druvis

𝘾rushes for you was inevitable. You loved too easily for a world that weaponizes it like a tool, you understood this from a very young age. Love is meant to be hidden from the pressing eye and be left in private, so you hide it, and you hide it well— there is a reason why people don't know your past crushes despite loving people so easily. It's hidden in quietness and short responses, things that usually indicate a lack of fondness, so it's a perfect defense mechanism in hiding your love.

However how do you get this sickly and helpless feelings out of your system if not to express them?

Your art is usually where you express your love: from your drawings, writings, and music, you act like an artist with a muse. You squeel and giggle whenever you draw their features on a canvas, whenever you write about your feelings on a piece of paper, when you play your music with them in mind. You can't help it. Because when you are punished for showing your love, you hide it in art.

Every piece is dedicated to them, every premise is made with them in mind, every thing is plagued by thoughts of them, and you can't stop.

You truly are a sucker for love.

So when you are transported in twisted wonderland. The world where survival of the fittest is the staple in it's society. You crawl back to your little shell and live in it like a hermit crab— because in a sense, you are one. A hermit crab that hates it when people get close to you.

Admittedly, this made you very unfriendly and unapproachable on the outside. Despite being popular for being a person in another world that managed to beat seven powerful overblots, you were still a quiet and meek person that glares at anyone except for Grim. Although they could see little cracks in the surface, like: when you keep Grim a little too close, when you give headpats to Ortho, and when you affectionately punch Ace and Epel. They'd just think that it's in your nature— and because Grim is kinda like your adopted son in a sense so it makes sense for both of you to be inseparable. They think that your love language is being discrete with your actions, they think that your love language is as subtle as you, they think that you aren't capable of getting cuteness aggressions and little bursts of affections.

Oh how utterly and completely wrong they are.

You were finally home from a draining day and you cannot wait to smother Grim with all your love and affections.

No literally.

The moment that you and Grim went inside the comfort of your bed, you grabbed Grim from the scruff of his neck and leaped to the bed while hugging Grim with little giggles escaping your mouth. He yelped and tried to protest and wriggle out of your cuteness aggression, but alas, he was too tired to do so, so he just gave up and melted into your touch.

"You don't know how much I wanted to do this with you while you ate!!" You squeeled while squeezing his chubby cheeks with your hands.

"OI HENCHHUMAN! STOP DOING THAT" he yelled while gritting his teeth.

You giggled "you're so cute!!!" You coo'ed

"I AM NOT CUTE. I AM THE MOST POWERFUL MAGE IN EXISTENCE-"

That's Grim's average day with his henchhuman. It's chaotic, it's affectionate, and it makes his cheeks numb from all the pinches you give. But he wouldn't trade this for the world— now, he would rather get collared by Riddle than admit that to your face, but it's true. You were the only one that truly gave him unconditional and comforting love that he didn't have to fight for. That's literally revolutionary! And he's nothing but a selfish and glutinous beast so he soaks it in like a sponge, he melts into it despite his protests, and he expects it despite saying that he doesn't need cuddles to sleep (he does) because you were the only one that he didn't need to fight for in life.

At first he was sceptical with it. You're quiet, you scowl at every boy that looks at you, and you literally punched Ace! So why are you giving him hugs every minute and kissing his cheeks as a goodnight?? This most definitely means that you are expecting something in return from him...

Right?

"What you mean Grim? I don't need anything in return, I just love you, isn't that enough?"

"W-what!? are ya' stupid?? I know that ya' are from another world and all— but people here don't get all lovey-dovey without somethin' in return!"

You smiled.

That was the first time he's seen you smile since you got here in twisted wonderland. That was the first time you actually smiled with fondness without a little twitch of aggression on your face.

"Don't worry Grim. As long as Im here, you won't have to work for any hugs or goodnight kisses"

He stared at you speachless.

"Okay?"

Then like a dam. Emotions started to pour out of his heart, he felt all of it: the little sting in his eyes like he was about to cry, the silence that spoke a million words, and the lack of words because it got clogged in his throat. So he didn't say anything and just hugged you as he burried his head on your chest.

He tried not to cry, he truly did to seem strong and seem as if your words didn't mean anything to him. But he did.

You smiled and hugged him back.

That was the secret of the two of you.

You were affectionate and filled with love that seems to have no end, you were an artist that was motivated by love, and you were as clingy a golden retriever with seperation anxiety. While Grim was actually soft, he melts into your arms, he leans into you when you two cuddle, and he indulges you whenever you take care of him, like: when you brush his fur and take care of it despite not even taking care of yours. That was the equilibrium, you take care of Grim and say nothing about his soft nature, and he listens to your rants about your crush while keeping quiet about how you reassemble a lover-girl than a quiet tsundere.

You stared at your screen with a lovesick gaze as you kicked your feet back and forth while smiling with the widest grin you can do.

This was your first ever crush in this new world that you found yourself in, this was the first person that you fell for, and this was the first person that you actually felt like you can get through with the day after just seeing him in the school premises.

Your first ever muse in twisted wonderland.

Although usually, you would write letters on a paper and let your words fall from there, but you were nothing but an overthinker— there were millions of possibilities where this could go wrong: Ace and Deuce could find these letters, Grim could accidentally send it to him, or the ghosts could find it and read it to him when he goes in Ramshackle, anything could happen! So the safest route was to write and dump it all in your notes app then lock your phone that only Grim and you know the password of.

Don't ask why Grim also has access to your phone. He's like an iPad kid and demands for your phone to play games in it or install some to the point that you had to delete some because of your full storage. Besides, what's the harm in it? It's not like he goes in your notes app, that's literally impossible! He doesn't give a single fuck about any app except for the games in your phone, so what could go wrong?

Anyways.

Those feelings were actually a lie. Yep, you moved to another person. But this is the one this time! There's possibly no way that this could go wrong— he's admirable, he's handsome and absolutely breathtaking, there's no way that-

That was a lie.

Okay but maybe this one will?? He's kind to you, cares for you and...

Again. Nothing. You moved on.

This was a constant theme for your crushes. Now, you would have lingering feelings and re-ignite your feelings once in a while, but eventually, you would move on to the next person, then the next, then the next, until your notes app is filled with nothing but digital letter confessions.

You were eternally greatful that no one knows about your crushes or your reputation would've tanked to hell.

You burried it all deep into your notes app until you eventually forgot about all your feelings and moved on. You never got those similar feelings again because you knew the truth. They would never like you back...

That's literally an impossible event so why not try at all?

You were magic-less, you were average, and you were nothing striking in this world. You were just a magic-less prefect that happened to defeat seven overblots. You weren't a model, a world famous singer, or even a mage. So why not give up the thoughts of romance while it's still early?

Grim could see this gradual fall of romance in your heart and was confused at first. Love is literally the motivation why you're so talented! You loved Grim so much that you would fight overblots just to keep him safe, you loved that damn crush so much that you would doddle their faces on a scrap paper and rekindle your love for drawing just for that, you literally made a scrapped song for all your crushes for fucks sake! So why...

Why are you suddenly containing all your artwork, music compositions, and all your little knick-knacks inspired by your crushes inside a box and hiding it inside the Ramshackle so deep that even the ghosts couldn't reach it?

He was appalled. You were literally a perfect lover!— even though he didn't know the bases of being in a romantic relationship, he knew that the amount of effort you did to your love for your crushes deserves a applause and recognition— he had never seen any human as smitten as you! So why did you snap and decide it wasn't worth your time anymore?

He asked you about it one time. He got an answer. But he didn't like it, but he got an answer.

"I'm not anything admirable y'know? Unlike them, I'm just a magic-less prefect" you sighed "and I can't do anything about it"

He needed to prove you wrong, he needed you to see that you're so much more lovable than you think you are— just like how you did to him. He couldn't let his henchhuman wallow in self deprecation while he had all the love, he needed you to see that this school literally changed because of you. And that's the most admirable thing he's ever seen in his life.

But how could he? He didn't have any piece of art that was etched with your affections, it was all hidden.

How could he prove to you that your crushes have a possible crush on you when you hid it?

"Hey Grim!"

Your calling snapped him out of his haze as you turned to you— you were doing your usual nightly routine.

"What did ya' need" he mumbled amidst his sleepy state. You smiled and giggled, "sorry Grim, I know you're sleepy right now but can I ask you a favor?" He huffed out a positive response. "Can you get my phone and go to my notes app then copy paste the first note you see?— it's on the very top labeled 'Crowley's shit' you can't miss it" he groaned but ultimately agreed.

He pulled your phone from the night stand and opened it. He scolled until he could find an app you were asking about.

Now... What he did next was completely justified and he would not take it back, no matter how many times you punish him.

This was for your own good! You'd thank him after this trust.

"Did you find it?" You didn't bother to listen for his response as you applied your skin care, too busy to care "great, now can you send it to the person that it's signed too?" You could see him nodding in your periperal vision, "thanks grimmy!! I promise I'll give you extra tuna after this"

Now... You might have to take it back in the morning prefect, after you eventually discover what he actually did.

He found your digital love letters and sent it to them instead of the long text message on the top that clearly said "Crowley said to text this to the boys because he has no time even though we all know that he just doesn't give a fuck"— it wasn't anything serious, just some errands for them to complete.

So how the fuck did he mix it up with your confessions!?

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek had been a rigid, stick all day. His usual booming voice was clipped. His posture was military straight. He marched rather than walked, hands clenched at his sides, green hair somehow even more perfectly styled than usual, as if every strand was standing at attention out of sheer anxiety. He had been planning this for over a year.

Every detail had been planned. The exact day, the exact hour, the exact flower that would be in peak bloom in the private castle garden. He had even begged (very loudly and very respectfully) for Malleus’s permission to use the garden… and of course Malleus had granted it with a soft, knowing smile.

What Sebek hadn’t thought was how his heart would try to explode the moment the plan actually began. He had managed to lure you to the castle of “important business involving the Young Master.”

You were suspicious immediately.

“Sebek, this is really sudden,” you said as he practically pulled you through the halls. “Maybe after we’re done I can have tea with Lilia and…”

“NO!” Sebek barked, far too loudly. He cleared his throat, ears burning red. “Lilia does not like tea.”

You stared at him. “…Lilia doesn’t like tea? Since when?”

“Since always! It is a known fact! Do not question me!”

You let it go, but your suspicion only grew.

Sebek finally led you into the garden. It was breathtaking. Flowers of every color bloomed in perfect harmony. Golden sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It was undeniably romantic.

You turned in a slow circle, admiring it. “Sebek… this is beautiful. Why did you really bring me here?”

The second your back was to him, Sebek dropped to one knee so hard it probably gonna leave a mark. His hands shook violently as he pulled out the small velvet box he had carried in his pocket for months. He opened his mouth to deliver the speech he had practiced at least two hundred times. But instead, a broken sob tore out of him.

Then another.

And another.

Big, loud, ugly sobs that shook his broad shoulders. Tears streamed down his face as all the tension, fear, love, and overwhelming devotion of the past years crashed over him at once.

You spun around instantly at the sound. “Sebek?!” You dropped to your knees in front of him, cupping his wet cheeks in both hands, eyes wide with panic. “What happened?! Are you hurt? Did something go wrong? Talk to me!”

Sebek could barely breathe through the sobs. His face was bright red, tears dripping off his chin. He thrust the open ring box toward you with trembling hands, the beautiful ring glittering between you. “W-Will you?” he choked out, voice cracking horribly. “Please?!”

For a second you just stared, stunned. Then your expression melted into pure joy. “Yes!” you whispered, laughing through sudden tears of your own. “Yes, Sebek. Of course I will.”

Sebek let out a loud sigh and practically tackled you into a hug, still on his knees. The ring box nearly went flying before you gently took it from his shaking hand and slipped the ring onto your finger yourself.

“I have prepared a speech…” he sobbed against your shoulder, arms wrapped around you like iron bands. “But I ruined it… I’m sorry… but I’m so happy…”

You laughed softly and kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair. “You didn’t ruin anything. This is the most Sebek proposal I could have asked for.”

Up in the castle window, three figures watched the scene unfold.

Malleus smiled softly, looking proud.

Lilia was laughing so hard he had to hold onto the windowsill.

Silver just sighed, looking equal parts fond and exhausted. “He’s going to be insufferable about this for the next decade…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had spent weeks… no, months!Crafting the perfect proposal plan. He had spreadsheets. Multiple drafts. Risk assessments. Backup plans for the backup plans. Jade and Floyd clear his schedule and secure the location.

He tried so hard to be slick when he casually asked you during lunch if you’d like to go on a date, you smiled and said yes immediately. But the way his fingers twitched under the table and the way he adjusted his glasses three times in ten seconds made you suspicious.

“Dinner at the beach restaurant that you talked about recently.” he said smoothly. “This Saturday. 7:15 p.m. I’ve already made the reservation.”

You raised an eyebrow. “…Specific…”

“Good planning is important.” he replied, smiling that polished, professional smile. You knew something was up.

Saturday evening arrived. The beach was beautiful, soft golden sand, gentle waves, the sky painted in breathtaking pinks and oranges as the sun began to set. Azul had somehow gotten the entire beach cleared. You walked hand in hand along the shoreline, your shoes dangling from your free hand. Azul’s grip on yours was a little tighter than usual. His palm was suspiciously clammy.

“It’s really pretty tonight,” you said, leaning into his side.

“Yes. Very beautiful” he agreed, looking down at you, voice slightly strained. That’s when his fancy digital watch started beeping insistently.

Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep.

You both stopped. You glanced down at the screen.

HEART RATE: CRITICAL. PLEASE SIT DOWN IMMEDIATELY.

“Azul?!” You turned to him in panic, grabbing his arm. “What’s wrong?! Are you okay? Is it your heart? Should we call someone?”

Azul’s face was flushed pink all the way to his ears. He quickly silenced the watch with a trembling finger. “It’s… nothing. I’m simply excited to eat!” he said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. “The restaurant has an excellent menu tonight. Very… exciting...”

You stared at him, utterly confused. “Azul. Your heart rate is through the roof. We should ditch the date and go home. Or at least visit the infirmary—”

“No!” The word came out far too loud and desperate. Azul’s eyes widened in panic.

Before you could say another word, he dropped to one knee right there in the sand, nearly losing his balance as his legs gave out from nerves. Sand flew everywhere. One hand fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a small, elegant velvet box. His glasses were slightly fogged up.

“Marry me!” he blurted, voice cracking. “Please! right now! I mean, not right now, I mean… UGH! …will you marry me?!”

You froze.

The sunset painted everything in warm gold, the waves lapped gently, and Azul was kneeling in the sand, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes and a face so red as tomato. You stayed quiet for a long moment, stunned, just staring at him. The beeping grew louder.

HEART RATE: EMERGENCY PROTOCOL.

Azul looked like he was about to pass out...

Then you broke into a bright, teary smile. “Yes…” you whispered, then louder “Yes, Azul. Of course I’ll marry you.”

You dropped to your knees in the sand too and threw your arms around him. Azul let out a shaky, relieved breath and hugged you back so tightly you could barely breathe, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Thank the seven…” he mumbled, voice muffled against your neck. “I had three different speeches prepared… deam it...”

You laughed softly and kissed his temple. “It was perfect.”

In the distance, hidden behind some rocks, Jade stood with a camera, calmly filming the entire thing with a little smile. Floyd was doubled over beside him, laughing so hard he was wheezing, slapping his knee.

“OMS! look at his face! He’s gonna short circuit! Best entertainment ever~”

Jade didn’t even glance away from the view. “Be quiet, Floyd. This is going into the wedding montage.”

Ace Trappola

It was the perfect sunny afternoon for a picnic. The park was bathed in warm golden light, birds chirping, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. You’d packed all of Ace’s favorites, sandwiches with extra mayo, cherry pie, and those sour gummies he liked. The two of you were sprawled on a big blanket, like any other lazy date.

But something was off.

Ace kept fidgeting. He’d laugh at your jokes a little too loud, then go quiet. His hand kept drifting to the right pocket of his hoodie like he was checking if something was still there. You noticed, of course, but you didn’t push.

Finally, after he’d been staring at the same tree for 10 straight minutes, you set your drink down. “Ace… is everything okay?”

That was the moment he decided to go for it. He sat up straighter, cleared his throat, and tried to look casual. The words that came out of his mouth, however, were not the ones he practiced in the mirror for months straight.

“I don’t wanna be your boyfriend anymore.”

The world stopped.

You stared at him, eyes slowly widening in shock and hurt. Your heart dropped straight into your stomach. “…What?”

Ace blinked, realizing too late how that sounded. “Wait! Let me explain! I think I was your boyfriend for long enough!”

“You’re serious right now?” Your voice cracked. You felt tears already burning at the corners of your eyes. “After everything…? You were my boyfriend for ‘long enough’?”

Ace’s face went pale. “No! Wait! That came out wrong!”

But the damage was done. You felt your chest tighten painfully. You stood up on shaky legs, brushing grass off your clothes. “I can’t believe you…” you whispered, voice thick. Tears spilled as you turned and started walking away, arms wrapped around yourself.

Then in the distance, hidden behind some trees and bushes, five very panicked boys were losing their minds.

“ACE YOU IDIOT!” Deuce whisper yelled.

“NO! DONT GO!” Ortho nearly dropping the camera he was holding.

“Turn around! Turn around!!” Epel shouted, waving his arms.

“HUMAN! BEHIND YOU!” Sebek boomed, forgetting all subtlety.

Jack just groaned and facepalmed. “This is why we shouldn’t have let him do it alone…”

You stopped, confused by the sudden shouting. When you turned around, Ace was sprinting toward you, nearly tripping over his own feet. He sprinted to a stop right in front of you and dropped to one knee so fast his knee made a dull thud against the grass.

“WAIT! I’m sorry! I messed up so bad!” He was panting, face flushed red with embarrassment and nerves. One hand fumbled desperately in his hoodie pocket and pulled out a ring with a bright red gem that sparkled like a rose.

“I don’t wanna be your boyfriend anymore because… because I wanna be your husband now!” he blurted, holding the ring up with a trembling hand. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for weeks, practicing in the mirror like an idiot, and I completely screwed up the line! I had this whole smooth speech planned and instead I said the worst possible thing! I am so sorry!!”

You stood there stunned, tears still streaming down your face… but now they were shifting from heartbroken to happy. Ace looked up at you with those big eyes, voice softer now.

“I love you. Like, stupid amounts. I wanna wake up next to you every day and build a life that’s loud and fun and ours. So… will you marry me? Please don’t walk away. I’ll literally die if you do.”

Behind the trees, the boys were a mess of emotions. Deuce was tearing up. Ortho was zooming in with the camera. Epel was whispering “Get it together, Ace!” while Jack tried to keep Sebek from crashing over to beat Ace for almost traumatizing you.

You let out a wet, teary laugh and dropped to your knees in front of him, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes…” you whispered, then louder through happy sobs “Yes, you absolute idiot. I’ll marry you.”

Ace let out a whoop of relief and hugged you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. He slipped the ring onto your finger with shaky hands, then kissed you hard, desperate, relieved, and full of love. You could taste salt from both your tears.

When you finally pulled back, Ace rested his forehead against yours, grinning that signature cocky but soft smile.

“Proposal saved.“

“You have all the superheroes you could ever need on call. You could defeat half of them without me. You don’t need me right now. I have to be there for Eve. If this other version of me is really that big of an issue, then just send every other superhero you have.” Mark walks past Cecil, leaving him alone in Eve’s room. 

“Mark, please try to be reasonable.” Cecil follows him soon after. 

Mark scoffs, “If I see him, I will take action.” He stops in his tracks. “This does not mean I’m working for you. I will take action if people are getting hurt. Do not expect me to be at your beck and call.” He turns, glaring at Cecil.

Cecil sighs, “If that’s the most you’ll do…”

“It is.” Mark cuts in sharply. “In case you have forgotten, I refuse to work with you. Now, I have other things to attend to.”

“At least let us know if you see him out in public, please, Mark. If not for me, then for the betterment of humanity.” Cecil tries.

“Oh yes, I’ll just shoot you a text! ‘Hey, Cecil, I know we hate each other, but there’s another version of me destroying the world right now.’” Mark exclaims sarcastically, holding his hands up as if questioning whether Cecil is serious. Cecil looks at him unimpressed.

“I don’t hate you, kid.” Cecil responds.

“Yeah, okay, but why even ask? I’m sure you’ll know if there’s an attack or something before I do. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you spy on me even when I’m not out saving people.” Mark looks at Cecil suspiciously.

Cecil sighs; he looks like he’s given up. “Just keep an eye out, kid. Please.”

“I will let you know if another version of me decides to attack me. Otherwise, call somebody else.” Mark reiterates, beginning to walk past Cecil.

“Wait,” Mark stops in his tracks. “You know we’re always here to talk, right?” Cecil looks at Mark, who returns a conflicted look. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you,” He shakes his head, continuing his path, “but thanks.” Mark continues as he exits the Pentagon.

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

“Dude, where'd you get this coffee?” You ask, examining the foreign packing of the coffee beans Mark returned with. You take a sip from his cup, and he gives you a weird look.

“Brazil.” He answers.

You roll your eyes. “Very funny. No, seriously, you have to tell me. I gotta know your sources.” 

He looks at you, “Can’t expose all my secrets.” He looks at you, amused.

“Okay fineeee, but you gotta promise to get me some more if we run out.” You relent, finishing his coffee.

“...That was my cup.” He sounds a little despondent.

“Sorry, we can make another batch.”  You smile guiltily. He sighs, but goes to make more. You check the bag of groceries he brought. “Woah, this all looks authentic.” You examine the dry pasta that he bought. 

“Did you travel to Italy too?” You joke, smiling at him.

“Yes.” He responds seriously. You laugh in response and stand up to wash the cup you stole from Mark.

“Oooh, next time you go, you should bring back pizza or something!” You grin at him, finding it funny how he seems so solemn with his responses.

“Hm, perhaps.” He says as he grabs two mugs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to get a mug for me.” You say as he looks up at you, unimpressed.

“Really? So you won’t drink from my cup if I only make one for myself?” Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously.

You shake your head, “No, I won’t, Scout’s honor.” You place a hand on your chest. 

Mark sighs before putting away the second mug. He pours himself a cup and takes a sip. He looks at you, then at his cup. “We should put away the groceries.” 

You nod, “Of course.” You go to help him put the groceries away. 

Mark stops in his tracks, “Are you serious?”

You look at him, then back at the cup you stole again. “Sorry, I wasn’t going to, but you commented on it, so I had to.” You take a slow sip, making it as loud as possible.

“You said ‘Scout’s honor.’ Do you have no honor?” He shakes his head in disappointment.

You snap your fingers, “That’s the thing! I was never a scout.” You put the cup down. “Don’t worry, I didn’t finish it this time.” You gesture vaguely to the cup. 

He walks up to you, frowning. He looks at the cup, “You contaminated it.” 

You laugh in surprise, “Oh, come on, you’ve drunk from my cups before. Think of this as payment for providing you with temporary housing.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows, “I have?” He hesitantly picks up the cup before drinking from it.

“Uh yeah? Wait, I think? Great, now you got me questioning it.” You sigh, heading over to the couch to turn on the TV. “Let’s see what’s on…”

The camera focuses on a massive floating figure. He seems to be towering over Invincible. They appear to be engaging in some sort of fight. The headline proves that your guess is correct.

“Hey, that looks like what the Chicago Destroyer Invincibile was wearing.” You comment offhandedly. Mark, on the other hand, coughs violently before walking over to watch with you.

“‘Chicago Destroyer Invincible?’” Mark quotes you incredulously.

“What? He destroyed Chicago, it’s either that or that one Invincible wearing white. That doesn’t really roll off the tongue— ooh, that was a nice punch.” 

Mark still seems hung up on the “Chicago Destroyer” part. “From planet conqueror to Chicago Destroyer.” He scoffs, muttering the words low enough that you don’t hear. 

“It looks like Invincible’s getting his ass handed to him though… Ouch, that looks like that’d hurt.” You comment, watching as the unknown attacker slams Invincible into the ground.

“Yeah…” Mark doesn’t sound very upset, “He’ll probably die here. That guy looks powerful.” You glare at Mark. 

“You’re supposed to root for the good guy, Mark. Invincible is on our side.” You shake your head disapprovingly, placing a hand on your chest, feeling offended for Invincible. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m just saying. I mean, look at him. Didn’t you also just say he’s getting his ‘ass handed to him?’” You both look at Invincible getting slammed on the ground and punched into the sky. You grimace as the fight goes out of frame… anddd probably out of that city. 

“Okay, fine, but have some faith. Invincible is the one defending us. I mean, what’s gonna happen if this guy wins? Take over the Earth?”

“Yeah, probably,” Mark responds unfazed. 

You chuckle at his deadpan response. “Damn, if we were conquered, what would happen to us? I can’t imagine we’re useful to people who can fly and have super strength like that. Maybe we'd be like slaves? I’d be such an awful slave.” Marks looks at you like you’re crazy.

”You wouldn’t be a slave.” Mark responds. 

“Aww, thanks, I don’t think you’d be a slave either.” You respond affectionately. 

“What? No, of course I wouldn’t— That’s not the point.” Mark shakes his head, looking back toward the TV. 

You laugh at his response, placing your hand onto him, “Didn’t realize you feel so strongly about your ability to not be enslaved.” He stares at your hand, but he doesn’t flinch. He moves slightly away from your touch.

“Very funny.” He replies unamused. “He could, though. Enslave humanity.”

“Invincible? Nah, doubt it.” You play dumb, also knowing fully well that if he wanted, he probably could. Mark gives you a disappointed stare. “Fine, fine. If he truly wanted to, he could. I felt like that was pretty obvious. Not sure why you’re so serious about this.” You mumble. 

“You could die out there,” Mark states, wow, okay. Somebody is feeling optimistic.

“Of course, I could die out there, Mark. Unless you’re secretly Invincible, then there’s nothing we can do if somebody like that invaded us.” You gesture to the TV, feeling yourself get frustrated by his negative outlook.

“Last I checked, Invincible is getting beaten up out there, so like it or not, we can’t change anything.” He gives you a conflicted look. “I’m going to go do some work. I’ll be at my desk.” You stand up, he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

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

“Conquest was defeated.” Mark later walks into your room. 

“Who?” You ask, still a little on edge. Normally, you wouldn’t care about Mark's comments here and there, but Mark had been making comments like this ever since he started staying with you. It was just so unlike him.

He pauses for a moment, and you turn your chair to him. “That guy who was beating up Invincible. He’s apparently called ‘Conquest,’” Mark elaborates. You nod in understanding.

You look over, and Mark is standing over at the door like a lost puppy. A tall and serious lost puppy. The image is so jarring you almost burst out laughing. You sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

He blinks, “You apologize a lot.” 

You remain silent, “Sorry..?” He looks vaguely amused.

You decide to change the subject, “I tried texting Eve. She is okay. William is fine, too.” Mark hums. 

“Did you tell them I was here?” Mark asks. He makes his tone seem casual, but there is something hidden underneath the surface.

“Uhh, not yet, I literally just heard back from her… I’ll text them right now—“ You jolt as he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Mark, what—“

“Don’t tell her anything. For a matter of fact, don’t tell William either.” He replies with a sense of urgency in his tone.

You frown, “Did you guys all argue or something? Even if they’re mad at you, I still think they’d want to know you’re safe.” You remove your hand from his grip, barely registering the loss of warmth in your confusion.

“Look… just please don’t tell them. They have enough on their plates as it is. They don’t need to find out my house is destroyed.” Mark tries, looking at you with eyes reflecting some emotion.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Of course…” You reply softly. “Mark, you have to talk to them eventually.”

He nods, “I will, but not today. Just… trust me on this.” He looks down at your hand. He looks up, “Don’t tell them.”

You look at his eyes, pleading. This is probably the most genuine emotion he’s shown (other than joy at destroying you in that game of Uno, but you don’t count that). 

You sigh, “Fine…” The conflict in his eyes is suddenly gone; it’s back to that blank look. You both sit in silence, before he eventually stands up. You frown, “Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he heads towards the front door to leave. 

“Out.” He turns to leave before pausing. “Do you… need anything while I’m gone?” He seems unsure whether he should ask the question. 

You smile, “Oh yeah, just that Italian pizza I was asking for earlier. With your skills in finding hidden gems, I can’t imagine it’s too difficult.” You joke, leaning against your room’s doorway. He gives you a deadpan look before nodding and closing the door behind him.

You frown, “He could’ve at least said yes or no.” You close the door to your room behind you. You go back to work for the next few hours.

Eventually, you take a peek out of your room. Huh, still not here. Whatever he decided to do must be taking up quite a bit of time.

You are scrolling on your computer when you see a headline. It reads “NEW CAMERA SHY SUPER VILLAIN FIGHTS WITH GUARDIANS, ALL GUARDIANS SEVERELY INJURED.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t spare a second glance, but it’s unusual that all the guardians get attacked. You open the article. The giant photo showing this new “super villain” is blurry. There are no defining features. All you can see is that they are wearing dark colors and are floating over the injured Guardians.

“New super villain is pictured decimating the Guardians. There seems to be no previous record of this figure. It appears as if he was after the Guardians specifically. Nobody knows names, but everybody is asking questions. Why did they do this?”

“Early witnesses describe seeing the fight originally between this mysterious individual and Atom Eve. It must have been a planned attack, as Atom Eve was recently out due to presumed injuries acquired during the Invincible War.”

“Whoever this is seems to have a vendetta against her. As of now, all the Guardians are safe and receiving medical attention. Perhaps the most odd thing about this is that this figure fled the fight. Why? We have no idea. However, we’re grateful nonetheless. Eyewitnesses seemed to see the figure flee soon after they started filming the fight up close. Perhaps the new villain is camera shy?” You snort reading that last line.

You look at the photos provided by various witnesses. All show the initial battle between the person fighting Atom Eve. All you can see is their back, you vaguely register that they look to be masculine, but it’s difficult to tell with the low quality and distance. Eventually, when they turn to face the camera’s direction, it just turns into a blur. 

After scrolling through the photos, you read the rest of the article. The second half seems to detail the damage done to the Guardians. It’s crazy how much is occurring right now. First, those Invincibles, then Conquest, and now the Guardians? 

“That’s wild…” You mutter, scrolling up and down through the article.

“What’s wild?” A voice says.

“OH MY GOSH! MARK?!” You press yourself to the back of your chair, jumping in surprise. “When’d you get back?! I didn’t even hear you open the front door?”

He doesn’t respond, instead, your eyes are drawn to the pizza box he holds up.

“Oh, you actually got pizza.” You smile, standing up and walking out to the kitchen. He trails behind you and places the box down.

“You doubted me?” He asks as you grab plates for you two.

“Nah.” You grab a slice. “Anyway, where’d you go?” You ask casually, sitting down.

“Out.” He responds, grabbing the plate and getting a slice.

“Ooh, how descriptive.” You chuckle, taking a bite of the pizza. 

“How were you while I was gone?” He asks, changing the subject. 

“Eh, bored. I was doing some work, but then I got caught up reading an article. Apparently, some guy went out and attacked the Guardians.” His head slowly turns toward you as you speak.

“Somebody attacked the guardians.” He said, looking at you, nodding in affirmation. “Did you see who it was?” He asks casually.

You shake your head, “No. People are saying he’s camera shy. Nobody could get a clean shot without him fleeing the scene.” You chuckle at the thought. Imagine being so powerful that you could take on the Guardians alone, but flee at the first sign of a phone.

“Camera shy.” He repeats, looking at you, and he looks slightly disturbed. 

“Yep, at least that’s what the article said. Wouldn’t show his face anywhere. Must be new. Probably doesn’t want people to be able to trace his identity. Hey, it’s kinda funny how he popped up after Invincibile went MIA.” 

“I doubt he’d want to fight Invincible. Probably creates too many issues.” He looks at the pizza slice, studying it.

“Where’d you get this pizza anyway? I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You continue, you turn your gaze to the blank pizza box. Not even a company name on there. You snap your attention back to him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna keep it a secret too.”

He eats in silence, not making eye contact with you.

“Markkkk!” You groan. “Come on, it can't be that important to keep it a secret.” You frown, looking at him. He continues to eat in silence, ignoring your presence entirely. “We’re friends, right? Come on.”

He finally looks up, “Oh, friends? Hm, didn’t realize.” He says offhandedly. “Are you going to want more?” He asks, looking at the box.

“Changing the subject, I see.” You observe. “We can save it for later.” You finish up your slice.

“Don’t tell me you were actually getting pizza for two hours?” You ask as you start to clean the dishes.

His lips turn up to resemble a smile, “I wasn’t.”

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

“Are you sure it was him?” Cecil asks, standing across Eve’s hospital bed. 

She narrows her eyes before standing up, “Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d recognize Mark when I see him.” She starts to walk to the door.

“Anything notable about him?” Cecil asks, following her to the doorway, she pauses.

“Aside from the fact that he single-handedly beat us in combat?” She asks, turning to face him.

“You barely had any time to recover after Conquest, and you were unprepared.” Cecil justifies, shaking his head.

“We didn’t get the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Mark out there. Don’t beat yourself up.” He places a hand on her shoulder.

Eve looks down, frowning, “He fought much differently than I had expected from Mark, even an alternate version.” 

Cecil nods as if expecting that, “He fought like a Viltrumite, right?” She nods. “That’s expected.” He walks past her, gesturing to her to follow. 

“Based on the information we gathered, the version that was left behind joined the Viltrum Empire. We highly suspect he was even raised on Viltrum.” Eve follows behind as he explains.

“While I hate to say it, he’s probably going to share more similarities with Nolan than he will with our Mark.” He pauses to look at Eve.

She looks down, conflicted, “But.. isn’t he a version of Mark? Can we maybe appeal to him in some way? I mean, they are the same person in a literal sense. Deep down, maybe he can be reasoned with.” 

“I doubt it,” Cecil responds, and Eve looks up at him.

“Have you even tried?” She asks, slightly frustrated.

Cecil shakes his head, “No, and if you know what’s good for everyone, you won’t. He’s a Viltrumite. Our Mark is a different case, and if we’ve learned anything from Viltrumites from Viltrum…” He pauses before turning towards her. 

“They see us as lower beings, pets. They cannot be appealed to. Our Mark is the special case. Don’t think that because they’re the same person, they have the same principles.” 

She goes silent, “So, what do you want me to do if I encounter him?” She asks softly.

Cecil looks at her, determined, “Don’t hold back.” 

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

You wake up the next morning feeling a tingle in your throat. No…

You are not getting sick. You refuse to. Maybe if you drink water..?

You take a sip, hoping the tingle will go away. It doesn’t. You try clearing your throat to see if it will go away. Damn.

Mark walks into your room, “Are you dying?” He asks, unconcerned. 

“Maybe,” He suddenly looks up alarmed, “I think I’m getting sick.” You both look at each other.

He takes a step back, creating distance between you two. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You’ve been here for days, and you’ve been fine.” 

“I don’t want whatever foreign illness you may have acquired.” He grimaces. 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” You roll your eyes. 

“I’m not. I just don’t like viruses.” He states. 

“You never even get sick! I rarely see you get sick, if ever!” You exclaim.

“Yeah, cause I keep my distance.” He replies.

“It’s just a sore throat, Mark. It’s not like I have the plague.” You groan. “I’m going to make some tea.” 

He watches you walk past him to the kitchen, following behind you. “How did you even get sick?” He asks.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Stress perhaps? I haven’t been around anybody but you recently. Unless you were recovering from being sick when you came over.” You theorize out loud. Mark watches as you grab a tea bag and mug. 

“I doubt that. Why would you be stressed?” He asks, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

“Not sure. There was that attack all those Invincibles did and that whole Conquest thing.” You guess. 

“You weren’t even near those attacks, though.” Mark frowns.

“Yeah, but you were near one of them.” You attempt to clear your throat.

“So you’re stressing over me?” He asks, seemingly confused over the concept.

You misinterpret his confusion, “Mark, you don’t stress me out. Life,” You gesture outside, “does. The possibility of death is a little bit stressful.”

He looks at you, conflicted. You can’t imagine why. “So you’re sick cause you’re stressed about my, what, well-being?” He asks.

You sigh, “Don’t think too hard, Mark.” You can see the gears turning in his head. For some reason, he can’t seem to fathom you caring like that. “I was just guessing anyway.”

“So you don’t even know why you’re sick?” He reiterates, seeming incapable of not understanding how you don’t know the exact cause of your illness.

“That’s kinda what a ‘guess’ means, yeah.” You nod amused.

“Are the hospitals here that bad?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s actually asking you or not. It seems like he’s talking to himself. 

“What?” You chuckle, confused, “I don’t think a cold requires a hospital trip.” He looks at you, seemingly conflicted.

“Okay…” He doesn’t seem to accept the answer, “Do you need anything?” He asks.

You smile, “Probably just some rest.” You clear your throat. “Ugh, I sound awful.” You shudder. 

Mark watches you for a moment before leaving the room suddenly. You frown, “Damn, bye I guess.” You mutter to yourself.

You drink your tea for about a minute before he returns. He has a blanket in his arms.

You watch as he walks behind you, placing it on your back like a cloak. His hand lingers on your shoulder.

You feel moved by his kindness, so you don’t mention that you feel like you're burning alive. You accept the blanket. “Thanks.” You smile.

He looks at you, eyes softening for a brief moment before looking away. You wonder if you imagined it, seeing as there’s been nothing but a serious expression on his face these days.

“We can share the bed if you’d like. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I can’t imagine it’ll be helpful for your recovery.” He avoids eye contact.

You chuckle amused before coughing, “Weren’t you the one who didn’t even want to be near me?” You can feel your face heating up. Damn, maybe you have a fever. You do feel like you’re melting.

He eventually looks at you, all softness (imagined or not) gone from his expression. “The offer stands.” He responds.

“What is this, a business transaction?” You start laughing, but launch yourself into a coughing fit. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” You say, not thinking anything of it.

Mark nods stoically, not saying anything else on the subject.

“Mark,” you feel reluctant to bring the topic up, “are you doing… okay?” You think back to his distance from Eve and William.

He pauses, unsure where this is going. “Yes, why?” He responds, his tone betraying nothing.

“It’s just… I thought you and Eve had a” you gesture at him, “thing… going on.” You take a sip of your tea. 

Mark stared at you, “You thought we were courting?” He asks, seemingly appalled by the idea.

“Yeah, I mean you’re with her all the time. Then suddenly you’re here and refuse to speak with her.” You tap on your mug. “It’s not any of my business, I know, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.” You look up at him. He looks at you silently.

“I don’t care about Eve.” He eventually breaks the silence.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Mark…” You sigh, “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” You take another sip. 

“Just…” you pause, looking up at him. His eyes are dead set on you, his expression cold. “Remember, she’s also your friend. William too. Don’t push them away over something trivial.”

Mark says your name, “Nothing is going on between us. Don’t misunderstand,” you see his expression shift as he says that last part, “I really have nothing going on with Eve.” 

You smile softly, not really believing him. You’ve seen them together. They lean into each other like nobody else exists. They share smiles with each other that nobody seems to understand. They seem to exist purely in each other’s existence. 

“Okay.” You sigh, not really believing him. “Just, at least try to contact them. They’d want to know you’re safe.” 

Mark nods, avoiding eye contact, “Alright.”

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

After you finish your tea, you go to watch TV on the couch. Nothing interesting is on the screen. You cough again, and you can feel Mark watching you.

You let the TV drone on for a while before you feel yourself drifting off. Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Mark’s attention snaps to the door. You sigh, getting up.

You go to the door, covered in the blanket Mark gave you. ”Eve?” You look at her, surprised. “What’re you doing here?” You sniffle.

“I came here to see how you’re doing.” She smiles, amused. She looks at the blanket on your back. “Sick?”

You nod miserably, “Yeah. Woke up this morning not feeling too good. Do you wanna come…” Something catches your attention to your left.

You can see Mark wildly gesturing an “X,” mouthing something along the lines of “DON’T LET HER IN!” You furrow your eyebrows, but he looks at you expectantly.

“... back later? I’m really not feeling too well.” You force another cough. It sounds real since you are actually sick.

She frowns sympathetically, “Of course. Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay after everything that’s been going on. Haven’t really gotten a chance to check in.” 

You nod, as you watch Mark shake his head disapprovingly to the side. “Of course. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I trust William is fine, too?” You ask. She nods, smiling, “Yeah, both he and Mark are fine.” You nod before pausing.

“Wait, Mark contacted you?” You frown, confused. You see Mark move toward you, still out of view of Eve.

“Yeah..?” Eve frowns even more confused. 

You look toward Mark, confused, and he gestures for you to close the door on Eve. “Oh, okay, well, thanks for checking in, Eve. I’m going to rest.” You gesture to your room. She nods.

“Of course, get better soon.” She smiles. You wave as she walks away before closing the door and turning to Mark.

“So…” You say slowly. Mark looks down, glaring at the floor as if it offended him. “You did contact her.” 

You sigh, “Mark, I’m not mad or anything. I’m just concerned.” You frown. “Why did you lie about contacting her?” Mark looks up, seeing you looking at him, hurt. 

“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You furrow your eyebrows. “Mark, if you’re here just to avoid Eve, then yes, it is something.”

”You think I’m here just to avoid her?” He asks incredulously. 

You look away from him, “Let’s just drop the subject. I’m going to bed.” You start to go to your room to lie down. Mark watches you leave, and he looks hurt. You can’t imagine why.

As you enter your room, you close the door behind you. You are about to go to bed when you see Mark’s bag open. His stuff is scattered right next to it. You sigh, picking up some of his items and throwing them into the bag. You don’t want to step on it or trip over anything.

When you throw some of his stuff into the bag, you notice some bright piece of clothing stashed neatly in there. You were going to ignore it until you saw a bright red stain on it. 

Your eyebrows furrow before you slowly move closer. You didn’t mean to snoop. It’s just that white is a very distinctive color, and a red stain like that doesn’t look normal. Perhaps you can offer to wash it for him? 

Suddenly, he opens the door, medicine in hand, his eyes gravitate to you. He looks at his bag. “What are you doing?” He asks gravely.

“Your stuff was making a mess. I didn’t want to trip over it.” You say. He (not subtly) moves to cover your view of the bag, zipping it up. 

“Get some rest.” He responds coldly. You feel yourself shrink under his cold demeanor. Is he mad at you because of the (unintentional) snooping, or because of the whole Eve situation? You don’t even know.

You do know one thing, however. Mark is hiding something. You don’t know how big, but it’s something he clearly does not want you to know.

Sure, it may not be any of your business, but you can’t help but feel like this is not something you should turn away from. You sit down on the bed, getting under the covers. 

You look at the lone bag that Mark zipped up. He didn’t have to say anything, but the message was clear. “Don’t open this bag.” His eyes told you. 

You flip over, facing the other direction. He has been acting so weird recently, distant. You kept telling yourself it was just shock from what happened, but does shock justify lies? You don’t know.

You look towards the medicine he left on the nightstand. You look at the extra blanket he grabbed for you. You snuggle closer to the blanket. Sure, he’s distant, but he’s still Mark. You turn again to the zipped-up bag.

Right?

Side note: I think this will probably be a 4-5 part series. While I will get that done, I also want to make other fics. I have this one idea for a no goggles mark fic that I'm in the middle of writing, so be on the lookout for that if you're interested. I'll probably post that one next. So yes, there will be a part 3. It just might be a bit of a longer wait than this one was though.

There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.

Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…

You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified. 

Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.

Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again. 

Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.

He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting. 

“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”

“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner. 

“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!” 

They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.

The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit. 

The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open. 

He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question. 

“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?” 

Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat. 

You must not have found one. 

“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper -  it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob. 

Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company. 

And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”

“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.” 

And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once. 

But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked. 

So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack. 

“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read. 

You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again. 

Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.

“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.

You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. 

You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?” 

He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all. 

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?” 

Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”

You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side. 

Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.

“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion. 

“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask. 

You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation. 

Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily. 

He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me. 

“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down. 

Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides. 

Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you. 

“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face. 

And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken.