Warnings: Subtle mentions of Death, mature themes.
“Devotion is a closed casket”
They never warned you that loving Jeonghan would feel less like a choice and more like a sentence handed down quietly, with a smile.
You met him before you knew what he was.
That’s how he prefers it.
A private club. Soft lighting. His jacket draped over your shoulders when you said you were cold. His fingers brushed your wrist—apologetic, lingering—and something in your chest folded inward. You remember thinking he felt safe. You remember the laugh you shared, the way his eyes stayed on you like nothing else in the room existed.
By the time you learned his name carried blood in its wake, it was already too late.
Jeonghan doesn’t court people. He studies them. He learned your habits, your fears, the exact tone your voice takes when you lie to yourself. He never rushed you. He let affection bloom naturally—late-night conversations, soft confessions whispered over wine, his hand warm at the small of your back like a promise.
“You’re different,” he told you once, brushing hair from your face.
And you believed him, because you wanted to.
When he kissed you the first time, it was slow. Careful. Almost reverent. Like he was afraid of breaking something precious.
That was the moment you belonged to him.
You didn’t notice when your life began orbiting his. Not when he asked for small favors. Not when your name stopped appearing on certain records. Not when people went quiet around you.
Jeonghan never ordered you to do anything cruel.
He just made sure you were present when cruelty happened.
Tonight, you’re back in his penthouse. The city bleeds neon beneath the rain. He stands close—too close—adjusting your collar with intimate familiarity. His touch is gentle. Loving. That makes it worse.
“You’ve been restless,” he murmurs.
You don’t answer. Your pulse betrays you.
“You’re thinking about leaving,” he continues softly, thumb brushing your jaw. “I don’t blame you.”
You laugh shakily. “You wouldn’t let me.”
His eyes darken—not angry. Hurt.
“I would,” he says. “If you truly wanted it.”
The lie is beautiful. You almost fall for it.
He takes your hands, pressing them flat against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat—steady, calm, certain. He lowers his forehead to yours.
“I love you,” he whispers.
The words settle like a blade between your ribs.
Because he means it.
Jeonghan loves the way you look at him, the way you justify him, the way your silence has become second nature. He loves how you flinch at gunshots now, but never walk away. He loves that you’ve learned not to ask questions.
Love, to him, is permanence.
He guides you to the window. The city feels impossibly far away.
“Tell me,” he says gently, “if you disappeared tomorrow… how many ghosts would follow?”
Your throat tightens. Faces surface uninvited. Names you helped erase. Doors you held closed.
Jeonghan kisses your temple, slow and tender.
“I carry mine with grace,” he says. “You carry yours for me.”
You realize then that this is his romance. Not flowers or freedom—but shared damnation. A bond sealed in complicity.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, smiling softly. “If you leave, you’ll drown in what you’ve done.”
Your knees weaken.
“If you stay,” he continues, brushing his thumb beneath your eye, “you’ll never be alone again.”
Outside, thunder rolls.
You cling to him like he’s a lifeline. He holds you immediately, arms strong, familiar. Protective.
Victorious.
Later, when you lie beside him in silk sheets that smell faintly of iron and cologne, you understand the truth with terrifying clarity:
Jeonghan didn’t trap you with fear.
He loved you until you became unfit for any world that wasn’t his.
And as he sleeps beside you, breathing even and peaceful, you stare at the ceiling and wonder—
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PAIRINGS: Rex x Marshall, paired with some Blackbird for my old man yaoi freaks.
WORDS: 7.4k
GENRE: Hurt/Comfort
WARNINGS: Lots of pain and hurt, aggressive arguments, self-harm
SUMMARY: None, good luck!
The wind whistles through the grass, lifting the leaves through the air. They danced along the wind. Beautiful as can be. There in Oudega, Sawyer had gotten a plot of land and built a quaint, vintage house for Stratford. They lived there with some of the kids, the kids they claimed as their own: Alderic, Liam, Selene, Ryung, and Rex.
Rex. She grumbled, staring out the window of the top floor. She stared at the beauty of the land. She couldn’t help but feel restless and disgusted with herself. Could she even claim her name again? She was no longer the strong person she once was. She no longer lived up to her name. That’s what she believed.
She perched herself on the nook attached to her window. Leaned up against the window frame as she placed another cigarette between her lips. She had already gone through half the carton. Chain smoking out her window as she sat in the silence.
Rex had recently been broken up with. It was the first time she had been broken up with, usually it’s her that initiates it so she feels nothing. This time, she grieved what she loved.
Her hands shook as she stared out at the sunset. Rex felt utterly numb in this grievance. She hadn't left her room, hadn’t eaten in days, barely drank any water. She just smoked her cigarettes and stared out her window.
She attempted to doll herself up, to make her feel pretty. But as she stared into the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted in herself. Every thought of herself brought her back to him. That night it went down.
Rex looked over to Marshall, who was now stumbling around the room. High off all the pills he took. She had asked him to grab her other lighter from the table, but he could barely stand.
She shot up and went over to him, helping him to his feet. As she stared at his face, his eyes were blown open and his mouth was agape. He looked like he couldn’t control himself.
“Woah… Baby, maybe we should get you to lay down and eat something?” She asked.
“Fuck no, I’m fucking fine, Rex.” His eyes shot up to meet her gaze. Typically, his attitude never bothered her. She could deal with the drug abuse and the temper, but for some reason, this time it hurt a little bit.
“Don’t yell at me,” She furrowed her brows, “I’m only trying to help you, you could at least be a bit fucking nicer about it.”
“Get the fuck off me, I don’t need your fucking help–” He ripped himself from her grip and grabbed the lighter.
“Yes, you do. You’re about to fall over just standing!”
“Maybe I want to fucking fall!” He yelled at her, towering over her small frame. “You’re not my fucking caretaker, Rex, I don’t need your fucking help!”
For a moment, Rex was silent. She didn’t know what to say. She’s always been a caring person, albeit her tone and language may have sucked a bit, but she always cared. Marshall never seemed to mind till now, or at least she thought so.
“You always want to help people, take care of your fucking self before you go and ‘help’ other people. You’re not helping! Nobody helps, you don’t know what you’re fucking doing or talking about. It’s all BULLSHIT!” He screamed at her. Rex’s breath started to shake as she backed up against the wall.
There they stood in the abandoned house that Rex had found to smoke in. She was trembling, and didn’t understand why. She was always able to stand up to him no matter what. Why was she so scared this time?
“I… I don’t like this side of you,” She shook, “You’re scaring me…”
“Yeah? Well maybe you should be fucking scared. You’re dating a fucking monster.” He growled. He didn’t even look like himself. “What? What, Rex? Scared because you’re seeing the truth? You’re seeing the true side of me and what? You’re fucking scared?” He snapped at her.
“Yes! I’m scared, Marshall. You’re fucking tweaking!” She cried out.
“Maybe I’m not tweaking, maybe you’ve just got a stick up your ass!”
“Marshall! You’re fucking shaking, you’re scaring the shit out of me! Just calm down, I know who you are–”
“NO THE FUCK YOU DON’T!” He screamed and slammed his hand into the wall, making her flinch. He stared at her, feeling his vision spin in guilt. He stared at her, terrified of him. “Maybe… Maybe I’m not good enough for you.” He whimpered.
“No, no, baby please don’t say that–” She went to reach for him, and he ripped away.
“Go home. It’s over, I’m… I’m not good for you. I’m a monster, you’re sitting there shaking terrified of me. Just go home, Rex.” He said and grabbed his shit before walking out the door.
Rex trembled in place for what felt like forever. As soon as she came back to reality, she grabbed her bag and started to call out for him. “Marshall? Marshall!” She yelled. She ran through the whole abandoned house, tripping on rubbish left in the house.
She ran outside. Everything was gone. The car, her dignity, Marshall. Everything. She stood in the silent, still air of the darkness. Rex stared into the distance. Nothing. She was left alone… again. Just like every other fucking time.
She couldn’t help but drop to her knees and scream. Again and again. Again and a-fucking-gain. Every fucking time she gets close to happiness, it gets ripped from her.
When she came to, she hissed slightly. Realizing that she accidentally rested her burning cigarette against her leg. She pulled it away immediately, staring down at the small, circular burn mark on her thing. That was the first time she felt something since Marshall left.
She couldn’t help but stare down at her skin. It wasn’t the first time she’s put a cigarette out on her leg, which was shown with all the tiny burn marks strewn across her soft skin, mixed with the healing cuts atop her thighs.
Without thinking, she took another cigarette and put it out against her thigh again. Hissing at the burning pain, and sighing when she pulled it away. It didn’t feel good, but she felt something.
She stared down at her lighter, placing the lit cigarette back into her lips. Steadily puffing and blowing the smoke as it floated through her mouth and lungs.
She grabbed the lighter without hesitation and lit it up, letting the metal heat up. Barely flitting her fingers over the orange flame, but quick enough for her fingers not to be burned, just to feel the heat.
She paid no mind to the world around her, not even the creaking of her bedroom door opening. Not even when Liam spoke out to her, “Smoking kills, y’know?” She just stared at the flame, before it finally went out, sticking the metal part into the skin of her wrist, letting out a shaky breath followed by a short wince.
She was ripped from her thoughts and actions when someone grabbed her lighter and wrist. “What… What are you doing?” Liam stared down at her in shock. She looked up at him, her once soft brown eyes now black, soulless.
“Are you insane?” He whined, taking the lighter and shoving it in his pocket.
“No! Please, Liam–” She cried standing up, but barely meeting his height. “Please, just– Just give it back, that’s all I’m asking. I’m begging you, just give it back–” She choked out.
He just stared at her. Fear, shock, guilt. It all riddled his bones. Nothing bad has happened to any of them since they started living here in the Netherlands. And surely nothing like this. Liam didn’t know what to do. His mouth fell open, but the words were lost.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He said before leaving the room. Rex couldn’t even chase him. She didn't have the energy to leave. She couldn’t leave looking the way she did. Feeling the way she did.
She just curled up in the middle of the room. Pulling her knees into her chest and covering her ears with her hands. She started to panic. Her breath clutching her chest and squeezing on her heart. That was Marshall’s lighter. The only thing she had left of him. The only thing she had left.
About a day later, Liam was outside pulling weeds. He couldn’t get his mind off of the whole ordeal. He didn’t want to say anything and risk breaking the trust he’s built with Rex, but it was eating him alive.
His hand shook as he pulled up the weeds. Liam continued to fasten his pace. He didn’t really know.. what to do. So, he did the only thing he believed he was good at.
Sawyer watched him from the kitchen window, staring intently as he washed dishes. He couldn’t help but observe as Liam anxiously frolicked around the yard. Gathering weeds and even just random blades of grass.
“Sawyer, sweetheart,” Stratford said in his sickly sweet tone, making Sawyer turn his head to watch as the other melted into a hug from behind, “You’re going to melt a hole in the glass.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Liam’s attitude has me worried… and Rex hasn’t left her room at all,” He started to shake his head, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have a bad feeling.”
“Have you talked to either of them at all?”
“Liam gets skittish, and Rex has given me… the silent treatment.”
Stratford chuckled at him a little bit and pushed on his shoulder, to which Sawyer responded by turning around to face him. He gently tugged on the hooks of his pants, pulling Stratford flush up against him. Stratford gently guided Sawyer’s chin down to give him a quick kiss.
When he pulled away, the brown eyed man softened his gaze. He stared directly into the pools of worry that Sawyer considered his eyes to be.
“Everything is going to be okay, I’ll go talk to Liam. Will you try speaking to Rex again?”
“She doesn’t want to talk yet,” He sighed.
Before Stratford could respond again, he heard the patter of soft feet against the floor. He slightly stepped away from Sawyer and turned to look at the blonde who was making her way through the kitchen.
“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear,” he paced over to lean against the counter. “You alright, kiddo?” His playful demeanor filled with worry as his eyes laid on Rex.
Rex was dressed up in long sleeves and her long, flowing skirt that swayed as she walked. She barely looked up to meet his gaze, muttering a weak response as she trudged her way to the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“To sit on the porch,” She mumbled before shutting the door behind her. Stratford looked back over to Sawyer, who gave him an I told you so look.
They sat in a minute of silence staring at each other like this. Sharing unspoken looks of worry. Even though neither of them said a word, they understood the silent conversation held between each other.
“I’ll go speak with Liam, you handle her.” Stratford lifted himself off the counter, leaning over to kiss his husband's cheek before he walked outside. Leaving Sawyer to groan, unsure of what to even say. Where to start.
Stratford sighed and stepped out onto the porch, he went to greet Rex. However, she had turned the corner on the porch. Going to sit on the adjacent side of the house. He sighed before letting his eyes wander, landing on Liam like a pin point.
He watched as Liam wiped the sweat from his brow, still pulling out what he could only assume was weeds.
He moseyed his way over to the sweet southern child and crossed his arms. “So, how many weeds have you collected so far, kid?”
Liam jumped a little bit, before laughing a little bit. “Sorry, dad. I didn’t see you there… I’ve pulled up a hefty amount so far.”
“Yeah, I can tell” He laughed along with him. Noticing that he never met his gaze, just a few glances to the eyes, before he went back to weeding. “Just be careful not to pull up Sawyer’s flowers, we may not live to see the next day.” He gently hit the kids arm in a joking manner.
“Yeah… I’ll be careful” He gave an awkward smile.
That’s when Stratford started to feel a little awkward. Now sensing the worry that Sawyer was talking about. The usually awkward, but happy go lucky kid was suddenly acting just slightly off.
“Liam,” He spoke up, making the southern boy look up at him. His brown eyes were soft, worried. He looked like he had a million thoughts running through his head. “Walk with me,” Stratford said and lightly patter his shoulders before turning to the garden.
Before Liam could protest, he just sighed and tossed the weeds he held down into a pile. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he slowly followed after his now father.
As they walked through the short garden, it was nothing but silence. Silence neither of them could take. The tension in the air grew, but it would soon be broken by Stratford looking towards the boy and asking a simple question.
“What’s on your mind?”
Liam didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t break the trust between him and his sister, especially because their relation with each other was finally turning out okay. When they were roommates at Wolfsbane, it was a little harder. Rex was stubborn, Liam was too nice to her. Neither of them really knew how to interact with the other, despite all the things they had in common. Now? They were siblings. They could actually talk, connect, and care for the other. But.. after the other day, it changed.
“Listen, it’s really not any of my business.” He chewed on his lip, occasionally looking over at his father who had an eyebrow raised, confused as to what he meant by that. “I’m just…” He couldn’t help but break, he hated lying, and he was no good at it anyway “I’m worried about Rex. She’s acting reckless. I don’t… think she’s feeling well,” he finally looked up to meet Stratford’s eyes.
Liam sighed and crossed his arms, holding himself tight. “And I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about how I could have stopped her, or I could have even helped her. It feels so.. Out of my control and in my control—I just want her to be safe.”
Stratford sighed and wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders, stopping in his tracks to pull him closer to his side. “You can’t do everything yourself, you know that?” He gave his son an empathetic smile. “Sometimes, people have to figure things out for themselves. If that’s… dangerous, that’s when you tell us.”
Liam blinked a few times and sighed, before fully throwing himself into his dad’s arms. His breathing was heavy, a few tears were shed, but it wasn’t a breakdown. Just a release of emotions.
After a while of the hug, Liam pulled away and uttered a short ‘thank you,’ before he pulled something out of his pocket. Stratford’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the lighter. Before he could ask why he had it, Liam spoke up.
“I took it from Rex. I just… I can’t hold onto it, but I can’t give it back.”
Stratford just nodded and took the lighter, starting to worry a little more about the little blonde who was now being interrogated by Sawyer. Now he wishes it were him talking to Rex instead…
Rex had found herself curled up on the swing that was located on the side of the house. Her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked out to the land. It was the same landscape she had found herself staring at for the past week. Nothing had changed, just her view.
Now she saw it in all its beauty. The long grass blowing while the wind whistled, the sun had been perched in the sky at high noon, she could hear the bugs singing their melodical tone. How she wished to be as free as those insects.
That’s when she felt the shifting of the swing, she didn’t have to look over to know who it was. She didn’t speak, she just laid her head in her lap and waited for the lecture to start. To her surprise, there was no lecture. Just a hand that rested gently on her back, which she shrugged off.
She couldn’t stand the feeling of being touched, it made her shrivel in the seat further. Sawyer recognized this and let his hands fall into his lap with a sigh.
“It’s nice to see you out of your room,” He spoke up, trying to get her to even look his way.
She still didn’t speak, she had no words to say. Her mind had moved on from the night Marshall dumped her, now she was playing every moment leading up to it. What did she do wrong?
“Where have you gone?” Sawyer asked, which finally got Rex to look up at him puzzled. He nodded his head to the side. “Where is your head at, I mean. What’s happened that has you so quiet?”
Her words were caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything. Yet she wanted to tell him nothing at all.
“You’ve never been this quiet. Not even when I first met you, and you and Ryung were… whispering and laughing in my classroom, you know that?” He smiled at her, she just squeezed onto her skirt and held herself tighter. Any closer to her own body, and her bones may start to fuse.
“Me and Marshall broke up…” She whispered, which made Sawyer’s gaze soften. He immediately felt horrible. Although he never liked the guy, he’s always had problems with the kid but… to his knowledge he treated Rex right, and made her happy. That’s all he wanted for her.
“What? You guys have been going so strong?”
“I know! I don’t.. I fucked up. I did something wrong. I fucked up—I just wanted to help him, I didn’t mean to make him hate me!” She groaned and gripped her hair with her hands, burying her face into her knees.
“Hey, hey. Don’t say that. Marshall is…” He decided to hold his tongue, since Rex loved him, “He is who he is. You’re so much better than that. You don’t deserve to be heartbroken. You don’t deserve to hold all this pain yourself, or feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong, you were just in love,” He sighed and went to open his mouth and say something else until he noticed her hands.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed the small red marks were burn marks into her hand. His eyebrows furrowed, starting to freak out. He reached out her hand and she snatched it away. “Rex, what is that? Did he do that to you?” He leaned in closer to try and get answers.
“No! It’s nothing–I just,” she stood up speechless, searching for the words to say. As her mouth fell open, she could feel the lump welling up in her throat again.
“Can I.. Can I see your hand?” He reached out for her and she backed away from him, freaking out. She didn’t know what to do, so she just walked off.
“No, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Good talk dad, goodnight!” She yelled as she walked away swiftly.
“Night? Rex! It’s not even sunset—”
“Goodnight!” She yelled and turned the corner. Frantically trying to get in the house, she almost ran into Stratford and Liam. In a panic, her mouth dropped open but she just turned and swung the door to the house open. Running inside to get away from everyone else. She passed Ryu, whose face lit up seeing her. Instead of speaking, Rex ran to her room.
Stratford and Liam were left outside, seeing Sawyer come poking around the corner of the porch with a sigh. They stared at him and he shook his head.
Now the three of them sat there, unsure of what to do. All of them worried about the state of Rex’s mentality.
Later that night, Rex was pacing her room anxiously. Cigarettes hung from her lips as she moved from her closet to the bed, and to her drawers. Hurriedly and impulsively, she was packing two bags. One duffle bag full of clothes, and a backpack with her life essentials.
In her own slightly manic mind, she had made a short circuited plan. All the money she had saved up working to get her own place not too far from here, she was going to talk that and leave.
She decided she would take her passport and cash and leave, she was going home: Germany. Maybe her aunt wouldn’t mind her staying for a while. She was still in contact with a few of her cousins… maybe they could let her stay for a little.
As she finished throwing a week's worth of clothes in her bag, she hissed as she put the cigarette out on the back of her arm and tucked it behind her ear. Rex stopped thinking, the only thing on her mind was leaving.
She didn’t want to burden any of them with her problems. Rex couldn’t help but think that they would hurt Marshall, or even not care for her. Every survival instinct from her childhood and teenage years had kicked in. The only thing she knew how to do when things went wrong was leave. She was always moving around from house to house, family member to another, city to town, country to country. Rex never had a stable moment of peace, not till now at least.
And now she couldn’t help but believe she was fucking everything up. She didn’t believe she deserved any of this. She wasn’t good enough for a family who cared.
She picked up her backpack and threw it over one shoulder, before she grabbed her duffle bag and car keys. She slowly walked out her room door, attempting not to make any noise. She hurried down the stairs gently, and straight to the front door. Gently turning the knobs so as not to make them creak. It was the middle of the night, and she was sneaking away. It wasn’t her first rodeo.
She lightly closed the door behind her and quickly made it down the stairs, unlocking her car and throwing all her shit into the back seat. As Rex went to grab the handle, she hesitated. Was she really about to leave her family?
That one moment of hesitation led to a whole unraveling of events. Rex was so caught up in her own problems and doubts, she didn’t even hear the person who had followed her outside.
“You’re just gonna leave?” Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She didn’t turn and look at them. She couldn’t face them, not now. “You just… weren’t going to say goodbye?”
“Ryung, please…”
“What happened to us against the world?”
“No, please don’t do this to me–” Her voice cracked.
“No, Rex, you don’t do this. You listen to me,” He stared as she turned around slowly to face him. “You haven’t spoken to me all week, nothing. You wouldn’t open your door when I knocked, didn’t eat the food I left for you, you’ve ignored me. Do you know how much that hurts?” He gripped the edges of the porch. “I’ve always been there for you, we’ve always relied on each other. What the fuck happened so bad that you can’t even tell me!”
“Ryung, I can’t do this tonight. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. I’m leaving, I’m going back home to Germany,” She let him in just a bit. That was her best friend. Her ride or die. The only person she could ever fully trust.
She watched as he huffed, gripping the edge of the porch before he hurdled over it. Landing with a soft thud on the other side.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“No, no you’re not. You’re going to stay here with your… perfect little life, and the perfect little family that you fucking deserve.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Rex?”
Their voices started to get louder as they argued.
“You deserve this. All of this. I couldn’t even keep Marshall. I can’t keep people happy, I don’t deserve good things. I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t understand any of this.. I don’t know good things, I never have—”
“You’re acting like everyone here has known fucking happiness, Rex. Stop sitting in your own head, you’re not the only person here who’s been fucking hurt! We’re figuring this out! We’re finding things out, we’re doing this together!”
While the two stood in the yard and argued with each other, everyone was upstairs sleeping away. Besides Sawyer and Stratford, who were now stirring awake from their sleep. Sawyer started to move slightly, groaning as he pulled away from Stratford, who opposed immediately.
“Sawyer…” He turned over to look at the man who was now sitting up in bed, stretching awake.
“It’s okay dear, I’ll be right back…” He whispered as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”
Then he stood up from the bed and watched as Stratford curled into their blanket. He sighed, grabbing his robe and shrugging it on before stumbling out the door. He treaded down the stairs, listening to the conversation–no, argument. The argument was getting more intense by the second.
When he walked out to the porch, he looked out to his kids who had shot their heads over to the older man. Ryung was now red faced, sobbing as he was trying to convince Ryung to stay. Rex looked like she hadn’t slept, she was frail, and shaking. She looked dazed, confused.
“Ryung, go inside and let me talk to your sister.” His gaze shifted from Ryung over to Rex, before it went back to the black haired boy. They didn’t protest, they just whimpered a bit and retracted from their best friend. Heading up the porch steps and into the house.
Sawyer’s gaze fell back onto Rex. They made direct eye contact for a while. She didn’t know what to say, Sawyer was trying to find the patience.
“You, come sit with me.” He commanded as he sat back onto the swing that they had shared earlier that day. Rex just sighed, ascending up the steps and to the swing. She sat on the other end of the swing. Silence filled the night.
The only thing that could be heard for miles was the sound of the cicadas and owls. Singing their nightly lullaby to the environment around them.
“Where did you think you were going to go?”
“Germany… I was going to go home.”
Sawyer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t angry, he just… he’s never had to deal with this amount of heart break. Before Sawyer could say anything, the lump in Rex’s throat finally formed into words. Finally, she let her walls turn into a fence.
“I was going home because… It’s the only place I understand. Sure, I was treated like shit, but at least that’s what I’m used to. I’ve always moved around. I’ve always faced hatred and being used, but I was so used to it.” She pulled her knees to her chest, realizing she was wearing shorts and a tanktop.. All the burn marks were now visible.
“I’m so used to pain and suffering. I don’t… I don’t feel like I deserve your care and kindness. It feels so… wrong.” She started to rub her eyes, groaning as she finally revealed the truth about herself.
“I’ve never been loved. So to see a fraction of that from Ryung, and Marshall, and.. You and Stratford… I felt so out of place.” She looked up and out into the night, letting her arms drape over her knees. “And when I lost Marshall, I felt like I messed up. And then I felt like I ruined everything that I touch. I didn’t want to ruin how nice everything is here. So, I tried to do the only thing I’m good at” She bit down on her lip and spoke, breathlessly “Ran.”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sawyer responded “You don’t deserve to be in this much pain over some.. Boy.” He gazed at her, and she finally looked up to meet his gaze. He sighed. Sawyer had such a harsh soft spot for his girls. Both Rex and Selene.
Rex choked up, watching as Sawyer opened his arms to her. As much as she hated physical contact, she craved to be held. She craved comfort. All she wanted was for someone to see her. She immediately latched onto him, gripping him tightly.
“You deserve good things, Rex. Please don’t ever forget that. You deserve so much more than you were given growing up. You’re not a horrible person, you’re not worthless, and you have done nothing wrong.” He squeezed her, rubbing her back as he felt her breathing become heavy and uncontrollable. “You were just dealt a shitty hand, and you did the best you could with what you had.”
With those words, Rex could feel her eyes start to sting. All the knots she held in her chest gave out, snapping. She felt tears start to well up in her eyes. For the first time in years, she started to cry. There she sat sobbing into Sawyer’s chest. Scared if she lets go that he’ll disappear.”
“And we’ll always be here for you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re a part of this family, and we love every part of you. No matter what,” he gently kissed the top of her head as she sobbed, shaking in his arms.
Rex could finally let herself go. Finally, she felt safe. She felt like she was home. A home that loved and cared for her, no matter how hard things had gotten.
It had been a few weeks since everything happened. Rex had finally started to feel like herself again. Jean shorts, tanktops, her dangling jewelry. Sunny disposition plastered on her face as she walked out to the porch. Smiling as the sun blazed down on her.
She looked down to see Liam, who was tending to the garden. She looked over and grabbed a pair of gloves before hurrying to join him.
“Need a hand? Or maybe two?” She smiled at him, shaking the gloves around.
He looked up at her and rolled his eyes, with a short laugh before he nodded to the garden. “Usually I’d say no, but I’ll accept the help just this once.”
“Oh, whatever. You know I would have done it even if you said no.”
“Yeah, yeah. Why do you think I agreed?” He huffed, pulling some green beans off of their plant, “Just start picking the damn tomatoes.”
Rex pulled the gloves over her hands and started to pick the tomatoes, dropping them gently into the wicker basket that Liam brought out here.
There they spent time together under the blaze of the sun. Occasionally Rex would look up to look around the yard. There the whole family sat outside. She giggled as she watched Ryung and Stratford brain deep into a chess game up on the porch, while Alderic watched. On the opposite side of the porch sat Sawyer and Selene, trying to learn a new song on the guitar together.
She looked over to Liam who was focused on collecting vegetables. She hummed, sighing softly. “Hey uhm… I’m really sorry for what happened, I didn’t mean for you to see all that.”
Liam looked up at her puzzled, and also sympathetic for her. He sighed and shook his head. “You were going through a hard time. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and… I’m real sorry about that,” he smiled at her “You’re my sister. I care a lot about you, okay?”
She returned the smile and bumped shoulders with him. “You’re a real good kid… Thanks for caring so much. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t.”
He just laughed and went back to picking vegetables with her. Soaking up the sun and enjoying some sibling bonding moments. There was nothing that could get better than this.
That’s when they heard the sound of an old car sputtering, driving slowly down the dirt path of their house. Rex’s head snapped over, confused as to who was pulling into the driveway. However… She seemed to recognize the dingy car. Watching as the Irish stepped out of the car, Rex immediately jumped up to her feet in excitement.
“Clay, holy shit what are you doing here!” She yelled in excitement.
She was still pulling her shit together, huffing as she placed her glasses atop of her head, staring at Rex. Her shit eating cheshire grin fell upon her face as Rex almost bulldozed the taller gal over.
“Woah! I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d g’wan and stop by,” She looked over to see Ryung who had shot up from the tiny table he and Stratford were sitting at. As well as the dads who were confused as to why she was there as well.
Ryung apologized to Stratford, before running down the steps and bolting over to Clay, launching himself at her.
“Hey! We still have a chess game to finish–Oh whatever,” he laughed before staring down at the chess game he was somehow losing. He looked up to see Sawyer who had set down his guitar. He got up to help his husband walk out to meet them.
Clay gave her hugs all around, laughing at the two who were overly ecstatic to see her. “Okay! Okay! Calm down, it’s not like I’m a celebrity,” she joked as if she didn’t basically raise Ryu and Rex in the years that she knew them. “And Rex, I brought you a surprise… because I was basically begged to,” she said as she banged on the window of her beat up car.
Rex’s face twisted from excitement to fear as she watched Marshall step out of the passenger side of the car. He looked… torn up, sleepless and like he had been crying. She didn’t look at anybody but him, not to her dads who were pissed, not to Liam who was ready to have a few words to say, not even to Ryung who was ready to snap the guy's neck.
They all sat in silence, but just as anybody could speak, Rex built the confidence to march over to him. She stood in front of him, staring him in the eyes.
She just took a shaky breath and spoke up, “You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“Rex–” She heard Clay try to chime in.
“No, shut up,” Clay immediately shut up. They all did. None of them knew what to do at this moment. They just watched like catty snobs in a soap opera.
“You,” she pointed, poking him in the chest, “Left me fucking broken. I thought I did something wrong, I thought I didn’t deserve your love because you fucked with my head unintentionally.. You were hurt, and you took it out on me,” She felt the same lump form back in her throat. She started to feel like she couldn’t breathe.
“And you left me there…” She pushed his chest, “You just fucking left me there alone! Like I didn’t mean anything to you!”
Sawyer stepped forward to her, but Stratford grabbed his arm just shaking his head. He whispered to them to head back to the porch. They all moved away, keeping distance to let them have a moment. The only ones who stayed near: Ryung and Sawyer. They weren’t about to put too much distance in case they needed to step in.
“I can’t forgive you… I can’t fucking forgive you for the shit you put me through!” She screamed and looked up at him. He was hurt. She just waited. Waiting for anything. A tear, an apology, a reaction, anything.
“Fuck! Marshall! Say something, anything! Don’t just stand there and stare, say something!”
“I’ve missed you… I’ve missed you so much,” he said shakily. “You didn’t deserve that. Anything that I put you through that night. I don’t want you to forgive me, You deserve to feel like this.. You deserve to be upset with me.” He hesitated, but still reached out for her.
Without hesitating, Rex leaned in to hold him. Gently placing one hand on his shoulder, and the other rested gently on his cheek. She was mad, sure, furious even. She was hurt… but she couldn’t say she didn’t miss him. And she could never say that he was the only one in the wrong.
“I’m mad. I can’t forgive you, not yet at least… but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.”
He stared down at her, not sure of what to say anymore. He couldn’t apologize again, he didn’t want to cry… he just wanted her back. “I was so horrible to you.”
“No, you were high. You didn’t put your hands on me, you were just expressing your fears. And I took it too hard to heart.” She gently rubbed her thumb over his cheek and sighed. “We were scared, and… high” she laughed a little bit. “We made irrational decisions.”
“I fucking scared you, Rex…”
“You were just as scared, you were scared for help.” She gave him a small smile.
“I’ve missed you, even if you won’t take me back… I couldn’t leave on that bad note. I couldn't leave with you fearing that again.”
“Who said I wouldn’t take you back?” She furrowed her brows and laughed, pulling away from his touch and turning around. “Oh, now you’ve really pissed me off, how dare you say a thing like that, misinterpreting me and– AH!” She screamed and started to giggle as he picked her up from behind, swinging her around. She laughed and yelled for him to be careful and put her down.
When Marshall set her back down, she spun to face him. He placed his hands at her waist and smiled at her, she smiled right back at him. “You know… I’ve missed your sarcastic attitude.”
“Oh really now? Well, I don’t know if she missed you too…” She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Then she leaned in and gave him a kiss, grinning like an idiot the whole time.
In the back you could hear Clay cheering from the porch steps, earning a slap to the chest by Ryung. She winced and stared at him, “Oh come one Ryu, I’ve been dying for them to get back together. He came to my house just to cry about her to me!” She sighed and put her sunglasses back on. “I mean for fucks sake, me and Leo were just trying to have a calm week.”
Ryungs’ eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the person next to him. Giving him the absolute dirtiest side eye. “You can’t be serious…”
“Ryu, darling. Look at me in the face and tell me those two aren’t fucking made for each other?” She raised her eyebrows in a really bitch kind of face. “I mean, your dad may be pissed about it. But those fools are in love, love is hard and it’s found in all forms.” She huffed, almost a laugh but it was too short. “I mean, me and Leo absolutely bullied the shit out of each other, and look at us now? We own a house together.”
Ryung hummed, turning to look at how everyone else felt. Sawyer looked… conflicted. He wanted Rex to be happy, but also wanted her to be safe. At the same time, he knew deep down Marshall was just some hurt kid who was never shown the proper care. He deserved someone who was going to care for him… and luckily, Rex was really good at that.
He sighed and started to walk down to the driveway, Stratford went to stop him, but he was already in motion.
“Aw, it’s fine pops, your husband will be just fine,” Clay said and started to mess with her curls.
“Clay… You’re not helping.” Stratford spoke bluntly, yet Clay was still unfazed by his words.
Sawyer made his way down to the two who were happy just to be back together. He moved to stand behind Rex, towering over the both of them. Rex immediately moved away from Marshall, but before she could speak he had one statement.
“Not that you need my approval, you’re both consenting adults,” he started “But if you hurt her again, I will not hesitate. You will not live to see the stars of the night, or the morning of.”
“Sawyer–”
“I’m just saying! Treat her right, I can’t handle all that shit again, my heart actually might stop this time,” he laughed a little bit and turned away, before looking back “And.. keep the door locked if you have him over.”
“Sawyer!” Rex laughed and put her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes as Marshall rolled his with a smile.
Sawyer threw his hands up and moved back to the porch, gently wrapping an arm around his husband's waist. He looked down at Clay who was a little too comfortable on their porch steps. He raised an eyebrow to look down at the Irish indie sleaze, who looked up to meet his gaze.
“Am I going to have to deal with you coming over more often?”
“Oh, please, old man. You’ve been dying for me to come lighten the place up.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Sawyer smiled and Stratford gently hit his arm, before looking down at Clayton.
Stratford gently placed a kiss on his husband's cheek, and moved over to Ryung who was coming to terms with this rekindled relationship. He gently squeezed the kid's shoulder and nodded his head, “C’mon kid. Let your sister enjoy this moment, we have a chess game to finish.”
Like a moth to a flame, Ryung jumped around to face him and smiled. He laughed softly and said “You mean, I have a game to whoop you in?”
“Hey, the game could turn around,” He lied to save his skin as they made their way to the table.
The other kids had already left to go inside. Sawyer stood staring out at the other two, now standing with Clay who was filing her nails. He sighed softly, unsure of how to feel about this. On one hand, he wanted to forbid Rex from ever seeing him.. But she was an adult, plus it was another chance. He would do the same for Stratford if it ever happened, even though it hadn’t.
“The more you stare, it won’t change.” Clayton spoke up, leaving Sawyer to stare over at him.
“Yeah, I know. I just.. Care a lot, I guess.” He stared between Rex and Marshall, then panned over to Clay who was still sitting in the same spot. Now leaned back into the steps. She blew on her nails to rid the dust of filling. Sawyer hummed and smiled, “Care for a cup of coffee, Harkin?”
“Only if you promise a cigarette to go with it,” She smiled up at him, to which he rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair. “Hey! Watch the curls, I spend a lot of time on them” She swatted his hand away.
“Oh tough it out, kid. Come on, let’s leave those two be. I’ll show you my guitar collection.” Sawyer started to walk inside, and Clay just followed. Leaving everyone to do their own thing.
A chess game, unattended vegetables, the hot sun, and nothing but the sound of laughter and the wind. Rex and Marshall were leaned against the Irish man’s car, sharing their first cigarette back together again. She leaned against him and he just sighed, wrapping an arm around her small frame. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Rex reached up her pinky, staring at him with her large, doe eyes. He took her pinky finger and intertwined it with his, gently kissing his thumb as she did. No words exchanged, yet their actions spoke louder than words. They didn’t need words to know they had a promise, a pact. Never to give up faith in the other.
SUMMARY: After an intense, vivid nightmare of some of the worst moments of his childhood, Ryung finds himself spiraling into the oblivion of derealization. He decides to search for comfort in his boyfriend, Alderic, who helps him find peace.
A/N: Eomma is mom, Appa is dad, Jagiya means honey/baby. Yes, I know Alderic has a roommate. We’re gonna pretend he doesn’t for the sake of this fanfic. Hope you guys cry– I MEAN enjoy!
The smell of sulfur filled the house, burning his nostrils. The sounds of screams echoed off the walls. Ryung’s eyes panned the room. Where was he? What’s happening? Where’s Mom? Dad?
He stared down at his hands. Small. Small, frail hands covered in burn marks. His eyes filled with tears, and his breath caught in his throat. He spun around to look at his brothers. They were just babies. In an instant, he ran and scooped them up in his arms. Twin toddlers are being carried around by a kid who could barely hold his own weight. He started screaming, searching for anyone.
“Mom? Mommy? Mom, where are you!” He screamed, his throat raw from sobbing endlessly. “Mom, please! Please, I can’t… I can’t do this alone! Mommy, please!” He sobbed, ears ringing from the endless crying of his siblings. “Eomma! Dowajuseyo!”
[Translation: Mom! Help me!]
That’s when he spotted a cracked door, light seeping through it. Begging him to run for it. So he did. He carried himself as fast as he could, running from the orange light into the bright white one.
In a flash, he was immediately rushed into a new room. He stared around, confused about the change of location. His heart was pounding in his chest, but his first reaction was to check his brothers… who were gone?
Looking down, instead of seeing twin babies, there were drawings filled in his arms. Sketches, notes, colored art. When he looked up, there was his dad. Laying in the hospital bed, barely clinging on to the last of his life.
“Appa! Appa!” He cried out and hugged his frail dad, who was barely breathing. “Won’t you look at all the art I made you?” He sniffed, looking up at him.
His dad looked down, and gave him a sickly, sweet smile. “I’m so sorry, aegi. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you” His fathers voice cracked, “Take good care of your brothers, please?”
Ryung’s face contorted, confused on why he was saying this. “Of course I will, Appa… Appa? Appa, what’s wrong?” He tried shaking his dad, who mumbled one last ‘I love you’ in Korean before the sound of his heart beat monitor filled the room. It swarmed Ryung’s ears. He couldn’t control his breathing.
“Appa? Appa! Look at my art! Appa, please! Appa, please don’t go–” He started to sob violently. People started to grab him, multiple people. He couldn’t escape the amount of hands holding him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t speak. “No… No! No, no, no! Appa!” He yelled as loud as he could, staring down into his arms which were filled with art. The art was now falling out of his hands, burning as they left his arms. He started to shake and sob. He couldn’t control himself.
As he was ripped out of the room, he hit a wall with as much force to knock the wind out of him. His vision spun around, and he tried to gain better control. He looked around… It was a shed. A dark shed, one with a window to show the sun was going down.
He immediately scrambled to his feet, running to the door, but it shut just as he reached it. He slammed into it, screaming out. He started banging on the door with as much force as his tiny body could give.
“Let me out! Please, please let me out!” He screamed.
“Poor baby, too scared to spend the night with the snakes and spiders?” Ryung’s eyes shook as he heard those words. The voices were so familiar. The bullies he had to live with when he and his family were couch surfing, homeless.
“No… No, no, no, no– Please! Please, let me out! Let me out– I’m scared!” He shrilled.
“Not until you’ve learned your lesson for tattling, punk.” They started to laugh.
The laughs echoed in the shed as he tried pounding on the door. Suddenly it started pounding back. From all sides. Loud pounding on each side of the walls. Ryung stumbled to the middle of the shed, falling onto the floor.
He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, there was no noise coming from him except for choked sobs of fear. He scanned the room, looking for bugs and things to hurt him. The pounding got louder. He put his hands over his ears but he could still hear the slamming radiating off the walls.
Just as it got as loud as it could be, he screamed as loudly as possible. A scream that made his throat raw. A scream that hurt even his ears to yell. It erupted from his chest like a beam of light fighting containment.
Suddenly, Ryu woke up in a panicked sweat. He sat up like a rocket, staring around the room. Nothing felt real. He stared at his hands, grabbed his face, curled his knees to his chest. He couldn’t do anything to shake the fear that riddled him.
He spun his head around, his roommate was fast asleep. Hopefully, Ryung didn’t actually scream… hopefully his roommate was sleeping peacefully, unlike him.
He sat there, questioning reality for a minute. He knew he couldn’t go to Rex. She snuck off campus for the night, leaving Ryung completely alone.
For fifteen minutes he pondered. Knees curled to his chest and face buried into his legs. He gripped onto his hair, staring at the wall in front of him. His mind was spiraling. He wanted to be comforted, he needed to be comforted, but he didn’t want to bother anyone. He wanted to run down the hall to his lover, but he was worried that Alderic was asleep…
After a few more minutes, he couldn’t help but get up. Panicked state and all. He didn’t bother to throw on a jacket, or any sort of cover up. No blanket, no comfort stuffed animal, nothing.
He ran out the door, sprinting down the hall, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. He was running at full speed and still couldn’t breathe. He doesn’t know how he made it down the stairs, but in no time, there he was in front of Alderics' door.
As he raised his fist to knock, he hesitated. He stood there, questioning if this was the right decision. Was he really about to disturb his boy’s sleep just because he was upset?
The cold chill of the night sent a shiver down his spine. It was just then he realized how out of breath he was, and how cold he was. He was shaking, standing there in nothing but a tank top and fluffy shorts.
He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this… Knock, knock
Almost as quick as he knocked, Alderic answered. The taller boy opened the door, confused as to who could be needing him at this hour. Only to find Ryung, shaking and on the brink of tears.
“My love? Oh my gosh, what happened! Come in, you’re freezing. Let me get you a blanket– and some tea– Sit down! Please,” He wrapped his arms around Ryung, bringing him into the room.
As soon as they stood in the room, Ryung melted into his arms. Sobbing.
“Shh.. Shh, it’s okay, Lovebug.” He held Ryu tightly, sitting back onto his bed and pulling the boy into his lap.
They sat like that for a while. Alderic had engulfed Ryung in the tightest hug he could, resting his chin atop of his head. Ryu couldn’t help but sob intensely into his shoulder. He could barely think, all he could do was let it out. Everything hurt, everything was painful. Alderic? He was the warmth that was there to comfort Ryung.
Once Ryung started to calm down a little bit, his cries turned into choked sobs and breath regulation. “Do you want… Do you want to talk about it?” Alderic asked him, petting his hair.
Ryung took a deep breath, “Nightmares,” he choked out. “Vivid nightmares of my childhood… The house fire, the shed… My father–” bringing up his dad made him cry more.
“Shhh… shh, lovebug. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much,” Alderic gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. He looked down at Ryung, both of them making eye contact. He couldn’t help but smile.
“You know.. You have the prettiest eyes when you cry,” Alderic cupped his hand onto his cheek. This made Ryung giggle a little, wiping his eyes. “There’s that smile.”
“Alderic…” He mumbled.
“I’m sorry! But you do.. I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry–”
“Jagiya, it’s okay… It’s okay,” he smiled at Alderic. “It’s helping.”
“It’s helping? If it’s helping, you look the prettiest when you cry! You’re the prettiest crier in the world, I couldn’t think of anyone who cries prettier than you, sunshine–”
“Aldie!” He laughed and pressed his forehead to the others. They sat there and laughed together. Aldie placed his hand on the back of Ryu’s, while Ryu’s hands found their way to rest in the crook of his neck.
They sat there, taking in each other’s presence for a moment. Ryung whispered a quick thank you to him, and Alderic just cradled him in his arms. It didn’t matter what was happening in the world, they had each other.
Alderic laid back onto the bed, Ryu falling on top. He immediately curled up into his arms, searching for the warmth in him. In unspoken words, Alderic let him stay the night. Hoping that it would bring him peace of mind to get genuine sleep.
Ryung wrapped his arms around the other's waist, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and sighing. Releasing any bad energy that engulfed him before. Alderic had his arms wrapped protectively around the other, placing a ginger kiss to the other’s forehead.
“I’ve got you, okay? You’re safe with me,” Alderic spoke softly as he turned out the bedside light, returning to the position they were once in.
CHARACTERS: Aldéric Desrosiers (Death to the Elite OC)
WORDS: 3.6k
WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, neglect, French people
GENRE: Angst with no comfort
SUMMARY: The Desrosiers have been known for their prominent success in France. However, success is not eternal. What happens if success cracks?
⟡•—— ・ ₊˚🥀♱‧₊˚. ・ ——•⟡
“WOLFSBANE ACADEMY was founded in 1713, just outside of a small French town called ACONITUM.
“For centuries, elite families from all around the world have sent their children to this prestigious boarding school, be it to reform their misbehaviors or to get their children the highest of education possible. Either way, discipline is learned and education is drilled in, leading Wolfsbane Academy students to prosperity, success, and years of knowledge to come."
With Wolfsbane Academy came one of the household names in all of France, especially in the Aconitum region, in all sorts of aspects. Whether it be technology, medicine, engineering, music, or film, the said family reigned supreme due to the starting couple: Sébastien and Angélique Desrosiers. Wolfsbane molded the two together as teenagers and shaped them into the start of what can be akin to a dynasty. They chalked it up to Wolfsbane Academy for their success with pure grit and enough intelligence to graduate at the top. The couple wed and had their first child, of whom they sent to Wolfsbane at the right age. Somehow, that Desrosiers child found love at the school and dove deep into his work while also having his own child. The shared fate between his parents and himself was scarily similar, and the same could be said for the third-generation student at Wolfsbane. Every single generation since Sébastien and Angélique graduated at Wolfsbane, found love at the academy, and sent their child away like clockwork. What could they say? Wolfsbane started the Desrosiers’ success. Success is oftentimes the only meaning for the Desrosiers, the only way that they can stay on top where they want to be. Now, it’s time to put it to the test for the youngest of the next generation: Aldéric Rainier Desrosiers.
Aldéric Rainier Desrosiers… the black sheep—or black rose—of the family. Little, lonesome Aldéric with his little heart made of gold and happy-go-lucky attitude. Yet, to truly understand how dire success is in the Desrosiers lineage, we looked at Aldéric in middle school.
⟡•—— ・ ₊˚🥀♱‧₊˚. ・ ——•⟡
“Ce n'est pas ton meilleur travail, Desrosiers. Je m'attendais à mieux. [Not your best work, Desrosiers. I expected better],” his teacher sprawled out a graded test right in front of him, then moving onto the next person. She never had time for fun and games, much less Aldéric’s high-maintenance in ways. Her heels clacked against the polished floors without care for him. Sure, she cared for him, but she was never the type to coddle him and baby him. He wasn’t a baby; he was a young teenager who could handle a smidge of disappointment. It would happen at some time in his life. He better get used to it before his world crashes in front of him.
He knows the feeling of being the blunt of disappointment already.
His head turned from speaking with a friend of his right behind him, a smile ever-present on his face. His famous and charming smile rarely escaped his face; it was more rare to see him without it than with it! His innocent grins and chuckles never once were rehearsed or put on to please the crowd. Sure, he would hide his emotions behind a mask of lies if the time asked for it… but why would he do that? Aldéric had never been one to lie, especially not well, for his parents taught him better than that. Lying was for the cheap and scummy, and the Desrosiers were never and will never be cheap and scummy. His grin dropped as soon as the test was given back to him. Eyes scanning the page…
How can this be?! He studied for hours straight days before the test was given! His heart dropped down to his stomach as he saw the mediocre grade: a 78%. The room suddenly gained temperatures too hot for Aldéric. Beads of sweat adorned his hairline, which was pushed upwards as his fingers dove into his hair. The wisps in his hair fell by him combing through it without care.
“Oh mon Dieu! Oh mon Dieu! Non! Non, non, non, non, non, non!! Ça ne peut pas arriver! Il doit y avoir une erreur! [Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! No! No, no, no, no, no, no!! This can't be happening! There must be a mistake!]” the boy’s voice transformed from such confidence and joy to a panicked mess. His words lumped together in stress, and, not only did his hands shake, but his voice did, too.
The first pair of eyes landed on him in a crowd of about twenty. Her gaze to Aldéric helped him none, not even a pitied look. A monotone voice spoke out to cut through the thick tension of his own scrambled one. “Si vous avez un problème, prenez rendez-vous avec moi après le cours. [If you have a problem, set up a time with me after class.]”
Aldéric looked up to the voice for some form of desperation in his face: his pleading eyes, cheeks reddened from embarrassment, lips pouting as if he was begging for her to reconsider. For a slight second, she held his gaze, only for it to be short-lived as she focused on her own task. That’s when the rest of the eyes in a sea of pupils landed on him like an empty boat in a vast ocean. To his left, right, up, down, everywhere, the peering eyes stung him. A few stifled chuckles erupted from his friends in a far-away corner at the thought. Really? Aldéric Desrosiers starting to cry like a baby over a bad grade? The grade wasn’t even that terrible! Surely, someone with a status as his shouldn’t be as upset as him. He’s a teenager now, and his family has more than enough money that they know what to do with. They can just pay his teacher to wave off the grade and turn a blind eye, so what’s the big deal?
On the other hand, some students felt horrible for Aldéric. They knew what would happen through Aldéric’s mouth, and it was borderline neglectful. Yet, they remained quiet in pity for him. Not empathy, not sympathy. Pity. They knew that they couldn’t stop it. Aldéric will just come back to school normally… right? He always did! Has he ever come to school without a complete smile on his face, warding away the intimidation that he was born with, saying good morning to everyone?
No one spoke to Aldéric, nor did he speak to anyone. An island in the sea full of dead calm water. A boy so alone in a room full of people. No one was there to grab his hand and to pull him out from the pool of worries that he drowned himself in.
⟡•—— ・ ₊˚🥀♱‧₊˚. ・ ——•⟡
He knew what was going to happen to him. The scenes played out in his head in the series of events. First, his body was to be frozen over as he refused to meet the same gaze as his parents: their eyes so cold that he could die of hypothermia as soon as he stepped into their sight. He had no right to speak to them, for he already knew what he did wrong. If he even spoke up a syllable, then his punishment worsened. Two days without any social activity beyond school, a silent dinner table, and so many words by candlelight that they all became one from his exhaustion of study. That’s number two, or, well, number three. Number two was reserved for his parents scolding him. If Aldéric never knew fear before, then his parents let him go scot-free and never had the reason to let him know his wrongs.
“Aldéric Rainier Desrosiers. Entre avant d'avoir de plus gros ennuis. [Aldéric Rainier Desrosiers. Get inside before you're in bigger trouble.]”
The muffled voice from inside the mansion made him drop his arm from opening the door. His heart already began to race as his chauffeur drove him closer and closer to the Desrosiers’ residence, and all that his body could allow him to do was stare at the door. He never wanted to be in trouble when he worked so hard for a test that he knew he would do well on. He wasted over twenty candles to study with in the past week! Two candles per weekday and adding two more for the weekends after his violin practice. Was that not enough?
The doors swung open in front of Aldéric, and close to the doorway stood his incredibly disappointed parents. Both adorned in formal clothing standing taller than Aldéric at 5’4, and their gaze downcast on him was nothing short than a flurry of embarrassment and fear. Neither of them were so heartless that they laid an abusive finger on him. Yet, the eyes burning holes into his skin forced him to walk inside and not meet their gaze.
“Tu sais où aller. [You know where to go.]”
“…Oui, Père. […Yes, Father.]”
His voice was almost akin to that of a mouse, quick and oh so quiet. His feet dragged along the floors to the room dedicated just for Aldéric. They kept it for when the first-born acted up and needed to be alone to learn his actions… yet he learned his mistakes quickly. The same fate weaved itself into the second-born, then into his sister. The youngest Desrosiers used the room the most, for he knew no better as a child than to be cold and hide behind a tapestry that lacks emotions.
Aldéric was an innocent child who wanted the same experience as his peers: to have sleepovers, to have playtime, to talk their parents’ ears off about anything, to draw these grand stories… A Desrosiers was nothing of the sorts. A proper Desrosiers spends his or her life behind papers to succeed early and get ahead to cement their place.
His feet dragged himself to the quiet room. Every step that he took riddled his anxiety more and more, for he knew what would happen. He never enjoyed being scolded for something as trivial as a satisfactory grade. Aldéric knew that he would do better next time! Some information slipped his mind for a minute, but it always came back! He knew what he was doing for that test! If only he had the courage to speak to his parents about how sometimes it was so hard for him to retain information. He knew that he could. After all, he was a Desrosiers! Desrosiers never faltered, no matter how tough it was for them to succeed!
His trail to the room was short-lived as his feet managed to get him there as fast as possible. If he hurried up, then he could get this over with and start to study for his next test for mathematics, do his assignment for English, practice his violin until marks dug into his fingers and needed three hours to regain their structure.
“Combien d'heures as-tu passé à apprendre pour ce test? [How many hours did you spend learning for this test?]” his mother stood over him as Aldéric sat down in the lonesome chair. When he was little, there used to be three other chairs to accompany his, one for each of his siblings. At present, his was the only one to remain. His brothers and sisters moved on and learned their lesson from their fair share of scoldings. Talking out of line, being unprofessional, arguing with the teacher to fix a grade, but they knew better from their own ways of punishment.
It didn’t matter how they took it because Aldéric was different from them. They all loved Aldéric and his silly shenanigans; they loved his rants about everything and anything while they had downtime and could afford time to listen; and they loved how sweet he was. He fit out of the mold, and they wished that he could fit in for his sake.
“J'ai enregistré mes heures comme Évangéline me l'avait demandé. Je ne me souviens plus du nombre total d'heures, mais… [I logged my hours like Évangéline told me to do. I cannot remember how many hours I took overall, but–]” his voice trailed off into total silence. Normally, he knew what to say. That was one of his “unprofessional” traits that his parents criticized him for: his excessive talking. Some days, they found it endearing to hear him talk. It was one of their best escapes from their own stressful work days, and they loved how he spoke. He spoke with such fluidity that you couldn’t tell when he moved from topic to topic as he usually did. On other days, they hated that he did that. They want peace and quiet, not some child rambling their ear off, not even their own child.
An aggressive, masculine voice yelled out “ÉVANGÉLINE!”, the syllables reverberating off of the walls.
Quiet footsteps scattered over towards the degrading room. There was nothing there that could comfort a person while they were being broken down into the Desrosiers’ mold, especially Aldéric. He was always looking for something to stimulate him, to entertain him, but all that he could take in that room was his parents' words. Another woman who looked akin to Aldéric showed up as soon as her name was called, despite the size of the mansion. “Oui? [Yes?]”
“Récupère le journal d’Aldéric pour savoir combien d'heures il a passées à réviser pour cet examen. Il a obtenu un maigre 78%. Il sait que c'est inacceptable. Ne lui parle pas tant qu'il n'a pas compris la leçon. [Retrieve Aldéric’s log for how many hours he spent studying for this test. He received a measly 78%. He knows that this is unacceptable. Do not speak with him until he’s learned his lesson.]”
The two siblings locked eyes for a moment, sharing a mixed array of emotions. For Aldéric , he begged for an escape that he knew was impossible. Tears lined across his waterducts that threatened to spill at a moment's notice. As soon as his parents would lay it onto him, he knew that he was done for. He already learned his lesson with the multiple spikes in his heartbeat earlier, and he knew that he would never do it again. Why must his parents continue to do this when he knew what he did wrong?
Yet, with Évangéline, she knew that she had to mask her own emotions. She despised that look on his face, and she held more anger that she wished that she could force onto them. Who cared about success when he was only a child? Sure, he was in middle school and a year from entering Wolfsbane Academy, where she attended, but why should he care so much? They knew that Aldéric was extremely sensitive to being scolded, and they knew that he wanted out of this strict family. He wanted to receive love from his parents, even a fraction of what they were willing to give, and he wanted to play like a normal child. Évangéline could spew her hatred for doing this to her youngest brother and for how she was raised, but she knew better than to raise her voice. With defeat, she walked away to gather the document that her father sent her in the room for.
As they waited, the Desrosiers of the thriving generation wasted no time to start their speech. Both cut in at intervals to have their own things to say, and their words held such strength that, if this was war, Aldéric had no option except for admitting defeat.
“Aldéric, nous sommes tellement déçus. Tu sais qu'il faut obtenir 90% ou plus à n'importe quel devoir pour être le meilleur de ta classe. C'est là que tu dois… [Aldéric, we are so disappointed. You know that you have to make 90% or higher on any assignment to be the highest of your class. That is where you have to be–]”
Their words dragged on for seven minutes before Évangéline returned with the document. On it in perfect cursive, the large circled 62 hours jumped out to him. 62 hours? That’s it? He couldn’t spare another three hours to make it to 65? He spent twenty candles–12 that burned for three hours, five that burned for four, and three that melted away after two hours–Aldéric’s father shooed Évangéline away. It wasn’t her scolding, not anymore, for it belonged only to Aldéric.
Aldéric couldn’t listen anymore as their words smushed into one, voices so monotone that they sound like they’re combined as they calmed down from the initial action of his grade. His neck pushed his head up and down whenever they asked if he understood, and his lips were sealed shut from the lack of words he was allowed to say. Not a peep from his room unless it was an emergency or from his violin until dinnertime. Even then, he would not say anything in embarrassment. Embarrassment of disrespecting the Desrosiers title with his silly mistakes that he forgot certain information on or was incorrect about. The last thing that he remembered his parents instructed him to do was write a two page (minimum) apology letter to Sébastien and Angélique Desrosiers for failing the family name that he was so lucky to be born into. He was lucky to attend Wolfsbane. They would shape him up into a fine young man with business on his mind and not some silly friends or a childhood meant for a kid.
⟡•—— ・ ₊˚🥀♱‧₊˚. ・ ——•⟡
Aldéric was stuck in his room for the next couple hours until it was dinner time. His parents told him to write that letter to his very distant relatives, but how was he supposed to when all that he could think about was how he failed the Desrosiers name? Was he a true Desrosiers, or did he only manage to receive the title with no evidence to back his claim? Could he truly succeed as a Desrosiers, or will he be forced to be the only one of the rose branch to give into defeat? The thoughts spiralled in his mind, enough to make him lay his head on his pillow in shame and cry the river of tears that the levees in his eyes kept from spilling. Not to talk to anyone, not to interact with anything, only to focus on this letter to apologize for all that he had done. Nobody came to comfort him. Not his father, not his own mother, not his sister, and certainly not his brothers. No knock at the door, no yelling through the door. The Desrosiers knew that they couldn’t because of their parents. Aldéric’s father received the worst of it all when he was a child and his parents did this to him, and Aldéric’s mother broke into the mold of the plague of ambition and success at Wolfsbane.
What was worse was that they all cared for poor Aldéric Rainier Desrosiers. He was so charming with his sweet words and actions, the countless hugs and asks for cuddles when he was a toddler, his charm. They couldn’t say no to him no matter how strong their will was. He knew that they loved him and this was another example of tough love. This whole encounter? Perfectly normal for a child in his deluded mind. Some children did not receive this mental torture and anguish? Well, they must have been lucky!
⟡•—— ・ ₊˚🥀♱‧₊˚. ・ ——•⟡
At present, Aldéric moved on. He knew that his life didn’t end at just one scolding. It never did! He had to muster up the courage to continue and right all of his wrongs. Aldéric attended Wolfsbane for the past years, and he was ready to graduate! He wanted to be a doctor to help others with their medical problems! His college was already picked out to accept him, the same one that many other Desrosiers who pursued their interest in medicine attended. For now, however, he had to wait it out for his next year of school.
A new day woke him up, and he was ready to take on the world. He glided over to his class taught by Professor John Stratford, a smile ever-present on his face as he handed his present to him. He felt such joy to be in his class again, even if he had to witness a gruesome fight yesterday. Desks flipped over, a book thrown, his friend Liam being brought into the fire, even his own teacher being hit! All such a doozy! However, a new day is a new day!
With that new day came a scolding that Aldéric never wanted to hear. No, he wasn’t in trouble, but Stratford’s words hit him. His venomous words spat into his skin, corroding it all the way to the bone and then some. His happy-go-lucky attitude and complete joy quickly faded into one of sorrow and fear. It was only the third day! How could he have messed up this student-teacher relationship already?! Was he not quick enough to stop the fight? Was Stratford upset with him for not making sure the fight didn’t happen by letting August and Leo go? Did he disappoint another adult for not stepping up and being the leader at that moment like he told Aldéric to do? The water ducts in his eyes began to fill immediately, and Aldéric's neck craned down for escape. Nobody should see a Desrosiers cry, especially not someone like him.
The thought of causing a scolding for the whole class in his deluded mind wrecked him inside. He felt sick to his stomach. Aldéric’sheart dropped down to his stomach and began to disintegrate in his acid. His throat closed up. His chest felt heavy with emotion.
SUMMARY: Sawyer is completely thrown off his game after waking up later than he usually does. This causes him to forget to take his medications and make a series of unfortunate decisions that would lead to his downfall.
A/N: To my friends that I write this for. I was being dramatic, Sawyer is nowhere near death lol. Enjoy this!
The light flooded through the blinds of the room, shining a bright beam of yellow straight into his eyes. He whined and arched his back, stretching out as he started to roll his joints around. Everything hurts. Tremendously.
He rolls over to look at his alarm. 7:00AM. Despite all the pain riddling him to the bed, he shoots up from his lying position. Curly hair strayed everywhere, comfort strewn everywhere but where it needs to be.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He threw his covers around even more and stood up as quickly as possible. His head spun around and he clutched the wall, using it as a crutch so he could get dressed.
Sawyer is known for waking up 3-4 hours before he had to be anywhere. He had an entire routine to go through. A step-by-step plan that he had to go through one by one, or his day would be completely thrown off.
He threw on a simple button up and slacks combo, before putting on socks and his italian leather shoes. Sawyer grabbed his bag and practically sprinted out of the door.
Sawyer was running, bolting it to the other side of the campus. All the could think about what how the stupid dormitories he lived in were on the other side of the fucking academy. In order to not be late, he had to book it to the other side. He ran down three flights of stairs, across the front lawn, and once he was in the hallways he finally started to slow down.
By the time he was able to calm down and quickly walk to his classes, he could barely hear anything from the loud pounding of his heart radiating through his body. Sawyer made a beeline for his classroom, walking in about five minutes after the bell rang.
“Good morning, students. Apologies for being late, I had some business to attend to.” He lied, hoping none of his students would catch how winded and pained he looked. “We’re going to go ahead and open your journals, spend 15 minutes on the first entry, then we’ll move into today’s lesson.”
He moved over to his desk, placing down the bag and pulling out his lesson plans. As he stared down at the desk everything started to spin, he couldn’t hear the soft chatter of the students, or if they may have been asking him any questions. All he could do was stare at the wood as he slowly lowered himself into his chair.
Hopefully, this feeling would go away by his next class.
He decided to throw off the lesson plan for today. He’ll pick it up tomorrow. He felt physically ill sitting at his desk.
Instead of the connections game he had planned out, he gave the students a prompt for their journal. He challenged their brains, and told them to keep writing till the end of class.
While sitting at his desk, he frantically searched for any sort of electrolytes or salt packets he might have hidden for this purpose. Hell, even some Tylenol would do. Just to get the pain to lessen a little more. He sighed harshly when he came up with nothing.
That’s when he heard the door open, and oh how fantastic, it was Stratford. He walked up to the desk and leaned over it.
“Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot you had a class at this time.” Sawyer thought that was a lie, an excuse maybe. “Are you… feeling okay? You look a little warm.”
He just sighed again and said, “It’s not a problem, and I’m fine. Just a little hot in the school today. I’m sweating in this outfit,” he laughed a little bit to throw off the pain.
It had been about a month or so since Sawyer had the heart to heart with him about his disability. They had talked about the hypotension, and rheumatoid arthritis, and the fact his doctor wanted him using a mobility aid. Sawyer was stubborn though. He didn’t want to be defined by a cane.
“You sure?”
“I’m just a bit light headed is all, Stratford. What did you need help with?” He snapped. Sawyer didn’t mean to be snappy with him, but he didn’t need the students to think something was up with him.
Either way. Stratford looked pretty hurt by the snappy comment. He decided not to mention it again, he didn’t want Sawyer to get upset with him.
“I… Was just wondering if you could proof my lesson plans at lunch?” He asked softly.
Sawyer softened a bit, he felt guilty for snapping at him. Yet, he moved on because he didn't want to bring it up again. He already felt like shit. “Yeah, of course I will. I’ll see you at lunch then?” He gave him a gentle smile. Stratford nodded in response and took that as his cue to leave.
Sawyer watched as he dreadfully treaded out the door. He would make it up to him later, maybe with a coffee to appreciate him. He felt his chest tighten again, this time he couldn’t tell if it was his lack of meds or the feelings he kept hidden.
By the time he was done with his first two classes, the insane thumping of his heart had decreased ever so slightly. Now he was just having to deal with the pain of forgetting his meds and running across the campus.
He groaned, rubbing his temples as he picked up his work bag. Since his third period didn’t have a class, we would always head upstairs to his counseling office.
He started to tread lightly down the halls. Every chance he needed to, he would use the wall as a bit of support. Maybe he should listen to his doctor. Instead, he continued down the halls.
He smiled and waved at the faculty who acknowledged his presence. However, he couldn’t make out a word of what they were saying. He was too busy focusing on the amount of time it was taking for him to just reach the staircase.
When he finally got to it, he stared up at the flight of stairs. “Fuck, why did they have to put my office so far up…” he mumbled that along with a few swear words under his breath as he painfully made it his way up.
He took no breaks, taking it one step at a time. He attempted to go up as quickly as possible, however that seemed to be giving him more problems. He slowed down as he came upon the last two flights of steps.
The steps curved around each other, first going up the right side, then going up the left. That’s when you would reach the next floor. It was killing him to have to walk all the way up. Yet, he couldn’t grieve for himself. Come on, Thalassa, it’s just a few stairs. Stop being such a bitch about it.
He could hear all the voices of people in his life who gave him shit. That’s all he could think about as he walked up the stairs.
“Come on, Thalassa! It’s barely a 3 mile run!” His volleyball coach.
“You’ve gotten slower, Thalassa. What happened to my best swimmer?” His swim coach.
“Quit being a fucking bitch about everything, Sawyer. It’s barely a few flights of stairs, and you’re still young!” His late father.
Sawyer was doing all he could to just tread carefully up the stairs. He couldn’t let this make him weak. He couldn’t let a few fucking stairs beat him. Not when he was a top athlete and student in his early days. And especially not when it was just stairs!
However, that notion was challenged when he made it to the last, left side flight of stairs. He stared upward at them. It was barely ten steps. Yet, his heart was running a horse’s race, and he was starting to lose his vision.
He could’ve taken a break. He should have taken a break. However, he couldn’t help but to think that he could make it.
So, he started up the stairs, but as soon as he got three steps up—SLAM!
Sawyer had succumbed to his illness and passed out cold on the stone steps. He lay there unconscious on the ground. His chest fell up and down in quick, patterned, heavy breaths, almost like uncontrollable gasps of air.
When he finally came to, he was looking up at a ceiling he didn’t recognize. Though it was a familiar ceiling, it wasn’t where he was before.
His vision was blurry, stars danced across his eyes and grains like a tv screen filled his sight. He was sweating. Everything was hot, he could barely breathe, and whatever was talking–no, no–whoever was talking was barely making any sense. It was just a buzz.
His vision got less tunnelly, and he was able to recognize the outline of two faces out of the few that were huddled around him. Stratford and the school nurse stood over him like some kind of guardians waiting to take him to the boat of Chiron.
Stratford noticed he was awake, and tried to speak to him. Sawyer couldn’t respond. He could barely see what was happening around him.
When his vision finally cleared, and the room around him didn’t sound like buzzing, he could finally understand Stratford. He seemed to be frantically asking what happened, and why he didn’t say anything before.
“I’m just… not feeling too well. I forgot to take my meds,” Sawyer croaked out.
“Damnit, Sawyer.” Stratford sighed and started to rub his temples. Sawyer could tell he was mentally scolding him. Whatever it was, he wasn’t lecturing him yet.
“His blood pressure is dangerously low—” The nurse started but Sawyer cut her off.
“I’m gonna stop you there. That’s normal for me, I just need to… to lay here for a minute,” he sounded winded, yet he hadn’t moved since they had apparently moved him.
Instead of calling any paramedics, Sawyer explained the condition to the nurse. It wasn’t a very uncommon condition, she understood quickly. They decided to have Stratford take Sawyer back to the dorms. Both of them would have been given subs, and excused for the rest of the day.
Stratford helped Sawyer off the floor, they moved slowly but surely. It was silent the entire time. Sawyer knew what he was in for once they got back to the dormitory.
It took them roughly over twenty minutes of uncomfortable silence for them to get to the dormitory, then another ten minutes of grumbling hell up the stairs. Stratford didn’t care about taking care of him, he didn’t care that he had to assist this man at any point. He enjoyed taking care of him. What he was mad about was the sheer lack of care for his own safety and well being.
Once they got into Sawyer’s room, he helped him onto the bed with a wince. Sawyer looked up at the other man, who was already posted up like an upset father. He started to feel guilty.
“Thank you, I’m.. sorry for all that, let me at least make you a cup of tea for all the trouble–” Sawyer went to stand up in which Stratford protested, making him sit down.
“No, Actually you’re going to sit there while I get your meds and an ice pack for you,” He huffed and rubbed his face with one hand, “What the hell Sawyer? Not taking your meds? Are you absolutely insane?”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to take them. I just forgot!” He snapped back. “And… happened to forget them up here as well…” He sighed, “Look, I was running late this morning—which never happens—My whole schedule got thrown off by it!”
“Late or fucking not, Sawyer, your meds are absolutely crucial to take! You know that better than anyone, It’s your medical issues!”
“You don’t fucking get it, Stratford. I’m never off my game. I’m never late. I never wake up late. This was the first, and only, time.” His voice grew louder. “I get we’re close friends, and you care… But it’s not your problem! So why do you care so fucking much?”
For a moment Stratford had gone completely silent. Like he was fighting back the words to say. Like he was holding onto something. A deeper secret. There they sat for a few minutes, silently huffing at each other. They both were hurt.
“I’m– I’m sorry, Stratford. That was… That was a lot, I didn’t mean–”
“No, no. I understand. I just–” He choked on his words and decided instead to sit next to Sawyer. He thought of the words to say. They couldn’t come out of his mouth. He can’t just admit that for the past few months he’s been spiraling about his feelings for Sawyer. “Listen, I just care about you. A lot. You’re very important to me, and I hate to see you get hurt. Especially when you do it to yourself. I don’t understand why I care so much, but I do.”
Sawyer looked up from his lap, staring directly into Stratford’s eyes. Those deep, brown eyes that he could never get off his mind. He almost understood what he was trying to say. They both sat there in silence, staring at each other. Gazing into the eyes of one another, waiting for someone to make a move.
He couldn’t help but swoon, softening his demeanor for the adoring man. The way his hair curled over his forehead. His skin is soft to the touch. The blasted long coat he always wore. His hands fumbled with each other in his lap. His fingers twiddled around each other. Those soft, subtle lips that begged for attention… and those stupidly, adorable brown eyes. Those deep, chocolate brown pools of entrancement.
Sawyer couldn’t help himself. His eyes flickered between his eyes and lips. He noticed Stratford doing the same thing. It clicked in Sawyer’s mind almost immediately. He inched further to him, begging for Stratford to close the gap. Instead, gravity let that happen. Like a magnet to a pole, the two were intertwined in each other’s presence almost immediately.
As they kissed, Sawyer’s hands found his way to wrap around the other. Easing him closer so their bodies were as close as they could be in this position. The other hand found its way to gingerly hold the back of his neck. Whilst Stratford melted to his touch, wrapping his longing arms around the other’s frame.
They stayed like this for a short minute, both pulling away with hesitation. Staring at each other. There were no other words between them. Just soft smiles and longing looks.
Back they went, closing the gap between their lips again. The tension breaking in the air, finally.
Once they finally pulled away from each other, distancing maybe a few inches, Sawyer smiled at him and scoffed.
“I’ve wanted that… For a long time.” His smile only grew as the other grinned. “I think it was worth the wait.”
“You’ve driven me crazy thinking about it…”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, and making you worry, and–” Sawyer was cut off by Stratford laughing.
“Hush, hush. Just let me take care of you for now, okay?” He gave the other another quick peck on the cheek, before slowly moving from his grip.
He had gotten some water for him, along with his meds and some pain killers. He fixed a bag of ice to soothe Sawyer’s swollen joints, before joining him back on the bed.
It wasn’t long before they found themselves in each other’s arms. Cuddling up under the warm blanket together. Sawyer wrapped his arms around Stratford’s frame, giving him kisses that trailed from the back of his neck, to his shoulders. There they slept, cuddled together after a long day of hell.
A few weeks later, Sawyer had finally obtained a mobility aid. His cane, that he thought was properly boring.
As a lesson for his psychology class, he allowed his students to each take a turn painting something on the cane. He brought in some acrylic paints and brushes, and just let them go crazy. It was a great bonding experience.
Afterwards, he gave them the note of having learned a lesson on the importance of bonding. How important it was for people to come together and care for one another. The class laughed, shared experiences, and enjoyed the art time. Sawyer knows he’d done his job right that day.
After classes were over, Stratford visited him in his office.
Sawyer was admiring the work on his cane. The horse that had a heart next to it from Liam. A few stars about it from Alderic. Then there were waves and a school of fish created by Ryung and Rex. Lastly, but not least, a dagger that Ramona had made. Just to name a few of his favorites.
“Admiring?” Stratford tore his attention away from the cane. He looked up with a blank, curious stare, but soon melted seeing his now boyfriend standing at the door.
“Yes, dear. I let the students paint it. Come see,” he nodded for the other to come over.
They gawked over the small, hand paintings created by the students. Both of them being able to tell who had made them.
“See, I told you it wouldn’t be an awful idea. You’re just stubborn.” Stratford scoffed.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve told me a million times since I finally received it.” Sawyer stared up at him from his chair.
“And I’ll tell your stubborn ass again, and again.” He leaned down.
“How kind of you, dear,” he said sarcastically and Stratford just chuckled softly at him.
Instead of continuing to tease him, Stratford stole a kiss from him. Just a short, loving kiss hidden by the door.
There they would stay. Stealing shared looks and stolen kisses when nobody would be looking. Hidden behind doors, or even bookshelves. Nobody needed to know the fond love they shared. It was something for them, and them only.
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PAIRINGS: Rex Hwang (Trans femme) x Marshall Lowland
WORDS: 1.7k
WARNINGS: Drug use, smoking, pain (minor hitting), MINOR MENTIONS of abuse
GENRE: Mild angst and make-up kisses
SUMMARY: After a short argument in the hall, Marshall and Rex decide to skip class together. At first, it's to get away from the world and indulge in something to dull the pain. Then it turns into something a little more steamy than a quick smoke sesh.
The hallways bustled with quiet chattering. Loud enough to boom in the hallways, but not enough to hear everyone’s conversation. As the hallways flowed and students were headed to class, Rex and Ryung were slowly treading down the halls.
Ryung was actively trying to convince Rex not to skip, but she wasn’t in the mood for another boring lecture. Especially not sober.
“Listen, all I’m saying is that if I’d had a shot or two, I’d be more than willing to drone through these next few classes we have”
“And I’m saying that no matter how boring, it’s still a grade! I can’t do all the work for you,” Ryung whined and turned their face to the blonde.
“I never asked that of you. I can catch up! They’re not that hard.”
“You say that now, but the next thing I know you’re knocking on my door in the middle of the night to borrow my notes!”
“Ryung that was one time–”
“Actually it was eight. I counted.”
“Oh look at you, the math whizz of France, are ya?” Rex smiled with a hearty snicker, but Ryu wasn’t having it.
Just as they were about to say something they bumped into someone in the middle of the hallway. Ryu winced as they bumped into Rex after getting their shoulder slammed into. Rex whipped her head around to look at the man, glaring holes into his head.
“Watch where you’re going, asswipe!” She yelled.
The boy turned to face the both of them, glaring at them with malice.
“Maybe tell your fucking friend to watch where they’re walking”
“Excuse me?” She went to put down her book bag, which was more of a messenger bag than anything. Ryung stopped her and shook their head.
“No, no, Rex, it’s fine– I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention-”
“No, he should look up from his fucking shoes and pay attention to the world around him!” She defended
“Maybe you should be the one paying more attention, instead of eye fucking your boyfriend over here.” He nodded his head to Ryung, who wanted to hide in their own sleeves of guilt.
Just as Rex was about to say something, or go after him, the guy walked off waving a finger to the two of them. “Right back fucking at you, dickweed!” She yelled down the hall.
She huffed and turned Ryung around. There was an awkward silence for a moment between them, and Ryu just sighed.
“Y’know. He’s kind of cute,” Rex snickered.
“Uhm, ew?” Ryung’s head whipped over to stare at Rex.
“Yeah, I know. He’s an asshole. But that’s part of what makes him so attractive,” Rex continued to giggle, rolling her eyes at Ryu.
“Uhm? Again? Ew? The high school meth head? You know you can do better than that..”
“I can change him,” Rex laughed and Ryung groaned loudly.
“Oh my gods! Never again!” They laughed and continued to trail off to their next lecture.
⯎
Ryung had to book it to their next class, leaving Rex alone at her locker. She placed her books into it and looked down at her watch. She didn’t share her next class with Ryung.. and was debating on skipping.
“Hey, got a cigarette?”
Rex turned to see the same boy from earlier. She rolled her eyes and closed her locker.
“Maybe. What’s in it for me?” She leaned up against the cold metal.
“Maybe a joint, if you’re good for it.”
“I’m not good for anyone but myself,” She fixed the bag around her shoulder and started to walk away.
“Interesting.” He hummed in response. “You got a car or something?”
“No, why do you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Where the hell else do you smoke?”
“A little place I call eternity. Are you gonna follow or not?” She glared at him. With no words, he just followed her out.
There the two journeyed. Beyond the school grounds into the wooded unknown.
⯎
“Y’know..” the guy spoke, almost tripped over a massive tree root, “When you said you knew a place, I didn’t think you meant fifteen miles outside the school–”
“Please, we’re barely two miles out. Quit being such a baby.” She huffed before catching eyes on her favorite rock. She slid down a small slope of leaves, before plopping herself between a large tree and a nice rock.
The setting was gorgeous. There were a couple large boulders, a few trees, and about 50 feet away there was a large drop. Below that drop was a river, you could hear it from where they were. It was Rex’s favorite spot.
“So what? You just smoke out here all the time?”
“I mean it’s no grassy knoll, but it’s one of my favorite spots outside of the garden.”
“You’re an odd person,” he said, walking slowly closer to where she was.
“Are you going to sit down and smoke? Or are you going to complain the whole time.. whatever your name is” She glared.
“Marshall.” He sat before slammed down on the ground next to her with a groan. “Uncomfortable.. but it’ll do.” He said as he pulled the joint he had from behind his ear, lighting it up and taking the first hit. He then passed it to her, which she gladly took.
It was silent for a while, Rex was enjoying the calming peace of the outside. She stared up into the trees. Sometimes she wants to climb them and get lost in the branches.
She hated this student school. Wolfsbane Academy. She was shipped off here by her mother and step-dad. Obviously, she was happy to be away from them. But sent to a snob school with a bunch of rich losers wasn’t her forté.
“You ever think about running away?” She asked softly, taking a long drag off the blunt before handing it back. She stared at him until their eyes met. Deep brown eyes burning between each other.
He took it and stared at her, “All the fucking time. What’s it to you?”
The blonde shrugged, “Guess I’m just home sick is all.”
“What? You miss your fucking mommy or something?” He snorted and took a long drag from the weed, watching as the smoke curled up into the air. It made spiral patterns that danced so finely in the wind it would make a ballerina jealous.
“Actually, no, asshole. The opposite. But I do miss Germany,” she murmured and grabbed ahold of the blunt.
Wrong move to Marshall. As soon as she plucked the joint from his lips, he quickly took hold of her wrist. Squeezing it firmly in his hands. Rex’s eyes fluttered up to his, anger. Anger was all she saw in his eyes.
She fought and pulled her arm away, no words were spoken between them. He pushed her, attempting to get the blunt back, but she slammed him back into the dirt. Rex pinned his shoulder into the wooded floor.
“If you even for one second think your bruises and painful tactics are going to scare me, then you are sorely fucking mistaken,” she stared down at him with malice. Taking a long, hard drag from the joint just to tease him, before blowing it into his face.
For the first time, Marshall was slightly shocked. Shocked at the fact he didn’t make someone scared. Shocked that someone had the nerve to put him in his place, without abusing him. He just stared at her.
Rex furrowed her brows. She was searching for an answer. Maybe an insult. Hell a slap to the face would have worked. However, he sat silent. Completely silent.
“What? What are you staring at so hard? Do you hear me asshole!” She yelled at him.
“You gonna let me shotgun that, or what?” He stared up at her.
Rex’s heart stopped, then fluttered, and stopped again. Her breathing picked up a little bit. All she could do was laugh. No witty remarks, no hitting.. Just an exception.
She took a large drag of the joint. Instead of inhaling it, she placed her hand gently under his chin and lifted his head up. Leaning down, she hovered her lips over his. Barely brushing them against each other. From one mouth to the other, the smooth smoke floated between them like a wave of water.
Marshall inhaled her smoke, staring at her in the eyes before blowing into her face. She loved it. There was nothing more she loved than the smell of weed. After the smoke died down, it was just them. Staring into each other's eyes, the sound of rushing water in the back, the wind whistling through the trees, and the sturdy ground below them.
Marshall couldn’t help but look between her eyes and lips. The softest things in the world. The only soft things he would ever be able to have close to him. The only soft things that weren’t afraid.
They both hesitated, moving closer to each other. As soon as they were just inches away, they slammed together like magnets. Like a force between them couldn’t help but melt against the other. They tangled together like the roots of a tree.
Marshall’s hands found their way through her hair, down her spine, and gripping on her hips. Holding her so tight, hoping she wouldn’t slip away.
Rex had one hand out, holding the blunt as not to drop it into the ground. The other firmly placed in the crook of his neck, fiddling with the ends of his curls.
Neither of them could let go, not even for air. They sat there for what felt like seconds, minutes, hours. But it couldn't have been longer than a few minutes. When they finally pulled back, each gasping for air, Marshall took the blunt from her.
“So… what was that about my grip having no effect on you?” He smirked, blowing the smoke in her face again.
She rolled her eyes and plopped back onto the forest floor. “I said your bruising tactics weren’t going to scare me… I never once doubted your grip,” She winked.
Marshall sat up and learned over her, letting her take a hit of the joint from his fingers, before kissing her deeply with the smoke between their lips. Blowing it out to the side, that’s how they spent the rest of their day.
Tangled in each other's arms, scared of letting the other go. Listening to the calm, quiet of the forest. Making out like teenagers would. Never once stopping to think about the time of day or any of the classes they were skipping. Or how they were going to explain this to people later… They just decided to ignore the world for now.
SUMMARY: Neither can sleep on account of the missing kids and murders that have been happening around campus. Stratford goes to the only person whom he knows can bring him down to a calmer reality--Sawyer Thalassa. Instead of giving him words of wisdom, he uses musical therapy to help calm his anxieties.
The flame flickers as the air circulates. The smell of lavender and sage filled the room so loudly someone could probably smell it down the hall. Sawyer stepped out of the bathroom, groaning as the steam filled the room.
He was ready for a whole night of self-care. Before he started his routine, he had gone through setting up his instruments and tea kettle. After finishing a nice, hot shower with some candles, he was ready to get into a small jam sesh with a soothing cup of chamomile.
The recent uproar in murders has surfaced some bad memories. Sawyer had been struggling to sleep recently, especially when he had to worry about his students... And Stratford. He stays up late because he physically couldn’t stop worrying about everyone in his life and who could be next.
He put that thought out of his mind, shaking his head and reaching for his tea kettle with a heavy sigh. Placing two tea bags down into the large cup, he poured a hefty amount of sugar before adding in the boiling water.
Just as he was stirring the mixture together, manifesting his protections into the war cup, he heard a frantic knock at the door. By the pace of the knock, he already knew who it was.
“Just a second!” He called out, quickly going to his drawers to grab a tank top to throw on. To be fair, the man was only wearing his pajama pants. He wasn’t expecting visitors, but this one in particular he didn’t mind.
Sawyer threw on the black tank top to match his thin, cotton pajamas. He then opened the door and leaned against the frame.
“How can I help you, Stratford?”
“I can’t sleep. These murders are really getting to me…” Stratford sighed, pinching the skin between his brows. “Do you– Can we talk about it?”
Sawyer’s eyes widened. These weren’t words he ever believed to hear from Stratford. He never wanted to talk about his feelings unless Sawyer directly asked him to.
“Come inside, apologies for the intense smell of sage. I have some incense and candles lit.” Sawyer opened the door wider and stepped back into his quarters, hoping for the other to follow. He pointed to his bed for Stratford to take a seat while he sat in front of his desk. His desk was covered in candles, knick-knacks, offerings, and statues. His desk was mainly used as an altar space. However, he enjoyed doing his work with his deities watching over him.
“I don’t mind, actually it’s kind of calming..” He started anxiously fiddling with his hands. Rubbing them together as if he were out in the cold with no gloves. Sawyer noticed the anxiety building up; Before he could say anything, Stratford’s eyes peeled over to the instruments laid out. “You play guitar?”
Sawyer’s eyes perked up before he realized that he had his instruments out. Part of him wanted to hide it but… It was too late for that.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m the best at it. I do enjoy playing guitar here and there. Why do you ask?” Dumb question, Thalassa.
Stratford furrowed his brows and smiled a tad, “Well it’s laid out in front of you and ready to play? I was just curious, that’s all.” There were a few seconds of silence. Tension that built, before Sawyer broke the silence.
“Would you like to hear me play? I don’t think I’ve played with an audience for years, but if it will help calm you… I don’t see why it would be a problem.” He asked as he slowly reached for the guitar.
“Well, if you don’t mind, then I’d be honored to be your first audience member. Though, I wouldn’t consider myself an audience,” he laughed nervously.
Sawyer didn’t respond, he just picked up the guitar. He played a quick few notes just to check the guitar was in tune, then made adjustments accordingly. For the first time in a long time, Sawyer was actually nervous. Not just because he was playing the guitar, but because he would be singing. Not just for singing for anyone, but for the guy he likes?
Sawyer mentally cringed at that word. Likes. Likes, Liked, Liking. He’s pushing forty for crying out loud. Having crushes on people is for school kids. Then he looks at STratford, and it’s almost like his entire being melts into the chair.
He just decided to shake his head from the cringy emotions he felt for this man. He finally decided to recuperate his confidence and started strumming the chords to Blackbird, by The Beatles.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Stratford gazed at Sawyer, watching every curl of his finger and shake of his head. Observing as the man was almost folded over the acoustic instrument. His hair cascaded like a waterfall over his face, barely going an inch over his shoulders. His eyes were soft as they stared at the guitar strings.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Sawyer was heavily focused on the chords, he didn’t want to fuck it all up just because he was nervous.
Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark black night
Blackbird, fly
Blackbird, fly
Into the light of the dark black night
His voice dripped like molasses and spread like honey. Sawyer had a lower range, but with this song, he sounded almost angelic to the man who sat in front of him. The anxiety that once filled him has now almost completely left. It became a minor thought in the back of his brain as he studied the way Sawyer’s hands glided over the guitar strings. He wasn’t even sure if he was watching Sawyer anymore. He was almost like a whole new person in this light.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
He strummed the last chord before looking up. He would never admit he was looking for approval, but he totally was.
“I’ve never heard a more mesmerizing cover of that song.. You played beautifully, wonderfully even,” Stratford’s eyes moved from the guitar up to Sawyer. Their gazes met one another. For a moment, they just stared. Like a spark had shocked the two of them.
At that moment it was silent. Not an awkward silence, but a yearning one. Neither of them knew the words to say, they didn’t know the feelings they had. That silence just confirmed how comforting the presence of another can be.
“You’re very kind, Stratford.” Sawyer spoke softly, smiling as he glanced back down at his guitar. “I’ve always had a fond love for The Beatles. I can play any song, on all of my musical muses,” He laughed softly as he shifted his gaze to his electric guitar and bass sitting in the corner.
“Well, if it’s not too much trouble.. Maybe you could play another one?”
Sawyer laughed a bit more at this notion. “You’re asking me to play covers of my favorite band? This feels like a ploy to get me to play more songs,” he looked straight up at Stratford.
“Sawyer Thalassa, what are you proposing?”
The two of them shared a deep, connectable laugh. How could Sawyer refuse the adoring man in front of him?
As the candle continued to burn and the clocks continued to turn, Sawyer played a few more covers for Stratford. Neither of them got the sleep they were hoping for at the beginning of the night. The solemn beginning had turned into shared anxieties and comforts as Sawyer played his next cover: In My Life.
writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.
Most of the time when someone is faking DID it's usually for understandable reasons
Now let me explain before you come at me
Most people who fake it are either young and don't understand why they shouldn't be doing it or are doing it for attention, which usually indicates a deeper problem they aren't getting help for, or they are misunderstanding their symptoms
Harassing, threatening and "calling out" people who do these things generally helps no one, all it does is install fakeclaiming culture into the community, which tends to group in people who are genuinely suffering still
So next time you see someone you think is faking, keep that shit to yourself, block it, ignore it, leave them alone. I don't care if it's "painfully obvious" stfu and mind your own.
Lord Dionysus of androgyny, I pray to you to protect my trans siblings and give them hope in these trying times.
Dionysus Maenoles, enraged by how his people are treated, I ask you to liberate those who feel trapped and lost. Unloved in their own homes by their own kin.
Dionysus Saotes, I praise you, and thank you for all you've done. Almighty liberator of the grape vine, wonderful protector, please guide us.
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It says so much about antisemitism when you have people (people who should damn well know better!) believing Donald Trump rather than going, "Hey, is he trying to divert criticism by blaming the Jews for his actions?"
They'd rather believe the serial liar, adjudicated rapist, 34-times-convicted felon and fraudster than take a moment to ask themselves, "Hey, why is he doing this and saying this in this case and using those words?"
as a child being told "the moon controls the tides" with no additional explanation was like. oh okay. you want me to believe in magic? you're talking about magic right now? okay. fine
If you have BPD, you are no better than a narcissist.
If you are mentally healthy, you are no better than a narcissist
No disorder inherently makes you a bad person.
No state of mind makes you better or worse than anyone else.
I’m tired of people demonizing personality disorders, saying we’re all abusive or evil manipulators, when in reality the majority of us are just people who have been deeply hurt.
What really bugs me is when people with BPD start spouting bullshit about people with NPD. You are not better than a narcissist, you are similar. There is a reason why BPD and NPD are in the same cluster of personality disorders. It’s like calling your identical twin ugly. Buddy, you’re talking to a mirror.
Yes BPD and NPD are different disorders, but again, they’re in the same cluster for a reason.
