i will catch you

“Hey, Quebec?” You spoke into the mic, knowing that only one other person could hear you.

“—eah, Zulu?” A familiar man’s voice came through your headset, the very beginning of his sentence cut off as he hadn’t let there be enough still air before he started speaking.

One might think your job lonely or heroic or an opportunity to travel and see some of what the vast Milky Way had to offer. Space Traffic Control was by no means glamorous, and you certainly didn’t feel like a grand figure of mythology in your standard-issue orange jumpsuit that all employees wore on duty, sat at your desk with your feet crossed under you and your mic in one hand as you used the other for leverage against the counter to spin yourself around and around, the various lights on your control panel turning into a starshower before your very eyes. But you quite liked your job. You had the same shift almost every day, so your schedule was predictable, and while the landings and takeoffs that you oversaw were pretty regular thanks to the advancements in space travel, every so often, something fantastic did happen, and you did get to save the day with your quick thinking and directions. You were very rarely thanked or even acknowledged for it, all of the credit and glory going to the pilots, of course, but you didn’t mind—keeping your head down had always best suited you.

And you could never feel alone, even if you were the only person in your control tower. Not when you had Quebec. It was policy to have two controllers on duty at all times, in case of medical emergency (or non-emergency, since even Space Traffic Controllers had to use the bathroom). While you and Quebec weren’t always on shift at the same time, the shifts that you shared with him were by far your favorite. You’d never met in person, nor seen his face, nor even knew his real name, only his call name (Quebec Kilo). But other than that, you knew everything about each other. It wasn’t against any rules for STCs to know each other’s names, but since you only ever used call names on shift, it was pretty pointless to give out your real names.

The landing dock had two towers facing each other, and while they technically did have windows so you could see outside at the approaching spacecraft, even when the lighting was perfect, you could make out no more than a fuzzy, shadowy outline of a person in the window opposite you.

“What did you bring for dinner?”

“Don’t tell me you’re eating your dinner already.” His voice was clearly exasperated.

You hurried to swallow the chip in your mouth before replying. “No…”

“I can hear the food in your mouth.”

“Just a snack!”

“And now you’re going to get hungry again right after dinner and have to go to the vending machine down the hall for another snack and leave me alone with everything.”

“For like five minutes.”

“Remember when that Class-III Tanker came in for an emergency docking while you were on a snack break?”

“Remember every single other time when that didn’t happen, and it was perfectly uneventful?”

He kept his mic on to sigh directly into it, letting you know exactly how he felt. “Just go ahead and eat all of your dinner, why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” you bickered back.

“I just brought a rice ball from the convenience store in Sector II,” he answered your question anyway. “And an iced tea.”

“You like to warm your rice balls up or do you eat them cold?”

“I’ve got a salmon one today.”

“Question still stands.”

“Who eats warm salmon and mayo rice balls?”

“Plenty of perfectly normal people.”

He laughed, his disgust from earlier fading away. “You warm up your salmon and mayo onigiri, don’t you?”

“What’s weird about that?” You immediately defended yourself.

“Nothing, I suppose,” he gave in. “I’ve just never thought to try it. Pork, sure. Beef, absolutely. Salmon or tuna? Never.”

“You should try it today. I know that tower has a microwave.”

“Our towers are exactly the same.”

“Almost.”

“What are you leaving me this time? And where?”

You tried to imagine his grin, despite knowing nothing about what he looked. You had decided long ago that he had dimples, one deeper than the other, because that was obviously cuter. And probably straight teeth, since he spoke like he was well educated, which meant his family probably had the money to afford braces if he needed them.

“You’ll find out,” you replied in a sing-songy voice, having already stashed various gifts somewhere around the office. Days in the towers were long and boring, so you’d been teaching yourself more and more complicated origami, always leaving pieces in hiding spots around the tower for Quebec to find the next time he was in there.

The ten STCs were split into two teams of five. Since the station was so large, it was a chore to commute back and forth between the towers every shift. So, each team of five was assigned to one tower, then you’d swap every two months. This meant that your cabin also moved every two months to the opposite side of the station, but you didn’t mind—crew cabins were impersonal and barebones anyway, and different sectors had different offerings in the convenience stores, cafeteria, food court, and just different people. It was a change in scenery even if you were still stuck in the same corner of space.

“And what do you have for dinner, Zu?” He hummed, imitating your tune.

“Well, I just finished my chips,” you sighed with disappointment, tossing the wrapper away. “They were salt and vinegar. But I still have some fruit—honeydew, it’s my favorite—and a leftover sandwich from the caf from yesterday.”

“The fruit—is it imported? From Earth?”

You scoffed. “Pfft! I can’t afford that! You know how much we make! Wait—Unless you’re making more than me. Bec, are you making more than me?”

“No, no, no,” he reassured you with a laugh. “I just thought you might have saved up, since it’s your favorite.”

“It’s my favorite, but I still can’t justify spending that much on something that I’m just going to digest.” You shook your head. “Ag-bubble-grown is perfectly fine for me, thanks.”

“Practical.”

“It’s what I grew up eating. I don’t have a spoiled palate.”

“Like I said, practical.”

A blip appeared on one of your screens, at the same time that all the information on the craft appeared on the screen beside it. “It’s that civilian craft we’ve been waiting for,” you said. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Because that’s always been great via audio,” Quebec chuckled.

“Hundredth time’s the charm.”

“Rock paper scissors, shoot—Rock!” “Paper!”

“See?” He said pointedly, and you imagined him rolling his eyes. “The person who says it always has the disadvantage because of the delay.”

“No, I think you almost had me that time. Really.”

He sighed and cleared his throat, which you took as your cue to turn your mic off. There was another distinct crackle of him turning his outgoing signal on before he started speaking to the incoming spacecraft.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Sparrow, November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey. Do you copy?”

“Civilian Sparrow November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey, we copy, Space Traffic Control.” The voice of the pilot was even more garbled than yours and Quebec’s, typical not only of civilian spacecraft, but judging by how short the N number was, he had a much, much older craft as well. There had been so many made by now that some N numbers were over 10 characters long and included letters too. After the initial identification was made, the N number would typically be abbreviated to the last three characters to save time, unless another craft was in the area with a similar N number. “We are approaching your portside slightly positive on your z-axis, but we’ll sort that out before we get there, about five minutes out. Do we have permission to land?”

“Control to Sparrow, you are all clear for landing. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Roger-dodger. Thanks, Control. Fair winds. Sparrow over.”

“Fair winds,” Quebec echoed. “Control over.”

Quebec had hardly turned off his outgoing feed when you caught another blip on your screen, this one you weren’t expecting, approaching quickly. You frowned as Quebec cursed under his breath, the information on the spacecraft once again reading out underneath the information on the Sparrow. This was also a civilian craft, slightly larger than the Sparrow, and definitely newer, the N number at least 10 digits long by the look of it.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India—”

“Yeah, copy,” the pilot of the new spacecraft cut Quebec off.

“I need to finish identifying your craft,” he said through gritted teeth. “Civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India-Zero-Zero-Seven-Four-Two-Zero-Juliet-Foxtrot-Niner-Eight-Delta. Do you copy?”

There was a long bout of silence, so Quebec asked again, “Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do—”

“Yeah, I copy, didn’t you hear me the first five times?” The pilot was clearly irritated now, and so were you and Quebec.

“Were you holding the button to turn your mic on the first five times?” Your coworker asked.

“I’m landing in like, two minutes. It’s clear, right?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“We don’t have your flight on file, and there’s another spacecraft that did put their landing request in ahead of time that we’re expecting to land within the next five minutes. So, no,” Quebec reiterated with no sympathy. “Do an orbit. An eccentric one.”

The pilot sputtered indignantly before declaring, “This is an emergency!”

“All readings from your vessel indicate that it’s in perfect condition. Brand new, even. What is the nature of your emergency? Please give us specific details so we can assist.”

You, meanwhile, were glad that your mic was muted, because you were keeled over at your desk laughing, wiping at the tears being forced from your eyes.

Clearly unable to think of a specific emergency scenario, the Hummingbird pilot gave up. “Fine! I’ll orbit and land in ten minutes.”

“We will process your landing request and let you know if you have permission to land.” There was no response from the pilot, but Quebec nevertheless said, “Control over.”

“Hummingbird over,” he finally replied, not hiding how peeved he was.

The dot signifying the Hummingbird changed course, beginning an oblong orbit around the space station that would thankfully take it out of the path of the incoming Sparrow.

“Asshole,” Quebec muttered over your internal frequency.

“Just because we’re not near any major planet doesn’t mean they can show up unannounced and expect to land whenever they want,” you scoffed. “Nobody seems to get that we’re the last station around for light-years, so everybody stops in. Which is why they’re trying to land in the first place.”

“You would think they’d think about that, but no,” he sighed. “Everybody assumes nobody exists outside their own ship. Including us. We’re just disembodied voices to them.”

“I wonder how many people think they’re talking to an automated system when they talk to us.”

“Lots, I’m sure.”

A few minutes later, the Sparrow landed with no issues, and you waved to the quaint ship of various patchwork panels of tan and browns as it came in, despite the pilot being unable to see you. It was just something you liked to do.

“Bec?”

“Yeah, Zu?”

“You want me to let the Hummingbird know their landing has been approved?”

He groaned. “No, but better you than me.”

You snickered, composing yourself right before turning your external comms on, establishing a connection to the Sparrow with a flick of a switch. “Space Tower Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?”

“Where’s the other guy?” The pilot asked, surprise evident in his tone. He was clearly ready for a round two.

“Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?” You repeated in your most neutral, artificial customer service voice.

“As long as he stays gone,” he grumbled. His time-out imposed by Quebec had clearly done him no good. “Yeah, this is civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta. I copy, Control.”

“Your landing request has been approved. In the future, please submit your landing requests at least twelve standard Earth hours prior to arrival in non-emergency cases.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What’s your ETA, Hummingbird?”

“1743.”

“Copy. Fair winds, Hummingbird. Control over.”

“Fair winds,” he repeated unenthusiastically. “Hummingbird over.”

The Hummingbird was of course a sleek ship, slightly larger than the Sparrow in size, but all smooth, thin, long shapes and a glossy scarlet red paint job with chrome accenting. You flipped it off as it glided by to dock with the space station.

After coming back from your late-night vending machine break, you catapulted yourself back into your rolly chair with enough momentum to roll back up to your station with no extra movements needed. Putting your headset back on, you announced into your mic, “I’m back!”

“No disasters,” Quebec reported dryly. “This time.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” You clicked your tongue.

“No.”

“Anyway, I got cookies, in case you were curious,” you told him cheerily. “And information!”

“What sort of information?”

“There was a paper on the bulletin board by the vending machine advertising skiing lessons on Nixu for this upcoming snow season. Starts in just a couple months. You know what that means?”

“We’re about to get all their tourists coming through here on their way to go ski and snowboard and whatever else,” he sighed. “For the next three Nixiun years.”

“Yup!” You confirmed through your bite of cookie. “How many standard years is that? Five? Ten?”

“Too many.”

“Well, Nixiun summer was peaceful while it lasted. For the whole six months.”

“God, have we really been working here for that long?”

“We started within a couple weeks of each other, I think. My one year’s coming up.”

“My one year was a few days ago.”

“Aw, and you didn’t tell me?” You gasped in betrayal. “I would’ve done something!”

“It’s fine, Zulu. I think I was on shift with Pops anyway.” Pops—another one of the Space Traffic Controllers on your team, an older man who happened to be assigned the call name Golf Papa (shortened to Pops).

“Yeah, but you and me are like—” You gesticulated wildly as you scrambled for the right word. “You know?”

“No, not really,” he laughed. “I need you to elaborate a little bit more.”

“We’re Quebec and Zulu, you know? Bec and Zu.” You could see your pout in the reflection of the glass window as you looked out at Quebec’s control tower across from you. “I know we’re all close but you and me are like extra. Right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Quebec agreed without a hint of sarcasm or jest. “When’s your one year? I want to make sure I don’t miss it.”

“In six days. I expect fireworks,” you teased.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’re working together that day, I think.” You pulled up the schedule on your computer connected to the ship’s intranet. “Yeah, the 1600 to 2400 shift again. It’s starred, we’re going to have a VIP that shift.”

“What about the day before?”

You hummed as you looked it over. “Wednesday… I’m off, and you are on the 2400 to 0800 shift with Uni. You have a lot of time between shifts on Wednesday and Thursday at least. Ooh… never mind.”

“What?”

“You’ve got alt shifts Tuesday-Wednesday. You’re on 0800 to 1600 Tuesday with Uni.”

With 8-hour shifts and two controllers needing to be on shift at a time, your supervisors tried to give you at least two shifts—16 hours—off between when you were scheduled to allow for adequate rest and downtime. Being scheduled for alternating shifts, on, off, then back on (or god forbid, double shifts), was a nightmare for trying to get any rest, errands, or other personal time in.

“Let me see this,” he mumbled, presumably pulling it up on his own monitor. A few moments later, he groaned. “Kill me now.”

“Hey, I’ve got the 1600 shift Tuesday with Indy,” you scoffed. “I’ll kill you if you kill me.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad…”

“You interact with him for all of five minutes when you swap, I have to deal with him for the whole eight hours.”

“Our crew quarters are near each other, actually. We’ve grabbed lunch.”

You clutched your chest as your jaw dropped in horror. “I thought we were friends, Bec, and now I find out you’ve grabbed lunch with my archnemesis?”

“Normal people don’t have archnemeses, Zu.”

“Well I—” A blip popped up on your screen and you quickly switched your comms over to address the incoming ship. “Space Traffic Control to military Wasp, Kilo-Five-Five-Eight. Do you copy?”

Military ships didn’t have N numbers like civilian crafts, instead they had a much shorter ID number. The first letter indicated the classification of the vessel, while the numbers after were unique to that ship.

“Military Wasp Kilo-Five-Five-Eight to Space Traffic Control, we copy,” the pilot replied automatically. “We’re not looking to dock, just requesting a conditions report.”

“Nothing major in the past twenty-four hours and nothing expected in the next forty-eight. Sending the full specs to your ship now,” you said, quickly doing so on your computer.

A few moments later, she confirmed, “Received. Thanks, Control. We’ll be heading out now.”

“Fair skies. Control over.”

“And following seas. Wasp over.”

It seemed a bit silly to you when you started as an STC, to say an old Naval blessing every time you ended a conversation with someone, considering that you were in space so there were no skies or seas to speak of. But soon it became second nature to you. You found that most civilians just echoed ‘fair skies’ back to you, but military personnel would actually complete the phrase.

As soon as you had turned your outgoing feed off, you got right back into it with Quebec, closing your eyes and putting a hand over your chest as you went on with your impassioned opinion, “I think having an archnemesis livens things up. Especially around here.”

“I thought that’s what I was for?” He teased.

“Do you want to be my archnemesis instead?”

“Could be fun.” You imagined him shrugging with a lopsided grin on his face. “Are you taking applications?”

“Only for you.”

“Ooh, I feel so special.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired of wasting time and brainpower on Indy of all fucking people.” You kicked your feet up on the desk, eyes focused on the other tower now as you grinned at it. You always left shifts with Quebec with sore cheeks. “I need someone more on my level anyway.”

“Are you saying if I become your archnemesis then you’ll think about me all the time?” His voice curled around your ear, still playful but not quite the same friendly banter as before. You weren’t sure when it started, but there were moments like this, between your taunting, and poring your hearts out to each other, and rousing games of audio rock-paper-scissors, and actual work, that the mood… shifted.

You bit the tip of your thumb to keep from literally screaming, taking a second to compose yourself before answering. “Mm… maybe.”

“Because then you’re already my archnemesis.”

Muting your mic, you then literally screamed and pumped your fist into the air victoriously. After a deep inhale, you turned your mic back on, unable to contain your giddiness in your one-word question, “Really?”

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you let out an embarrassing yelp directly into the mic, whipping around to see the STC who was taking the next shift from you. “Fucking—Delta! What the fuck, man?”

Quebec was now laughing directly in your ear over the headset, and you took one ear off to hear what Delta said back to you.

“I’ve been here for the past two minutes. I thought you saw the light.” He indicated to the red light above your station that flashed when someone opened the door to your tower. You must’ve had your eyes shut when Delta came in and missed the signal. Delta looked entirely unamused and a little disgusted as he looked down at you, continuing, “Anyway, I’m ready and I can’t listen to you and Quebec do… whatever that is anymore.”

Your stomach dropped out of your ass at his words. What the hell did your conversation with Bec sound like to other people? Apparently bad. You barely knew Delta, only interacting with him during shift hand-offs, and, yeah, he seemed a bit uptight, but still, this was embarrassing.

Quebec was no longer laughing, now coughing and sputtering on the other end of the line too. You meekly put the mic back on the desk and took the headset off, handing it over to Delta. He took disinfectant wipes to the headset, waving them in the air for the solution to dry before putting them on and taking the seat which you had just vacated. You shuffled over to the table by the door where your bag was, as well as the IN/OUT log, which you signed before hurrying out.

Returning to the hall where your crew cabin was, you walked by an open door and stopped to poke your head in, beaming at the woman sitting on her bunk. “Hey, Uni!”

“Hey, Zulu,” the STC on your team—Uniform Lima was her full call name—lifted her hand in greeting. “Just get off shift?”

“Yeah, I was going to grab something to eat and head to the gym before sleeping. Want to come?”

“I already worked out, but I could eat,” she agreed.

“Let me get out of my jumpsuit then we can go. You pick.”

Indy was the only STC who was a gym rat to your knowledge, but being in space, working out and supplements were just a fact of life in order to prevent muscle atrophy and other deterioration of your body. You were used to it, having spent plenty of time on spaceships growing up. Going to the gym with a buddy made the mandatory exercise regimen go by a lot quicker.

After changing into casual clothes appropriate for the gym, you grabbed Uni and headed out. She was a few years older than you, not nearly Pops’ age, but you knew she had been here for a little while before you started. Uni was a tall woman, tall enough that you had to crane your neck a little to look up at her, with dark black hair that she kept cropped close to her head. There were a few premature specks of grey at the back, which you never mentioned to her in case she hadn’t noticed.

“You were on shift with Quebec today?” She asked casually.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you answered. “You… checked the schedule?”

“Just to see when I was working. You had your dopey little smile on, so I figured.”

You covered your mouth with both your hands, squinting at her over them. “What are you talking about?”

“No, I think it’s cute. You guys are so cute when you talk about each other.”

“He talks about me?!”

She burst into laughter, fondly patting the top of your head. “Gotcha.”

“You’re mean,” you huffed, swatting her hand away. “Mean and awful and a liar—”

“I wasn’t lying!” You friend defended herself. “He does talk about you when we’re on shift. And it is very cute, too. I just also gotcha by bringing it up.”

The two of you had arrived at the food court that never closed, and she started towards one of the options. You followed, not caring where you ate right now, and also desperately needing to continue this conversation.

“What does he say, Uni?” You pleaded, shaking her by the arm as you got in the short line. Time was pretty meaningless on a space station in the middle of nowhere, constantly getting travelers arriving and departing, so people ate whenever they pleased. The only ones who tended to keep a pretty regular schedule were the crew—except STCs, of course.

“He talks about you the most, out of all the STCs. It’s always Zulu this, Zu that. He knows we’re friends, so he asks about how you’re doing if you guys haven’t been scheduled together for a while, stuff like that.”

You dug your toe into the metal panel under you as you thought about it. Suddenly, your friend was pinching your cheek and cooing at you, “Cute!”

“Uni!” You whined and smacked her hand away, cradling your now-tender skin. She laughed as the two of you shuffled up in line.

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

Because of where you were in space, the last station for a very long while along the intergalactic travel routes in this region, it wasn’t unusual for you to receive special arrivals. Politicians, ambassadors, military leaders, celebrities, you’ve seen a lot in your one year as an STC. Today, an ambassador from Earth was stopping over on their way to an intergalactic peace conference. You and Quebec had received the briefing for the landing in advance to your crew emails, so the ship information that appeared along with the dot was already familiar to you. When the VIPs were of this caliber, all of the higher-ups on the ship would be at the docking port to greet them. The protocols for landing were also slightly different, meaning that having two STCs was necessary for much of it.

“Space Traffic Control to military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner. Do you copy?” Quebec took over the initial paging.

“Military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner to Control, we copy,” the pilot’s voice came back quickly. “Sending out recognition codes…”

An incoming message from the Heavy flashed up on your screen, and you accepted. Quebec read his out first, then you got on the mic to read out your three-number code.

“Great, thanks,” the pilot acknowledged. “Are we clear for landing?”

“Yes,” Quebec confirmed.

The two of you seamlessly worked through the pre-landing protocols with the Heavy’s pilot. Finally, you just had to wait for the craft to get closer before you could begin the next phase: landing. The pilot dropped off the comms momentarily to address something internally, promising to get back on when it was time to begin the landing. That just left you and Quebec again.

“Wonder why they even keep having these intergalactic peace conferences,” he mused. “They only invite the factions that are already at peace, never the ones with any tension.”

“It’s symbolic, I guess,” you shrugged. “Maybe they talk about how to go about achieving peace with the ones that aren’t there? Or to promote continued peace among the ones that are there?”

“It’d probably be worse to stop at this point, huh?”

“Yeah, might not look good if they stopped holding the intergalactic peace conference that’s been going on for the past couple decades.”

“Still, Th’irin always has something to say about—” A heavy clunk punctuated the end of his words, followed by silence. Not fuzzy silence, like when the mic was on but the person on the other end was quiet. Dead silence, like the mic had been shut off entirely.

“Bec?” You said uncertainly. Someone must have come into his tower, and he was addressing them off-mic.

When he still hadn’t responded a minute later, even to tell you to hold on or wait a minute, you started getting nervous. Sitting forward in your seat, you futzed with cover on your microphone as you called into it again.

“Quebec? You there?”

Nothing.

You paged him properly this time, hitting the button to flash the lights in his tower as you enunciated as clearly as possible, “Space Traffic Control Tower One to Tower Two, Quebec Kilo, do you copy?”

At the same time, your hands rushed to send a message to him via the STC system.

[TOWER1: Q? DO YOU COPY?]

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as you desperately went to send another message via the ship intranet to your superiors instead. As soon as you had started drafting it, though, you cursed under your breath and deleted it. They would be down at the dock waiting to receive the ambassador, not at their usual stations with monitors ready to receive emergency alerts from the STC towers.

“Military Heavy to Control, do you copy?” The pilot’s voice cut through the sound of your heartbeat, and you banged your fist on the desk in frustration. You quickly went into the system and switched it over to be a dual STC setup on your monitors since Quebec apparently wasn’t going to be able to help.

Turning your outgoing feed back on, you confirmed, “Control to Heavy, we copy.”

Now with both set of STC controls, you had to move twice as fast to input everything and go through the landing protocols with the pilot. All the while, in the back of your mind, the black put of worry in your stomach only grew and grew.

In between operations, you were drafting a new message, this time to the other STCs. You doubted any of them were going to be checking their staff emails not on duty, but you needed some kind of help. It was a succinct SOS, and you had to focus back in on landing the ambassador’s ship again, and sent it off without another thought.

“Your partner’s quiet,” the pilot commented, their tone light, and you knew they meant nothing by it. “Did you guys rock paper scissors for who would take what parts?”

“Mm, yeah,” you forced out a laugh through gritted teeth, smacking the page button for Quebec’s tower again—just in case.

The light in your tower flashed, and your heart nearly exploded with hope that it was Quebec signaling back to you, that something had just gone awry with his mic and he was still there. Then a hand tapped your shoulder, and you were thrown back into despair again.

It was Pops, the lines on his forehead clear as he furrowed his brows in confusion. He held his digipad out to you, your SOS message on it. You held a finger up to gesture for him to wait a moment as you were receiving pertinent information from the pilot.

“Seven-Five, Two-Zero,” you echoed, entering the numbers as you said them. “Copy.”

Taking one ear of your headphones off, you switched your outgoing comms off before immediately rambling, “It’s Quebec! He dropped off the mic like five minutes ago and he’s not answering, Pops!”

The older man held his hands out in a ‘calm down’ motion. “You’re sure he’s not just getting a snack?”

“No, no, he’d tell me! It was in the middle of his sentence, and we’re literally landing an ambassador’s ship right now!” You sputtered out, gesticulating between your controls and the large ship right outside your window. “He wouldn’t just leave! Something’s wrong!”

His jaw set and he gave one solemn nod. “How far are you?”

“The rest is automated now. But I can’t—”

“I’ll monitor,” he cut you off. “You go check on Quebec.”

“He’s all the way—”

“Now, Zulu!”

You shot to your feet and threw your headphones off and onto the desk. Running from the control room, you didn’t even stay to see Pops take over the station like you’re supposed to.

The space station was huge. It was a thirty-minute walk on a good day from one side to the other, but now that you had fully been overtaken by panic, all of the worst-case scenarios playing in your mind, your stomach consuming itself in fear and anxiety crushing your lungs, it felt insurmountable. Probably your only saving grace was the fact that word had gotten around about the ambassador’s arrival, so lots of people were down on the observation decks above the landing bay to watch the ship dock rather than milling through all the halls that you were currently sprinting through. Even the crew-only shortcuts that you had access to—which you knew were faster—felt like agony to wait for. Standing around in the elevators felt like standing in lava despite the fact that you knew they were moving 100x faster than it felt. The crew corridors were narrower, and you cut corners too close, banging your shoulder or elbow a few times. In your impatience, you lost the location of Tower 2 a couple times on the directory when selecting your destination in a transporter, screaming and kicking the wall in frustration. The pain distracted you from all the what-ifs, and grounded you back into this moment, so you didn’t actually mind it much.

You clutched the handles of Tower 2’s elevator so tightly your fingertips went numb, gnawing on your bottom lip until well past the point you tasted blood. Finally, you were at the control room, and you damn near pried the doors open yourself. Pushing yourself through the doors as they opened, you probably bruised your shoulder again, but you hardly registered it.

Under the red light that flashed to announce your arrival, a man was sprawled on the floor between the chair and the control station. You ran over, pulling the chair away to reach him. He was face-down, and you took his headphones off to roll him over.

“Quebec!” You shook his shoulder a little less than gently.

You didn’t immediately see any sign of injury and grabbed his wrist to try to find a pulse. It was faint, but there, and when you put your hand under his nose, you could feel his shallow breaths against your skin. He didn’t rouse, though, and that was when you saw a drop of blood trailing out of his ear.

“Oh, God,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet to lunge for the bright blue medical emergency button by the door. The button lit up, and you ran back to grab his headphones and mic.

“—ation EMTs will be at your location in less than two minutes. Please communicate the nature of your emergency if you’re able,” the dispatcher’s voice requested.

“I just found the STC in this tower passed out. He’s got blood coming out of his ear and he won’t wake up,” you said.

“Do you know how long he’s been in this state?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Okay. Any sign of injury?”

“No, nothing. He was fine, he was talking and just, I don’t know, collapsed I think!” You didn’t mean to snap at the dispatcher, but you were freaked out by how little you knew.

“Alright, okay. I understand. The EMTs will be there very soon. Can you stay on the line with me in the meantime?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is the patient?”

“An STC—call name Quebec Kilo.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m an STC too. Zulu Echo. We were on shift and he just dropped off the mic in the middle of a landing.”

“Got it, got it.”

“Where the EMTs?” You asked, feeling for Quebec’s breaths again.

“They’re in the elevator now.”

The elevator door opened then, and your throat seized up anxiously. “They’re here. Thank you.”

“I’ll hang up now. Goodbye, Zulu Echo.”

You took the headphones off as the two EMTs swarmed Quebec’s body, watching them start evaluating his vitals with their field scanner.

“We have the information you gave dispatch,” one EMT informed you. “We’re going to take him to the infirmary in this sector.”

You grabbed the edge of the desk to pull yourself to your feet. “I’ll—”

“Elevator isn’t big enough for all of us,” the other informed you regretfully as they had started loading him onto a stretcher. “You can take the next one.”

“Right. I’ll be right behind you.”

You watched them take him out, and as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, felt your knees buckle under you. Barely catching yourself against the desk, your eyes filled with tears, which you barely saw the flash of a red light through. The elevator wasn’t opening again, though, so you figured it must be a page.

Picking up the headphones and mic, you kept it on the internal system as you croaked, “Pops?”

“Oh, Zulu, there you are,” his relief was evident in his voice. “How is he?”

“Bad, I think,” you confessed, tears slipping down your face. “He was out cold, and there was blood coming from his ear. The EMTs took him—”

“You know where?”

“Sector 2 infirmary.”

“So what are you doing still talking to me?”

“Right. Bye, Pops.”

Your hands were trembling as you set the headphones down on the desk. With a trembling breath, you recalled the elevator. It was empty when you stepped on, and you numbly selected down. The infirmary was close by to the tower, and you wiped your eyes in the hall outside before entering.

It was eerily empty, and your stomach dropped. You dug your nails into your palm to try to get control of yourself again. Finally, a nurse came out of the hallway and into the main hallway where you were, clearly surprised when he spotted you.

“Sorry about that.” He focused a frazzled smile on you. “How can I help you?”

You were sure you were mirroring his expression. “I’m here to see somebody. He should’ve just come in with the EMTs…?”

“Yes, the doctors are working on him.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to where you can wait.”

You were put into a small patient room with a bed and one chair. After pacing for who knows how long, your feet finally got tired enough that you sat down in the chair. You didn’t sit for very long before you were back on your feet, pacing again. That repeated at least three times before you finally heard something from the hall.

Your eyes were already on the doorway when a gurney was pushed in, Quebec laying atop it. Stepping out of the way of the two nurses who transferred him from the gurney to the bed and started hooking him up the monitoring equipment, you were then pulled aside by the doctor who had come in with them.

“Are you a friend?” She asked.

“Yeah, we work together,” you confirmed. “I called it in.”

“Good timing,” she commented lightheartedly. She filled you in on the issue—most of the specifics went over your head, but it didn’t sound good—then gave you the prognosis, “We plugged everything back up. He’ll have a headache for a few days, and needs to take it easy for the next week. But other than that, he’ll be fine.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“How far medicine has come, huh?” She chuckled. “Something like that would’ve killed him a decade ago. But he can go on like it never happened now.”

You looked over at where Quebec’s eyes were still closed, still unable to calm your panicked heart despite the doctor’s reassuring words and relaxed demeanor. “When will he wake up?”

“An hour or so.” She nodded towards the door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a couple other patients to check on.”

“Oh, go for it.”

“Push the call button if you need anything, or just holler. Small infirmary, someone will hear you.”

With her departure, it was just you and Quebec. You pulled the chair up to his bedside, gathering your knees to your chest in a self-soothing grasp. His heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, and you noticed that his hand was hanging off the bed a little bit, so you reached forward to pick it up and rest it over his abdomen like his other one. There was a small piece of gauze affixed under his ear, and you recognized it as the ear that had been bleeding earlier.

“I’m never letting you live this down, Quebec,” you stated through a sniffle. “Every time you bring up that Tanker showing up while I was at the vending machine, I’m going to bring up you passing out while we were in the middle of landing an ambassador’s ship.”

He continued resting, chest rising up and down.

“So you better wake up soon, so I can start teasing you.” You poked his shoulder before taking your hand back and wrapping your arm around your knees again.

For the first time since you entered Tower 2, you took a moment to process what Quebec actually looked like. Dark brown hair, bangs falling out of the way of his forehead and pieces curling around his ears, and a freckle under his right eyebrow.

You sighed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Of all the times you’d let yourself daydream about finally meeting Quebec in person, this was absolutely not how it went. Usually, it was something like bumping into each other while you were switching crew cabins, or you just so happened to go to a more centrally located place to eat and started talking to a handsome stranger and found out that it was him. Funny enough, you never thought of actually asking Quebec to hang out off-shift. You were more than happy with what you had, fully content with the knowledge that nobody in the universe knew him better than you, and vice versa. So what if other people knew what he looked like or knew his real name? That never felt important.

Before you realized it, your eyes were fluttering shut, your ears continuing to listen to the rhythm of the vitals monitor. Eventually, a confused grunt caught your attention, and you looked up quickly.

Quebec was hesitantly squinting one eye open, rubbing his other as he seemed to be struggling to adjust to the bright lights in the room. You stayed quiet as you let him wake up a little more and acclimate, getting two eyes open and blinking as he registered first the hospital gown he was wearing and infirmary bed he was laying in, then did a sweep around the room, brown gaze landing on you.

“Hey, Bec,” you greeted him gently, offering a small smile. “How do you feel?”

“Zu?” His voice was hoarse, gaze unblinking as he reached a hand towards you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you confirmed, taking his hand between both of yours. “You had uhm, a problem. The doctor can explain—But you’re better now.”

He clutched his head, and you winced sympathetically.

“Your head will hurt for a bit, but other than that, all better,” you corrected yourself. “You feel okay?”

He nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “You came all the way here?”

“You passed out in the middle of us landing the ambassador’s ship,” you told him frankly, a hint of teasing in your tone. But your voice wavered as you added, “I was worried sick. Found you on the floor of the tower.”

“Ah, sorry. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand.

“No way I was going to let you die, Quebec. I mean—What if they started putting me with Indy instead?”

He was just staring at you, mouth parted, before a soft smile came across his features, two dimples marking his cheeks. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” You chuckled nervously.

“That you’d be the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You covered your face as you laughed and shook your head. “Quebec—”

“Kun.”

“What?”

“That’s my real name,” he hummed. “Qian Kun.”

“Kun,” you sighed fondly. “I knew you’d have dimples.”

“What?” He giggled, touching one of his cheeks. “You could hear my dimples?”

“It was a hunch.”

He looked down at the IV in his arm. “They’ve got me on some good stuff.”

“Yeah, they do,” you agreed.

“I mean it, though.”

“Mean what?”

Kun turned over on his side to face you. “You’re beautiful, Zulu.”

You traced the lines of his brows, his freckle, his eyes, his nose, the curve of his smile, his cupid’s bow, and his jaw with your eyes. “Y/N. That’s my name. Y/L/N Y/N.”

He mouthed it to himself first, slowly, then said it aloud, “Y/N. Thank you.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Kun.” You pressed a fleeting kiss to his hand that you were still holding. “Really.”

You kicked your feet up on the desk, tapping your toes in the air along to an imaginary beat. Clicking your internal comms line on, you asked, “So what are you doing after this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kun immediately teased back.

“Yeah, that’s why I asked, asshole,” you scoffed.

“Ouch, first day back on the job and this is how I’m treated?”

“Doctor said you’re fine, no need to throw yourself a pity party.”

He laughed, but answered your question nevertheless. “Gym and then dinner. Missed enough required exercise thanks to that little incident I’m going to start withering away.”

“I’ll have to find another archnemesis if you do.”

“So I am your archnemesis.” His grin was audible, and you could perfectly imagine it now, bright and dimpled. “Well, I can’t have you thinking about anybody else.”

You looked over your shoulder before offering, “Want some company?”

“Sure. Sector 1?”

“Damn, you really that afraid of withering away you’re willing to come all the way over here?”

“I was being a gentleman—”

“Wait, your favorite restaurant is in the Sector 1 food court,” you said knowingly. “Would that have anything to do with it?”

“It’s a win-win—you don’t have to come all the way over here, I get to see you…”

“And eat at your favorite spot,” you snickered. “Smart, Bec.”

“I would’ve offered even if I hated all the food in Sector 1, Zu,” he declared dramatically. “Hand on my heart.”

Despite knowing each other’s real names, it was still habit (and technically proper) to use call names on shift. You checked on him every day during his recovery over the past week, so you’d gotten used to calling him Kun as well.

“Uh-huh,” you agreed mildly. “I’ll meet you in the gym at 1630 then.”

“It’s a date.”

After getting through your mandatory workout for the day, you and Kun meandered over to the Sector 1 food court. Despite your teasing, you also got food from the same restaurant as him. He didn’t move to take a seat in the food court, however, jerking his head for you to follow him. With your bag of food in one hand, you did so, intrigued. Kun apparently had a destination in mind, weaving through the crowds with intention and reaching back to grab your free hand to not lose you.

Soon, you arrived at a crew-only observation deck devoid of other people. You couldn’t recall if you had been to this particular one before, but the door slid shut behind you two and the sounds of the rest of the ship faded away. This particular deck was pointed directly at a large plasma cloud, glowing with energy and all sorts of swirling pinks, purples, and greens.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you gushed, sitting on the ledge under the window.

“I like seeing how the cloud has changed whenever I’m in Sector 1,” Kun said, sitting next to you. “It’s different every time.”

You drew your gaze over to him, eyes catching on the faint line under his ear, marking where he’d been operated on just last week. It had healed very fast, of course, as all surgeries now did, and you reached out to touch the skin under it with a fingertip. “Do you feel okay, Kun?”

“Brand new.” He took your hand from the incision and laced your fingers together. “I promise, Y/N.”

“Good.” The two of you ate your dinner like that, hand-in-hand, watching the plasma cloud and stars, sometimes talking, and sometimes in silence. And that was more than enough.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

You know that phrase “Right time, right place”?

Well you were in the middle of your Junior abroad trip in Barcelona, when you decided instead of going to the beach like your peers were you headed to the library called “Biblioteca Publica Arus” 

You were skimming through the bookcases not really paying attention to anything but the books when you bumped into something, well more like someone 

About to apologize you were caught off guard by how tall he was, mouth was hanging slightly open and eyes widen kind of deal

How the fuck can he be so tall….and so handsome!? Wait? Red Eyes???

“Ay perdón, no estaba prestando atención a lo que me rodeaba.” (Omg sorry, I was not paying attention to my surroundings)

Not expecting him to have such an irresistible deep voice with an accent that left you feeling weak in the knees he answer “No te preocupes hermosa, debería ser yo quien te diga lo siento, claramente estás en tu área de interés y te interrumpí.” (“Don't worry beautiful, I should be the one saying sorry to you, your clearly in your area of interest and I disrupted you”) and he finished that off with a wink

That wink had your mind going in an overload of emotions

You guys introduce yourselves and he took you out for Crema Catalana 

He didn't eat any which you found odd but none of that mattered when you were with him

There was just something about him that made you feel so attracted to him, it's an indescribable feeling but all you knew is you wanted to be with him forever 

He was absolutely a sweetheart with you, held the doors open for you, would listen to you when you would ramble about your studies and your hometown, he also shared about his life and said he was just passing through 

It was like that for a couple of week when you have time off from your studies until you had to go back to your university, you feel for him hard 

He offered you to come with him back to Italy and you could go to a school that is nearby, all expenses paid and you would get to live with him 

You would be crazy not to take the offer so you did

Now skip to a year, obviously you know about him being a Vampire and have meet the other guards, but you have never felt so happy 

He told you about the mate bond (which made so much sense now), and your changed date was set after you graduate 

If you never went to that library who knew if you would of ever meet your hunk of a mate 

Demetri:

It was feeding time for the Volturi, and you happened to be one of the unfortunate souls so be part of the group 

You can't be blamed with this, you got convinced to take this tour by a beautiful goddess who could probably convince you to do anything if she wanted 

So here you were admiring the interior design on this ancient castle, you were a sucker for this type of architecture 

The tour ‘ended’ in a throne-like room, it was gorgeous in there, but wait…is that a drain? Or two? Why are we surrounded by what you can describe as beautiful beings who are too beautiful to be humans?

Oh shit! Am I going to die? This is what I get for following my love for women and exquisite architecture mindlessly 

As if on cue the beautiful beings around the room come at the group and you witness so much blood and screams 

Vampires!? Soon after that realization you spot one stalking towards you like a predator does to a prey, he’s beautiful with his brown locks and burgundy eyes maintaining his eyes on you 

Before he even gets to you, you feel someone grab you and pull against their chest with covering your mouth, you try to fight but you hear a husky seductive voice whisper into your ear “Relax gorgeous face, i'm not going to let you get hurt, trust me”

He took you to a room and said he will be back later 

He came back and oh dear gosh he is beautiful

He revealed his identity and why he saved you 

From that day your destiny was to live with Demetri and one day become a Vampire like him

Of course it took you a while to get used to be with everyone else but with time you grew close to them 

You later found out the one who was about to drain you dry that fateful day was Alec (he of course apologize, but you always kept an eye on him)

With Demetri it took you a solid 2 weeks when you gave him a kiss, he was patient with you and he wanted you to make the moves or waited for you to give him permission to do other things 

He was easy to be around, you guys would talk about anything, and he would take you out to the most romantic or cutest dates, there was no inbetween

The relationship just happened to become so natural, almost like you knew each other since forever 

Alec:

Boy oh boy are you for a ride 

You happen to meet to be a witness for the Cullens for the whole ‘immortal child’ fiasco, you knew Carlisle since he was turned so you were really good friends

When the Volturi arrived, you got a weird feeling, your initial thought was a bit of fear and panic when you saw the whole coven but then it quickly turned to “Mate!?”

You looked at each member trying to identify who it was until you saw him

Oh gosh, of course it had to be one of the infamous intimidating twins 

He is breathtaking, and those eyes, they were your favorite color, burgundy

Just the thought makes you want to run your hands through his dark locks, wtf are these thoughts, well you did just find your mate so it's not your fault 

As if he knew someone was looking at him, his gaze snapped to you 

The eye contact was filled with tension and what you can tell as yearning

He quickly looked away and you also 

When the whole drama was finished and Marcus confirmed the bond, you ended up going with the Volturi back to Italy 

But this is the interesting part, he avoided you for a while 

Like you tried to approach him but he would vanish, Jane would just give you the death glare, and frankly you do not want to feel her wrath 

Marcus was the one who basically ‘locked’ you guys in a room and that is where hell broke loose 

Harsh words were said, venom in eyes, but then he said “I do not mind you, I think I can get used to having you as a mate, but friends first “ which you agreed with

And soon a beautiful friendship was created 

Took almost a year of building up his trust and Jane’s 

He was the who showed affection first, he held your hand one time in a meeting with the kings 

And then you guys had your first kiss on your first date in the gardens 

Then the rest is history 

Jane:

She’s a tough cookie 

She meet you when you were brought in by Felix and Demetri to the Kings 

You were brought in for the reason of your ability, you were able use an invisible hand that can hold your victim in place, you could even crush them if you wanted to (You could imagine the excitement in Aro’s eyes when he heard about your ability)

A bit like the Alec’s encounter, you two made eye contact and the intensity was so strong 

But even if Marcus confirmed your mate bond, she wanted no sort of relationship with you, heck the looks she would give you left you scared for your life 

Obviously you do not fear her, but what she can do left you always on high alert 

You gave her space, not wanting to force this bond, and not wanting to anger her either 

She didn't speak a word to you for 5 months, when she did it was simply “I was reading that book” (it was about flowers)

You responded with a simple “oh i'm sorry my little death flower”

The look she gave you was unexpected, her eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened slightly basically this was her reaction: 👁️👄👁️

Same with Alec, it took a year from that day for her to be with you

You were the one to make a move, when you were both reading her hand was in reach and you held it, her head snap to you but you focused on the book, you only squeezed her hand but she did not pull away or anything on the contrary she scooted slightly closer to you 

There was another time she laid her head on your shoulder suddenly but you didn't say anything 

Until when you asked her out to a date and well that was the best decision you ever made 

You took her out on ‘picnic date’, which only involved blood with wine

“It can be you and I forever….what do you say?”

I wanted to scream out yes but he started to dissolve, he was fading away. No please come back…

I woke up from the dream with a thin layer of sweat, grabbing my bottle of water, I drowned it down. Fuck I cant believe it was a dream. It seemed so real. He’s been in my dreams for the past couple of months now, is he even a real person? He seems too perfect to exist, but everything that has happened in the dreams are so specific, and I have the same dream every night too where I see him and we just hang out and talk. It's almost like an out of body experience. 

We talk to each other just like I would in the waking world, full of conversations, it's come to a  point where I feel like I know everything there is to know about him. I get out of my bed and walk out to my little balcony in the little place I rented for the month. Volterra Italy…I don't even remember how I got here but here I am. Demetri mentioned he lives here, wondering where he is?

I let a cold breeze hit my face as I grip the beautifully crafted railing, as I thought over where to start my search for him. Such a small town and no sighting of him yet. I have only been here for a week so far but I'm already growing a bit impatient. What if he is not here?

I get ready for the day and head out for my search for him. I remember in one of my dreams that Demetri mentioned he is a tracker, he did not specify what he tracked but he said he was the best in the world. Wish I could track. I ended up wandering around the town when I found a big fountain, it's so entrancing the way the water sprouts out. I sit by it as I debate what to do next, there's not much I can do unless…

I see the most gorgeous woman to ever grace this earth at a distance, I must be in heaven because she is an angel. I get this feeling that I need to approach her, like she is the one who will give me all the answers to my questions. Maybe she will know where I can find Demetri. I walk over to her as she turns to face me, she gives me a breathtaking smile as she quickly skims me.

“Posso aiutarla?”

I take a minute to try to understand what she said but my Italian is so rusty, those years of learning Italian in High School went out the window immediately.

“Sorry my Italian is super rusty, do you speak English?”

She gave me a sheepish smile but nodded.

“Well of course, I am well educated in multiple languages, I am Heidi, how may I help you?”

Just with the way she talks is leaving me in a trance, I'm forgetting my whole purpose of why I needed to talk to her. Wait, why do I have to talk to her? Think, think, think. Oh right, Demetri!

“Do you know where I can find Demetri Volturi”

Her smile dropped and it contoured to a look of pure confusion, her head tilted slightly with her gaze turning to one of puzzled in a matter of milliseconds. Have I said something wrong? I don't like how she's looking at me now, I feel myself squirm under her gaze. 

“How do you know of him?”

“Wait, he's actually real?”

Her eyebrows furrowed now as she kept staring at me.

“He is…but your didn't answer my question cara”

“I well…would you believe me if I said I been dreaming of him?”

“Humans sure are strange beings, have you ever actually met him in person?”

“No”

“Who told you he would be here?”

“He did”

“How?”

“He told me he lives in Volterra, Italy”

“I cannot phantom how this is even possible, so you're telling me, Demetri told you where he is via dream and you never meet him but you know who he is?”

I nod, I know this sounds crazy now that she says it out loud but it is the truth, I would have to be mental to come up with such a story, maybe I am. I don't even remember how I got here to start off with.

“Is he here?”

“...Yes but he is busy currently”

“When will he be free?”

“I'm not sure, when he trains it is never known how long he will take”

“I don't mean to be rude or anything but is there a way you could get him to come here, I would like to meet him”

She still had a confused look on her beautiful face.

“I still cannot wrap my mind how a human like you knows a volturi guard and knows where we live too, what are the odds it would be Demetri?”

“What do you mean by that? Is he a bad person or something because I can tell you in my dreams he was an absolutely sweetheart, I have never meet such a sweet man in my whole life”

“Yes he is a sweetheart, I didn't mean to imply he is a bad person he's the opposite I just meant what are the odds the only guard who does not have a mate might have found them in a strange way”

“Mate?”

“You will be told about them once we figure out if you are his mate”

“And if I'm not?”

“Well lets just say you came at a bad time for the Volturi, our feeding time is soon”

I shivered slightly at the remark, feeding time? Why would that be a bad thing? Is it not just dinner or I guess it would be lunch since it is early afternoon. Or unless they are very private about their dinner time that they don't have guests? There's something off but I hope I can meet Demetri soon. I wonder how he will react. Will he know who I am? Does he have the same dreams as I? Or have our dreams been like walking dreams where he comes into mine? 

My curiosity is interrupted when Heidi mentions something that peaks my interest

“I will see if he can spare a minute or two but I will guarantee you that the possibility of that happening is low, please just wait by the fountain”

I nod as she walks away, even her walk is so entrancing, does she even have any flaws? I take my previous spot by the fountain as I wait for them. I hope the odds are in my favor and I do get to meet him. Will he be exactly like in my dreams, the way he acts and talks. I felt that sudden anxiety rise in me, what if I disappoint him in a way. He's literally the handsomest man to ever walk upon this earth, he does not belong in this world with the beauty he carries.

I felt my heart beat a bit faster the longer I waited for them to return, I have never felt so nervous before. I wanted to throw up but I tried my best to stay calm. Deep breaths…in…out…in…out. Okay that's working, I feel less stressed but my thoughts are still running wild. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes turned to hours, hours then felt like weeks. What if he is refusing to meet me or he is really busy. 

I hate how my mind suddenly thinks of all the worst case scenarios to ever exist when nothing bad has happened. Yet at that moment, my breath was hitched, the world stopped moving, nothing could be heard but footsteps who I can already assume who they belonged to. I felt an invisible force tilt my head to the side to be met with a dark clothed figure standing at the entrance of a doorway that could only be described as an entrance to a museum. He would be the statue that millions of people would travel all around the world to gaze at. It would be a blessing of a masterpiece.

Am I in one of my dreams with him in it? It certainly feels like it but my raw emotions I have right now feels true and physical. He walked over to me and I swear I saw flowers sprout at each step he took, his eyes maintained contact with mine. His eyes held so much expression that I could read each emotion he was feeling. When he stood in front of me his arm extended to pull me up and into his chest. His arms wrapped around me loosely as the desire to breathe again was nowhere, my hand went up to rest on his cheek to make sure he was physically here. 

He is here, this is no dream because if it were the minute I touched him he would have dissolved into my delusions. 

“Your real”

His smile could have brightened a whole room alone without needing actual light. 

“I certainly hope I am, I can't believe I have finally found you”

“You've been waiting for me?”

“For centuries now”

I ran the same hand that was on his cheek through his blonde locks as his eyes closed. We felt like we were in our own little bubble of paradise, everything was still and quiet which at this moment felt right. I saw his skin give a little sparkle which was strange but it made him seem more ethereal, it was made clear he is not human but to me that does not matter to me because all I want is him. 

When his eyes opened they seemed darker as they were shimmering slightly with unshed tears. He looked so precious that I had the strong desire to engulf him in a deep hug that would hide him from the world. He gave me a weak smile as he guided me to where he came from, he held me as if I were a porcelain doll. 

“I will introduce you to my masters, they would like to meet you since a certain person decided to let the whole castle know I found my mate”

“So I am your mate?”

He stopped walking to look straight into my eyes, into my soul.

“Do you not feel how we are gravitating toward one another? You are my moon as I am the ocean. I have never felt this feeling in the centuries I have been around, I finally feel complete with you here” 

Breathless he leaves me. His words are better than any love song I have ever heard, no artist can come close to being more romantic than him. Even after every dream I had of him, I would wake up with the same reaction. We eventually arrived at a room where three figures sitting in thrones were at. These must be the masters that Demetri mentioned, next to me and Demetri was a mountain of a man. I had to crane my neck at an angle to look up at him, and even then I almost couldn't see his face because his shoulder was blocking the side view of his face. 

“So she found you? This little human found you?”

“She did Master”

“And she’s truly human?”

“Yes she is, can you not see the color in her cheeks”

I kind of just stood there awkwardly as they spoke of me as if I weren't there but Demetri made me feel comfortable with the way he still had me in his arms. 

“But how did she come to find you?”

Everyone turned to look at me the same way Heidi did when I asked about Demetri, which resulted in me to squirm. The blonde one spoke up which made me almost jump out of my skin.

“Speak human”

Demetri got a bit tense but spoke up for me. What a gentleman…

“Master please, don't you see your frightening her, please don't raise your voice to my mate”

Oh my, so polite and protective. The way his voice got soft as he spoke made my heart melt. I gained confidence from how he defended me that I finally spoke up.

“I'm not sure how I ended up in Italy or how I got here but all I can say is I would have dreams about Demetri which then lead me here somehow, its difficult to explain but I just knew I had to find him even if I was not sure if he was real or not”

The third master who has not spoken in the whole time we've been here finally stood up and walked over to me and Demetri. He moved so slowly that I felt as if he walked faster he would turn to dust and vanish.

“You confound me dear one but I have never seen such a strong bond between mates. I hope with time we can figure out how this was able to happen because I am fascinated by this”

I nodded but suddenly relaxed a bit in Demetris arms. The one who seemed to be the main guy to run this whole place clapped loudly with a laugh to follow it. I wanted to cringe slightly but I felt that would be disrespectful to do so, so I bit my tongue.

“I think she might be gifted, oh the joy this brings me, our own Demetri has found his mate and she is gifted, a joyous day it is indeed”

so when you have an argument or you seem unhappy, he's scared. sex is when he feels most in control, pinning you to his bed while you're on your tummy, marks in the shape of his hands on your ass and the back of your thighs that sting as his hips ram against you. his thrusts are slow but hard, caging your head between his forearms and rambling into your hair, "is that nice, baby? fits perfectly- my perfect girl", he tucks your hair behind your ear and away from the half of your face that isn't squished into the pillow, cooing at your flushed cheeks and long lashes clumped together with tears.

"my pretty girl.. too pretty to be crying"

"i'll fix it, baby. anything- everything for you. just tell me what you want"

You and your friends are standing around the ladder waiting for everyone to climb down to make the trip to the great hall together. It's filled with meaningless chatter about homework or questions over what lunch might be. But you’re not paying attention because you’re across from Adrian Pucey, who's analysing the rose quartz in his hand everyone had received during the class. His fingers are running over the smoothed out edges and he grips it tightly just as he looks up to make eye contact with you. You swallow nervously looking away heat growing from your chest up your neck. He looks down again grinning at the pink crystal in his hand.

You had been friends with Adrian since starting at Hogwarts. Which didn’t feel as special as you thought it was when you figured out he was friends with everyone. Nevertheless you had harboured a crush on him despite not wanting to. He had a certain charm that was hard to ignore. He was nice, outgoing but private and intelligent. Even sarcastic or bitter words sounded sweet coming out of his mouth. And because of that you had a hard time hating him even if he did do something to upset you. But if he did he would apologise, he was self aware enough for that.

Not forgetting to mention how pretty he was. Brown eyes that could melt you in one glance. Dark hair that shaped around his face and soft boyish features. If that wasn’t enough he wore a silver chain with a small symbol relating to his family and a silver ring on his right hand just cause he thought ‘it looked cool’. But he knew it would draw attention to his hands. The hands he caught you staring at not only 3 seconds ago. Salazar, that's embarrassing.

Miles jumps when he makes it to the last 3 steps of the ladder and everyone's attention turns to him slightly annoyed. He shrugs, gesturing for everyone to start walking. Cassius in front followed by Daphne and Terence. Then you, Adrian, Graham and Miles. All in a line as you walk down the small staircase with no handlebars. Your hand traces the wall as you walk, comforting the nerves of being so high up and Adrian walking closely behind you.

“Do you guys think crystals can actually change your energy, affect your mood and everything else Trelawney was saying?” Adrian asks out of genuine curiosity.

“They’re rocks Adrian, if rocks could do that muggles would be all over it” Graham comments “Or” he pauses and everyone stays quiet to hear what he’s about to say next “The ministry would conceal it from them I mean it is magic right?”

“I don’t think the Ministry could conceal rocks Graham” Terence mumbles repositioning his bag on his shoulder “There's too many of them and they form naturally meaning not all of them have been found”

“Yeah Graham, how did you not know that?” Miles antagonises pushing Graham slightly making him grab onto Adrian's shoulder who mimics him grabbing onto yours to steady himself.

You tense pausing for a second leaning against the wall. You close your eyes, breathing deeply to calm down. These damn staircases.

“You okay?” Adrian asks, leaning out to the side to see you. His hand still firmly on your shoulder, he squeezes it gently letting you know you're safe, you aren’t falling.

You nod side eyeing him and he drops his hand back into his robe pocket. You immediately miss his hand on you but you ignore it turning around to Miles.

“Unlike you all, I actually value my life. Can you not try to push us off this staircase?” you grumble and Miles puts his hands up in defence mouthing sorry.

“I think it’s interesting,” Adrian says, picking the conversation back up again as everyone starts walking once more “She said rose quartz is good for relationships didn’t she?”

“Don’t tell me you believe the rubbish Trelawney teaches” Cassius chirps in, turning his head to give judging eyes to Adrian and in turn gives them to you too.

You look down at your feet feeling thankful the staircase is about to end along with this conversation. Not that Divination didn’t sound ridiculous but it was interesting and fun compared to other classes. Cassius didn’t have to believe it but it didn’t mean he had to judge others who did.

“I don’t know but I’ll take my chances” Adrian grins, slipping the crystal into your robe pocket as he walks past, his fingers slightly brushing your hand in the process.

He gains speed to walk in line with Cassius and Terence and when he gets to them he turns around looking directly at you. You stare back at him gripping the crystal in your hand. It was still a bit warm from his own hand and your heart feels like it’s paralysed but beating a thousand miles a second. He smiles, his teeth biting his lower lip. He isn't embarrassed but there's a slight tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Smooth Pucey” Graham shakes his head having seen the whole thing “Real smooth”

You smile back scratching the side of your nose trying to cover up the fact your cheeks were definitely the colour of the rose quartz now.

Adrian Pucey didn’t need a crystal to make you fall in love with him. You already were.