#someway somehow. so long as the morrow comes

[paintedscales]

017. Kharlu

Five years have come and gone, and in that time, Nomin has trained diligently and with everything she has to appeal to the Jhungid. Spite and obsession drive her ever forward. A mask has been formed to present a false smile in the face of her captors, but the body and mind have undergone tempering. And it seems another factor may very well be at play.

--

As a general aside, I don't actually really touch upon the Kharlu too much in this. It's more a meeting upon the battlefield. Their flavor text is literally the same as the Jhungid's, which pretty much lends itself to Nomin not exactly learning nor experiencing anything different with the Kharlu that she does with the Jhungid.

I more focus on Nomin's grown obsession over the last five years.

Word Count: 3,332

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

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“Hear… Feel… Think…”

Images of a being clad in black flooded Nomin’s mind. Was she awake? Was she asleep? There was no telling. All she knew is that the being before her must be defeated -- someway, somehow.

Power surged through her body as she conjured up magicks she never knew she had and struck down the visage with seven summoned swords, blue and crystalline in nature. The power that coursed through Nomin in this moment conjured forth a beam of holy light magic, a beacon in this void, further smiting the visage.

Though one part of this felt confusing, another part made it feel as if it were what Nomin was meant to do.

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“That the best you got, Jamugha!?” Nomin shouted at another Xaela. The other young man -- Jamugha -- easily towered over Nomin, though he seemed careful in the thrusts of his spear at her.

After five summers of near relentless training and on top of the battles with the Kharlu the Jhungid had annually, Nomin had soared above the other teens in her hand-to-hand, her spearman work, and archery. It was a damn sight for any of the Xaela of the Jhungid, who only seemed capable of mastering one or two things at a time.

In those years, the steppe had undergone the routine change of khagans. Tumur Kutlugh of the Himaa, Maa of the Dotharl again, Dologadai of the Buduga, Khogaghchin of the Gesi, and finally Magnai of the Oronir.

Nomin always had it in the back of her mind: “I am going to free the others.” Her driving force that pushed her forward, and a promise to herself that she was going to see through even if it killed her. There were still embers in her heart that burned, waiting for the moment to shine brightly. After all, the memory of Esenaij’s body lying lifeless in the grass where they trained played over and over in her mind, reminding her why she set her goal so long as she remained with the Jhungid.

Jamugha gripped his spear and charged Nomin, ready to strike. The height discrepancy between the two of them, however, made it difficult to land a hit as Nomin ducked under his thrust and danced underneath him to use her body to make him fall on his stomach as he tripped over her.

Nomin held her training spear so that its padded end was pointed at the boy who had tumbled to the ground.

“Nomin of the Broken Scale has triumphed,” the overseer of the match announced. They were none other than Taragai, the Jhungid who oversaw hand-to-hand combat training among the tribespeople. Normally, he had overseen some of the older tribespeople’s sessions, not those barely out of their child summers. He looked at Jamugha with a slight shake of his head before he looked at Nomin. Nodding to her, he addressed the rest of the onlookers that were sitting around to watch the match.

“Training is done for the day. Take time to rest up. I look forward to seeing if any of you can best the Broken Scale in combat against the Kharlu in the morning. Her promise seems to guarantee a number of Kharlu laying at our feet come the end of the morrow’s battle,” Taragai said, taking his leave of the training site. The former Tumet only watched as he left, her brow furrowing somewhat.

In the time that she had been there, Nomin had grown to hate all of them. And she had forced herself to learn how to hate them with a smile on her face.

Nomin hated the khatun, Silun Gorgeli. She hated Terbish. She hated Harghasun. She hated Taragai. She hated any of the Jhungid who believed themselves superior to those who were not original tribe members. She hated any of the Jhungid who debased her and called her 'Broken Scale.' Who merely saw her as a weapon at their disposal. A number. A warrior that they made.

Jamugha, on the other hand, had balled a hand into a fist and punched the ground before he stood back up. While he towered over Nomin and looked displeased, he huffed and swallowed whatever pride he had. Despite his set jaw, he finally spoke: “... the way you move is impressive. What I have learned, I will make use of next time… and what I have not, I hope I can later study further.”

Nomin nodded up at Jamugha with a slight grin to offset and distract herself from her thoughts. She had wiped the scowl of disdain off her face -- something she had learned well to do when it came to interacting with others within the orda -- or what was essentially a small town’s worth of ger.

“Next time, just keep our heights in mind. Aim your attacks at a mid or high point, and I can easily slip underneath your swings. You have good reach on those arms of yours, just gotta pick your timing and swings,” Nomin pointed out. “You’re also a lot taller than me. You could easily use that to your advantage to keep yourself out of my reach. And… lastly, go for my legs. We’re training for war. Anything goes.”

Walking past Jamugha, Nomin lightly tapped her fist to his arm as a friendly gesture before she went to go ahead and put her training spear away on one of the nearby racks.

As it stood, Jamugha was like her -- a member of a tribe that had been forcibly taken and made to train in order to fight the Kharlu. He was taken from his family and had been part of a smaller tribe called the Shonkhor. Nomin knew little of them, but according to Jamugha, they had hawks that would help them hunt, but that their art might as well have died when the Jhungid massacred those who did not comply, and only had a handful of their tribespeople left within the coastal tribe's custody.

He was just one example of how Nomin had made some friends among the Jhungid who were not of Sagahl origin, and more importantly to her, were not pure-blooded Jhungid. They were important to her in the way a key was important to open a lock.

This was only part of what Nomin was focusing on when she roamed the Jhungid Orda. She had behaved well enough over the last handful of summers since being in their custody that she no longer had people constantly watching her to make sure she acted within the Jhungid’s wants and desires. She noted the other people that seemed to have their own form of authority, and had made mental notes more than physical notes.

Nomin had to… she simply had to in order to understand the hierarchy and who answered to who. Who had what role, who oversaw what, who Nomin had to keep in mind above others.

Targets. They were all targets of one kind or another.

Under the command of Terbish, there were three others who answered to her.

Alagh Yid, a woman who had a family within the orda and lived in one of the larger ger; apparently she had taken a former member of Olkund as her husband -- though Nomin was not sure if this was out of love, or the desire to birth children of unnatural stature among the Jhungid. Surely there would have been some kind of benefit to the Jhungid with children like that. That was Nomin’s reasoning in her head, but it was possible she was far from the truth of the matter.

Battsetseg, one of the heads who oversaw the farms and animal production of the orda before making sure everything was ready to take to Reunion for trade. She often left with a van of her own for long periods of time to make trade at the neutral marketplace where combat was left at the gates: Reunion. One of the lesser threats when it came to most of the higher ups, but a threat nonetheless.

Tole-Buqa, a man who was in charge of the stables within the orda; he made claims that he was only second to the Noykin in being able to break any horse to prepare them for war. It was a claim that made Nomin scoff to herself every time she passed by the stables, filled with horses, reindeer, and camels from other tribes that no longer existed, or were stolen from.

Under the command of Harghasun, there were five.

Bolormaa was more or less Harghasun’s right hand -- not only was she highly skilled in the arts of war, but she was also his betrothed. There were times she had come out to the training fields, scars upon her body that told tales of the conflicts she had seen. Nomin considered her threat level rather high after seeing her in combat within the last summer.

Khadagan was ruthless in her aim with a bow on horseback; she had a name among the orda: Bürged Nüd, or The Eagle’s Eye. She personally trained pure-blood Jhungid archers, who then in turn were made to train those brought in from other tribes and assimilated their marksmanship. There was a day that Nomin remembered where Khadagan seemed to have taken an interest in her, though it seemed to have been a brief pause when a contest of marksmanship had taken place one winter.

Khojin, who was actually relatively pleasant to speak with when she was not training with her spear; she left more of a positive impression on Nomin, though not enough to dispel her hatred of those in command within the orda. Khojin was a bit of a younger member who had taken the place of one of their parents that had been trusted by Harghasun prior when she came of age. Nomin sometimes wondered if they could have been friends should things have been different.

Xorxoi, a spearfisher more than anything when he had the chance, though just as well… for he was also one of the best spearmen among the Jhungid. Nomin had observed him as being a little more laid back with more of an intention to fish rather than war with the Kharlu. She had wondered if this was because he was of another tribe, but she found no information either way when she snooped.

Khongkhortai, a man who fancied himself more of a chef than a fighter, though a good enough fighter to put most of the cocky newcomers in their place if they dared to provoke him. To Nomin, he was nice enough after her rising through the ranks in her training. Again, however, not nice enough to dispel her hatred of the Jhungid.

Under the command of Taragai, there were also five.

Sorkhaghtani, one who often sharpened bones into knives that they would throw in combat. They had forsook the bow and sling in favor of this combat style they curated among the Jhungid. It was not often that Nomin ever crossed paths with Sorkhaghtani, which was worrying in and of itself as far as threat level and determining it was. The most the former Tumet had seen and learned was from those who adopted their fighting style.

Ganzorig, a woman who often oversaw training sessions with the children and often showed them proper ways of wielding their weaponry. She was a babysitter more than anything -- and Nomin had met her when she was first brought into the Jhungid Orda along with her other Sagahli peers. On the bright side, Ganzorig seemed to have a good handle on teaching children as well as being gentle when she felt it necessary, and firm when needed.

Oyuun, a woman who originally herded sheep, though often fought relentlessly on horseback against the Kharlu earning her place at Taragai’s side. As Nomin heard it from others, Oyuun had leapt from her horse's back to claw and attack the Kharlu warrior that had Taragai pinned for the kill. An act of selflessness and tribal familial bond that could not go overlooked.

Zhims, a man who could easily go toe to toe with Taragai if he so chose, though often rejected a role that saw him as anything other than an enforcer when not embroiled in combat with the Kharlu. Nomin had noted his patrols at night when she was feeling bold enough to travel under the night's shroud. She had memories of him enacting punishment upon those that dared try to escape. Or worse, see them executed because they may as well have been better off dead if they were not going to act under the wants of the Jhungid leadership.

Toragana was Taragai’s sister, and seemed more or less to have been a no-nonsense kind of individual when it came to patrolling the perimeter to ensure that the tribespeople were doing what they were meant to have been doing. Both she and Zhims had often reconvened with one another during their patrols in order to give each other reports before continuing their jobs. From what Nomin had overheard, though, it seemed Toragana had some sense of resentment for her sister. A valuable nugget of information.

It was important to learn what one could on the chain of command within the Jhungid. That was something that Nomin picked up on, and something she pursued from the moment she had come away from being angry all the time, to being angry only a fraction of the time.

She was obsessed. Obsessed out of necessity. Out of anger. Out of lust for revenge.

Once she could actually take a step back and make better plans without being caught and reprimanded, Nomin had started her act in earnest. Slowly comply and do as she was told. Engage in her training. Hone her skills. Hone her body. Put on a pleasant or thankful demeanor. Lower their guard.

It had to all culminate to something. Surely it did.

Everyone was a little more hard on each other in the higher ranks, and harder still to those that were battle fodder or actual warriors that were to fight. After all, now that news that the Naadam had passed reached them, it was time to prepare themselves to fight the Kharlu in the coming new moon. Nomin had been no stranger to the intense training, though this year was the first year that she was to do battle with the Kharlu at the Jhungid’s side. Her battle prowess had only been improved upon and had made her stand out perhaps more than she initially wanted to in the beginning.

With training done, however, Nomin got herself sitting with her back against the ger that she often slept in and shared with Checheyigen and Chotan. Khulan had since been relocated to a different ger that housed some of the other displaced boys that were gathered from other tribes if they did not have their families taken in with them. It was upsetting at first, but the Saghali teens had often stayed with one another when they could.

“Everyone’s talking about the battle tomorrow. Are you nervous, Nomin?” Chotan asked, taking her seat next to Nomin. She had since moved on from talking with a slow and steady tone that she had when they first met. While she still liked collecting flowers and making hairpins with them, she had stopped doing it as much since the Jhungid were more interested in making her a fighter. Though Chotan showed little improvement in any area aside from archery.

“No… well, I don’t know…” Nomin admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. Her fingers ran over the loose scales that were starting to go to make way for the newer ones growing in. She was going to have to keep that one in mind -- Nomin had made it a habit to keep all of her shed scales once they stopped being soft.

“I’m probably going to do something stupid…” Nomin went on to say, lowering her hand to the grass beneath her.

Settling her gaze on the ground below, she frowned. “When I do, you’ll know it. I want you to take Che and Khulan and run when it happens. If you can find Turakina and the other Sagahl… urge them to run with you. If they don’t… then just run.”

“What… what are you going to do?” Chotan looked at Nomin with both surprise and worry wrought within her expression. She leaned closer to the other auri teen, trying to get a look at her face so that she could get a better read on her emotions.

“Like I said… something stupid.”

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Jhungid, Kharlu… both tribes were embroiled in their hatred for one another. Both of them, when looked at objectively, were not so different. They hated one another, and they employed the same techniques so that they could battle, seriously injure, or kill one another.

When Nomin sat upon the horse she had earned, all she could think about was how she simply hated both tribes at this point. What moronic ideals and morals that the two of them had to kidnap and subjugate tribes to fight their silly wars with one another. For what? A stretch of coastal territory? She saw first hand how the Jhungid treated and broke those they captured into fighting for them… there was no doubt in her mind that the Kharlu were the same.

“Said any prayers?” Jamugha asked as he rode his horse next to Nomin’s. The two of them were further back in the archer lineup. They stared at the backs of the heads of Jhungid and subjugated tribes peoples' heads.

“Praying is pointless. Azim, Nhaama… who cares about the backside of crippled horse?” Nomin asked rhetorically in turn, keeping her eyes forward. “Neither of them stopped the Jhungid from overtaking what they could of your tribe, or of my tribe. And they’re not going to give a single dzo’s dung about the outcome of this battle -- no matter what either side believes.”

“Mm…” Jamugha seemed to muse silently to himself after Nomin spoke.

Cresting the hills opposite of them, Nomin watched as dots of individuals started to appear. She had been trained to recognize their tribal color, and the dotting of them soon became a line of them. A scowl settled on Nomin’s face as her horse shifted beneath her, a small snort coming from his nostrils as he pawed the ground with anticipation.

“Easy, my friend…” Nomin quietly spoke, reaching forward and stroking the dusty colored coat of her steed. “We ride soon enough…”

Her attention rose back up to the growing number of Kharlu warriors. Warriors…'warriors'... Many of them, like Nomin, had been stolen away or absorbed into their ranks. She had only learned this from Kharlu numbers that the Jhungid had managed to steal away at various points in time. Just as the Kharlu had absconded with numbers from the Jhungid.

As far as Nomin had ever been concerned, they were pathetic and despicable.

'Would I have ever thought the same were I never stolen away and made to fight for one of them…' This was a question that sometimes tugged at the back of Nomin’s mind. She felt it old that it would come up now of all times. A time where she steeled her nerves and resolve. Not to fight, but to see her plans through.

'It matters little…' Nomin thought, slowly exhaling through her mouth as she kept a loose hold on her reins. 'I am here now on the field of conflict. Not my conflict. Not my fight. It never was.'

The bellow of the war horns rang out, piercing the air only moments before battle shouts and cries filled the air. As an archer, Nomin remained rooted to her spot as she watched those that fought in the name of the Jhungid run or urge their horses forward into battle. That was her cue, more or less, however, and she withdrew her bow and nocked an arrow with the rest of the archers.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: jamugha jhungid (shonkhor) #oc: chotan sagahl #au ra ffxiv #au ra xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela jhungid #xaela kharlu #NTK:Chronicles

[fly-flower-fanfics]

Mercy

Patrick x Male Reader

Warnings: A couple gay slurs, abuse

*I didn’t feel comfortable writing vivid abuse so I hope this is okay.*

~~~~~~~~~~

I held hands with my boyfriend, Mark, as we walked down the school hallway. I smiled and said goodbye, but he tugged my wrist roughly, yanking me back against his chest with a sweet smile on his face.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye,” he pouted, blinking his big blue eyes.

I pressed a light kiss onto his lips. “Better?” I asked, laughing softly. “Goodbye, Mark, I’ll see you after shop.”

I felt myself sigh in relief as I walked closer to the shop classroom. There was just... things about Mark that made me not like being around him. He made me feel like I constantly had to have my guard up and one wrong move would set him off.

Mr. Callahan wasn’t in the classroom yet when I got there, and a small part of me was disappointed. Shop class was the only class I really liked and felt comfortable in.

I headed toward my normal seat in the front of the classroom. I liked to work alone, and no one else sat in the front except for Patrick. Patrick had quickly become one of my best friends.

“Hey, Nothing,” I said to Patrick as I sat down beside him.

He turned to me. “Hey, Something.”

I laughed softly to myself and shook my head. “You ever gonna let ‘Something’ die?”

“Not until you let ‘Nothing’ die,” he replied with a cheerful smile on his face.

“Touché.”

I settled back into my seat, closing my eyes and letting out a soft sigh. I was excited for class to start, but at the same time, I found myself feeling the same feeling of dread every day at the beginning of this class. Like I never wanted it to start so it wouldn’t have to end.

“You okay, Y/N?” Patrick asked me, leaning forward and settling his arms on the desk. “You’ve been acting funny lately at the start of class. Everything going okay?”

I nodded, not wanting to worry Patrick since I didn’t even know what was going on. “Just anxious for the class,” I said, hoping that sounded convincing enough and was a satisfactory answer for the boy.

“You’re like, the best in here. I’m scraping by!” he laughed, shaking his head.

I watched the way his wavy black hair bounced, and I found myself smiling. Patrick was the first openly gay man I had come into contact with when I first came to this school. It was odd, seeing as though he was the only one, but I’d catch glimpses of gay couples in the halls.

Patrick turned and smiled at me. His smile was... perfect. His perfect lips formed a perfect smile around his perfect teeth. All I wanted to do was grab his face and kiss it.

I turned away from him.

I have a boyfriend. What the hell am I doing?

Thankfully, Mr. Callahan walked into the classroom, and class started. It was the same as it was yesterday: working on a clock. Patrick and I chitchatted as we worked. Or, mostly, as I worked. Patrick was just sort of watching me.

I felt all giddy and blushy as I felt Patrick’s eyes on me. I felt like a stupid little boy falling in love for the first time. Why didn’t I feel this way about Mark?

The bell rang all too soon, signaling that the day was over. The familiar feeling of dread reappeared in the pit of my stomach.

I walked with Patrick out of the classroom, laughing about some stupid joke he told me. The laughter died away when I caught a glimpse of Mark in my peripheral vision. I tried to push the image away, but somehow, someway, Mark must’ve noticed that I’d seen him, and he started to walk towards me.

“I-I gotta go Patrick. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” I gave him a soft smile. Tomorrow was Friday, and we had plans after school to go to the school’s dance. Even though both of us didn’t dance, Sam, Charlie, him, and I were going to go. To just... have a good time. As friends.

As friends. Part of me felt sad to say that, but I didn’t understand why. Did I really love Patrick? Was that who I was falling for? Then why was I with Mark? Why couldn’t I get myself to leave? Maybe tonight... tonight we could talk about it.

“Mark?” I asked, once he was close enough. “Can we talk about something tonight?”

“Of course,” he replied, winking at me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and began leading me back to my locker so I could grab my backpack. “Anything in particular?”

“I-I’d feel more comfortable waiting until then,” I said softly, barely being able to be heard over the crowd of students that was passing by us.

Mark stayed silent until we were out in his car, and he was driving me home. Mark was the first to speak up. “I don’t want you hanging around that faggot Patrick kid so often,” he said.

I frowned. “Patrick is one of my best friends. Don’t talk about him like that. He’s gay, just like you and I.”

Mark rolled his eyes, chewing on a toothpick, rolling it between his teeth. “Either way. I don’t want you going to the dance with him tomorrow. I want to go with you.”

I turned in my seat. “Mark, you promised. You said I could go with my friends. I’m going with Patrick and Charlie and Sam. It’s not just him. It’s not a date! You don’t even like dances, Mark; you said so yourself. So why all of a sudden do you wanna go with me? You know I was looking forward to this.”

“Because I fucking said so,” he growled, his grip tightening on the wheel.

He pulled into my driveway, and I got out of the car. I didn’t like crying in front of Mark, and he didn’t like to see me cry. Except I heard the slam of his car door and knew that this conversation wasn’t over.

“I’m not finished with you,” he said, grabbing my arm and whirling me around viciously.

I winced at the amount of force he used to grab me. Tears pooled in my eyes and I fought to keep them down. “I’m finished with you right now.”

A hand slapped me across the face, causing me to freeze. I couldn’t believe he had just slapped me in the face like that. No, it wasn’t the first time he had hit me, but it was the first time he slapped me across the face.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, do you hear me? Never. We’re not done until I say we’re done. You’re not going to the fucking dance with that faggot and that slut and that freak, and that’s final. I don’t care if you don’t go with me, but you sure as hell aren’t going with them.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I sniffled. “You promised!” I yelled. “You promised I could go with them. They’re all I have, Mark! They’re my best friends, and we all have been looking forward to this. I’m going. I don’t care what you say.”

There was another slap to my face and while I was reeling from it, his large hand wrapped around my throat, pulling me closer to him.

“Look, I don’t give a single damn what I did and did not promise or did and did not say.” His grip got tighter, and I could feel it getting harder and harder to breathe. “You are. Not. Going. To that dance. Now get your ass inside. I’m done seeing your fucking face.” He released my neck with a forceful push, causing me to fall and scrape my hands, leaving them bloody.

Mark got back into his car and drove away. I sat in the driveway for a little while just crying until I got up and walked inside. I went to the bathroom first, cleaning my hands and making sure the new cuts on them weren’t dirty. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed the red handprint mark on my neck.

I winced even though it didn’t hurt anymore and turned away from the morrow. I put bandaids on my hands and went to the bedroom, slipping into a turtleneck shirt. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes on the sleeves and picked up my phone.

“Hello?” Patrick’s voice rang through the small device.

“Hey, Patrick,” I answered back.

Immediately, however, he knew there was something wrong. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I shook my head, feeling my lower lip quiver as fresh tears welled up in my eyes. “Ah, I-I can’t go to the dance tomorrow...”

“What? Why not?”

“I...” I closed my eyes and rubbed my cheeks, wincing a little as I rubbed over my right cheek. It still stung from where Mark had slapped me. “Something came up...”

Patrick was silent for a couple of moments. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N...?”

I squeezed my eyes shut now, trying to stop myself from crying again. I didn’t want Patrick knowing I was crying. It wouldn’t go well for either of us. Patrick would be here before I could even tell him no. He always took care of me like that.

Though being in Patrick’s arms was something I so desperately wanted... I wanted him to hold me. To tell me everything would be all right. I wanted to be surrounded in his scent. To feel the warmth of his body against mine.

Fuck. I’m doing it again. I shook my head to try and clear my thoughts.

“Mark and I fought,” I explained, holding back the rest of the truth. I wasn’t technically lying. Mark and I really did fight. But I couldn’t tell Patrick that Mark had hit me again. Hell, he didn’t even know Mark hit me in the first place. “We fought, and now I don’t really feel like going to the dance anymore.”

I hated lying to Patrick, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. That was purely off the table. No way.

“Going to the dance would help clear your mind,” Patrick replied. “It would keep your mind off the fight. You two should keep your distance for a day or so if the fight was bad. Let things cool off before you go back into it. Going to the dance would be good for you, Y/N.”

I knew he was right. I knew it. But Mark would be so mad if he knew that I went to the dance... “Okay,” I found myself saying. Fuck whatever Mark thought. “Okay. I’ll go. I’ll go. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to hang out with all three of you anyway.”

I could almost see the smile on Patrick’s face, and butterflies filled my tummy. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my mind off of that. I have a boyfriend.

“That’s awesome!” he said. “I’m glad you agree with me. We’ll make it a good one. You won’t regret it.”

“I have to go, Patrick,” I said, offering a small smile even though he couldn’t see it. “Take care of yourself. See you tomorrow.”

Once I hung up, I immediately burst into tears. There was no way Mark was going to let me go. I knew that. I knew that. I sunk down on the couch and covered my face with my hands. I just made a promise I couldn’t keep. Unless I snuck out. It didn’t seem like Mark wanted to be with me anyway...

~~~~~

It was eight o’clock, and I found myself button in a white button-up and a black bow tie. I had on black jeans as well. It wasn’t perfectly dressed up, but it was enough.

There was a loud knock at my door, and when I opened it, Patrick was leaning against the doorframe. He had his fingers against his lips. His body was decorated in clothing similar to mine, but he had a jacket on as well, one that had white sides and made him look more flashy.

“Are you ready to come out and play?” he asked, and I laughed.

I shoved him back playfully and closed the door behind me. “Fuck yeah.”

I got in the truck with him and said hello to Sam and Charlie. The four of us blasted our own music as we headed to the school once again for this dance.

Once we got there, we all seemed to agree that it was a wash. They were playing shitty music. So we huddled in the corner, just sort of swaying back and forth to the beat of the music that was playing. I didn’t really know much of the music; it wasn’t my taste or brand.

However one song caught my ear, and I grabbed Partrick’s arm, stopping him mid sentence. “They’re playing good music.”

“What?” Sam asked, frowning.

“They’re playing good music!” I said, excited.

“Holy shit. Holy shit! They are! They’re playing good music!” Patrick shouted, grabbing my hand and Sam’s, pulling us into the dance floor. I managed to catch Charlie’s hand before I got too far away and pulled him along with the rest of us.

We all danced to the song, danced like no one was watching and danced like it was the last night of our lives. And it was perfect. Everything about tonight was perfect.

However, the dance soon ended, and we got back into the truck. We were still laughing and carrying on like the stupid teenagers we were. We reached my house, and I got down and out of the truck.

“Thanks, guys. That was amazing. I’ll see y’all later. Stay safe!” I called, closing the door behind me. The three of them waved as they drove away.

I opened the door to my house, humming one of the songs to myself before my heart immediately stopped.

“I thought I told you not to go to that dance.” Mark was sitting on my couch, his arms folded over his chest like he was my father catching me sneaking in from a date.

“I had promised them, Mark,” I said softly, tucking my lower lip between my teeth. “I just wanted to fulfill my promise to them.”

Mark stood up and walked over to me. He felt a lot taller than he actually was as he loomed over me. “I told you. Not. To go. And you did.”

Before I could do anything, he reached out and slapped me in the face. I cried out, gripping my cheek in my hand.

“Fuck, Mark! What the hell is your problem!” I shouted before realizing what I said, and I knew I was in so much trouble.

He grabbed me by the throat. “What the fuck did I say about never talking to me like that!”

After that, I shut down. I watched myself get abused from the corner of the room. It didn’t even feel like it was happening to me. He punched me, kicked me, yelled at me. It was all like I was watching some movie.

It was only after Mark shouted, “We’re fucking through!” and slammed the door behind him did I feel all the abuse.

My body ached. I felt drained and empty. I closed my eyes, sinking against the couch. My face was stained with tears and blood. I didn’t even want to shower and clean myself off though I knew I was going to have to. I closed my eyes tightly but quickly winced and stopped.

I reached for my phone with a trembling hand and called Patrick. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to be alone, but I was horrified that Mark would come back. He always had bursts of energy, and once was never enough for him.

“P-Patrick...?”

“Y/N? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Can you come over...?” I whispered into the phone, hesitantly. Even if Patrick sped over here, Id still have time to take a quick shower. I winced as I pushed myself back up off the couch.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I mumbled. And with that, I hung up. I didn’t even say goodbye. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks as I headed to the bathroom.

I managed to get myself into the shower and began to wash myself off. The water was much hotter than I wanted it to be, but I didn’t have the energy to change it. And I wanted him off of me. I wanted his touches and his scent and everything that belonged to him off. And I felt the only way I could do that was wash it off with hot water.

Once the water began to run cool, I shut off the water, dried off, and put pants on myself. I looked in the mirror and inspected myself.

My bottom lip was cut, and it was clear my left eye was going to bloom into a black eye. The rest of my bruises were still rather faint, some darker than others, but visible enough to be seen. I slid into an oversized sweater so Patrick wouldn’t be able to see a majority of the damage that Mark had done.

I wandered out into my living room once again, not really having a destination in mind. I felt like a ghost. Like I had no place to go. But I more felt like none of that had actually just happened. Like Mark and I were still together, and he hadn’t just beaten the shit out of me.

My eyes glanced toward the door when I heard a frantic knock at it. I knew it was Patrick, but I found myself frozen in place, unable to move and go toward the door.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s me. Let me in,” Patrick said, knocking again.

I still couldn’t move. I felt like the door was miles away; I’d never get there.

“Y/N! Please let me in. What’s wrong?”

And before I knew it, my handle was settled on the doorknob, opening it, but I didn’t recall how I’d gotten there.

Patrick’s face fell as he noticed the state I was in. He quickly ushered me back toward the couch so he could close the door behind him.

“What happened to you, Y/N? Who hurt you? What’s going on?”

“Mark—” I took notice to how hoarse my voice sounded. “Mark... we broke up.”

Patrick pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around my waist, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a long while. He just held me in silence. Maybe he was waiting for me to talk. I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to say anything.

“Did he hit you?”

I nodded, but kept silent. I closed my eyes, inhaling shakily, breathing in Patrick’s scent.

“I’ll kill him.”

“Patrick, please... just leave it... I never wanna see him again...” My grip tightened around his waist, almost like I was holding him back from getting up and actually doing it.

“Why would you let him do that to you? You’re so much better than that.”

“We accept the love we think we deserve,” I said softly. “And that’s what I thought that I deserved.”

“Hey, Y/N, you don’t. You don’t deserve someone like that. You never did. And I’m so sorry we didn’t get you out of there sooner. I wish I would’ve known.”

I didn’t say anything back, and Patrick said nothing else when I didn’t respond to him. I genuinely thought I deserved to be treated that way. Maybe I was just doing something wrong.

I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing all of this was just some awful nightmare. I wished things with Mark would’ve ended differently. I wish things with Patrick could be different but now he’d think I’d be using him as a rebound. And did he even want me like that in the first place? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Could you stay the night, Patrick? I just... I don’t want to be alone...”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll take the couch. I’ll be around if you need me. Any time. Don’t be afraid to wake me.”

I got up, gently shrugging off his grasp, and I gave him a smile or something that resembled one. “Thanks, Patrick. You can watch TV or grab something from the fridge. I don’t care.” I bent down and kissed his forehead before going back to my bedroom.

I got myself under the sheets and rolled into my side. Thoughts flooded my head, and I knew there was no way I was going to school on Monday. I didn’t want to face Mark.

I closed my eyes as soft whimpers left my lips. Eventually, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~

I woke up the next morning, aching and stiff. I rolled over and stifled a scream as I noticed Patrick on the floor, bundled in blankets. I didn’t realize he’d come in last night. Maybe I’d asked him to. I didn’t remember last night...

I couldn’t help but take notice to his sleeping figure. How his messy hair was even more of a mess. The way his chest rose and fell evenly and peacefully. The way his face was calm and tranquil. Something I wished I was.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed and got up, tip-toeing around him to the bathroom. I felt the need to take another shower as the thoughts and memories from yesterday settled in.

I turned on the water after I got in, but sat on the floor instead. I let the water run over me, but I didn’t feel like getting up. I just sat there and started to cry again. I’d just lost my boyfriend — which was the least of my worries — and got beaten up and then called up my best friend and told him I’d gotten smacked around. And now here I was, sobbing in the shower.

Once I got myself to my feet, I gently scrubbed my body and washed my hair. Everything hurt. The warm water helped, but I still felt achy.

I hit out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist before looking into the mirror. My black eye was definitely swollen. My neck still bared a red mark. My chest was littered with bruises here and there as well as my stomach. My wrist still held a faded mark from Mark’s hand.

I turned away and redressed myself. I didn’t want to look anymore. What did Patrick think of me...? What? Why did I care what Patrick thought of me? But even at the thought of him, I felt my heart get lighter. Butterflies flew around in my stomach as I thought about the fact that he was on my bedroom floor right now.

Fuck... is this what real love is...?

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the bathroom door. I nearly jumped out of my skin when there came a knock from the other side.

“Y/N? You okay?”

I opened the door to see a sleepy, yet concerned Patrick standing there.

“I’m okay,” I said with a soft smile. “I’ll let you shower and stuff. You can use the bathroom. Shower if you need. Whatever. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he replied and let me pass. “Do... do you remember anything you said last night?” he added hesitantly.

I shook my head as my heart fell to my stomach. “No.” What the fuck did I say?

“Okay.” He seemed relieved at my answer. With that, he closed the door.

I went back to my bedroom, wondering what the hell had happened last night. Did I embarrass myself? Did I embarrass him? Did I say something I’d regret? That he didn’t agree with? Something I wasn’t supposed to say?

Oh my god.

Did I tell him I loved him?

I didn’t. I couldn’t. But did I?

Shit.

Patrick came back into the bedroom a few minutes later with a towel draped around his shoulders. He was shirtless. Shirtless. Really? Did my hwart have to stutter now? My brain swoon now? Really?

Did I even want a relationship after what happened with Mark...?

I shook my head slightly to clear it of thoughts. That didn’t matter right now. I didn’t even know what had went down last night.

Patrick was now putting a shirt on and replacing himself on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, hugging them.

“Patrick...?” He nodded. “What happened last night? I... kinda tuned everything out. I don’t even know how you got in here. Well, I know you walked, but I don’t know why,” I rambled.

“You we’re having a nightmare,” he explained, “and so you asked me to stay in here in case you had another one.”

I sighed softly, swinging my feet lightly and brushing them against the carpeted floor. “Did I say anything else?”

Patrick’s eyes darted away from mine for a split second. “No.”

“Patrick...”

“I swear!”

“You’re lying. I know your tell.”

He sighed. “We... had a conversation after your nightmare. Well, it was mostly you rambling about Mark and how you never truly loved him. How he scared you and told you that this was the relationship you were meant to be in. The things he called you and did to you.”

“That’s it...?” I asked, almost afraid to.

“You asked me if I ever felt love before.”

Great. So I embarrassed him.

“So I told you,” he continued. “I told you I was in love with someone. Someone smart and handsome. Someone who needed love, but didn’t quite realize it. Someone who was slowly falling apart even though he tried to be strong. And I loved him for his kindness and sweetness. The way he loved everyone he could. Treated everyone with a gentleness few possessed. A man that would give gifts so gay that I would think I’d given them to myself and a man that was just... perfect for me.”

I smiled softly. “He sounds like a wonderful man.”

“He is. He just doesn’t... know.”

I frowned a little. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“Because he’s told me he’s scared that his next relationship will seem like a rebound. That he doesn’t think he wants one yet.”

Patrick looked down at his knees and was silent. I didn’t realize he was crying until he looked up at me again. My heart broke at the sight of his tears and I got down onto the floor with him. He stopped hugging his knees. His lower lip trembled as he spoke.

“Why can’t you save anybody?” he whispered.

“I-I don’t know, Patrick. It’s... hard to save people. It’s hard to help them. It’s hard to protect them, especially when you have feelings for them.” I laid a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “But I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

He looked up at me, cupped my face in his hands, and pressed his lips against mine. I was taken back by the sudden action, but I eventually kissed him back.

He pulled away all too soon.

Patrick looked down at his hands that had now returned to his lap. “I-I’m sorry. I... I’m just in love with you. And I want to save you. To take you away from things like Mark and the stressors in your life. But I don’t know how.”

I took Patrick’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I just need you by my side right now. I love you, too, Patrick, I really do. But I’m scared of having a relationship right now.”

“You said last night,” he said. “And I know. I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you. I love you. I love you so much. I love you, and I have for a while.”

“I-I never felt true love until I started falling for you,” I admitted, giving him a warm smile.

It felt like everything that yesterday was hadn’t happened. All that mattered right now was Patrick and I. And the fact that we could have something beautiful.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeated. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to be in a relationship again.”

“I really appreciate that. That means more to me than you’ll ever understand.”

I pulled him into a hug and buried my face in his shoulder. He hugged me back, his hand gently cupping the back of my head. I closed my eyes and breathed out a sigh.

Patrick and I would be okay. I would be okay. With him by my side, I felt like I could handle anything. And right now, I was in his arms. That was all that mattered to me.

I finally felt safe.

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