if he still has the blood on his face or did he clean it off? Surely Trixie wouldn’t let him sit there looking like that. She hates how she’s worried for him.
The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.
Y/N wakes to hear Michael and Kitty talking loudly and in exasperated voices. She steps into the living room where they’re seated, Michael has his phone in his hand.
“What’s going on?” Y/N asks, their heads snap in her direction.
“It’s Luke. He’s been hurt.”
THEM
He hates himself. He let his fear take control which left him powerless. He’s sitting at the bar like he has been for the past five weeks, never leaving this spot in case Y/N walks in. He overheard Trixie on the phone with Michael that she takes as long as she needs to return.
He has half a mind to try her at her apartment but a nasty text from Kitty made him stay away. Michael would visit him frequently, drinks a blood bag with him. Michael hated seeing Luke this way, his skin is an unhealthy pallor, his eyes darkened with purple and black circles underneath.
His heart hasn’t beat in centuries, yet he takes on the appearance of what a broken heart looks like. When Luke asks about Y/N his voice is papery thin. He sounds as old as he is, thousands of years old. Fading, decrepit, frail.
Brone stalks up behind him, pushing Luke against the counter. Luke takes it but turns around slowly.
“You look like hell,” Brone laughs. “You’re really this torn up over that flower? Was she really that good in bed?”
“What do you want, Brone?” Luke croaks.
“Let’s have a little chat outside…”
Brone’s teeth sever into Luke’s flesh, his back, his shoulder, his arms. The venom doesn’t harm him, but it fills him with enough pain that he feels himself losing feeling in his body. In between bites, Brone screams at Luke to fight back. He’s waited all this time to get revenge on him for stealing away the love of Brone.
“What are you talking about?” Luke coughs out.
“Remember Lenore?”
Luke vaguely remembers the strawberry-blond woman. It was back in the early 1940’s, she was a candy striper. Luke befriended her one morning on his routine walk when her hat flew off her head. He caught it and they bonded over a new song from Glen Miller and his band.
The closer they got the more she confided in him and that’s when Brone was brought up. Luke has crossed paths with him too many times to know what Lenore was about to tell him.
“She never shared the same feelings for you,” Luke groans. He slumps to the ground against the wall, his body is starting to lock up from the venom.
“Yeah well, now I’m going to take yours from you.”
“No,” Luke hisses through his teeth. He tries to move but to no avail, the venom is quick, and he’s frozen as stone against the wall.
Brone crouches in front of him, smirking. “Oh, yes. I’ll get to see what’s so special about her to you, then I’ll feast on her. Might change her, might drink her dry. I haven’t decided yet. Catch you around, Luke.”
Luke fills with white hot anger, but he’s immobilized. He feels his eyes become heavy, the venom overtakes him, and his world goes dark.
“LUKE!”
Her voice. He hears her voice and tries to reach her but he’s floating somewhere. Somewhere that’s dark and still. Luke tries to resurface, reaching for the sound of her heart. She’s sobbing his name so close in his ear. Is she touching him? He can’t feel it. He wants to tell her to run, to get to safety.
“LU—”
He hears a commotion.  Brone’s voice and Y/N’s then a scream and a thump. Michael’s voice. Trixie’s voice. Y/N’s heart jumps erratically, her breath gasping. Luke tries to scream her name. He tries to claw his way from the darkness.
The voices blend together, he’s trying to follow along with the words, but he can’t grasp on anything quite yet. Is Y/N all right? What’s happened? Where’s Brone?
Michael’s voice warps in and out of his mind while he’s screaming on the inside.
**
It starts in his fingertips and toes. He’s gaining sensation back in his body and when he can twitch his fingers he feels Y/N’s hand next to his. Her heart is still beating but it’s staggered. Where were they? Luke smells the area and they’re in his home on his bed. His bed that still smells of her sweet floral scent.
Michael and Kitty’s voices carry from downstairs, but Luke doesn’t decipher what they’re saying. His hearing is still deep underwater in the lake of the venom. His fingers twitch some more then he brushes her skin. That excites him. He keeps twitching his fingers until he hooks them with hers, he grasps her tightly, so she’ll know he’s there.
Did Brone bite her? Is she changing? Did he just drink a lot of her blood that it’s taking her so long to recover? He wants answers but if Michael brought them to his home then she has to be all right. Right?
More time passes and his ability to move travels up his legs and arms. His eyes and mouth are still clamped shut, that’s the last place the venom reached him, so it’ll also be the last place he recovers. He flexes his finger and toes, bones cracking from being still for so long. At least he can get a firmer hold on Y/N’s hand, now he rubs his thumb over her skin.
Slowly but surely, he feels the weight on his chest disappear. His neck feels lighter and he can turn it from side to side. Not long now and he can open his eyes, he can look at Y/N and assess what’s happened. He can apologize. He can tell her he loves her. He can tell her that fasting was a terrible idea and that he was scared. He can tell her he’ll do anything to gain her forgiveness back.
He counts the time with his clock from his trinket room. It’s been two hours and his jaw goes slack. He opens his mouth and can taste Y/N’s scent in the air.
“Come on, come on,” he mutters wanting his eyes to open now. Open, open, open, open!
Two minutes and his eyes flash open, he has gained full mobility back and he crouches next to Y/N. Her eyes are closed, there’s bite marks on her arms but he doesn’t smell the venom. So why hasn’t she woken up?
“Michael!”
Michael appears.
“Finally. I was about to lose my mind. How are you--?”
“What happened?” Luke interrupts pressing his hand to Y/N’s forehead. She’s not her normal temperature.
“I’m not too sure. When I came, she was on the ground next to you bleeding. I tried to get Brone and kill him, but Trixie got him with her cross bow in his shoulder and he ran off. I would’ve gone after him, but you were frozen and Y/N…I don’t know what’s wrong. I think he fed off her, but I don’t know why she isn’t waking up,” Michael explains in a rush.
“Y/N, lovie…” Luke murmurs caressing her cheek. He kisses her hand that’s still in his, her skin cold. Her heart starts to flutter.
“…uke…” she barely utters.
“I’m right here, love, what can I do to help?” he begs cradling her face.
“Butterflies…” she exhales, and he’s confused. What about butterflies?
“Hm? Should I get you some chocolate?”
Her eyebrows pull together, a weak movement, but he notices it.
“Do you feel butterflies?” he asks gently, her thumb jerks against his hand. That must be yes. “Where are they? They’re not hurting you, are they?”
“No…take me…away…”
“They’re taking you away? Where are they taking you?”
“F…from you…”
“You have to bite her,” Michael says. Luke had forgotten he was in the room.
“What?”
“If butterflies are taking her away then I think that means she’s…she’s dying. You have to change her Luke. Now.”
Luke looks at her frantically. Her heart has staggered more but she appears fine so how--?
“Luke!”
He hovers over her, rests his forehead against hers.
“I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for being distant and not talking to you. I pushed you away to try and protect you and now look at you. I’m so sorry for hurting you and for Celeste and Simone…they used my befuddled mind and lack of feasting against me. You’re the only one I want, the only one I desire, the only one I love. I can change you, make you like me but only if it’s your wish, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry lovie,” he confesses in one breath.
She squeezes his hand the best she can.
“Change…please…I can’t…leave…you…” her voice barely registers a normal octave.
“Are you sure?” he whispers nudging his nose against hers.
“I love you.”
It was her most coherent sentence. Luke kisses her forehead then moves to her chest. He pulls her shirt away so he can see his bite marks from months ago when he first bit her. He kisses the spot, lips soft as the butterflies, extracts his fangs and sinks his teeth into her flesh. She lets out a shaky breath as his venom spreads through her.
When he’s expelled enough, he licks his tongue over the puncture then drags his lips towards hers. His Sleeping Beauty will sleep now while her body changes, he gave her the kiss of death that will bring her to a new life.
“Don’t go…hold me….”
Tears leak from her eyes as the venom spreads, Luke kisses them away.
“I won’t leave you. You’re going to hurt, but I’ll keep you wrapped in my arms.”
He adjusts himself so he can hold her against him, her heart leaping and jumping at different speeds. Michael mumbles something about being downstairs to tell Kitty. Luke kisses her hair, breathes her in before the pain will take over.
Thankfully, the process isn’t long. It takes about twelve hours for the body to fully change into a Vampire. He stays with her while her breathing quickens then turns shallow. He keeps holding her when she thrashes against him, begging him to take the pain away. He holds her while she screams, telling her how much he loves her.
Her screams continue after the second hour. Her body goes slack, but her voice rings out from the searing pain. Her heart rate keeps increasing.
The sun sets, the moon rises.
When the clock chimes midnight, her screams go silent and her heart comes to a full stop. Luke’s gaze hasn’t left her face and he watches, and he waits. He touches her cheek with his fingers, she flinches then relaxes when she smells him.
“I’m right here,” he murmurs. She turns towards his voice; his arms relax around her, but he doesn’t pull away.
Then, like a butterfly appearing from their cocoon, she opens her eyes to a new life.
• • • •
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black-swan-slaps · 3 years
Text
My Musings About How BTS Made My 2020 So Much Better
I’m never one to do year end reflections like this, but I think I’ll make an exception for 2020, considering, you know, 2020. Plus, the New Years Eve content made me giddy.
I’ve known about BTS since either 2015 or 2016 (I first saw their videos in a Youtubers React video). I remember being impressed back then when I saw that their music videos had around 100 million + views (look at them now, lol). Since then, I would casually watch some of their performances or interviews, but never really listened to their work. The closest I got was when I became interested in RM’s solo work in 2018 (I really like his song Joke, and I stand by that). I think part of my interest in him was because he spoke English during American interviews, so it was easier for me to find a connection. Besides that, trying to enter the BTS world felt, well, overwhelming. There’s just so much content to get through. 
Fast forward quarantine 2020. It’s the end of April and I have been working from home since the beginning of March. Their carpool karaoke video with James Cordon shows up in my Youtube Recommended. The rest is history.
But seriously, that video is just so much fun, and it was really smart of the editors to include subtitles. Very few American shows will bother subtitling the members (at least early on), but they often say really interesting or funny things! I wound up watching that video every day for like two weeks. I then started watching them on other talk shows, which turned into watching interviews, to then their music videos, performances (hello Jungkook in the James Cordon Boy With Luv performance), funny compilations, and then other content, like Festa. One of the first videos I watched was their 2019 Festa. I had limited context for the members, and didn’t think I would actually watch an hour long video, but I did, and I enjoyed it. 
My May became a whirlwind of watching their content and listening to their music. Part of me was hesitant to spend so much time losing myself in their content, but as I reasoned, I had the time, and I was enjoying myself. I remember honestly laughing so hard as I watched Run, and by this point in quarantine, I had very little to laugh about. BTS gave me a route to escapism, and I happily took it. 
None of my friends are really into Kpop, but I felt so ecstatic as I fell deeper into this obsession. They would listen to me a little as I talked about them, but I did overall refrain from talking their ears off. (Now, whenever I do get to see them, I just give a simple update: “Still really into BTS, btw.”)
Point being, I devoured their content. Run, Bon Voyage, docuseries, concert footage, hell, I even watched American Hustle Life. As I learned more about them, I fell in awe of their success and individual stories. I’m honestly just so happy for them every day. I’m seriously amazed when I think about how much they have accomplished. About how hard they have worked, how many records they have broken, how insanely talented they are. They are truly global superstars, and they are changing the music industry, culture, and are leaving a huge mark in history. It’s just amazing. And what is also amazing, is that being happy for them makes me happy. 
Being happy for other people and their successes is pretty standard for me, but it’s definitely a sentiment that has heightened this year. This is a year where we need to spread happiness, as hard as that can be sometimes. But, getting this invested in a band is a new thing for me. 
I really appreciate their friendship and bond. I know it’s not realistic for them to be lovey-dovey BFFs all the time, but it is clear that they have an incredibly special, and rare bond. It’s something that I really admire. (The Vmin friendship was one of the first things I noticed, and led to me getting interested in the members personally). Being American, platonic intimacy isn’t really something I see a lot, at least on the mainstream level (and especially between men), and getting to see these men work together, laugh together, and express their love for each other is just so refreshing. I truly hope that they are happy with each other. It is so clear, that based on the crazy journey they have been through together, they have a bond that no one else will understand. They’ve said it themselves that, in certain moments, they can just look at one another and instantly know what they’re thinking. That is so valuable and special.  
Their work energized me. I started working on a major project in May, and I felt inspired by them. They gave me the energy to push through. Seeing them be silly while also working hard also helped me to accept myself and be true to my weird nature. I used to be pretty shy and reserved, and never posted online, but I started to adopt Jin’s philosophy of just doing what you feel like. Honestly, I felt the most alive in the first few months of quarantine purely because of them and all the energy I invested in learning about them and received from them. (And it was a welcomed distraction from the real world.)
It’s maybe a bit strange getting practically new content every day, but I have found that between official content and social media, there is always something to look forward to. It’s a part of my daily routine to check tumblr and look for updates. It’s something that has been so helpful as my mental health started to decline around August (I’m sure that with quarantine we’re all in the same boat). These past few months have been hard for me as I’ve struggled with the effects of quarantine and a developing complicated relationship between me, food, and my body, but at least I have had BTS to look forward to.
And I guess that is the point of this. I could honestly go on and on about each member and how I feel a special resonance with Jimin based on his gender expression, or how proud I feel of Jungkook every time I hear him sing and express himself, or how Suga’s First Love stops me in my tracks every time I hear it, but I’ve gone on long enough. What I’ve realized recently is that BTS gives me something to look forward to.
This year has been bleak. We all know this. But what is strange is that even though I have had my fair share of struggles, I also had a lot of self-improvement. Those first few months of quarantine, the energy I received from BTS inspired me to work hard on my major project. I took up learning Korean (I really like learning languages and have been working on Italian for years. I highly recommend TalkToMeInKorean). I started working out every day and actually have stamina to do physical activity (something I was severely lacking). I made strides in my professional life and am working strongly and proactively toward my career goals. Of course, even though I have been technically successful, I still can’t but help feel aimless and lost due to the loss of connection with my friends and peers due to quarantine. As Christmas day was ending, I realized that I had been using the anticipation of the holiday to get me through December. Once it was over, I felt sad. What more did I have to look forward to? The world is still generally terrible. In America, we’re still reeling from our terrible political and covid situation.
But today I realized, oh, there’s still BTS. Maybe it’s silly to say, but it’s true. Yes, I have personal and career goals I’m working toward, but we have to admit there is something so unique and fun about following BTS. That week in October where they released performances and interviews every day on Jimmy Fallon, plus bangtang bombs, was one of the happiest weeks I had. Like I said, their happiness brings me happiness. I look forward to following their careers for as long as they’re active, as well as their solo projects and careers. Honestly, isn’t it exciting thinking about all the great things they will do in the future?
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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years
Text
Halcyon Heart
Serving you guys part 5 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ today! Oh god, I procrastinate this oneshot like you wouldn’t believe it! Honestly? I’m not too happy about this piece but the plot must keep moving. 
In this oneshot, the names of Leona, Ace and Deuce’s kids will be reveal! I did my best to keep their names within the card games theme and overall, I think they turned out ok. I went with the deep meaning name for Leona’s son. Kudos to anyone who manage to figure out the meaning behind them! 
This oneshot can’t begin without us thanking the great @tri3tri for her amazing Second Wive AU. Please drop by at her blog to see even more yandere!Malleus content. 
-
“Well... you certainly are MC’s daughter, Renata-chan.” The headmaster sigh tiredly. Behind his mask, Crowley narrowed his eyes at the three students sitting across his desk. Said girl is at least apologetic (Crowley assumed she is, because she can barely look him in the eyes), the two boys with her - Hoyle Trappola and Rex Spade are just seconds away from passing out from sheer exhaustion, sporting scorch marks on their face, hair and uniforms. 
Crowley resists pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. And to think, his day has been going on so well too. He had finally managed to complete all of his paperwork before the end of the month, the teaching staffs aren’t passive-aggressively bickering with one another for once, and the cook in the cafeteria even left the last dessert of the day just for him! 
And then came Professor Crewel kicking his office’s door down, dragging three rowdy puppies behind him and a report about scorched marks on pavements and fountain due to misconduct of magic. 
When Crowley leans to the side to see which students were responsible, he could only sigh. Was it too much to ask for this generation of Trappola, Spade and MC/S not to inherit their parent’s ungodly habit of getting into trouble!? 
So here there are now, three students waiting for punishments. At that moment, Crowley felt as if he was transported into the past as he stares down at them. 
Crowley folded his arms across his chest and said, “Professor Crewel reported your misbehaviours and the damages done. Now, what I want to know is how this happened.” Silence. “Well? Would anyone like to share the story?” 
Almost instantly, the young Spade spoke up. “It’s all Hoyle’s fault!” An indignant hiss of, “Shut it, Rex!” interrupted him, but the boy ignored it and pressed on, “He dropped a food tray on MC/S-san when she was eating.” 
“Oi! I told you already! It was an accident, alright!?” Young Trappola is quick to defend himself, disgruntled about the whole affair. Beside him, Renata just rolled her eyes. Despite looking so much like her father, she’s surprisingly expressive with a lit fused of a temper. 
“An accident? While young Trappola did commit a mistake, does it warrant an... explosive reaction, MC/S-san?” Here, Crowley stares pointedly at the girl. 
Renata sigh. “No, headmaster.” 
“In the future, please restrain yourself MC/S-san. Now then, punishment.” The three of them groaned, and unimpressed, Crowley tilt his head at them. “Keep that up and I will extend your punishment to a month.” 
The teenagers straighten up after that. Good. So he continues. 
“The three of you will be cleaning the Hall of Mirrors starting tomorrow, right after your last class of the day. Now, because the damages are only minor, your punishment will only be for a week. If I catch any reports that the three of you misbehaving again, I will extend the punishment. Is that clear?” Crowley demanded. 
“Yes, headmaster.” The three of them drone simultaneously. 
And with that, Crowley dismisses them. Once the door is click shut, voices are raised outside - the three of them are bickering again - before footsteps carried them away. 
The headmaster could only wordlessly shake his head. Looks like he’s in for another rough few years until these three graduated. 
Just like old times. 
Outside at the quiet hallway, the only noises that can be heard this evening are Hoyle’s heated complaints, Rex’s put out sighs and Renata’s outwardly annoyance (in the inside though, Hoyle’s flying food tray was a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, it’s nice not to use Observer all the time). 
“Quit your complaining already, Hoyle.” Rex interjects when he could no longer tolerate his whining. “At least the headmaster didn’t expel us!” 
“Yeah, yeah. And you!” Hoyle said and focused his attention on Renata. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow when he glares at her. “This is not just my fault, you know! Got anything to say about that?” 
Renata nodded, her face turned serious though her lips struggle not to twitch into a cheeky grin. “Yes. Dodge better next time.” 
Rex gapes at her, incredulous and certainly not expecting that comment while Hoyle bristles. 
“This is going to be a long week.” Rex muttered as Renata pretend to be nonchalant when Hoyle demanded an apology. 
True to his word, their week shaped up to be rather long and busy. Not only did the three of them were reprimanded by the headmaster and their Dorm Leaders, they also had piles and piles of homework and club practise on top of their punishment. By the time Thursday roll by, they were ready to collapse from exhaustion. 
Tonight, Rex had to drag Hoyle by his arm as they head towards Heartslabyul’s main mirror that leads to Hall of Mirrors. A few of their dorm members watch their shenanigans with amusement while others snickered; it’s practically known throughout their dorm of their punishment. 
“For fuck’s sake, Rex, lemme go! Why can’t we let Renata clean the mirrors tonight for once!?” Hoyle exclaimed, doing his best o wrestle his arm free but surprisingly, Rex is a lot stronger than he lets on. 
“Do you want her to complain to the headmaster that we’re slacking off?” Rex suggests. “And extend our punishment? Look, the sooner we can finish off cleaning the Hall of Mirrors, the sooner we can have our free time again.” 
“I hate that you make sense.” Hoyle grumbled but decided not to argue any further. 
When they step through the mirror, they found that Renata is already there, waiting for them. Her back was facing them, and she’s currently talking to... no one. 
“ - was ok. I mean, with all things considered and I didn’t use any of my spells so shut up, Cherry.” A voice - it sounds like a woman - chatter back. “It’s just cleaning the mirrors of the seven dorms, no big deal. Mm-hmm, I promise not to throw fire at people next time, Mama.” The woman - apparently, Renata’s mother - said something, but it’s muffled. “Will do, Mama. Goodnight, I love you too.” 
Renata put something - not a phone. It’s too small to be one - into her blazer’s pocket and turn around. 
She greets them, “What kept you guys? I already swept the floor and dusted the walls.” 
“This one wanted to ditch.” Rex reply, pointing a finger at Hoyle before he grabs the mop and bucket. 
“Oi! You didn’t have to tell her.” Hoyle snapped. 
“Uh, did you think on how that’s going to be for you if it’s only me and Spade-san doing the cleaning?” Renata asked, looking and clearly judging how many brain cells he has. 
Hoyle just told her to shut up and picks up a wet sponge from a spare bucket filled with soap to start cleaning Scarabia’s mirror. 
It’s quiet as they clean up the Hall of Mirrors. As Rex mop the floor, he could see Renata focusing on her task in wiping the mirror that he and Hoyle just used. During the Entrance Ceremony, he could only catch a glimpse of her from the back of the crowd, confused as to why his seniors are mumbling and commenting about her appearance. 
Only the blind couldn’t see how beautiful the girl is. If Rex is the poetic sort, he would liken the night of a full moon and stars to her. But honestly, other than her pretty face, he doesn’t understand why their seniors tend to give her a wide berth whenever she walks by. 
Hell, he even noticed that her own dorm members are polite yet strangely distant with her. 
Rex wonders if she’s lonely. “So, uh, you’re pretty good with magic, huh MC/S-san?” He blurted out. He surprises himself at his sudden boldness. 
Thankfully Renata didn’t find it strange or awkward. “More or less. Magic always fascinated me, even when as I was a kid. I’ve been testing the limit of my magic ever since.” Pleased at herself when Heartslabyul’s mirror gleam under the bright light, she moves on to Savanaclaw’s. 
“What about you, Spade-san?” Renata threw his question back. 
“It’s alright, MC/S-san! You can call me Rex.” 
“Ah, then please call me Renata. Since you extend the same courtesy and all.” 
An easy conversation flow between them after that. Occasionally, Hoyle would join them, his brand of sarcasm or snarkiness here and there but overall, it was nice to talk to him. And when he threw a rather malicious teasing to Renata, she threw right one back. It strangely morphs into a playful banter between the three of them. 
Cleaning felt less like a punishment after that. 
-
When they finally reach the final day of their punishment, something happened. 
While Hoyle and Rex shared the same class - 1-A - Renata is in 1-B. And it just so happen that her negligence came to bit her in the ass. 
After History lesson ended for class 1-A and Hoyle was the last one to leave due to Professor Trein holding him back to talk about his recent subpar assignment, a Heartslabyul student from 1-B called him out. 
“Extra assignment? This is the worst...” Hoyle sigh in dejection once he finishes reading the piece of paper given to him by the teacher. Dangling the piece of paper in low spirits, Hoyle resigned himself to many, many trips to the library so this extra assignment can boost his grade from F to a D. 
So lost in his thought, he completely missed that his name being called. It was only when a student - his dorm member - grab his shoulder that he broke out from his train of thoughts. 
“Hey, you’re Hoyle Trappola, right? The one that was nearly flambé alive, yeah?”
Hoyle bristle. Is that what people are calling him now? The flambé dude? Urgh, this is seriously all Renata’s fault! “What do you want?” He snaps. Unfortunately for him, the Heartslabyul student was unfazed of his bad mood. 
“Listen, I need you to do something for me. I shared the same class as that Diasomnia girl, 1-B. Earlier today she left this in class.” Hoyle’s dorm member explain and showed him a plain-looking journal. “She left quickly and when I saw her at the Main Street, she was with Bakari Kingscholar. Anyway, I just thought that since you and Rex are cleaning the Hall of Mirrors with her, you can give this back.” 
“Why are asking me to do it? You just said that you saw her at the Main Street!” 
“Yeah and with Kingscholar. I couldn’t approach her; not when that guy glared at me and my legs froze up. So here you go!” 
And with that, he shoves the journal into Hoyle’s arms, making him fumble with the paper and journal before they could drop. “Oi! I’m not doing your fucking errand - ” Hoyle shouted, but by then, his dorm member had long jog off with a cheerful wave goodbye. “Seriously... this is so not my day...” 
As Hoyle made his way to the library, he absentmindedly flips through the pages of the journal. Not all care that it was rude to rummage through others’ belonging. Notes about various classes mostly filled the pages; others are just mindless doodles that the girl probably drew out of boredom. 
“Isn’t there anything good in here? Something that can knock her off her high horse maybe.” Hoyle murmurs to himself as he continues to flip the pages. Rex might be willing to let it slide that it was Renata that landed them in trouble with the principle but not him. Hoyle felt that a prank would even the score between them. 
By the time he scored himself a nice, quiet table in the corner of the library, he reaches to the last page of Renata’s journal. His eyes widen at the sight of a strange rune that took up the entire white page. There were even some notes written around it. “Well, well, what is this? Communication rune? This looks interesting...”
Later that night as Rex was about to step through the mirror, he felt something... not quite right. Perhaps he ate something bad during dinner. His uneasiness is not going to dampen his high spirits though. Finally, tonight is their last day of punishment! Tomorrow they’ll be free humans! 
“Yo, Rex! Glad to see you show up before MC/S.” 
Hoyle greets him with a wide grin, standing in the centre of the hall. 
“Oh, you were here first, Hoyle? Did you start cleaning?” Rex was surprised that Hoyle actually took the initiative to start their chore before them. Rex’s heart is touched. Maybe Hoyle isn’t all that bad - 
“What? Forget about cleaning, check out what I have!” 
Nevermind. Rex takes it back. 
Hoyle didn’t hesitate to drag the unimpressed Rex close to him and shove a piece of folded paper in between his eyes. When he unfolded it, Rex is confused. Someone had drawn a rune. Now, Rex doesn’t know all that much about runes and their inner workings, so he has no idea why Hoyle has this with him. 
“What is this? Your homework?” Rex asked, his face scrunched up. “I don’t remember seeing this in class.” 
Hoyle rolled his eyes. “It’s not homework. I found this in MC/S’s journal this morning and tried to checked all the books about runes and stuff in the library but nothing came up. How crazy is that!” He excitedly explains, eyes shining brightly. 
Rex didn’t share his enthusiasm, however. “You stole Renata’s journal?” His eyes are wide in disbelief. He threw the piece of paper back at Hoyle who easily catch it. “Do you want her to burn you again!?” 
“What she won’t know, won’t harm her. That is, if you keep this between us.” Hoyle reply, narrowing his eyes at Rex in a threatening manner. 
Rex just throws his hands up in exasperation. “She’s going to find out when she realised that her journal is missing! Look, just put put that thing back and - ”
“Hell no. I want to test this out. Aren’t you curious too?” Hoyle demanded, and that’s when Rex notices that he has a marker pen in his other hand. “And beside, I’ll give the journal back to her once we find out what this rune does.” He then walks around him towards the Heartslabyul mirror and starts drawing. 
“W-Wait! It’s against the rule - ” Rex stammers out, but Hoyle quickly interrupts him. 
“Rule 809: One should not vandalise Heartslabyul’s mirror. Yeah, yeah, I remember. But this - ” Hoyle stops drawing to gesture at the marker pen in his hand “ - is not a permanent. So I’m not technically breaking any rules if I can just clean it up later.” He answered with a nonchalant shrug. 
Rex paused to ponder. Well, Hoyle put it that way... More than that, Rex is baffled that Hoyle remembers that particular rule of their dorm. 
“Done!” Hoyle huff proudly before taking a step back to admire his handiwork. He briefly glances at the paper and then back to the mirror - it’s a perfect copy. The two boys watch as the surface of the mirror ripple once before the rune vanishes, and the mirror becomes pitch black. 
“Whoa... I’ve never seen any mirror in Night Raven College look black before.” Rex said in awe. He gently and carefully presses his fingers on the surface, and it pushes through. “It feels like any other enchanted mirrors though.” 
“It’s not suppose to lead anywhere. According to the notes, it’s a communication rune.” Hoyle explains. “But there’s no such thing as communication runes so this must be something that MC/S came up.” 
Rex’s eyes widen at Hoyle’s theory. Runes are notoriously one of the hardest subjects ever in all of Twisted Wonderland. She mentioned that she’s been experimenting with magic, but Rex didn’t expect that she could do something like this! 
Suddenly, Rex’s awe quickly turns to horror when something yanks his fingers into the mirror. 
“What the - ”
“Rex!” Hoyle shouted and grabbed his arm to pull his back. Rex’s arm is inside of the black mirror! A powerful tug completely yanks the two of them into the mirror and the surface return to normal. 
The next thing they realise is that they’re now in the mirror. 
And that’s how Renata found them; a piece of paper with her rune on it and rex and Hoyle pounding furiously from the inside of the mirror and screaming at her to get them out. 
“For fuck’s sake you guys - ”
Needless to say, the three of them are in for a long night. 
-
“So you finally decide to show up? You kept me waiting for an hour. I love to hear your excuse - why do you look like shit?”
“Shut up, Kingscholar. I don’t want to hear it from you.” 
“...Right. Any reason why there’s Heartslabyul students in my mirror then?”
“Whoa, so this is how it looks like inside of the Savanaclaw dorm!”
“I, uh, didn’t expect that you like to do homeworks in, uh, Kingscholar’s bedroom, Renata-san.”
Bakari glares at Renata who just look tired and supporting heavy, black eye bags. The girl in question refused to look at him. 
-
And there we go! This is the start to Renata, Hoyle and Rex glorious friendship and shenanigans. Their friendships mirrored their parents except the kids are lot stronger; magically-wise. I’m fleshing out their characters and Unique Magic as we go along the series but so far, I have a pretty good idea how I want them to turn out. 
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bakugou-tm · 4 years
Text
never fear; kuroo tetsurō
Okay so I’m currently working on writing the Kuroo Tetsurō sports fic, I’m trying to write most of it before I post the first chapter that way I don’t half ass out and don’t finish it like I a l w a y s do. But in the meantime I wanted to give ya’ll some content. I did get the few requests ya’ll sent in and they’re very good I’m actually excited to write them, but for now I wanted to write this one so I don’t lose the momentum with the idea and because it really hits home for me in my personal life so I hope you enjoy ♡
word count: 3500+
warnings: abusive father, alcoholism, cursing, a n g s t
For Kuroo, it all started when you finally allowed him to pick you up from your house.
Normally it was fine, if not expected, for the boy to pick up the girl for dates. That’s why when Kuroo offered to swing by your home on your first date and you quickly shut him down, he grew curious as to why. 
Only a year later did you finally give him the okay, and to be honest he was curious at the time.
His first assumption, that you had lived in a rough part of town, was shut down when he arrived to your house. It wasn’t the Hamptons, but it also wasn’t a sketchy area.
Shrugging off his curiosity he let his excitement take over, he had been dying to take you to the new amusement park in town. 
Ringing your doorbell he was surprised to see an older looking woman answer the door, it almost startled him when he noticed how similar the two of you looked. It was like that filter the two of you used to make yourselves look a few years older.
The woman continued to look at him expectantly, causing him to cough a bit nervously as he stood up straighter.
“Good Evening Mrs. (L/n), is (F/n) home?” Kuroo spoke as smooth as possible, handing out the bouquet of flowers to surely impress your parents.
Luckily your mother smiled, taking the flowers from him. He had expected her to call your name out, but instead she just glanced back as if trying to hide Kuroo from whoever was inside.
“Of course dear, my (F/n) will be out in a minute just wa-”
“Honeyyyy who’s at the door?”
The sound of a new deeper voice had Kuroo and your mother jump in surprise. He didn’t miss the way your mother seemed to slump at the sound of the man’s voice.
“N..No one love!” Your mother called out, her eyes now landing on you as you quickly dashed down the stairs, your eyes anxiously looking down the hall.
“Mom.” You muttered under your breath, clearly unhappy.
Your mother looked to you with apologetic eyes as she moved aside for you to exit with your boyfriend, “I’m sorry honey, I tried to open the door quietly..”
You offered her a half smile of appreciation, quickly trying to slip past the door frame before a firm hand wrapped around your arm causing you to wince.
“Well look who it is! The so called boyfriend (L/n) won’t stop blabbering about.”
Kuroo blinked up to your father who seemingly came out of no where. He wasn’t sure why, but he picked up that you were very uncomfortable. Were you embarrassed?
“That is me sir, it’s great to finally meet you.” Kuroo said with a smile, holding out his hand for your father to take.
He noticed how the man stumbled forward almost crushing yourself against the wall before shakily grabbing his wrist, shaking it firmly before pulling away.
“So tell me about yourself!” Your father said with a grin, not being able to read the awkward air in the situation, “I wanna hear it all.”
At this point you couldn’t hide the discomfort in your face. Yanking yourself from his grip you quickly jumped from your doorway and moved by Kuroo’s side, taking his hand quickly.
Kuroo was at a loss for words, so much had happened so quick and he couldn’t quite tell what was really going on.
“Maybe next time dad, I’ll see you later tonight!”
When you waisted no time to tug Kuroo away he decided to follow you, offering a smile and wave to your parents but he noticed your mom already tugging your father back inside even though he seemed to not be pleased with it.
He opened his mouth to question the strange situation, but when he felt your warm hand grip his own and your eyes glue themselves to the sidewalk beneath you, he decided it was best to leave it.
The next incident happened at school, it was the day all the dots started to connect.
You liked to think you had a pretty great life. You mostly had a supportive family, great friends, and an incredibly loving and hot boyfriend. What else could you ask for?
Because of that, you always tried to keep your mood up and head high. You rarely were in a bad mood except for the common case of being hangry or exhausted. But thanks to the amazing people in your life, they were always there to help.
That’s why when you came to school not only four periods late, but looking like a train wreck: Kuroo was suspicious.
Still you tried to keep your facade up, but it wasn’t enough to trick him. The class was in the middle of having silent homework time, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip in class and speak with your teacher.
When the teacher gave you an understanding nod and handed you some papers you offered her a warm smile and bowed before shuffling back to your seat.
Most of your friends around you began to whisper to you, the conversation going on for five minutes before they started to rub your arms and give you sympathetic eyes. Was he missing something?
Quickly he pulled out his phone to the side and texted one of your friends asking if he could switch seats with her. Once he made it beside you, he scooted his desk close to yours.
The teacher made eye contact with him, raising a brow at his actions but when he quickly sent her a wink and nodded over to you the teacher sighed and gave him a nod of approval.
Thank the lord this was a class he had an A+ in.
“Hey princess~” Kuroo whispered with a grin.
The moment you looked into his eyes he felt like his soul had been ripped from his body. Somehow those brilliant (e/c) orbs looked all drained out of any life, your overall energy just seemed... low.
Forcing a smile you gave him a quick peck on the cheek before focusing back on your work, “Hey babe.”
Kuroo furrowed his brows, trying to read your expression. He really needed to talk to you about this but in the middle of a silent classroom probably wasn’t the best time.
He noticed your foot tapping against the floor as you stared down at your homework assignment, inhaling he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled.
“Need any help with your work?”
The sight of you crunching up the corner of your paper had him silent as he looked back up to your face, the corner of your lip being sucked in sharply by your teeth.
“No thanks Tetsu I got it, thanks though!” You said with an incredibly forced smile, causing him to frown before letting out a sigh.
“Of course baby, let me know if you get stuck.” Kuroo spoke, rubbing your arms softly before scooting his desk back over in it’s rightful spot.
The way your body closed itself off from everyone didn’t go unnoticed by him, but what really caught his eye was the blueish mark on your arm that your delicate fingers were trying to hide.
Over the next few weeks your demeanor seemed to go back to normal, and though Kuroo knew he should’ve asked you about what was going on, he also felt like you would’ve told him if it was important right?
So instead he decided to leave it be, as long as you were happy he was happy right?
But then the day every puzzle piece came into play happened.
Just like any other day, you decided to stay after school to watch your boyfriend during his volleyball practice.
Most of it consisted of you finishing up on some homework while blowing kisses to your boyfriend every once and awhile. It was a great way to end your Friday and welcome in the start of weekend.
Once Kuroo called it a day you decided to pack your bag and hop off the bleachers to help the boys clean up the gym for the night.
“Wow you’re lucky to have such a supportive girlfriend Kuroo~” Yaku teased as you began to blush at the constant praise, tossing a few volleyballs to the boy.
Your boyfriend’s team was always so kind and supportive, being in the same room as all of them always boosted your energy and ego.
“Are you suuuurree you can’t be our team manager?” Haiba whined as he got on his hands and knees as if praying to you.
The sight had you giggling as Yamamoto perked up at the request, “Yes please! I would love to see the faces of those stupid Karasuno hillbillies when they see our hot new team manager stroll in after us!”
Rolling your eyes you tossed over the last volleyball before your boyfriend met you halfway, “Guys you know I would love to, but I’m just too busy!”
Kuroo smirked at the group of idiots as they groaned at your response, he wrapped his arm around your waist as planted a kiss on the top of your head before leaving you towards the exit.
“Plus I would never make my girlfriend spend more time with you dumbass’ then she already has to.”
The sound of the boys yelling after him had you bursting into laughter as your boyfriend yelled at them to shut up and get rest before the game next week.
This was always your favorite part, walking outside the gym to see the sun slowly starting to hide over the horizon while you walked towards the sidewalk home.
The feeling of Kuroo’s strong arm wrapped around your waist and the cool breeze flowing through your silky locks was enough to refresh your entire body.
It really couldn’t get much better than this.
“So whatdya say you sleepover at my house? Watch a few movies, have a few make out sessions, watch a few more movies, let me play with your ass~”
You couldn’t help the snort that left your mouth as you slapped your boyfriend’s arm before stopping to pull out your phone, “No butt stuff.”
Kuroo forced a pout on his lips causing you to giggle before swung your hip against his own and winked up to him.
“Buuuut I could probably get my mom to let me sleepover tonight.”
This caused Kuroo to flash a toothy grin, his arm wrapping back around your waist as you grabbed your phone from your back and tapped it on.
Just as you were about to text your mom not to pick you up, you froze when you saw a text from her already.
Mom: Hey honey sorry to text last minute, your father will be picking you up today. See you at home!
Your expression suddenly dropped as you read the message. You glanced up from around the gym to see your father’s car waiting on the side of the curb, the sight causing you to shiver.
Kuroo glanced down when he felt your body quiver, his brow raising in confusion before you looked up to him with that familiar forced smile again.
“A..Actually I’m going to stop home first to get some clothes then I’ll meet you at your house.” You said, gently removing yourself from his grasp.
Kuroo blinked before grabbing your hand to stop you from walking away, “You sure princess? You know you can wear my clothes I don’t mind.”
Smiling you quickly stood on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek before removing your hands from his own.
“That’s alright Tetsu I’ll bring my own too just in case!”
Kuroo still couldn’t shake off the weird vibe he was getting from you so he persisted.
“Well then how about I walk you home? That way we can walk to my house together.” 
Biting the inside of your lip you shook your head and began to back away from Kuroo with that same smile, “That’s alright, my dad is actually here to pick me up, I’ll see you in a bit!”
Kuroo simply nodded and forced a smile of his own, waving back at you as you trotted away around the corner.
Your dad huh? Funny he remembered you acting the same way last time he had met your dad.
Of course he knew it was wrong to spy on you without your permission, but he also knew it was wrong to not be there for you when he knew you needed it.
If everything looked normal he would simply walk home and leave it, but he couldn’t help the itching feeling in his chest that everything was not normal, not at all.
Letting out a sigh you quickly dashed towards the car, knowing your dad hated when you were late. Your mom had sent you that text three hours ago, who knows how long he had been waiting for you.
“Please lord tell me he’s not intoxicated and in a good mood for once..” You mumbled as you neared the car.
Once you got close enough you tugged on the handle, only for it to be locked. Tugging on it one more time assuming he just needed to unlock it, you blinked when instead the window rolled down.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Great, he was in a bad mood. But maybe not intoxicated.
“S..Sorry dad, I was just watching Tetsu at volleyball practice. I thought mom was going to be picking me up later but I didn’t see her text.” You explained, placing your back through the window onto the passenger seat while tugging the door again only to find it still locked.
“Yeah you think you should be at some damn boy’s volleyball practice instead of at home helping with cleaning the house and doing laundry?”
Biting your lip you began to play with your fingers nervously as you looked down, “I planned on uh.. doing it when I got home-”
“Don’t you look down I didn’t raise a fucking animal, look at me when I talk to you.” Your father yelled causing you to look up quickly to see his bloodshot eyes staring at you.
Bingo, he was intoxicated too.
“Your mother and I bust our asses everyday so you can live the fluffy life you have and you have the nerve to disrespect us by running off and doing your own thing instead of coming home and being an adult?”
Biting at your lip you began to dig your nails into your hand. How dare he put words into your mother’s mouth. She knew how hard you were working to help around the house, how could he lie to you like this just to bring you down?
“Dad I...”
“Don’t even begin to start talking back to me young lady, you should be ashamed of how selfish and disrespectful you are to your family and everyone around you.”
The more your father spoke the angrier you began to get, everything he was saying was a lie. You weren’t selfish, you weren’t lazy, you weren’t disrespectful, and you were tired of having to hear it everyday.
“You are lying to me dad!” You shouted, causing the man to stop as he looked at your face streaming with tears, “All I ever do is try to work hard for you so you can be happy! I work while going to school to help pay the bills for you and mom and whenever I’m home I make sure I do everything I can to make your and mom’s life easier! I’m tired of you telling me how worthless I am!”
Honestly as you squeezed your eyes shut it felt good to say what was on your mind, to finally let all your frustrations loose and just speak your truth for once.
When you were met with silence you froze for a minute. Did what you say actually work? Opening your eyes you were met with your father fuming in the front seat.
Oh shit.
“Now you’ve lost your mind (F/n), I’ve dealt with your disrespect for long enough.” Your father shouted as he put the car in park, “I don’t want to see your sorry ass walk through the door of my house that I pay for until you pay double what you owe me for the month. First for disrespecting my hard work and second for all the days you’ve slacked off and cause me and your mother to work harder than we need to.”
Your eyes widened, you felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs. How on earth were you going to come up with all of that money? And to not come home? Your mother was going to be devasated! God forbid she try to talk back to him what would he do to her?
“D..Dad wait no!” You pleaded, trying to open the car door only for your dad to cut you off once again.
“Stop with the fake tears I don’t want to fucking see it, learn to be an adult and grow up!” Your father yelled as he lifted your backpack from the seat and launched it out the window at you.
Luckily you were able to catch it with a grunt since your laptop was inside, but the force from the throw had you stumbling back until you tripped on the sidewalk causing you to fall on your ass.
Between the force slightly knocking the air out of you and the scene unfolding before you, you thought you were going to suffocate. All you could see from your blurry vision was your dad turning the car back on and rolling the window up.
You called out his name and begged and pleaded for him to stop but sure enough you saw your father’s car drive away without a second glance back.
All of your senses began to fail you as your loud sobs filled the air. You felt like you couldn’t breath, like your chest was going to explode. You could feel the cool drops of blood most likely from the fall dripping down your thighs to your skirt but you didn’t care.
You wanted your father back, your real father back. You wanted your family back. You just wanted it all to end.
In the midst of your loud cries the sound of heavy footsteps and your name being shouted were simply drowned out from the world you knew around you beginning to fade away.
Kuroo on the other hand had seen it all like it was a movie playing out before him. It didn’t even seem real the way everything had happened.
He hid behind the corner of the gym, watching the scene unfold while careful not to get caught. Your dad already seemed mad enough as is, he didn’t need to make it worse by showing up.
When he heard the screaming match you two had, he was surprised to say the least. He had a feeling your dad was saying something to you all along, from the way you and your mother acted around him it was clear something was up.
But this? It was flat out child abuse. Kuroo wouldn’t dare say such things to his worst enemy, let alone someone he loved.
The way your father practically called you worthless as if you were some sort of monster and not his own daughter. He was just in shock that you had never spoken up about this sooner.
Sure enough he was brought back to reality from his current shocked state when he saw your backpack being flung out the window and into your chest, the moment you were on the ground in panicked sobs he knew he had to intervine.
He didn’t care if your father saw him, like hell was he going to watch the one he loved being treated like dirt on the side of the road.
“(F/n)! (F/n)!”
The sound of your name being shouted was still drowned out by your sobs, your shaking body not being able to move from the shock given state you were in.
“Shit (F/n) come here.” Kuroo said breathlessly as he grabbed your arm, only for it to be yanked from his grasp as you jumped away and looked at him with wide eyes.
The last person you had expected to see was your own boyfriend. He knelt before you with wide worried eyes, pain written all over his expression as he drank in the sight of you.
“(F/n)...” Kuroo whispered gently, holding out his hand while staring into your eyes as if he could find what to do in those lost orbs of yours.
You bit at your bottom lip, trying your very best not to come undone again but when he held his arm out to you the wrangled cry escaped your lips once more as you threw yourself into his chest.
Kuroo was quick to wrap his arms around your body, letting himself fall to ground completely so that he could drag your body into his lap and embrace all of you.
This entire thing was just so out of character for you. Now that Kuroo thought about it, he realized he had never even seen you cry.
How long had this been going on? Did your friends know about it? Your teachers? Is this where that bruise on your arm came from? Were you bleeding now as he held you?
As your cries muffled against his chest even louder he decided to kick those thoughts from his head, they didn’t even matter right now. All that mattered was keeping you safe from the world.
The feeling of you shaking in his hold had him gritting his teeth, his arms tightening around you as he gripped your tangled locks into his palms.
“T..Tetsurō I..I’m so-”
Kuroo quickly placed his hand on the back of your head and kept your face against his chest as he felt you trying to look up to him.
“Quiet (F/n), you don’t need to speak.” Kuroo spoke calmly, letting his fingers delicately brush through your hair as you hiccuped and whimpered into his chest, “I heard everything that asshole said.”
Kuroo felt as your fingers dug into his shirt as he even hinted mentioning your father, he grit his teeth once more for being an idiot to even bring him up again.
Instead he decided to place a warm kiss on your head, holding you close before letting go and placing his chin atop your head.
“I’ve got you (F/n), I’m not leaving you.”
From this day forward Kuroo swore to himself: he would never let anyone, and he meant anyone, hurt you like this ever again. 
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rocksandrobots · 4 years
Text
Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 6 - The Beach
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Saturday had come and Varian and the rest of his new friends were all crowded in Wasabi's car. Wasabi had precisely enough room to fit six people, though perhaps a bit uncomfortably. He and Varian rode in the front seat, with Varian carrying Ruddiger in his carrying cage, while Hiro, Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Fred were squished together in the back seat. The robot, Baymax, was folded up inside his battery pack and tucked away in the trunk to make room. 
Apparently today was a holiday and they were all heading to the beach. Well in truth the actual holiday was on Monday, but Americans spent the whole weekend in celebration. Said holiday was Memorial Day and was meant to honor warriors who fell in battle. However, despite this somber origin, most considered the weekend to be the official start of summer and would mark the occasion with picnics, parties, and public swimming. 
For Varian and his friends though, this was the end of spring break. Starting on Tuesday, the university they now all attended would open back up and the summer semester would begin. The thought of which sent Varian's stomach churning with butterflies. He'd never been to school before and didn't know what to expect. He was filled with anxious excitement and to calm his nerves he looked out the car window to admire the scenery.
He'd been in this strange new world for a week now but he'd had little chance to admire it. For the past five days he'd been busy studying for his entrance exams for college. Passing the 'graduation' test in particular was important for gaining admittance into the school and Varian had to do some serious cramming to prepare for it. Squeezing twelve years worth of educational knowledge into his brain in less than a week.  
Fortunately Varian was very good at memorizing facts and all his new friends were on hand to help him. On Monday, Hiro had helped him gather up the study materials he'd needed and told him what to expect. Wasabi gave him practice tests throughout the week and helped him pinpoint the areas he was weakest in. He was pretty good with math and grasped most of the science quickly, with Wasabi being on hand to fill in the gaps, but he needed help in other less familiar subjects. 
Gogo had swung by on Tuesday and spent the whole day giving Varian a crash course in Social Studies, which was a combination of history, geography, and civics. 
Varian took a special interest in America's founding and it's chosen form of government, which was unlike anything he had heard of before. They had no king nor royalty of any kind. In fact the country was founded by people who committed treason and fought a war to overthrow their ruler, and who then put into place a democracy made up of elected representatives instead. It most closely resembled the government of ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar had taken over, but was expanded upon to encompass a vast kingdom, larger than even most empires. 
Varian had already thought San Fansokyo was an impressively large city, but was completely flabbergasted to know that not only was it not the largest city in the country, it wasn't even the biggest within its own providence; and there were fifty of these states that stretched across the continent from coast to coast with similarly massive metropolises in each. 
It was mind boggling and it took him sometime to wrap his brain around the concept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he also had to catch up with some four hundred odd years worth of world events on top of that. But Gogo was a patient teacher and she carefully broke down everything into manageable chunks, giving him timelines, charts, and maps for him to refer back to. By the end of the day he had perhaps learned more in those eight hours spent with her than he had in his whole sixteen years. 
On Wednesday, Fred had showed up to help Varian practice for the writing portion of the tests. He would have to complete two essays on any given subject for each of the two exams. Fred himself had actually completed one of the same tests, the S.A.T, just a few months ago and knew what the graders were looking for when it came to such essays. 
Mainly, they just wanted to know if Varian could follow the basic guidelines of writing; paragraphs and sentence structure, grammar, spelling, and his overall ability to form an argument on paper. All things Varian felt pretty comfortable with, but it was nevertheless a good refresher of those basics. Essay writing and thesis statements were apparently expected of any student attending higher education and he would have to write many during the course of his studies. 
Thursday, Honey Lemon stopped by to help Varian with Language Arts. Both tests would cover reading comprehension and even more grammar. Once again Varian was pretty comfortable with those two subjects, especially given the writing practice from the day before, and so they finished pretty quickly. Even with Honey Lemon adding in extra information about various important books and plays that had been written in the past four centuries, just in case any of them made it into the reading part of the exam. Though Shakespeare was still deemed the most influential even in this modern age. A fact which disappointed Varian; he personally thought Marlowe to be superior to the bard. 
"You don't even like Romeo and Juliet?" Honey Lemon asked aghast, "But it's sooo romantic." 
"But it's sooo stupid," Varian mockingly admonished with a laugh. Which in turn made Honey Lemon give him a not-so-serious pout. 
"Look, what was stopping them from just leaving together in the first place?" Varian explained his point. 
Honey Lemon opened her mouth to retort back but just as soon closed it again; she had never considered that question before. She screwed up her mouth in thought as she searched for a better answer. 
"Weeelll, sometimes it's hard to leave the only home you've ever known. Isn't that why you want to get back to your world?" She asked him.
Varian just stared at her for a moment, thinking of an answer to give that didn't allow him to explain his past in detail. Finally he said, "I wanna get back because my dad is there. I couldn’t care less about Corona itself." 
"You don't care at all?"
"It's just a bunch of buildings." He mumbled with a shrug, then he added, more assuredly, "What matters is the people in your life." 
"I guess," She replied, "all I know is that I had a hard enough time just leaving Sacramento. Even though it's only an hour and a half away and I can still see my family whenever. I can't imagine what it's like to be lost in a whole other world." 
Varian ignored her attempts to sympathize, not because he didn't appreciate the effort, but because he was ready to move on from the conversation. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, trying to recall some of the new information he had recently learned. "Sacramento; that's the capital of California, right?" 
"Yeah. But don't worry, no one actually memorizes all fifty states and their capitals. I only know like twenty or so." She admitted.
"Oh, good." Varian breathed in relief. Soon both he and Honey Lemon were just giggling, happy to relieve the tension in the room.
"Oooh, you know what? I brought my make-up bag with me!" Honey Lemon suddenly exclaimed, and just like that all previous talk about literature and writing gave away to other subjects, mostly chemistry.
Honey Lemon made her own cosmetics. It was a passion of hers to find new, safe, and 'biodegradable' chemical compounds to replace some of the more toxic stuff on the market. 
"And absolutely no animal testing." She added in all seriousness. 
She even sold her wares over the internet, shipping them to customers as they ordered them, as a means of making money on the side. 
She poured out the contents of a rather large tote bag onto the floor and walked Varian through each item, what it was for, and how she had made it. Varian listened intently and even tried some of the stuff himself. 
He found he didn’t care much for lipstick nor cakey foundation, the texture was off putting to him. He also didn’t like anything with a heavy perfume. However, he did like the eyeliner and the black fingernail polish he had previously bought. He was still fascinated by the concept of synthesized polymers. 
They were both sitting on the floor, makeup strewn everywhere, laughing over nothing in particular, when Wasabi came home from his part-time job. Honey Lemon was in the middle of applying mascara to Varian’s eyes and he was trying his best not to blink but failing at it, which only sent both of them into more fits of giggles. Meanwhile, unnoticed by them both, Ruddgier had gotten into the powered blush and was making a mess in another corner of the room.
“I thought you two were studying.” Wasabi said with a hint of annoyance to his voice. He was tired from work and none too happy to find makeup scattered about his dorm room. 
“Sorry,” Honey Lemon tried to say through her laughter, “but we finished early and I’d promise to teach Varian how to paint his nails.” Varian held up his hand to show Wasabi his newly painted nails as a way of response. 
“That’s nice.” Wasabi replied back in a sarcastic tone. “Did you also teach the raccoon how to put on foundation?” 
That’s when they both finally noticed Ruddiger. Varian got onto his pet and went to clean up the mess, effectively ending the study/make-up session. 
The next day, Wasabi gave him two final practice tests and then it was time for him to take the real thing. He met Professor Granville at the school and, alongside a few other hopeful students, took the two tests. 
The first test, the S.A.T., went smoothly, but he wouldn’t know his actual scores until his answer sheet and essay were sent off to be graded. The graduation test however was taken over the computer and it took several hours to complete with a few breaks between parts. He felt he could have finished sooner had he had the chance to take the test using a pencil and paper instead, as he found the mouse and keyboard awkward. But the positive thing about using the new technology was that he got his scores back sooner. He managed to pass all the parts, even with him just barely scraping by on the Social Studies section. His official certification would come in the mail, the professor told him, but for all intents and purposes he now had a high school diploma. 
Which was apparently a big deal in this world. Earning a diploma was considered to be something of a rite of passage. Obtaining one meant you were ready to start entering the adult world and with it you could gain full time employment or seek higher education, like college. According to his friends, he should’ve been extra proud of this accomplishment since gaining a high school diploma at his age, while not unheard of, was unusual, and he had done it in less than a week when most took years to achieve it. 
To signify just how important this was, all his new friends threw him a party at the Lucky Cat. Even Aunt Cass had pitched in and made him a special dinner. It was something called ‘sushi’ and she typically prepared it for celebrations like this one; having cooked similar dinners for both Tadashi and Hiro when they had graduated high school as well.       
Varian was appreciative of her efforts, though he didn’t quite know what to make of the food itself. The ‘sushi’ consisted mostly of rice topped with raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture of the uncooked seafood was weird to Varian. Fortunately, not everything was raw. There were different kinds to be had and Varian was able to pick out some that he did enjoy; ones stuffed with crab, egg, or just veggies. He especially liked the ‘dessert sushi’ made with tropical fruit.
He’d just finished recalling last night, when Wasabi loudly proclaimed, “We're here!” 
There were whoops and joyous yells in response from the various passengers and Varian looked out the front windshield to see the familiar blue streak that was the ocean just up ahead. Wasabi parked the car in the designated parking lot and then they all piled out of said vehicle and made their way down to the beachfront. 
The sandy beach was tucked in between two rocky cliffs and you had to walk down a wooden stairway to get to it. As he made his way down the stairwell, Varian could look out and see the expanse of dark blue ocean and lighter blue sky go on forever. It didn't look much different from Corona's coast. What did look different were the inhabitants. Corona's coastline was usually deserted save for the ports and the occasional fishing boat off in the distance, but here the beach was a mass of half naked bodies and swarms of vacationers enjoying the summer sun. Spread out along the sandy tolls were towels, blankets, folding chairs, and umbrellas of all sizes with scantily clad people lounging upon or underneath. 
Varian tried to remember Gogo's words from a week ago, about how this was deemed normal and not to bring himself to attention by starring. But everywhere Varian looked he was met with the sight of a lovely lady's long legs or a handsome lad's toned chest. Not looking was very much like asking a small child in a pastry shop to hold their nose and ignore the sweet smells of pies and cakes surrounding them. Fortunately, he was able to keep his composure long enough for them to reach the shore and find a spot to set up camp for the day; managing not to hold his gaze for too long on any one person or thing. 
They had brought a variety of towels and folding chairs of their own, along with a large parasol and ice chest full of food and drink for the day. Varian and Wasabi had spent that morning making sandwiches for everyone; tuna fish salad, sliced cucumbers with butter, jam mixed with a spread made from ground nuts, and some sort of mystery meat called 'baloney' paired with cheese. Varian couldn't figure out if said baloney was made from ham or chicken, as it didn't really taste like either, though it also didn't taste bad per-say. They also stored small bags of crispy fried potatoes, individually wrapped miniature cakes, and bottles of some sort of fizzy drink called 'soda' in the chest as well. Varian found the carbonated sugary drink to be odd but surprisingly tasty. 
While everyone was setting up Hiro unpacked Baymax from his portable charger, the robot inflated to full size again before stepping out, and Varian released Ruddiger from his carrier. The raccoon was grateful to be let out of the small cage at last and promptly snuggled up on one of the folding chairs under the sun to catnap. Varian didn't think the leash necessary as there really wasn't any place for his pet to run off to. 
Once done with setting up, the gang then proceeded to unpack the various toys and games they had brought along as well. There was a game you played with a net, like tennis, only you used your hands to pass a 'volleyball' over said net instead of a racket and you didn't want the larger ball to touch the ground at any point. They also brought a flat discus called a 'frisbee' which you threw from person to person. Gogo had with her a flat wooden board used to ride the waves that broke along the shore. Which she let Varian and her other friends try out for themselves. 
Varian however was not very good at any of these new sports. While he was fairly athletic, capable of running, climbing, and whatnot, he had never been the best at coordination. More often than not he'd simply trip and fall in his efforts to keep up with the ball or maintain his balance on the surfboard. 
Instead Varian found himself wandering off occasionally to try and strike up conversations with new people. He'd hadn't had a lot of social interaction while growing up, especially with others his age, and he wanted some practice before he started school in a few days. Hopefully to ease the awkwardness of being dumped in a world that he knew next to nothing about. 
However every time he'd smile at a pretty girl or make eye contact with a cute boy his age, his efforts to make small talk were sabotaged by some mishap or other. Either his own clumsiness would get in the way or he'd put his foot in mouth, as the saying goes. One particularly unfortunate incident involved him getting beaned in the back of the head from a misthrown volleyball while trying to chat up a couple of vacationing teens. Fortunately, his embarrassing failures at flirting would be followed by one of his new friends trying to engage him with some other activity so he was never left alone with his awkwardness for long. 
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Swimming, sand castle building, more games; like 'chicken', where you tried to push one person off another person's shoulders into the water, or 'Marco Polo' where one person had to find the others with their eyes closed, using the ancient explorer's name as a call and response, digging for seashells, and other similar actives were to be had to pass the time away. 
Finally, the sun started to hang low in the sky and they all headed back to the car. They were wet, tired and covered in sand. They tried to knock the irritating substance off their shoes and things before all squeezing back into the ill fitting vehicle in order to head back home. They all sat on towels so as not to get the seats wet and their bathing suits and cover up clothes all clung to them dripping with sea water. 
Varian sat again in the front seat, only this time Honey Lemon had asked to hold Ruddiger on the ride back. She, Gogo, Fred, and Hiro were all fast asleep in the backseat with Baymax once again tucked away in his battery case. Wasabi had the radio on in order to keep himself awake as he drove (and to drown out Honey Lemon's snoring if he was being honest). The music that filtered out of the speakers was called 'classical' music, which just meant it was mostly orchestral music from ages past. To Varian it sounded very modern and sophisticated to his ears, like chamber music played for royal courts, not the more rustic folk music he grew up on. 
Right now a gentle suite with piano and strings was playing and it along with the steady motion of the car moving was beginning to lull Varian to sleep as well. He looked out again at the houses and scenery that passed by and thought of the day's events and the fun he had had as his eyes grew heavy. This world was so much more inviting and nicer than his own, it was a shame he'd have to leave it soon, but his Dad needed him and that was that. And with that final resolve Varian drifted off to dreamland. 
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korora12 · 5 years
Text
Ladybug Week Day 6 - Kitchen Disaster
Day 5 Day 7
Word Count: 4881
The thing about working freelance is that sometimes there isn’t any work to be had. Sometimes you get a tip about a job on a distant moon, so you fly halfway across the system just to find out someone beat you to it. Then you’re stuck flying back at half-speed to a more populated part of the system in order to conserve fuel, struggling to find ways to pass the time that won’t eat through money you don’t have.
“Ruby, where did you put my flamethrower?”
Blake was sitting in Crescent Rose’s common room reading her newest novel when Yang’s voice chimed over the intercom, signaling the beginning of the day’s unrequested excitement.
Moments later, Ruby returned with, “I put it back in the weapons locker. Where it belongs. Should I be concerned right now?”
“No, no need to be concerned. We have everything under control. Right, Weiss?”
“Can’t talk right now, busy,” Weiss responded. A loud crash preceded the intercom cutting out.
Blake turned to look behind her. The kitchen was in a small alcove, just to the side of the common room, where she’d seen Weiss and Yang head about an hour ago. She’d been filtering out their bickering/flirting since then, until she’d heard one of them run out moments earlier, heading towards the cockpit door. Past the kitchen counter, she could see Weiss struggling with some amorphous blob.
Sighing, Blake marked her spot and placed her book down on the nearby table. What were those two up to this time?
Across the room the door to the main battery opened and Ruby stepped through. Her skin and clothes, a pair of overalls and an old shirt, were covered in grease and other unrecognizable fluids. Her hair was being held back from her face by a pair of goggles perched atop her head. “What’s happening this time?” she demanded to know.
Blake thrust her thumb over her shoulder. Ruby’s gaze followed where she was pointing; when she saw the state of the kitchen she ran a hand over her face, managing to dirty it further. “Someone’s losing kitchen privileges for this,” she muttered.
The couple made their way across the room just in time for Weiss to slam a lid down atop a 10-gallon pot. She struggled to keep it in place.
“Are we doing chemistry experiments in the kitchen again, Weiss?” Ruby didn’t get angry about many things, but reckless behavior that damaged her ship was one such thing. After what had happened the last few times Yang and Weiss had gotten bored, the razor edge in her voice was far from unwarranted.
“Of course not. We learned our lesson last time,” Weiss assured her. The pot in her grasp shook violently. “We were cooking, which Yang has assured me doesn’t count as chemistry.”
Ruby didn’t immediately snap at her. “Go on,” she said.
Motes of light flickered and swirled within Weiss, signs of anxiety and embarrassment. “When we were at the market yesterday I saw this strange animal being sold that I’d never seen before. I thought it might be fun to try and cook, so I bought it.” The pot shook again, and Weiss sped up her story in response. “Yang found out about it and thought we could make a stew. It was turning out really well; Yang even said it tasted good when she tried it. Then things might have gotten a tiny bit out of control.”
Blake cocked her head to the side, taking in the whole of Weiss’ being, as if to remind herself that her friend was, in fact, still made of crystal. “Weiss, you don’t even eat food. What made you think experimenting with cooking was a good idea?”
Some manner of sludge began leaking out of the gap between the lid and pot. It was thick, brownish-blue, and it bubbled when it hit the air. “I wanted to do something nice for the crew!” Weiss shouted, and in that moment she lost the struggle with her foe. The lid flew out of her hands, catching her on the head as it went. The contents of the pot followed moments later.
It moved too fast even for Blake’s eyes to track. One moment it was in the pot, the next it had tackled Weiss to the ground and spread across most her body. She only got an impression of colors, mostly purple and blue, before it disappeared again.
Weiss attempted to rise to her feet, but stumbled. Blake rushed forward to catch her before Ruby could try the same; Weiss was a heavy weight for a human to lift, being mostly rock, but Blake was more metal than not, so the weight meant little to her.
“I…not… so feel.” Weiss’ translator was having a hard time interpreting her words. Blake’s own fluency in Atlesian wasn’t serving her much better; every spot on her that the… thing had touched was glowing an iridescent ultraviolet in a shade Blake had never seen before.
“That doesn’t look good,” Ruby said
“We should get her downstairs,” Blake said in agreement.
Ruby moved to help her, then hesitated. “Where’s Yang? If she went to the cockpit to look for her flamethrower, then she should’ve been back by now.”
“Maybe she went to the weapons lockers in storage?” Blake offered. Then another thought hit her. “Weiss said she taste-tested the stew before it turned into whatever that was.”
“Oh no.” Blake couldn’t help but agree with Ruby’s sentiments. “Okay, you get Weiss down to the medbay; I’ll go find Yang.”
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Of the four members of Crescent Rose’s crew, Weiss was the one with the most medical knowledge. She wasn’t a professional, but she had thorough first aid training for all intelligent species. So of course she was the first one to be taken out when a monster attacked.
Blake knew how to care for FAUNIS, but her knowledge of the other species was limited. Still, Weiss had made sure they each knew the basics early on. She knew materia fed by absorbing minerals and nutrients in a water solution through their outermost layers, and that this made them especially susceptible to what few toxins could affect them.
She tore through the various drawers and cabinets until she found what she was looking for. It was a tube of translucent paste that she began slathering generously on the affected parts of Weiss’ body. The paste was a general antivenin that was supposed to draw out toxins from a materia while also encouraging the body’s natural defenses. Attempting and failing to move Weiss’ arm proved that she’d already gone static as her body attempted to use its own methods to remove the invading substance.
As Blake finished emptying the last of the tube, the door opened. Ruby came through, carrying an unconscious Yang to an unoccupied bed.
“How’s Weiss doing?” Ruby asked.
“Still glowing; still alive,” Blake answered. “Yang?”
“I found her passed out on the cockpit stairs. She’s even hotter than usual. What do we do?”
Blake wished she knew. If Yang had eaten something poisonous then maybe, “Induce vomiting?”
“She’s unconscious,” Ruby countered. “What if she chokes? I’m going to get her an IV and a wet cloth.”
As Blake washed her hands of the residual paste, she wondered aloud, “What kind of creature can poison both a materia and a protean? Their biology is so different; I’ve never heard of anything that could do that.”
“I don’t know,” Ruby replied, talking as she worked, “but I intend to kill it before it gets anyone else.”
Blake nodded in understanding. “How far out are we from Eltanin?”
“About an hour and a half. When I’m done here I’ll go set up the autopilot to land us at our usual dock. Meanwhile, I want all hands on deck for this. Go find our fifth crewmate and bring him here. And get our weapons, too.”
Brake managed to suppress her grimace. She didn’t like the newest addition to their crew, but she had to admit he had his uses. Hunting a mystery monster was one of the few things she could rely on him to do.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Zwei had only been with the Crescent Rose for a few weeks, but already he loved it. There were so many corners to poke around in and the new people were so much fun. The long trip here via mail crate had been more than worth it.
One of the new people, the one who liked to play hide-and-seek with him, had picked him up and was taking him somewhere. The sounds that people made were difficult to understand, but he could learn names and this one was called Blake. He didn’t understand what she was saying, but he caught the names “Yang” and “Weiss”, who were two of his favorite people. Zwei had known Yang for his entire life; she was a girl who was always ready to roll around in the dirt or pull on a rope with him. Weiss was newer, but she liked to pamper him with treats and cuddles, and Zwei’s affections were easily bought by such people.
Zwei was rather dismayed to find both of the people in question lying flat on their backs, the stench of sickness covering them. Ruby, his favoritest person in the world, was there too, though she was thankfully on her feet. She gave him only one command. “Hunt.”
Zwei knew how to hunt. As Blake lifted him towards both of the sick girls in turn, Zwei got a careful sniff of each. They were very different kinds of creatures, normally with very different smells (except on the rare mornings where they smelled like each other for a while), but there was something within the stench of sickness that they both shared. An underlying smell that suggested something had done this to them, and now Ruby wanted him to find it.
The moment his paws hit the floor he was off. Out the door and up the stairs, straight towards the food room, a place he normally wasn’t allowed in. He squashed the urge to slip open the fridge and steal a quick bite; there was more important work to be done. And anyway, he’d probably get a treat when this was all over.
A large pot lay fallen on the floor. Zwei poked his head inside. Yup, this was the strongest source of the smell. It must’ve come from inside the pot. He committed the scent to memory, then began to follow it. The trail led him out of the food room, past the couches, and into the large room with all the hanging cords, large pillars, and flashing tables that Ruby spent so much time in.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
“If this thing hurts my baby, I’m going to kill it,” Ruby said.
“I thought we were already planning on killing it,” Blake countered.
“Then I’ll kill it twice. It’s bad enough that it attacked my crew, I won’t be having it hurt my ship too.”
The main battery, along with the connecting engine room, was undeniably Ruby’s domain. The others didn’t spend much time in either places, usually only poking their heads in if an extra pair of hands were needed. With a crew as small as theirs was, everyone branched out from their specialty and learned other jobs, but Ruby was still the best engineer around. And the captain. And the best shot with the main gun, even if its computers did most of the heavy lifting. And, along with Blake, one of the only people on the ship who could man all the secondary guns simultaneously without a major drop in effectiveness.
Maybe she should delegate more.
The room was huge, taking up about a quarter of the ship’s third level. Thick wires and glowing tubes hung from the ceiling, connecting up to the massive main gun that sat atop the ship, itself about half as long as Crescent Rose. The main body of the gun took up most of the center of the room, surrounded by computer banks and held up by pillars so that it cleared the floor by about a meter and a half.
Zwei was wandering about the room, nose to the ground and following whatever trail he’d found. Ruby followed hot on his tail, eyes casting about and ears straining for any sign of their quarry. Boots on the metal floor made a heavy sound that echoed off the walls.
Movement in the corner of her eye had her whipping Bright Thorn around in its direction. Nothing, just an empty bank of flashing panels.
Zwei’s tracking took him between the central pillars and under the main gun. Ruby hesitated at the edge. Open panels and dangling wires from previous patch jobs reduced the already limited headspace underneath; following him would severely limit her mobility if attacked. She crouched down, following her corgi with her eyes as he darted here and there, trying to follow a much faster prey.
The lights cut out.
“Great,” Blake said. “We’re hunting a monster, on our own ship, in the dark. This is how horror stories start.”
“You have night vision,” Ruby snarked back, flipping on the flashlight attached to her gun. “What are you complaining about?”
“I’m just saying.”
Ruby shook her head in exasperated fondness. “I’m more concerned with why they went out. Either this thing is smart enough to intentionally cut the lights, or it’s attacking indiscriminately and getting lucky.” She rose from her crouch, standing back-to-back with her partner as they surveyed the room. “Whichever it is, now I have to kill it twice.”
Lazer fire behind her had her spinning around, Bright Thorn raised and ready to fire. “It came out of the wall,” Blake said, rapidly firing her lazpistol, first along the ground, then up overhead. Ruby tracked her shots trying to follow with her light.
“Ventilation shaft?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
She caught sight of a blur, passing through the circle of light projected on the ceiling for only an instant, but it was enough. She pulled her trigger and the thing dropped, releasing a whine like a deflating balloon as it fell.
If the shot injured it, it wasn’t enough to kill. By the time Ruby’s flashlight was pointed at the ground it was gone, only a small, bulbous part of it momentarily visible speeding away towards the center of the room.
“Zwei, look out!” Ruby called.
A series of barks and growls spoke of a tremendous battle between beast and monster. Ruby caught only flashes of it, as Zwei tumbled with and tore into something that was less of a shape, and more the impression of a mouth on a lump the color of an oil spill. She couldn’t even get a solid grasp on how big it was, with how fast and how much it moved, thought it at least seemed to be no larger than a fully-grown corgi. The thing tackled Zwei, knocking him out of sight. Before Ruby could refocus her light, Zwei let out a loud, pained yip and ran straight towards them, sliding to a stop and collapsing at Blake’s feet.
“Some fearsome monster hunter you are,” she said, scooping him up in one arm, the pistol in her other still sweeping the room. She paused her sweep, turning her attention more heavily on the dog in her arms. “He’s breathing really heavily, and I think I see a bit of blood.”
“Okay,” Ruby said, trying not to let her worry take control of the situation. She could do this. “Let’s fall back for now, get Zwei downstairs. Head towards the hatch at the back of the room.”
There were four ways in or out of the main battery. One was the door they came in through, and opposite it, on the far end of the room, was a door that led deeper into the guts of the ship, towards the engine and fuel tanks. Near the rear door was also a lift that connected all three of the ships levels, as well as a ladder, covered by a hatch, that exited near the medbay on the second floor.
The pair swept the room as they headed towards the ladder. This time, Ruby was the first to spot it. It moved too fast for her to line up a proper shot, but she fired anyway. The sound drew Blake’s attention, and she fired her own gun.
“Keep it away from the exits.” Ruby ordered. Together they managed to herd it towards the center of the room, firing ahead of it anytime it tried to head towards a wall or pillar, until they reached their destination.
Ruby knelt to open the hatch while Blake kept firing, her efforts alone less effective than the two together had been. Her success was marked by a beam of light from the lower level shining into the room. “Go,” Ruby commanded. Blake forewent the ladder, jumping backwards and dropping the entire distance in one go. Ruby swung onto the top rung, firing one last shot as she went, then slammed the hatch shut above her. Embedded in the wall nearby was a lever under a glass lid. Ruby lifted the lid, pulled the lever, twisted, and pushed it back in. A clunk echoed from the hatch.
“That’ll seal off the room. Even the ventilation is locked down now.” Ruby joined Blake on the second level. “It should hold for a bit, but I don’t want to leave it for long. How’s he doing?”
Blake held Zwei out for Ruby to see. His wounds were more visible in the still-active lighting of the hallway. He was indeed bleeding, from a bite mark on his side that was turning a disturbing shade of purple.
“Not you too, Zwei,” she moaned, letting Bright Thorn hang from his strap as she took the dog into her arms. “I’m going to get him set up in the medbay. When I get back, we’ll finish this thing off.”
The hatch above them shook violently, as if something had just slammed into it at high speeds. “Maybe hurry?” Blake offered, sword and gun drawn as she stared down the hatch.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
When Ruby returned, it was to a changed hallway. Blake was on the floor and the nearby lift was peeled open, the doors bending outwards. She rushed to Blake’s side, glad to see she was still conscious and struggling to her feet.
“Are you okay?” she asked, helping her up. “What happened?” Ruby fretted nervously, checking Blake over for bite marks or blood.
“I’m fine,” Blake assured her, waving off concerned hands, “just dazed. I wasn’t watching my six and it tackled me. There’s no lasting damage.”
Ruby eyed her suspiciously, not failing to notice the difficulty she showed finding her balance again. “You’ll let me know if you start to feel sick, right?”
Blake backed off, finally standing on her own without aid, and bowed exaggeratedly at the waist. “Of course, my queen.”
“Blaaaake,” Ruby whined, “don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.”
A cute smirk played across Blake’s face. “As you wish, your majesty.”
Ruby huffed, ignoring the blush she could feel forming on her face and not dignifying Blake with another response. “Did you see which way it went?”
There weren’t a whole lot of places it could’ve gone. Aside from back the way Ruby came, or back the way it came, it’s only options for escape were down the stairs to the storage bay or… or down the hallway Blake was pointing at.
Exhaustion leaked out of her in a low moan. “Not life support,” she complained. Why did this thing keep getting into the sensitive parts of the ship?
“Royalty first,” Blake said, sweeping her arm in the direction they were headed.
“You’re a big old teasing meanie,” Ruby said, but she led the way regardless.
The life support room was more like a wide hallway than a room, several times longer than it was wide. It was full of variously-sized criss-crossing pipes, clumped together in places and jutting out of the walls at all angles, and thick, twisted cords of dozens or more wires stretching across the ceiling and walls. They were accompanied by controls and sensors for electrical energy, air circulation, and water filtration, amongst other things. Several large, boxy generators sat at the back of the room, their steady chugging providing both electricity and gravity. The floor was made of removable metal grates, granting access to the innermost workings of the ship.
“Come here, little abomination,” Ruby whispered as she stepped as quietly as she could through the room, the sound of her footsteps largely masked by the noises of the various machineries surrounding her. “Step away from the sensitive equipment and show yourself. I only want to talk.”
The room quieted midstep, the rumble of a generator cutting out. Ruby’s next step pushed her off the ground and sent her floating through the air.
“You know,” she said, just letting herself float freely for a moment. “I’m not usually one to swear, but this thing is really pushing my limits.”
“It’s okay,” Blake assured her, “You can say it, I won’t judge you.”
Ruby shook her head. “No, the moment’s not right.”
Bending down, not that down had much meaning at the moment, she flicked a switch on her boots and was pulled to the floor. She looked at Blake, slowly making her way towards the ceiling. “Where are your magboots?” Ruby asked.
“I didn’t put them on this morning,” Blake answered. “Funnily enough, I wasn’t expecting to get attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon today. A better question is, why are you wearing yours?”
Ruby shrugged. “It makes working on the engine easier.”
Blake caught and steadied herself on a thin pipe that ran the length of the ceiling. “So this thing’s probably back by the graviton generator, right?”
“Unless it’s moved already,” Ruby countered. “It is pretty fast.”
“It’s a place to start.” She shimmied along the pipe, heading to the rear of the room. Ruby followed slowly, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings as she went.
Every blind corner or obstructed section of floor had Ruby swinging Bright Thorn around. There were too many hiding spots in this room, even with all the lights still working.
“All clear,” Blake called from up ahead.
If it wasn’t by the generator anymore, then where had it gotten to? Ruby took a step forward, then froze. Whatever she’d stepped on had just squished. She looked down.
Bubbling up through the holes in the grate was a thick, purplish-brown sludge that surrounded and spread out from a burst water pipe. The sludge moved in ways it shouldn’t, rearing up only to slosh back down, spinning about in cyclones and eddies, and forming what looked like grasping tendrils. The more water it took in, the larger it grew.
“Blake!” Ruby shouted, “Shut off water to—” she checked the writing on the nearby pipes, since anything written on the burst pipe was now buried under an onslaught of sludge, “—pipe C126.”
“Where is it?” Blake asked, not able to see Ruby from her vantage point.
“In the floor!”
Ruby didn’t have time to watch Blake take action, too busy herself firing at the sludge monster while putting distance between it and herself. At first it didn’t respond to her actions, only continuing to grow even as Ruby blasted off bits of it. The moment it lost its supply of water, however, it screeched.
It began moving as a single solid creature, once again black with a rainbow sheen, bits of grating stuck inside it as it burst from the floor. It was larger than Ruby now, continuously shifting and oozing as it barreled towards her, as fast as an oncoming car.
“Oh, fuck.”
Ruby ran, racing to regroup with Blake. The thing following her was still fast, but all its added bulk slowed it down to below her top speed.
The moment she was in sight, Blake was firing at the monster chasing Ruby. Sustained lazer fire caused the creature to start to glow from the heat, one explosion of superheated air after another tearing into its bulk. Its wounds bubbled and burst, releasing hissing clouds of steam that diffused light, weakening successive shots.
Ruby ground to a halt at Blake’s side and spun around, bayonet pointed at their foe. Blake, sword in hand, joined her.
Ruby was less durable than her girlfriend, hence her preference for mid-to-long-range combat. In close range, without her cloak, she had to stay mobile, dodging what she could and letting Blake block what she couldn’t. Meanwhile Blake was taking full advantage of the lack of gravity, bouncing around the creature and attacking it from every angle, taking shots with her gun whenever she spotted an opening. Even with that benefit, however, Ruby noticed her reaction time was slower than usual.
Her mobility was enough to keep her in the fight for a bit, letting her hack of bits of the monster even as it tried to crush or suffocate her with its multitude of bulging appendages. But eventually Ruby mistimed a dodge, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t rely on gravity, and it managed to catch her in the side with a pseudopod cloaked in steam, sending her flying into a bundle of hanging wires.
She was pretty sure she’d just broken at least one rib.
Ruby was tangled up tightly in the mess of wires and getting loose required more than a little wriggling. She screeched in surprise as a few wires came loose, releasing a stream of sparks.
The sludge monster was on her moments before she was completely free. It was smaller now, loose bits of it splattered about the room, but with every bit of mass it lost, it just got that much faster.
It slammed into her, spreading its mass as if to engulf her. Right in front of her face a crack opened up, the impression of a mouth forming, jagged edges loosely resembling teeth.
A frantic, desperate idea popped into Ruby’s head as the mouth drew near. Her hands were still mostly free, so she dropped Bright Thorn and instead grabbed the sparking, severed wires, plunging them into the sludge. A sustained current coursed through the creature, making it writhe and gyrate wildly. It gave one last shake, then, with a sound like the creaking hinges of hell’s front door, it exploded. Bits of it went everywhere; the walls, the ceiling, Ruby’s mouth. It tasted like fish stew, she decided, though it could’ve used a bit more salt.
She spat the sludge out, hoping just tasting it wouldn’t be enough to poison her like Yang had been.
“Ruby!” Blake shouted as she flew to her side. “Are you okay?”
Ruby nodded. “I think so. I’ve never been so glad to have insulating overalls, though.”
Blake shook her head. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry,” Ruby apologized. Blake hugged her in response, and Ruby screamed, pushing her away. “Nope, not okay. I forgot about the broken ribs.”
Blake looked about ready to smack her for that, but she somehow held back. “Okay,” she said instead. “Let’s get you to the med-bay with everyone else.” She grabbed Ruby more gently this time, fumbling as she did, her usual grace seemingly gone.
“Hey,” Ruby admonished. “You said you’d tell me if you were feeling sick.”
“I’m fine,” Blake assured her. “Just running a bit hot.” Blake pushed off the ground and the two began floating back towards the door. “Do you feel that? Gravity’s starting to increase, which means we’re getting close to the planet. We’ll land safely, then everyone can go to the hospital and we’ll all get better. We’re all fine now.”
Maybe it was the steady ache of her ribs, maybe it was the drawn-out hunt and fight she’d just undergone, or maybe it was Blake’s arms around her, but Ruby was suddenly feeling extremely tired. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. “Blake,” she said. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“You could stand to say it more,” she answered.
“No, seriously,” Ruby said. “No matter what happens, you always step up to the challenge. You always get the job done, with a big ol’ helping of beauty and grace, just ‘cause you can.” Her words were starting to slur, so she rushed to the point. “There’s somethin’ I wanna ask you. You’ve been doin’ it for a while already, but I wanna make it official.”
Blake was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.
“Will you…” Ruby paused, taking a deep breath to fight off the encroaching weariness, “be my second-in-command?”
Blake sighed, then smiled. “Does this mean I get a raise?”
Ruby laughed. “No. But I can prolly get you a bigger room.”
Blake quirked an eyebrow. “The only rooms bigger than mine are the pilot’s and the captain’s.”
Ruby nodded slightly, too tired to feel embarrassment about what she was asking. “I don’t take up much space. You could share my room.”
Ruby didn’t hear Blake’s answer, unconsciousness finally making its claim on her, but she desperately hoped it was “yes”.
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SPN 14x18, Absence -- Review
The controversial episode is at last upon us. This week we had 14x18, Absence and I have some thoughts on this episode. Now, I haven't read any other metas for this episode before writing this so I apologize if I'm repeating thoughts that have already been vocalized. There will be spoilers so I strongly advise against reading this if you haven't seen the episode.
Overall Thoughts
We'll begin with how I felt overall with this episode. Structurally, this was a very good episode. It had two central purposes it needed to fulfill and I think it did a very good job with that; saying good-bye to Mary and the culmination of Jack's descent into the Dark Side. The music was perfect. The cinematography was fantastic in this episode. The framing in these shots were beautiful. It really made you feel like you were in the episode. Cinematography often tells a story in much the same way that writing does and I really appreciated how well the cinematography was telling this story. Like for instance, the moment in the very end of the episode where they're burning Mary's body and it's being done at a crossroads and the camera pulls away at the very end to reveal the crossroads, it just gives you this very eery feeling of how things are not okay. It's symbolic of the crossroads Sam, Dean, and Cas are currently on. Where do they go from here? How do they tackle this conflict they're currently in? Which path do they take? And it's also very telling that Sam and Cas are on a different crossroads path than Dean in that scene. Sam and Cas are on the crossroads that leads to the impala which is symbolic of home and family and Dean is on a completely different crossroads path. And of course, the crossroads can also be seen as representative of the crossroads Jack is currently on, as well. Where does he go from here? Because of his one action, a reflex at that, everything has changed for him and he has no idea which path to take. Should he take the path that leads to the impala? A part of him is afraid to do that because he knows nothing will be the same again even if the Winchesters accept him despite what happened to Mary. Or should he take a different path that he's never known before? He's also scared to do that because it's unfamiliar as well. So that one pull away shot did a fantastic job of depicting all of that in a few short seconds.
Saying Good-Bye to Mary Winchester
I'm of two minds on the death of Mary Winchester Part Two. I don't particularly appreciate what this show does to its female characters in order to provide man-pain. But I do definitely feel like in this moment, Mary fared better than a lot of the other female characters in this show's past. This episode basically served as an entire memorial of Mary and that's something we don't typically get a lot of on this show so I will give the show that. And I also appreciate the symmetry in her death. In her first death, she was trying to protect Sam from Azazel and essentially at the same time, protecting Sam from his own fate, protecting Sam from himself. And in this moment, 14 years later, she's also trying to protect Jack from himself. So always and forever in her last moments, she's trying to protect her children and I admire that. And I also enjoy the opposition of her death in which her first death was something that was no doubt quite painful for her but her second death was something that was painless and she probably didn't even realize it was happening. I'm a little salty that her death was something that happened off-screen and that it wasn't a "blaze of glory" kind of thing and that it was something as stereotypical as a mother trying to protect her child but at the same time, I also can appreciate that as well. If that makes any sense? And I enjoy the idea behind Mary finally being at complete joy and peace with John. Now, is this The John or is it a representation of her memories? Who knows? I like to think it's The John, though. What with everything that happened in the 300th episode. Is it strange that John's name also wasn't included on her door? A little. But that's not to mean that John doesn't have another door that leads to that same heaven. As humans, we like to think in straight lines but heaven wasn't created by humans so I doubt it functions in a straight line capacity. 
I always figured Mary was going to die eventually so it wasn't really all that shocking. She's basically had one foot on Death's porch since she first met Billie in season 12. And I've been thinking on Amara a little bit on this and on whether or not the Universe as its own entity actually approved of the resurrection of Mary. Perhaps, Jack's existence was the Universe's way of rectifying the decision that Amara made. I feel like we've seen both with Mary and Samuel that the longer you're dead and then brought back, you come back just a little bit different. You feel off in a way, like you shouldn't be there. I think Samuel tried to hide it by latching onto Mary and thinking, "If I just have Mary back then maybe this feeling of wrongness will go away." And a lot of season 12 I think played into Mary trying to figure out a place in the world all the while still feeling like she was somehow "wrong". She eventually got to a place where maybe not feeling 100% like she belonged, but she found contentment and she was able to kind of bury it down. But anyway, that's just a head canon I play around with sometimes. 
I loved how so much of this episode was done in flashbacks paying homage to Mary and showing exactly what she meant to each of them and I thought that was very nice. All to culminate in the very end of them in the funeral having to say good-bye to her. 
Let's Talk About Jack
Jack was really interesting in this episode. Particularly, in his dealings with what I refer to as Negative Jack. Yeah, yeah, I know. It was in the form of Nick and/or Lucifer but at least my reading on it was that it's not about Nick or Lucifer directly. What Jack was  seeing was an amalgamation of the negative issues he houses inside his subconscious. All of his insecurities and fears, it popped up to appear as Lucifer because that's how Jack views Lucifer. He views Lucifer as everything he fears to become, everything negative about him essentially. And that's what Mark Pellegrino was actually depicting. Not Lucifer, not Nick, but Negative Jack. Of course, the show could easily come back and say that parts of Lucifer slivered in from that botched resurrection of Nick's but until that happens I'm going with this. And it's a really interesting concept. We've all had those moments where we've allowed out negativity to take over us and cause us to make decisions that maybe aren't in our best interests or what's not particularly good for us. And it's really interesting to see Jack going through this with the aid of a physical manifestation of his own negativity. We're basically seeing Jack's negativity influencing his decision making. He's afraid that he has no soul and that's the reason why Negative Jack tells him what he's feeling is only a muscle reflex, that in actuality he doesn't feel guilt about Mary. Jack, of course, does feel guilt about it but the Negative side of him is afraid that he isn't so it's influencing him in that direction. He fears that the Winchesters will never forgive him so Negative Jack tells him they'll never forgive him. And even if they did, "they'll never trust you again so you shouldn't trust them." It's Jack's Negativity based out of his own fears and insecurities that's telling him to cut his ties and reasoning with him that that's the best course of action, he's losing to that negativity. 
And in regards to Jack and the botched Mary resurrection, I was getting some hardcore flashbacks to Full Metal Alchemist and I loved it. The whole idea of necromancy and Rowena saying that Jack was not in a state to do this kind of spell it just really reminded me of the "give and gain" aspect of Full Metal Alchemist where when practicing Alchemy, in order to gain something you have to give something up. Now in Full Metal Alchemist, the "give" aspect is much more literal and physical but that's FMA not Supernatural, a whole different set of rules. The fact that Rowena was talking about how Jack's current mental state could affect how the spell went, it was interesting to think about that the spell could essentially call upon the caster's mental state to basically serve as the "give" ratio thereby you're giving a piece of yourself to bring someone back which is also quite reminiscent of what happened earlier this season with Lily Sunder.  And what the spell takes from you can affect what would be brought back. If Jack was calm and positive, maybe he could've brought back Mary? But the spell feasting on his negativity could've called upon anything and brought back an evil ghost or maybe even Azazel himself? But I also think due to Jack's desperation and a sense of feeling like he needed to do this as opposed to wanting to do this, there was a sense of emptiness in him which is why an empty shell was brought back. He didn't feel like he needed to bring back Mary because it was the right thing to do, himself being dead earlier that season perhaps wishing he was being given more of a choice in the matter maybe, but he felt like he owed it to his family to bring her back. Throughout the episode, I never felt like Jack WANTED to bring back Mary, it always felt like he HAD to. And when you feel you have to do something out of obligation and not from a general want, it can create this emptiness in you. But that's how I look at it.  
All in all, I enjoyed this episode. I thought it was really interesting and I'm going to give it a B. I thought it was very well executed. It gave us a lot of interesting material to think about and I enjoy that. And I’m excited to see where the remaining two episodes of the season are going to take us.
Tagging @metafest like usual. Sorry, y'all that I didn't really contribute last week. Last week was an episode I didn't have any thoughts on, meta or otherwise. 
And if you're wondering about my take on the "you're dead to me" aspect of the episode (as I was a little vocal about it during the promo), I'm going to tackle that in another post. I don't want to really burden my friends at Metafest with my Bitter Cas Fan opinions on that.
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eddycurrents · 5 years
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For the week of 2 September 2019
Quick Bits:
Agents of Atlas #2 again seems to focus more on Amadeus Cho and his perspective than the rest of the team, but it’s still very entertaining. Greg Pak, Nico Leon, Pop Mhan, Federico Blee, and Joe Sabino continue to weave together intrigue, superhero action, and romance with a very interesting mystery evolving. 
| Published by Marvel
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Animosity #23 is part one of “Rites of Passage” from Marguerite Bennett, Elton Thomasi, Roberto De Latorre, Rob Schwager, and Taylor Esposito. While Jesse and her caravan continue to try to make it out west, her animal friends attempt to plan for her upcoming 13th birthday. Wonderful character moments here and further insight into the horrors that the animals have seen.
| Published by AfterShock
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Battlepug #1 brings the web comic to regular monthly print comics from Mike Norton, Allen Passalaqua, and Crank! While it does help to have read the previous adventures, you can pick up and enjoy this humorous take on sword and sorcery fairly easily. Some very nice humour in the “Covfefe” puppet.
| Published by Image
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Berserker Unbound #2 is another wonderful issue from Jeff Lemire, Mike Deodato Jr., Frank Martin, and Steve Wands. The art alone from Deodato and Martin is wonderful, deftly mixing the modern and the archaic. It’s also very interesting to see the barbarian trying to navigate our strange modern world and the fact that he can’t understand anything that anyone is saying.
| Published by Dark Horse
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Birthright #39 gives us the confrontation with Mastema. Learning that she’s pretty much thoroughly insane and that the entire two worlds are screwed. At least, from her perspective. The colour work here from Adriano Lucas is positively brilliant.
| Published by Image / Skybound
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Breaklands #1 is a Comixology digital original from Justin Jordan, Tyasseta, Sarah Stern, and Rachel Deering. It’s different, bloody, and intriguing as to what’s going on. The opening suggests a kind of weird cult, the past gives the impression of post-apocalyptic tribes or gangs. 
| Published by Justin Jordan
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Buffy the Vampire Slayer #8 is a prelude to the “Hellmouth” crossover event with Angel, but I’ll say that it is essential to the overall storyline. This issue basically sets up the entire thing, even while still doing prologuey things. Great art from David López and Raúl Angulo. And, despite what Angel (at least that’s who I assume is in that devil mask) and Xander say, the “bat” costume is great, even if it doesn’t make sense.
| Published by BOOM! Studios
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Conan the Barbarian #9 takes us on a trip through Conan’s hallucinations of monsters he felled in battle as he tries to lead a group of people caught underground in the lair of the Undergod. Incredibly impressive artwork from Mahmud Asrar and Matthew Wilson. As we get a bit of reminiscence here, it feels as though we’re approaching the end of this arc.
| Published by Marvel
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Crowded #9 is pretty intense as Vita and Charlie breach a hotel and try to get the information on who set up the Reapr campaign from one of Charlie’s old “friends”. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Christopher Sebela, Ro Stein, Ted Brandt, Tríona Farrell, and Cardinal Rae continue to keep this story on its toes, speeding along as fast as it can.
| Published by Image
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Dark Red #6 begins the next arc from Tim Seeley, Corin Howell, Mark Englert, and Carlos Mangual. It tosses more complications into Chip’s life in the form of a ��cleaner” enthralled to another vampire and a family of were-jaguars fleeing from an El Salvadoran gang.
| Published by AfterShock
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DCeased: A Good Day to Die #1 expands the story a bit further with this one shot featuring a reunion of some of the Bwa-Ha-Ha era of the Justice League and a few other guests. Great art from Laura Braga, Darick Robertson, Richard Friend, Trevor Scott, and Rain Beredo.
| Published by DC Comics
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Deathstroke #47 continues “Deathstroke RIP” and it’s going to do your head in a bit. A banged, bruised, beaten-up, and confused Slade shows up with a bad attitude and we’re unsure how he’s back from the dead and acting fairly un-Slade-like. Also, Jericho gets his Doctor Manhattan moment. Priest, Fernando Pasarin, Carlo Pagulayan, Jason Paz, Cam Smith, Wade von Grawbadger, Jeromy Cox, and Willie Schubert are definitely continuing to keep this interesting.
| Published by DC Comics
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Die #7 catches up with the other half of the party in Isabelle and Chuck and, well, Chuck is an asshole. Kieron Gillen, Stephanie Hans, and Clayton Cowles manage to out-bleak the previous issue, but in a way that doesn’t elicit sympathy this time. It’s interesting as to how they build up Chuck, elaborate on his backstory, and make him even more thoroughly unlikeable.
| Published by Image
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Doom Patrol: Weight of the Worlds #3 is fairly impressive, with Gerard Way, Jeremy Lambert, Steve Orlando, Doc Shaner, Tamra Bonvillain, and Simon Bowland managing to become even more inventive with the narrative for an already incredibly inventive series. This one takes the convention of a flashforward and presents it as an issue of Doom Patrol in the future, weaving in some hard-boiled narration through a series of novels. Great work here all around.
| Published by DC Comics / Young Animal
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Everything #1 is weird. Very weird. This first issue from Christopher Cantwell, INJ Culbard, and Steve Wands feels like it’s mostly about setting up the atmosphere and briefly introducing many of the characters as the new Everything Store opens up in Michigan. Love the art from Culbard.
| Published by Dark Horse / Berger Books
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Fallen World #5 concludes what has been an excellent series setting up the next stage of the 4002 AD time period of the Valiant universe from Dan Abnett, Adam Pollina, Ulises Arreola, and Jeff Powell. The art from Pollina and Arreola is gorgeous, really leaning hard into the weird and wonderful of the future.
| Published by Valiant
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Fantastic Four #14 kicks off “Point of Origin” celebrating the initial launch of the Fantastic Four’s expedition that turned them into the Fantastic Four. The shifting timeline makes this feel weird, but it’s still an interesting premise. Great art from Paco Medina and Jesus Aburtov.
| Published by Marvel
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Future Foundation #2 is more fun from Jeremy Whitley, Will Robson, Paco Diaz, Daniele Orlandini, Greg Menzie, Chris O’Halloran, and Joe Caramagna. Why exactly the kids would mistake a younger looking Maker as their own Reed Richards is anyone’s guess, but this is still an entertaining prison break story building upon loose threads from Secret Wars.
| Published by Marvel
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Ghost Spider Annual #1 continues the “Acts of Evil” theme running through this year’s annuals as Gwen takes on Arcade and a host of Spider-Man’s villains and allies. It’s a good story from Vita Ayala, Pere Pérez, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles that helps Gwen get a sense of place when it comes to some of the differences between Earths-65 and -616/
| Published by Marvel
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Giant Days #54 is the end to the series, but there’s one more issue in the story in the Giant Days: As Time Goes By special. Still, John Allison, Max Sarin, Whitney Cogar, and Jim Campbell gives us one last hurrah as Daisy, Esther, and Susan spend the summer together before graduation, tying up some loose ends, before saying goodbye to one another. It’s an emotional end, full of the eccentricities and humour that have been a hallmark of the series.
| Published by Boom Entertainment / BOOM! Box
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The Green Lantern #11 continues the multiversal adventure. This is really some of the fun, eccentric science fiction-y superheroics that Grant Morrison really excels at along with gorgeous artwork from Liam Sharp and Steve Oliff. I quite like Sharp’s Neal Adams-esque Batman GL and it’s neat to see the Green Lantern oath’s differences across multiple universes.
| Published by DC Comics
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Harley Quinn #65 kind of does an end run around the “Year of the Villain” content, incorporating it as a couple pages of the comic within the comic, while the rest of the issue is devoted to Harley dealing with the grief of the loss of her mother. By kind of ignoring it. Escaping to the Coney Island Volcano Island and getting a bit...rustic. Sam Humphries, Sami Basri, Hi-Fi, and Dave Sharpe also keep Harley’s trials going along nicely.
| Published by DC Comics
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Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy #1 follows up on Poison Ivy’s new status after regrowing herself from the death sustained in Heroes in Crisis. Now, I can’t say I exactly liked that series or what happened, but I do think that Jody Houser, Adriano Melo, Mark Morales, Hi-Fi, and Gabriela Downie make the most of it and turn it around into an entertaining start to this new story. Also, a nice pick up on both the broader “Year of the Villain” event (even though there’s no event banner) and on the new developments in Justice League Dark about the Parliament of Flowers and the Floronic Man.
| Published by DC Comics
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Immortal Hulk #23 brings the fight to Fortean. It’s absolutely brutal on both sides. Joe Bennett, Ruy José, Belardino Brabo, Paul Mounts, and Matt Milla really do an incredible job with the action here. And the end is stuff of nightmares.
| Published by Marvel
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Justice League #31 continues the “Justice/Doom War”. It’s very, very nice to see the Justice Society back in the mainline DC universe. Combined with the Legion of Super-Heroes back, it’s a wonderful time to see these two teams back. Feels good. It also helps that Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Jorge Jimenez, Alejandro Sanchez, and Tom Napolitano have JSA nestled within a great story, flinging the Justice League through the past and future.
| Published by DC Comics
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Lois Lane #3 is worth it for the art from Mike Perkins and Paul Mounts by itself. The fight between the two Questions is incredible, beautiful flow of action and energy all through the exchange. Also, we get some follow up on Superman protecting Lois adding complications. There could be an argument made that this story is unfolding at roughly a snail’s pace, but that would overlook the wonderful character moments occurring, the atmosphere, and epic action sequences. 
| Published by DC Comics
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Midnight Vista #1 is a wonderful start to this story from Eliot Rahal, Clara Meath, Mark Englert, and Taylor Esposito. It’s an alien abduction story told pretty much straight and its intriguing as to how the disbelievers in this tale are going to deal with, even amid the very real kidnapping and lost time that occurs. I love Meath’s line art here.
| Published by AfterShock
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No One Left to Fight #3 hits hard a couple times, first in Winda’s decidedly horrible way of handling rejection and jealousy and then in the Hierophant’s temptation of rebuilding Valé, fixing what ails him. More great work from Aubrey Sitterson, Fico Ossio, Raciel Avila, and Taylor Esposito. This book is a feast.
| Published by Dark Horse
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Pretty Deadly: The Rat #1 is a very welcome return of this series, shifting time frame again to ‘30s Los Angeles and adopting a noir style. The artwork from Emma Rios and Jordie Bellaire is drop dead gorgeous, seemingly coming up with new styles and approaches to storytelling. The film stills in particular are very impressive.
| Published by Image
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Savage Avengers #5 brings a bloody and brutal “end” to the first arc from Gerry Duggan, Mike Deodato Jr., Frank Martin, and Travis Lanham. It’s not so much a conclusion as a chapter break, ending the bit with the Marrow God, but transitioning into whatever will come next in the war against Kulan Gath.
| Published by Marvel
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Sea of Stars #3 is another showcase for Stephen Green and Rico Renzi to just illustrate the hell out of some really cool stuff. This one shifts primary focus back to Kadyn and his interstellar entourage and it’s hilarious. The kid does kid things that drive his space monkey and space whale friends insane. Especially taunting a quarkshark.
| Published by Image
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Something is Killing the Children #1 begins a rather disquieting horror series from James Tynion IV, Werther Dell’Edera, Miquel Muerto, and AndWorld Design. It’s brutal, bloody, and filled with all of the terror that you get from a frightened kid who just watched his friends get butchered. This is a visceral horror that punches you right in the gut. Very well done.
| Published by BOOM! Studios
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Spawn #300 is not a bad anniversary issue, a fairly hefty book featuring a lead “chapter” with gorgeous artwork from returning long term Spawn line artist Greg Capullo, kicking off with something disturbing, then leading into a combination of the story threads that Todd McFarlane has been weaving for some time now. While there is a foundation on the old, this one also sets up a fair amount of what’s coming. Great art throughout from Todd McFarlane, Greg Capullo, J. Scott Campbell, Jason Shawn Alexander, Jerome Opeña, Jonathan Glapion, FCO Plascencia, Brian Haberlin, Peter Steigerwald, and Matt Hollingsworth.
| Published by Image
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Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order - Dark Temple #1 is a tie in to the forthcoming video game from Electronic Arts by Matthew Rosenberg, Paolo Villanelli, Arif Prianto, and Joe Sabino. It centres around a padawan who somehow managed to escape Order 66 on a recently-joined Republic world of Ontotho and the mystery of a temple that she was sent to investigate.
| Published by Marvel
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Supergirl #33 concludes Kara’s quest and “The House of El: United”, giving her perspective on the founding of the United Planets in Superman #14. It’s a decent end here, opening up new possibilities for what we’ll see next.
| Published by DC Comics
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Triage #1 is a very impressive debut from Phillip Sevy and Frank Cvetkovic. Interesting set up of variations on the same woman, Evie, across multiple worlds, and a mystery as to what’s going on. Sevy’s art here is gorgeous.
| Published by Dark Horse
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Usagi Yojimbo #4 begins a new two-part arc in “The Hero” as Usagi agrees to escort an author caught in a controlling, loveless marriage to her father. There’s a really nice opening sequence in this one with zombies.
| Published by IDW
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Vampirella/Red Sonja #1 is a pretty good start to this series from Jordie Bellaire, Drew Moss, Rebecca Nalty, and Becca Carey. It’s set in 1969 and built around the Dyatlov Pass Incident, which sends Vampirella out there to investigate to potentially find a “friend”. Beautiful art from Moss and Nalty. 
| Published by Dynamite
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Web of Black Widow #1 is wonderful. Stephen Mooney was born to draw espionage thrillers, having done so incredibly on his own Half Past Danger as well as The Dead Hand and James Bond 007. He has a style that reminds me of Dave Stevens and it just works perfectly for this kind of story. Add to that Jody Houser, Tríona Farrell, and Cory Petit, throw in a mystery born out of Natasha’s past and continued questioning her own status as her since she was brought back from death, and you’ve got a recipe for a near perfect storm of a debut.
| Published by Marvel
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Wyrd #4 concludes what has been an intriguing series from Curt Pires, Antonio Fuso, Stefano Simeone, and Micah Myers.  This has been a rather interesting story of superpowers seemingly gone wrong and it ties up with a Superman analogue as a child going homicidal. It’s dark, but it feels real.
| Published by Dark Horse
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Other Highlights: Absolute Carnage: Scream #2, Absolute Carnage: Symbiote Spider-Man #1, Alpha Flight: True North #1, Amazing Spider-Man: Going Big #1, Archie #707, Batman/TMNT III #5, Champions #9, Charlie’s Angels vs. Bionic Woman #3, Curse Words #24, The Death-Defying Devil #2, Descendent #5, The Dreaming #13, The Goon #6, House of X #4, Legion of Super-Heroes: Millennium #1, Marvel Action: Spider-Man #8, Nuclear Winter - Volume 3, Old Man Quill #9, The Punisher #15, Redneck #23, Rick and Morty Present Flesh Curtains #1, Section Zero #6, Space Bandits #3, Star Trek: Discovery - Aftermath #1, Star Wars #71, Superman: Up in the Sky #3, Transformers/Ghostbusters #4, Turok #5, The Wicked + The Divine #45
Recommended Collections: Age of X-Man: Prisoner X, Black Badge - Volume 2, Catwoman - Volume 2: Far From Gotham, Hellboy and the BPRD: 1956, Immortal Hulk - Volume 4: Abomination, Infinite Dark - Volume 2, Outcast - Volume 7, Spider-Gwen: Ghost Spider - Volume 2: Impossible Year, Superb - Volume 4: The Kids aren’t Alright, War of the Realms: New Agents of Atlas, X-Force - Volume 2: Counterfeit King
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d. emerson eddy is currently suffering the effects of a very gassy pug.
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yourhero404 · 6 years
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hey there! could I ask for some hc or a scenario (whatever works best for you) for tomura. he basically has this fan who has a huge crush on him. they are neither a villain or a hero and don't take sides but they are super smart and good at combat. so they track the LoV down once in a while just to leave a gift for tomura and once they managed to steal a kiss from him.
A/N: omg i went offthe rails im so sorry but i kept the overall idea??? so I really hope you likeit, i enjoyed writing it!! ^^
TOMURA
“‘Aye, Shigaraki-have you read this?”
He heavily sighed asDabi came in the room already asking him questions so early in the morning. Hewas hoping for at least a little peace today, but it seemed the universe hadother things in mind.
“If it interestedyou then no, whatever it is, I’ll be sure to stay far away from it.”
“Haha,” hedrew out sarcastically, “I think you better get interested realquick,” Dabi pressed, laying his phone on the counter in front of him.
The webpage pulled up wasan obnoxious shade of pink with large cursive font spreading across the top- aquick glace on the contents showed a lot of exclamation marks, bold, and allcaps words throughout. Annoyed, Tomura shoved the phone away from him as Togareached over her breakfast and took the opportunity to scroll its contents.
“What kind ofnonsense is that? Are you trying to make fun of me in some sort of idioticway?” he accused, irritation tickling his deadpan tone.
“Hey! That’s socool!” Toga interjected before he and Dabi could interact further. A blushspread across her face as well as some sort of love-stricken expression on herface. “Tomu has an admirer!”
A glare wouldn’t evenbegin to describe the look he gave the phone being held in her hand. Anadmirer? He knew of a few stranger occurrences lately with this one girl… butopenly admiring him? Not possible.
“'Gimme.” Hedemanded, holding his hand out. Reluctantly, she gave the phone to him as herubbed any remaining sleep from his eyes to read the disaster clearly.
“You’ve gotyourself a whacko fangirl, congrats.” Dabi teased, walking out of the roomto dodge the glass being thrown at him- he watched as Toga followed suit,rambling on about some far away hope that her crush would be her futureadmirer.
“What are the twoof them even yammering about…” he muttered, picking up the phone andreading the title out loud, “'Getting HANDSY’?” He groaned at thehorrible pun, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I think Dabi’sright Shigaraki, you should read this in its entirety. Didn’t you mention a lotof strange occurrences lately? And a strange woman who keeps bumping into you? Itcould pose to be problematic to the L.O.V. if it gets too out of hand and we’llhave to deal with her,” Kurogiri advised, prompting him to continuereading aloud.
‘TUESDAY:
               HonestlyI can’t tell you guys enough how much I just love Rara!!!! And how angry Iam!!!! Has anyone watched the news lately?? Why isn’t he getting morerecognition, I want to see more of him!! :(’
“'Rara’?Really?” he only got past the first entry and found himself struggling torefrain from destroying the phone. Her personality was shining through thetext- he couldn’t help but sigh at the possibility that this girl is the sameone who’s been hanging around him for the past few months.
‘THURSDAY:
               You’llnever guess what I found out!!!!! I totally bumped into Rara in town earliertoday and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes!! I got to see him up close! He’s alot cuter in person, I don’t know how others don’t see it
Another sigh. He hadconfirmation that this girl was the same as the one he had been dealing with-her post pretty much mirrored the conversation he had with a girl who had quiteliterally ran into him months ago. At the time, he thought the red tone to hercheeks had been because she was easily flustered that she bumped into him, butnow he realized the stutter was one of infatuation rather than nerves. Shestuck out in his mind because she upset him a little bit- why wasn’t shefearing him?
“She thinksyou’re cute-”
“Shut it Kurogiri.”
'FRIDAY:
               Idid something naughty!! Okay, so, I’m not the type to really do bad things butI couldn’t help myself! I may… have followed Rara home yesterday! I DIDN’T GOIN! I wasn’t going to be like, really creepy or anything! I just needed it forfuture reference!!!!!!’
“Isn’t it alittle too late to be creepy?” he commented.
“She followed youhome? As in here? Shigaraki, this situation is only getting worse-”
“Don’t you thinkI know that? I can read!” He snapped.
He recalled feelingeyes on him that night; he figured it was a figment of his imagination causedby paranoia. Apparently his worries were justified in this case- but just howmuch has she seen? Has she seen inside- has she been inside? She didn’t happen to run into any of the members, right?He continued scrolling, only reading the ones that stood out, a knot in hisstomach tightening with each entry.
'WEDNESDAY:
               Itook so much time trying to figure out the best gift to give Rara!! It waspretty hard… kind of like, what kind of gift do you even get for someone likehim, ya know? But I noticed him walk by a game shop a few times- I wasn’tfollowing him this time I swear!! I was just working around there!! But he keptmuttering about something… it kind of looked like he was trying to talkhimself into buying some game?? He never went in but I got the game they wereadvertising for him!!! I wrapped it up really nice and left it outside the doorto his house(? I’m not sure!!!) I just wish I could have seen him open it :(’
The scene replayed inhis head- of course he remembered it. He couldn’t decide if the game was evenworth his time since it wasn’t a strategy game therefore wouldn’t help him honein his skills as a leader so he walked away. Later, however, he had thisstrange feeling… almost as if something in the back of his mind had told himto go outside; he couldn’t shake the feeling and threw the door open, hoping toscare anyone who may be there. When he realized no one was there, somethingshiny on the ground caught his eye and he immediately became suspicious.
He brought it in andeyed it for quite a while. He was worried- as he should be- that it was somesort of trick or weapon to be used against him. Curiosity was eating him alive,causing him to scratch at his skin and grow more and more frustrated until heaggressively tore the shiny paper off of the object. He carefully inspected thegame case, making sure the plastic surrounding the case was intact; when hecame to the conclusion that was literally just a video game his face fell to ascowl, realizing the weird stalker girl he had been dealing with was likely tobe behind it.
“She leftsomething here? Did you dispose of it immediately?” Kurogiri’s voicesnapped him out of his flashback.
“Of course Idid,” he scoffed, “Why would I risk everything for a stupid gift fromsome weirdo.” Kurogiri didn’t need to know he had not only accepted thegame, and definitely didn’t need to know how he had beaten it twice since then.
He scrolled andscrolled, mindlessly announcing little things he came across that wasirrelevant but interesting enough to mention- something about college classes,something else about work, even a pretty interesting mention of how she managedto win her way out of a mugging. He had to admit she had spunk- idiotic, butspunk nonetheless.
His grip suddenlytightened on the phone, his entire body visibly tensing when he got to the mostrecent post.
“What isit?” Kurogiri asked, “Shigaraki? Read it.”
“It’snothing.”
“Here, I’ll readit myself then-” He yanked his arm away from Kurogiri’s grip, scowling ashe let out an aggravated sigh.
“Shut it. I’llread it.” He leaned his elbows against the counter, reading the post datedfor last week in a monotone voice.
'FRIDAY:
               Mostpeople vow not to kiss and tell- but I’m not most people!!!!!! We kissed, wetotally kissed! It was amazing, he was totally adorable and awkward but therewere fireworks and it made my heart soar
“Kiss? Shigaraki,please, please tell me you didn’t-”
“OF COURSE WEDIDN’T!” he yelled, slamming the phone onto the counter and knockingnearby glasses to the floor. “WHY WOULD I DO SOMETHING SO… SO… SOSTUPID. SO DISGUSTING. SO-”
“Shigaraki,please, calm down. I believe you; You know not to get involved with peopleunnecessarily and let yourself get distracted-”
“She’s obviouslylying,” he seethed, “This is lies. Lies and absolute slander.”
“Of course. Justtake a moment to calm down,” he suggested as he started to leave the room,“We’ll handle the damage control later.”
He let his head fallto the counter, a loud thump following suit as his forehead slammed against thecool material. An irritated growl bubbled up his throat as repeated this actiona few times before finally laying his head down as he closed his eyes and lethis mind work.
It was a colder nightthan usual. He had gotten fed up with the girl following him only to hidebehind street-side objects or horribly act nonchalant whenever he turnedaround. Ducking into the closest alleyway and pulling her in as well when shewalked by, he threatened her with four fingers wrapped around her throat beforeleaning in close.
“Who are you andwhy the hell do you insist on bothering me,” he practically growled, hisfifth finger twitching, ready to close the gap around her neck.
“A-ah! I’m (L/n),I just…” she looked into his eyes, fear diminishing and quickly beingreplaced with infatuation as a blush spread across her skin. “I just thinkyou’re really cute and… and cool. The stuff you’re doing- it’s good! Wellit’s not good 'cause they’re stillcrimes but the meaning behind it all is cool, ya know?”
She caught him offguard. His eyes scanned every inch of her face, taking in her features andanalyzing her body language to find any suggestions that she may be lying. Deepdown, he admitted to himself that the attention and praise she offered him madehim feel ecstatic- it boosted his ego and something about it made his chesttighten. As much as he enjoyed the feeling, there was no possible way he couldlet someone as simple as her distract him from his goals, but…
Suddenly, he smashedhis lips against hers, feeling her initial shock melt away as she started tokiss back with the same amount of force. His hand dropped down and his fingertips ran down her arm as he slowly pulled away from her; his gaze clouded overwith some unknown emotion as something in the pit of his stomach fluttered.Attempting to appear stern, he threatened her once again.
“Stay away fromme,” he warned over his shoulder, walking with a quickened speed to gethis distance. “Or next time I’ll kill you.”
He wrapped his armsaround his stomach to try and force the feeling in it to go away as he turnedto lay the side of his face against the counter and snap back to reality again.So maybe it wasn’t a complete lie that they had kissed.
She caught him offguard and he let his walls fall for a moment, hoping to feel something foronce.
His eyes closed onceagain as he let out a heavy sigh, realizing the feeling in his stomach andchest was connected to what people call 'liking someone’.
But Kurogiri didn’tneed to know that.
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graemeruns · 5 years
Text
Multiple update time: Reigate half, Sittingbourne 10 and Abingdon marathon
Oh dear, it’s been 3 months since I last wrote anything on here about my running, so now’s the time to get up to speed with what has been going on. 
After the Caterham half (detailed here) I looked at the goal races I had lined up and drew up a training plan. I actually only had two races booked in my calendar: the Reigate half marathon in mid September, and the Abingdon marathon five weeks later. So I decided to loosely follow the marathon training plan I used for my first ever marathon in Brighton in 2014, with Abingdon as the eventual finale and Reigate as one of the marathon tune-up runs. I always find training difficult in the warm summer months and during the school holidays, but this plan was doable because it shouldn’t mean excessive mileage (the greatest week being 55 miles, but most weeks between 40-50 miles). It also only meant five running days per week, so two days to fully rest and recover and not create any further injuries. I was hoping that training when it was warm would mean that the cool autumn races would be much easier too! 
I had entered the Reigate Half in 2017 at the ‘early bird’ price and it had always been my main aim this year once recovered from my injury; it had been useful to have a long term goal to focus on when I started back running in April. After my Caterham half disappointment my training needed to focus on building up the Sunday long runs (all after a fast paced Saturday parkrun) and also ensuring I tried to get one tempo or interval session in during the week. I was also determined to listen to my body, so if I felt too tired for one of the sessions, I would change it to something else, but make sure that I still got the miles under my belt. By the time the Reigate half came round on 16th September, I had managed 5 runs between 16 - 20 miles, and felt a lot more prepared than when I ran Caterham 2 months previously.
This was my first time running the Reigate half. The organisation was superb, and the communication, event village, baggage tent and parking was faultless. The course itself was all on closed roads, and I’d been warned it was quite hilly. In fact there were only really two hills - in the first mile and the last mile - but everything else was all slightly undulating; I never felt like I was on the flat at any point. My race plan was to go out at 4min/km (6:25/mile), and see how long I could keep that up. In the end I managed that pace for the first 8 miles, then started to slow, crossing the finish in 1:26:34. My whole run, however, had been slightly hampered by the hill in the first mile: going up it had been slow, so I had rocketed down it and that had made both my hamstrings sore, like a minor strain, which remained for the rest of the race. It probably didn’t slow me down much, but it certainly wasn’t nice to run with. Nevertheless, I was content with my time, and finished 1st in the V50 age category, which was an added bonus despite there being no age category prizes. You can view my race on Strava here.
After Reigate there were now five weeks until the Abingdon marathon. In the next two weeks my long runs consisted of a 16 miler with 12 miles at around marathon pace (4:13/km or 6:46/mile), and a 20 miler. The following week I decided to do a final tune-up race and entered the Sittingbourne Striders 10 mile road race. I had run this race in 2015 in a time of 64:30; you can read about that encounter here, which explains the course in detail. This year I was hoping to run a bit quicker and something in the 63 minute range. The weather was cool and conditions very good apart from a fairly stiff breeze in places, and this came to the fore midway through the race at the highest point of the circuit. I ran well, and, more importantly, enjoyed the race; I enjoy few races these days as I’m usually thinking of pace, splits and times rather than the event itself. The fact that I didn’t hit my goal time, but finished in 64:22 (which was a small PB) didn’t really bother me. Oh, and I was third too, and received a £10 Sweatshop voucher and a trophy for my troubles. 
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You can view my efforts on Strava here.
Now there were two weeks left before Abingdon, so I tried to do a mini taper, but failed really because I had put myself down for the Surrey League Cross Country the following Saturday, and ended up with a 41 mile week. So in the end it was more like a 1 week taper, with a half-hearted attempt at carb loading two days before the race. I examined the training I’d done over the past 17 weeks, and the mileage worked out at an average of 43 miles/week. Compared to 2015, when I finished the London marathon in a time of 3 hrs 06 minutes on an average 52 miles/week, and 2016 when I finished in 2 hrs and 58 minutes on an average of 57 miles/week, the training was certainly on the light side. Saying that, I’d got some good long runs in, and was sure that the warm weather training would be beneficial now the temperature had dropped. I was also weighing in at the lightest I had been for some time, which could only help. Realistically, I didn’t think I could get under 3 hours again, but thought I could be close, so my plan was to run the first 13.1 mile in 90 minutes and see how it went from there.
5:10am on Sunday and I’m up before my alarm goes off. I’d sorted out everything the night before, but it still took me the best part of an hour to eat and get ready, so soon after 6am I was in the car and away. I hadn’t been looking forward to the drive much, and it took me about 1 hour 45 minutes, taking it easy as it was dark and also foggy in places, with the outside temperature about 8 degrees - perfect running conditions though! Parking was in a local school, for which there were plenty of spaces, and the event all took place at the local sports arena, so everything (toilets, baggage, snacks and coffee, and space to warm up) were all close to hand. I spotted the local scouts were selling flapjacks for 50p, so bought some to add to my pre-race banana as I was already feeling peckish from my breakfast 2 hours previously. I stayed dressed until 15 minutes before the start, did one lap of the track just to get the legs moving, and settled in waiting for the starter.
Abingdon marathon is a marathon for serious marathon runners. You won’t find many charity fun-runners here. The only real reason to run it is because it is flat and fast, and the race was packed with lean racers who were certainly not new to this game, looking for that elusive PB that perhaps they had missed at the hottest London marathon earlier in the year. It was 18 months since I last raced the distance, and I was quite nervous whether I’d be able to complete it on the limited training I had done. When the hooter went, there was the usual excited racing off by some runners who forgot that it wasn’t a 5k, but I soon fell into my own pace and let these runners gradually come back to me. 
The route heads out to the east at first to Radley, onto a footpath through Radley lakes (covered in low mist) then back to the west, twisting through the narrow streets of Abingdon town, where we were greeted with some generous support. The route then headed south out of Abingdon, along the River Thames, until it turned sharply to the west again, just before 10k, for the first of two loops through the local villages, each loop approximately 14k. It then headed back towards Abingdon town again, through western part of the town before turning back to the finish at the athletics track.
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My memory of races is usually vague, but there were some parts that stuck in my mind:
There was the heavily panting runner who was taking up the whole path through Radley lakes by running in the middle (it was easily two-abreast if you ran to the side). That slowed me down a bit, and I genuinely worried that he could safely run 10k let alone a marathon. 
There were the three runners who drafted behind me for many miles, using me as a slight windbreak against the breeze. I didn’t get annoyed because I was running my own race, but it would have been nice for them to have taken turns at the front. I dropped them both later in the race.
There was the point after about 5 miles when I said to myself “Why am I doing this? It all feels quite hard, and I could just stop and go home early”. That was a strange emotion so early on, and I think I was focusing too much on the remaining distance. I calmed down by telling myself it was just a long training run.
There was the lady runner who caught me somewhere around the 18 mile mark, and it urged me to concentrate on my pace, which must have been slowly dropping. I ran with her for a few miles before she gradually pulled away and finally finished a minute in front of me. 
I remember the joy at seeing the 20 mile marker, and knowing it was only 10k to go. If I could keep my pace up I would finish in a respectable time. Although I was starting to struggle to turn the legs over, it was only in the last 5k that my pace really started to slow. 
As you run through Abingdon town with only 3k to go, you have to negotiate a twisty underpass, and climbing up the short steep far side was torture!
Finishing on the athletics track with a fast 300m sprint where I overtook a few people, including the triathlon legend Annie Emmerson. It was a great conclusion to the race.
So how was my race overall (which you can view on Strava here)? Well, I passed half-way in just over 90 minutes, and proceeded to lose another 3 minutes over the second half. My 10k splits were 42:28, 43:05, 43:43 and 44:34, so no big collapse, just a gradual slowing, although I did get my pace back on track for the final 2.2k which I completed in 9:33. My finish time was 3:03:23, which is my second fastest marathon time, albeit 5 minutes slower than my PB. I placed 152 out of the 744 finished, of which the first 124 ran sub 3 hours. Now that is a quality field of marathon runners!
Would I recommend it? Absolutely - the results speak for themselves! The race has a capacity for 1200 and does sell out, so enter early. It usually opens in mid February and is full within 6 weeks. I got a medal and a t-shirt for my £43, as well as some very sore legs for a few days, followed by a nasty head cold as my immune system wasn’t up for keeping anything at bay!
Next race is the Brighton 10k in 3 weeks. I’ve not run a 10k this year yet due to my long time absence with injury, so it will be interesting to see if I can remember how to pace myself over that shorter distance. I’d like to aim for 38 minutes but I need to shift this cold first and get some speedwork in to see if I have any hope of that. Whatever the outcome, it’s great to be back running well again.
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nickireadstfc · 6 years
Text
The King’s Men, Chapter 13 – WHAT THE FUCK, Pt. 2
In which Neil’s father happens.
Sounds good? Who are we kidding. It’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.
So.
We finally made it here after all, huh?
Glad you’ve come around to watch the show, friends. Gather round, sit down with a blanket and a book to clutch, and get ready for literal hell.
Our boy has been running from this for two and a half books, and now he’s finally – unfortunately – made it. Neil has stopped running, has stopped hiding, has shed his lies and his disguises and even his name, and has overall wished his life goodbye.
Except, well.
We, of course, have not.
Let’s go.
             Lola had lined the back of his hand with crosshatches and burned angry circles into his knuckles. Another burn mark stained the tender flesh between his thumb and index finger. The burns were starting to ooze, but dried blood smothered most of the mess.
Holy shit.
My non-native English speaking ass had to look up what crosshatch is, and yeah, Lola essentially cut Neil’s (Nathaniel’s?) hand up into a nice argyle pattern.
What the fuck. #deathoutforlolamalcolm
(Thank you to permanentchaos for this gem of a hashtag.)
             He was in the cellar, which meant they’d come in through the garage. An underground tunnel led from one to the other, installed for the sole purpose of moving the occasional body.
Natch.
Fucking natch that this man would have a BODY MOVING TUNNEL.
The Extra™ runs in the family, apparently.  
             Nathaniel and his mother had escaped through it nine years ago. It was only fitting that he was returned home the same way.
Okay, nice. That’s some good ass poetic symmetry right there folks.
I’m in a state of anxiety and dread right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate some sweet sweet writing.
             Nathaniel brandished his hands at [Lola]. “These are going to get infected if I don’t clean them soon.”
             “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”
             “You’re not me,” Nathaniel said, and got to his feet.
Glad to see that Nathaniel is as much of a sassy shit as Neil was.
I’m not kidding, this had been an actual concern of mine.
However, my tiny flicker of enjoyment of this scene is quickly dissolved as things developed and they had to develop – we meet The Man™.
Mr Chop Chop himself, Nathan Wesninski, has entered the room, accompanied by his bodyguard Arnold Schwarzenegger, Evil Edition.
Oh boy.
             “On your feet,” Nathan said. (…) “You know better than to sit in my presence.”
             Nathaniel told himself to stay put, but he was already getting up.
Heck nope.
Just this bit right here already tells us so much about this character and the power dominance in his relationship to Nathaniel, and those are legit his first few lines.
Nathaniel has been so conditioned to follow his father’s orders that he literally can’t not do it. Jesus fuck.
Bless you (but also curse you), Nora, for always introducing characters so spot on.
             “My son,” Nathan said. “My greatest disappointment in life. Where is my second greatest?”
             “Mom is dead,” Nathaniel said.
Holy sHIT.
“My second greatest”, can Nora STOP WRITING SUCH GOOD VILLIANS.
This is a+ wording right there.
I am very, very quickly eating my words about my appreciation of Nathan’s character as he shares some of his, well, fantasies. And not the sexy kind.
(Although I would have a similarly repulsed reaction to hearing Nathan Wesninski’s sexual fantasies, thank you very much.)
             “I’m indecisive. I might skin you alive. I might take you apart one inch at a time and cauterize the wounds. I think no matter what I choose we are going to start by slicing the tendons in your legs.”
Any other time, I would have called him out for being ~Dramatic~, but after what Lola did to Nathaniel in the car and how much she was not overstating her cruelty, I’m kinda fucking terrified.
And mind you, Lola is supposed to be the watered down version of Mr Chop Chop.
Where do I sign up for an exit program right the fuck now.
             “Fuck you,” Nathaniel spat at him, voice sharp with horror.
Glad to see Nathaniel keeping up the Brand™ even in this time of stress.
And by glad I mean absolutely peeing myself in fear.
             Metal flashed a scarce inch from [Nathaniel’s] face as Nathan took a swing with the axe.
And with that, Nathaniel’s father, his gang, his cleaver and his axe set to doing good on their word.
All of this is of course very reminiscent of Neil’s scar-inducing trip to Evermore in The Raven King, except in TRK most of the torture done to him was off-screen, whereas here it is very fucking not so.
I am attributing it solely to my dad exposing me to violent action movies at a young age that I did not get sick reading this.
This is an 18+ book, folks. And in all seriousness, I feel like there should have been a warning about that somewhere.
I am sparing y’all the descriptions of the following pages because you’ve already been through it once already, but.
Please know that this is the most explicitly violent, brutal and terrifying shit that has gone down in this entire series so far (and also, I hope, ever.)
             “We’ll slit your ankles, then your knees,” Nathan told Nathaniel. “And if you try to crawl away I will take your arms from you too.”
Literally HOW IS THIS MAN REAL.
(He’s not. He’s fictional. I know that. Shut up.)
HOW DOES SOMEONE DO SHIT LIKE THIS. HOW DOES SOMEONE DO SHIT LIKE THIS TO THEIR OWN SON.
I’m quitting. I am the fuck OUT.
Nice knowing y’all, but I am deleting this account, see y’all nev–
             “Lola,” Nathan said, but he didn’t get to finish.
             The cellar door opened from the outside, and a swarm of strangers came in shooting.
Wait, what.
Oh SHIT.
STUART’S HERE, the badass distant uncle has come to save the day.
Does this feel a little ex machina? Yes.
Do I care? Absolutely the fuck not, because now my boy Nathaniel gets to live another day with both of his legs intact.
             Nathan was kneeling in the middle of the room with four guns aimed at his head. He started to get to his feet, but someone knocked him back down with the butt of a rifle.
Now that’s what I like to see, folks.
Hit that fucker.
             “How dare you,” Nathan said savagely. “You defy Moriyama by coming here and killing my men. You are a dead man walking. You don’t have the power to–“
             Stuart didn’t let him finish. Nathan’s body jerked as two bullets punched holes into his chest.
NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL QUALITY CONTENT.
HECK YEAAAHHHHHHH.
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When his father is killed, though, Nathaniel has an interesting experience:
             That wrenching feeling in his chest wasn’t grief, but a need so fierce Nathaniel thought it would kill him. (…) He couldn’t breathe, much less explain the terrifying exhilaration.
Sounds to me like he’s experiencing Wanting To Have Killed Daddy Himself, but I could be wrong?
Could also be relief, if you consider that Nathaniel legit spent over half of his life running from that guy.
I am mildly confused here as to whether this is what Nora means or if we’re not supposed to understand this feeling either and it’ll be revealed/explained later.
If anyone has anything (spoiler-free) to offer on this, hit me up.
Moving on – Stuart Ex Machina gets Nathaniel out of the house and hands him right over to the FBI, which is at least better than the Torture Cellar of Hell.
             “My name is Nathaniel Wesninski,” he said, “and my father is dead.”
HECK YEAH.
Tattoo this sentence on my forehead, please and thank you.
We’ve been waiting for this for TWO AND A HALF BOOKS, I lowkey can’t believe we’re finally here.
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This new development is also pretty okay by Nathaniel (and me), seeing as it’ll finally provide him with some good good medical attention.
Oh, and also opportunities to be a sassy shit.
             “Are you going to be a problem for us?”
             Nathaniel struggled to look up and focus on the man’s face. “I’ve been a problem for nineteen years. I’m too tired to be one tonight.”
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I love this boy, whether Neil or Nathaniel or whoever.
Said boy then – understandably – passes the fuck out, and wakes again in a place where I wished he would have been approximately fifty times those past two and a half books:
A goddamn hospital, getting himself goddamn patched up.
Oh, also the feds are here.
Oh, also he’s kind of under arrest.
What can you do.
             “We’ve got a string of offenses we could charge you with, starting with the fake IDs in your wallet and escalating to your mother’s current whereabouts. Just let us know if we’ve got to play hardball.”
             Nathaniel made a rude noise. “You couldn’t at least use an Exy idiom?”
I am CACKLING.
This absolute NERD.
„Yes officer, you have me arrested, but gosh fuckin darnit honor the might Exy, will you.”
Nathaniel, despite what he said to them last night, continues being A Problem for the FBI, answering only the minimum of questions and then turning to repeating pretty much one phrase, despite what the feds try to bribe/threaten him with:
             “I want to see my teammates.”
Fucking iconic.
Oh yeah, also said teammates have been brought in for questioning and now know everything about Nathaniel’s dirty gritty backstory. Oops.
I doubt they will care, but apparently the FBI does not share my opinion.
             “You’re wrong,” Nathaniel said. “They can’t leave without Andrew, and Andrew won’t go anywhere until he talks to me.”
             “You don’t know that.”
             “Yes, I do.”
HECK YES HE DOES.
Andrew will absolutely rip him a new one for hiding all this shit from him, but I’ll be damned if he won’t activate heaven and earth to see his boyfriend.
             “You can take me to him, or you can let me rot silently in a cell somewhere. Those are your only options.”
Heck YES.
God, those two. <3
The FBI are not as hyped about Andreil as I am, sadly, and the next day they take him away into custody without letting him see anyone.
A blasted shame.
             Nathaniel couldn’t sleep, but at least he could daydream his father’s death over and over again. That was almost enough to make him smile, and eventually it thawed the chill from his veins.
And in a way, that is strangely comforting.
I’ll see y’all next week.
If you like what I do here and you want to help me through the heartbreak of this chapter, why not buy me a coffee? Every lil bit helps, getting me through uni and all that jazz. Thanks so much!
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impracticaldemon · 6 years
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❄️  Author’s Note: Written as my Hakuouki Holiday Gift Exchange Fic for @akiko-natsuko​ (tumblr)  ❄️
This fic is based on the following prompts from @akiko-natsuko
1) Saitou! [I solidly support this choice] 2) Yamazaki [again, excellent choice] and just a smidge of 4) Hurt/ Comfort /Angst [this story came out as somewhat reflective with hints of action]
Overall, this is a slightly oddball, mostly serious story about one of my own very favourite brotps, Saitou / Yamazaki (with more than a little Hijikata thrown in, because I enjoy writing about these three guys).
This story is intended to be set more or less within canon, and takes place in late autumn, shortly after the assassination of Serizawa Kamo at the end of October. It’s AU to the extent that I doubt that Saitou and Yamazaki could have been absent from Kyoto for the length of time required by a trip to a “suburb” of Edo and back (Kondou and Hijikata’s original village of Hino is now a suburb of modern Tokyo).
🍶  A Special Gift, or The Pride of the Farmer’s Sons  ⚔️
Words ~ 3000 |  FFnet  |AO3
They rarely used, or needed, words. In fact, Saitō had trained Yamazaki and had been an unofficial shinobi (or spy, or assassin—the semantics were irrelevant to Saitō) for the Shinsengumi both before and after the other man had joined. Despite being eager to prove himself as a warrior, Yamazaki had given up the limelight and glory of the bushi without protest once Colonel Sannan and Vice Commander Hijikata had selected him to be an Inspector—a man who spied on his comrades as well as his enemies. If he ever guessed that his impassive, silent-footed sword-master had recommended him for the position in the first place, it had never been discussed.
An almost invisible nod and a quick hand signal told Saitō that there were at least two men in the large house that they sought to infiltrate. They had already had to scale a wall trapped with hidden, wickedly sharpened stakes and topped with shards of stone, and had narrowly avoided being found out by a well-muscled watch dog—an unusual luxury in food-poor Japan these days. The whole set-up was bizarre, since this was a farmhouse, not a samurai’s manor house. Fortunately, they had been warned ahead of time.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the elder Miyagawa brothers [1] still harbour a strong grudge against Kondō-san,” Hijikata had told them, face unreadable in the dim light of the brazier. It was late fall, and the weather had grown noticeably colder over just the past week. Winter was a tougher proposition in Kyoto than in Edo.
Saitō had simply nodded and waited for whatever other information his commanding officer deemed important. Yamazaki had suppressed his natural questions—it was a very strange assignment—and striven to emulate Saitō’s apparently unshakeable calm. He respected Saitō-san a great deal, and it was clear that the Third Division Captain was absolutely loyal to Hijikata-fukuchō, whom Yamazaki admired to the point of hero worship.
“Don’t underestimate the bastards,” Hijikata had continued, the usual crease between his high-flying black eyebrows becoming more pronounced. “They really hated that their bookish, day-dreaming younger brother managed to get himself adopted into a higher-status family and subsequently inherited both the master’s family name and his dōjō.”
Yamazaki had been unable to restrain his surprise. Kondō Isami-kyokuchō’s ability as a warrior was well-known. If nothing else, the tremendous skill of the men who followed him was a testimony to more than charisma—Yamazaki couldn’t imagine that charm alone would have been sufficient to attract the likes of Hijikata Toshizō, Okita Sōji, Saitō Hajime, Nagakura Shinpachi and others. Colonel Sannan was a well-educated, well-trained man from a samurai family, yet he had become a member of Kondō-san’s small dojo and then followed the man to Kyoto. Mind you, the friendship between Commander Kondō and the Vice Commander was obviously something special, as was the Commander’s deep bond with the First Division Captain. It was a pity that Okita-kumichō was always so disrespectful to the Vice Commander.
“Yamazaki?”
“Ah… Sumimasen deshita, Vice Commander.” The shinobi-medic had flushed a little, and could only hope that the gloom had concealed most of his face. He had worked hard to achieve the proper expressionless countenance of a true samurai. “I had never heard or imagined that there was trouble between the Commander and his family.”
“Small town, small minds,” Hijikata muttered tersely. He continued, in a more normal tone, “And it was really just the older brothers. I mean, farmers work hard and they’re supposed to know their place. Ambition and a good imagination aren’t really welcome. They didn’t take his playing around with a katana seriously, and they objected to the way he spent so much time reading instead of doing chores like a proper farmer’s son.” Normal had given way to perceptible bitterness. Hijikata had also been the youngest son of a moderately prosperous farming family.
“I understand, Vice Commander.” Yamazaki, who had been born the son of a practitioner of traditional Eastern medicine, did indeed understand better than many. He knew that a large part of his devotion to the Commander and Vice Commander was that they had given him the longed-for opportunity to become a warrior, despite not being born into the samurai class.
“Well, then…” Hijikata had paused, and then sighed. “Seriously, I know this side-trip is a little unusual, but this will be our first New Year’s celebration with Kondō-san in sole command of the Mibu Roshigumi. I want to make it special for him.”
Yamazaki, who was observant both by nature and training, had noticed what seemed to be a fleeting smile on the Vice Commander’s face, but he hadn’t been certain. Had there also been the slightest pause before the word ‘special’? In his peripheral vision, he had glimpsed a small shift in his companion’s otherwise motionless seiza.
“We will leave immediately, Vice Commander.” Saitō had bowed and risen on the words, picking up his katana from the floor. He always seemed to know when Hijikata-san was done briefing them, and managed to be efficient without being impolite. (He also got along well with Okita-san, which still puzzled Yamazaki, although he attributed much of that to the fact that they needed each other as opponents as well as comrades.)
“Thank you Saitō; Yamazaki. Make the best time you can. This is only feasible because of other urgent business in Edo, after all.”
“Hai.”
“Oyasumimasen.” [2]
Yamazaki was working quietly on the shutter of an upper floor window. Saitō crouched nearby, keeping watch. Confident in his companion’s ability to silently pry open barred shutters while hanging upside-down from an overly-ornamented roof-edge in the middle of the night, the senior officer of the pair was content to scan the courtyard and laneway below. He didn’t so much as twitch when Yamazaki crept up beside him and indicated that they now had a way in. The roof had been trapped—this time with a variety of spikes and even hunting traps—but the intruders were no longer surprised by such extreme measures. On the way across the roof to the window, they had also had to avoid two nearly-invisible strings of scrap metal and ceramic shards, but those had merited no more than an exchanged glance to confirm that the other man had noted of the alarm system.
Saitō had been the first into the room, as previously arranged. Yamazaki still found it odd to see the captain’s katana secured to his back, rather than on his hip, but night-work of this kind required free hands and as few encumbrances as possible around the waist and hips. It was difficult to swing down through a window or other access point with five feet of blade and hilt just waiting to get tangled in your legs or jammed in the opening. Yamazaki hadn’t even considered suggesting that Saitō leave his longsword behind, although he himself usually opted for no more than a wakizashi and a handful of throwing spikes and four-pointed shuriken.
They ran into a problem when they reached the lower floor and cautiously observed the most likely passageway to take them to the below-ground store-room that was their goal. A weathered, muscular man somewhere between thirty and fifty was sleeping in a comfortable-looking alcove just off the corridor. The corridor beyond the alcove was set with more of the home-made alarms.
Even Saitō registered a moment of surprise. What was the purpose of building this rather ostentatious house, if at least one of the owners chose to sleep in an alcove instead of a private room? The man’s resemblance to Kondō-san was marked, and after a moment’s cogitation, the black-clad intruders [3] held a rapid—and silent—conference. Their orders had been clear on this point, if nothing else: no killing, no weapons, no lasting harm of any kind except in case of mortal jeopardy.
“And if I decide that you weren’t in mortal jeopardy, then you will be,” Hijikata had told them. “They’re farmers. If either of you needs a weapon to deal with them, then you need to reconsider your career choices.”
Neither Saitō nor Yamazaki had said a word in response, and the Vice Commander had looked almost embarrassed—almost. Then he’d cleared his throat and added: “Anyway, whatever happens, don’t get hurt, or worse, identified.” Another pause and then a grudging, but sincere, “Tch… just don’t get hurt, okay?”
Saitō covered the distance to the sleeping man in single, silent rush, and had a cloth and gag in the slightly open mouth before his victim could so much as twitch. Yamazaki immediately tied the man into his futon, securing his arms to his sides and immobilizing his legs. To his credit, the man displayed rage at the mishandling, rather than fear—Yamazaki was rather impressed—but after making sure that he was breathing moderately well despite the gag, Saitō slipped out of the room to reconnoitre further down the passageway. Near-amber eyes—very much like the Commander's—tried to burn holes in Yamazaki’s skull, but he had already taken up a defensive position several feet away. When he thought of the prize that Saitō was now hurrying to find, he almost shook his head in disbelief. Since that was not proper behaviour for a shinobi-medic-warrior of the Roshigumi, he contented himself with a frown.
It wasn’t until they’d reached their room and changed out of the dark, close-fitting clothes that suggested—well, announced, really—that they’d been up to shady things that Yamazaki finally asked the question that had been plaguing him since the beginning. He looked over at Saitō-san, who gave him a barely perceptible smile. His white sash stood out clearly in the dark room, and he was adjusting his scarf. Yamazaki recognized the almost-smile as permission to ask questions.
“The Vice Commander asked us to raid the Miyagawa farm for the purpose of obtaining this… special gift? Which is two bottles of Miyagawa-made sake? I apologize if I seem to pry, Saitō-san, but do you know why this sake is special? I have not heard of it before now.”
Saitō considered the question—the final one—and then sat down across from Yamazaki. As always, he sat in seiza, but they knew each other well enough now for Yamazaki to be aware that Saitō did not care if Yamazaki sat more informally under circumstances like these, or when off-duty.
“Kondō-san does not care for sake,” Saitō stated gravely. This was a common and socially acceptable way to say that a respected senior officer or high-ranking individual did not have a good head for alcohol. Yamazaki nodded; he was aware that the Commander rarely drank. “The last time that Kondō-san was pressed to take part in a drinking party, he explained that he has never found any sake that was as much to his taste as that made by his older brothers. Unfortunately, as they do not see eye-to-eye on certain important matters, he is no longer able to obtain his preferred sake. Rather than settle for inferior alcohol, he prefers not to drink at all.”
Yamazaki contemplated this in silence for some time. As usual, Saitō-san did not rush him, or appear to be impatient.
“So… Hijikata-fukuchō did truly want to obtain a gift that would be special to the Commander.” Yamazaki hesitated, but since he had—most unusually—asked such a direct question in the first place, he felt that the least he could do was to try to follow the path that Saitō-san seemed to be marking out for him. “However, it may be that—strictly as a jest between two men who have known each for a long time—Hijikata-fukuchō also means this gift as a way to, ah, convince Kondō-kukuchō to drink with him and the others on the occasion of the New Year.”
“It might be difficult for the Commander to refuse to drink, under the circumstances,” Saitō agreed. He noted a trace of concern in Yamazaki’s clear, violet eyes. Yamazaki didn’t want to see Hijikata-san as the kind of man who would risk his reputation and the well-being of his officers for the sake of a joke.
As though he could not suppress the thought any further, Yamazaki murmured, “That does not seem like something that the Vice Commander would do.” Then he added, a little reluctantly, “Well, he might—since he and the Commander know each other so well—but only if there were another, more important objective.”
Saitō’s smile was more noticeable this time, although just as brief.
“I believe you are correct. The Commander and the Vice Commander were having a discussion that I could not help but overhear, just a few months ago. It seems that during the final rupture with his brothers, the Commander demanded to know what it would take to convince them that he was both the boy with whom they had grown up, and Kondō Isami-sensei, the master of a dōjō, and a man who would one day be a warrior of great renown..”
“…I think I see.” Yamazaki turned it over in his mind a few more times. Yes, he understood it better now. “Whatever it was that they demanded of the Commander—to prove that he accepted his past while also confirming his elevation in rank—had to do with the sake. Those bottles were marked, which is unusual for home-made alcohol.” Saitō’s face gave nothing away this time, yet Yamazaki somehow knew that he was pleased. “Also, on top of forcing the Commander to meet their demands—which is something that no true samurai would ever tolerate from mere peasants—they were trying to shame him into taking something—sake—that could be viewed as as an embarrassment to him.. …Because the Commander doesn’t drink much, I means. I think… perhaps they were trying to make up for feeling inferior.”
Yamazaki became more and more thoughtful, and Saitō’s silence only served to encourage him to continue. “By refusing to take the sake by force—or to punish them for their insolence—the Commander proved himself not to be a true samurai. At least that’s how they saw it, and it salved their pride. …They would not be alone in such views.”
The name Serizawa Kamo hung in the air between Yamazaki and Saitō for a very long moment. He had been the real first Commander of the Roshigumi, even though Kondou-san had been theoretically his equal in rank. Serizawa-san had often ridiculed Kondō-san’s origins, and had implied—or said—that to be the true samurai he wished to be, Kondō-san needed to be willing to enforce his exalted, virtually untouchable social status—at sword point by preference. As an Inspector, though not a member of the Roshigumi’s 'inner circle’, Yamazaki knew virtually all of the circumstances of Serizawa-san’s assassination, which had been carried out by Hijikata-san and his most trustworthy adherents.
“The Vice Commander wished to remove a possible cloud hanging over the Commander’s honour, without forcing the Commander to order a strike against his own family. Moreover, he had somehow found out that the Miyagawa brothers had become completely irrational in their fear that Kondō-san would eventually return and force them to submit.”
“I have always found it interesting that two men as skilled and worthy of respect as Kondō-kukuchō and Hijikata-fukuchō came from the same small farming area just outside of Edo, murmured Saitō.
Yamazaki was embarrassed that he had forgotten that fact. The point was that Hijikata-fukuchō had grown up in the same area, and would have known, or known of most of the principals in the curious tale. In fact, it was not impossible that he’d had his own run-ins with the older Miyagawa brothers. Demonstrating the long reach of the Roshigumi—and therefore of Kondo-san—and shaming those brothers in some way, could have been the Vice Commander’s main goals all along.
"So the Vice Commander likely strove to accomplish several things at once,” Yamazaki remarked, with some pride in his superior. “First, he outwitted Kondo-kukucho’s elder brothers, and now they will have to concede that our Commander is indeed a great man who has moved beyond them. Second, the manner of our strike will be embarrassing to them: they may tell many people the tale of two masked men—two shinobi—who broke into their fortified home in the dead of night, but took only two bottles of sake. Most people will say that the brother we incapacitated made up the tale in order not have to account for the missing sake, which he drank himself of course. As a kind of a bonus, the Vice Commander will be able to have his jest when he asks Kondō-san to drink a toast with his newly obtained, special sake.”
In the darkness, deep blue eyes met inquiring purple.
“It is possible that the Commander’s brothers may not choose to tell the story at all,” Saito pointed out, almost apologetically. “Therefore, I believe that as part of our duties, we should mention the tale ourselves to one or two local gossips, and let it go on from there. We will say only that we heard if from a person who heard it from one of the brothers.”
”Hai.“
"Happy New Year!” Hijikata leaned toward Kondō. “I have a special gift for you this year, Kondō-san: I thought you might enjoy this particular sake.”
“Oh, well, you know me,” his victim said with a triumphant smile. “If I can’t have the stuff from home, I just don’t bother, these days.”
“Most understandable, but you are in luck! Look at this.” With that Hijikata brought out Miyagawa-made sake for Kondō-san.
“Now you can finally drink properly to all of this year’s successes! To your good health!”
[END]
[1] Kondō Isami was originally Miyagawa Katsugorō, the youngest son of farmer Miyagawa Hisajirō. This story refers to Kondō’s two older brothers, Miyagawa Otojirō/Otogorō and Miyagawa Kumezō/Sōbei. These men did exist, but this story is completely fictional; I made up everything but the names and basic facts (e.g., location).
[2] Good night.
[3] In fact, Saitō and Yamazaki knew that true black tends to stand out against shadows, and so on, and will often provide an undesirable outline instead of concealment. Consequently, their clothes were made up of dark greens and greys, which are actually far more effective for camouflage in dark surroundings. Black isn’t bad in a pinch, but it isn’t the best
All the very best of the season! @hakuyamazakisensei​ who joins us in favouring the Saito / Yamazaki BROTP and the two characters in general!
~Impracticaldemon
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