Khrystie's Writing

“Oi, Kenta! Get over here!”

Yuki lets out a sigh. He doesn’t necessarily hate the fake name Asher picked for him -- Kenta Inoue -- when he escaped the clutches of his distasteful family. It feels odd to go by a different name than the one he’s known all his life when in public. Now that he thinks about it, he feels oddly warm when Asher uses that name when they’re alone. How weird.

Yuki shakes his head once places his school supplies on his desk and approaches Kayden, who’s glaring down at him with his arms crossed, and Skyler, who looks just as serious as the taller pre-teen. Yuki raises a brow. He could only wonder what the hell is going on with the two of them at the moment.

“Why are you making a ruckus this early?” Yuki demands with an annoyed sigh. Kayden furrows his brows, looking even more annoyed. He jabs one of his hands into his pants pockets, jabs Yuki in the chest with a finger and proceeds to tower over him. Was he seriously trying to intimidate him?

“Don’t give me that shit. Wha’d you do to Asher?” Yuki almost wants to laugh. Kayden used to hate the idea of Asher being their group leader, much less a friend. And here he is, questioning where is Asher the second the boy isn’t seen in the classroom. But Yuki’s face quickly falls at the thought of Asher’s current state. He spent all night crying, occasionally waking up only to break out into more tears. . .  and at one point, he was so distressed he threw up. Yuki felt a little guilty knowing he managed to sleep through that for most of the night. Asher tried to go to school, but his father saw through his false mask of smiles and cheer and told Asher to stay home to recuperate from the long cry he had last night. Thinking back on it, Asher’s father must have heard him cry.

“Nothing. He’s. . . sick.” Yuki lies. Lying is probably the best option. Asher wouldn’t want to worry his friends. “At home.” Skyler raises a skeptical brow, however.

“Sick?”

“Sick.” Yuki repeats.

“Sounds fake.” Kayden grunts, crossing his arms. “He’s immortal, right? So, he can’t get sick.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works. . .” Skyler mutters. “That just means he can’t die. . . but he can probably get sick like anyone else if his immune system is weak enough.”

“Man, shut up.” Kayden grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It still sounds fake! He was fine yesterday! Give me the fuckin’ truth Himura!” He hisses Yuki’s surname with venom in a low tone, as to avoid giving away his actual identity. Despite that effort, Yuki flinches and immediately goes stiff, his mind already kicking into overdrive and assuming that one his parent’s agents are near by and looking for him. For his actions, Skyler slaps Kayden’s arm and glares at him.

“We’re in public. Watch what you’re saying!”

“All right, fuckin’ Christ. . . but you know the shit he’s sayin’ is fake!”

“Yeah, I don’t believe it either.” Skyler admits without hesitation. “However, we shouldn’t needlessly put him in danger. You-know-who need him to make a shell for you-know-what. Asher wouldn’t want that.” Kayden growls, jamming both of his hands into his pockets.

“But what if this shit killed Asher?! Asher isn’t late. Nor does he not show up!”

“. . .That’s not grammatically correct.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Kayden yells, throws his arms up in the air in exasperation. If people weren’t watching them before, they were not. Kayden looked eyes with the entire classroom and told them all to fuck off. Everyone hastily turned away, sweating and clearly nervous. Kayden muttered something under his breath

“Don’t make a scene.” Yuki hisses.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to us then.” Kayden counters. Yuki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, I’ll talk.”

“I fuckin knew it. You we’re lyin’!”

“Yes, do you want a prize?” Yuki mutters apathetically, crossing his arms. Kayden’s yellow eyes glare down at him but Yuki doesn’t back down. He simply glares right back, forcing Skyler to push the two boys apart. He vaguely wonders why is he the mediator. No matter, Yuki sighs and the tension leaves him, making him look miserable. “Asher is home. . . he. . .He spent the entire night crying.” That took both Kayden and Skyler by surprise. They’ve never seen Asher cry before. Hell. They both though it was practically impossible for Asher to cry. No matter what they encountered, he always greeted the world with a smile and empathy for others.

“What did you do?” Kayden demands between his clenched teeth. Yuki looks outright appalled and offended that Kayden would blame him. . . but at the same time, he couldn’t blame him for jumping the gun there. He was living with Asher at the moment. . . And before that, from the very first moment he met Asher, he was outright cruel and insulting to him. He even pelted him with basketball to the face a number of times, all vaguely hoping that it would cause brain damage and Asher would leave him alone. He. . . He never apologized for that.

“It wasn’t me! It was his mother!” Both boys are shocked by this revelation. The mother Asher loved so dearly and looked up to . . . caused him to cry? For an entire night?

“What?” Skyler fumbles over his words, questioning what exactly happened. Yuki sighs, looking down to his hand. The hand Asher clung to as he began crying the other day.

“It started as soon as you two left. You know, after he said his mom was still alive. . .” Yuki sighs once more, looking down to his shoes. “He held my hand and apologized to me. We were going to play basketball but, he requested if we could go home. . . I agreed, but he was crying the entire walk home. . . and he cried and cried in the bed as soon as we got home. I felt so useless.” Yuki is looking back at his hand. Hand that are covered in blood. Hands that have done terrible deeds. Hands that have hurt Asher. “All I could do was hug him. . .  and then. . . he told me . . . he thinks it’s his fault his mom never came back.”

“He WHAT?!” Kayden screeched. Again, students look their way but one look at Kayden’s fury had them looking away. “He think’s it’s his fault his mom never came back?!”

“Yeah. . .” Yuki numbly admits, clutching his sleeve as his ears echo with the sounds of Asher’s heart wrenching cries. The concept is entirely baffling to all of them. Sure, Asher was a bit of a loose canon and hard to control, but he was a genuinely good kid that wanted the best for others. How long has Asher been wearing a mask of false happiness? How long has he actually been alone. . . was that why he clutched so tightly to his friends? Was he really that afraid he would be alone? “He kept mumbling about how ‘he was a good boy’ and . . .questioning if his mother loved him at all. . .”

“Shit.” Kayden suddenly punches his desk, causing a crack to appear in the hard wood. This time the class didn’t look their way. Thank god. “That bitch! How dare she come back and make Asher feel like shit! No one is allowed to do that but me!” Both Skyler and Yuki give him a look, but it goes unnoticed. Although what he said was questionable at best, Kayden was genuinely mad at Asher’s mom and upset over the fact Asher spent an entire night crying over the woman. Hell, the concept of Asher blaming himself for his mother’s disappearance was upsetting enough.

“You did good.” Skyler suddenly says, looking Yuki right in his eyes. Yuki blinks but quickly shakes his head, looking a bit guilty.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you comforted Asher and listened to his feelings. It was the best thing you could have done for him. I’m sure he appreciated your effort, because, more than anyone else, I’m sure Asher knows how hard it is for you to express your own emotions. And honestly, you caring for him probably meant the world to him.”

“But why would I. . .?” Skyler suddenly looks away, just, a bit nervous. Yuki raises a brow at that. He opens his mouth to question him when their teacher enters the classroom, a smile on her face.

“What makes you think I’m trapped here?” Leather presses against her neck and closes tightly around her throat. “I want to die here.”

“Nagisa, come on!” Lucifer shouts to her, crossing the room to approach her. "You dont want to-”

“Dont.” Her voice harshly cuts him off and her bi-colored eyes glare at him. Her fingers dig deeper into her neck. There’s so much hate, anger and deep sadness in her eyes, they’re almost unrecognizable. . . but this is undoubtedly Nagisa Tyler before him. And it confuses him deeply. “Do not even try to assume my feelings Magnus Lucifer. I’ve been trapped in this tower for so long. . . I’ve realized. . . I’ve realized exactly what the feelings within me are. A longing for death.”

“Nagi. . .”

“Dont try to reason with me. This is exactly what I want. I love my family. . . They’re so important to me, but there’s this huge. . . this stupid huge insurmountable gap between Damon onii-san and oji Kei. . . No matter how much onii-san tries to be polite, it’s so forced and its hard to have family get togethers. My family can’t stand being in the same room together and no one ever talks about it. . . ! No one wants to fix it but it’s so obvious despite their attempts to hide it from me! They hate each other and it breaks my heart!

but. . . There’s also this wall between my brothers and me! They were never in my life growing up. I love them so much but I hardly know them, and they’re busy living their own lives to even look my way! I’m just an awkward fixture in their lives! Just a fixture they have to accept! I don’t even know if they. . . if they truly love me. . .” A broken sob escapes Nagisa as her hands tremble around her throat. She forces her tears back and clutches her neck harder than before, briefly choking herself, but, she doesn’t stop. “And then. . . I try, I try so hard to help my friends. . . but. . . I’m so selfish.”

Lucifer was silent for so long. He wasn’t sure what to say. He had seen hints that Nagisa was sad and suffering to a degree. . . but he never fathomed it could be this deep of a pain that afflicted her. And now, she’s calling herself selfish for something as basic as friendship?

“Nagi, it’s not selfish to have friend or want to help them.”

“No, you don’t understand Lucifer! You never did!” She cries out furiously, anger and grief consuming her voice as she falls to her knees, shaking. "You never did. . . I used you and Rosalin. For support and stability. I needed a grounding to reality. A purpose. A reason to live!! But you’re both moving too fast. You’re both changing too much and it feels like, I’m going to be left behind and forgotten. . . and I . . . I selfishly fell in love with you Lucifer. . . But, I know you’ll never return these feelings. It consumes me everyday and I hate myself for it! I hate all of these feelings! This sadness, this loneliness, grief and anger! All of this stupid anger!! I want all of this to end!"

“Josh will be the only friend we can ever have, right other me?"

“Yeah.” Ken mumbles, playing with the stuffed bear in his arms.

“Isn’t that sad? He doesn’t even like us. . . but he’s all we have in the world.” The yellow eyes replica of Ken twirls around his look-alike and places his hands on his shoulders and leans into his ear. The boy of flesh and blood bites his lip and nods his head. "Mama and Papa are always so busy with work, they can’t even pay proper attention to us. . .  So we act like a little brat for attention. . . Just like that one boy from those forbidden records we stole!”

“Yeah.” Ken repeats. Jasper. According to the records, he always acted out to try and get attention of his parents. . . but they never looked his way. They never cared. The young boy hugs his stuffed bear close to his body and presses his face to the plush material of the doll. He always. . . He always thought his parents wouldn’t act like Jasper’s did in the records. . . but so far, they have. He wanted things to be so different. . .

“Mama and Papa dont love us!” The yellow eyed replica suddenly shouts, pushing Ken to the floor and pointing and accusing finger at him as tears start to fall from its eyes. “They hate us so much that they rather pawn us off to oji Samson and oba Maya or the yakuza! They both know oji Damon doesn’t like us at all! Our own family hates us!! Josh is all we have! All we’ll ever have! That’s why we need to keep him, no matter what the cost is! We don’t care if the world hates us! As long as we have our only friend, everything will be okay!! So, it’s okay if we string him along with all the information we know about the Snake!"

“Yeah. . .” Ken repeats once more, his eyes devoid of life. He was so pitiful and alone. . . maybe that’s why his Lumi was an animation one. That way, he could make more friends for himself. . .

“I’m the worse.” Kohana's reflection laughed. Her tone was completely serious and in no way trying to play anything off. “Mama told me ‘You must be the center of the universe and not let a person control you.’. Haha! What kind of advice for a fucking two year old was that?! But little me took it to heart, believing Mama wouldn’t misguide me! And before I knew it, I was destroying every chance I had to be a decent person!” The reflection’s face scrunches up in disgust. “But, I couldn’t stop. I saw how upset it made everyone but. I didn’t know how to stop and before I knew it, everyone ran away from me.”

“Please stop.” Kohana's voice is soft, her hands trembling as the reflection speaks. She knows. She knows she’s awful. She hates it. She hates being reminded of it and living that reality. She wants to be better, so she tries. She tries so hard with Nagisa. She knows she’ll never make it up to Damon or Samson, even if the Samson present isn’t the one she was mean to in the past, but this habit from her youth is trapped in her, creating this pitiful cycle of good and bad where her thoughts are consumed of how awful she is.

“Josh was the closest thing I could ever have as a friend. . .” The replica’s face falls, sadness and grief seeping into her words as she tries to wipe away the tears from her face with the long sleeves of her kimono. “I want to keep being friends with Josh! The second I saw his face, when Michiru-chii was holding him in her arms, I knew that was my Josh! The Josh I befriended! I don’t care if I’m cruel. . . I just want Josh in my life again!”

No.

Nononono.

No one needs to know about that!

No one was ever to know about that!

Kohana wants to scream but she can’t seem to find her voice. Her legs tremble and she wants to run but she’s rooted to the place, forced to listen to the rambles of this reflection that knows far too much about her deep secrets.

“But why? Why did that idiot tried to fight the snake alone!? I heard him! I heard him talking about his plan but I didn’t think he was serious!” Kohana shakes her head and covers her ears. She doesn’t want to remember that but memories come at full force despite her attempts to kept them at bay. She clearly remembers watching him head to the library with a sword. He was talking to himself and she caught bits. Bits about the Snake and how he was going to confront it. She didnt take it seriously, instead she went to the garden to have tea with Ira. She should have. So many things could have been different if she did!

It shouldn’t have been him. . .

“It should have been me!” Kohana’s reflection bellows, causing the room to echo. “No one liked me! It would have been better if I died! It’s all that nasty Snake’s fault! He hurt so many people! I hate him! I hate him and his children! And his children’s children! They’re all terrible! And they. . . they. . ."

“No. . .” Kohana begs but her reflection whimpers, peaking from between her fingers, gazing upon Rosalin.

“They terrify me.”

“SHUT UP YOU BITCH!” Kohana bellows, tears in her eyes and pointing an accusing finger at the reflection.

“Yes, we are a bitch, aren’t we?"

“Shut up! You’re not me! You will never be me!”

The reflection cackles.

"I want to die Lucifer!”

“Dont leave me!”

Clapping.

It’s been a constant sound in my head all day. It began with an email. It was a vague plead — or maybe a threat? — to not return to Hope’s Peak Academy. It didn’t say more than that but ever since that first email I heard a clap. It began softly. . . but as the day drew out and more emails appeared, the louder the sound became. I’m not sure what it means, but slowly, it feels like I’m going mad. I know by this hour of the day Kuzuryuu would send me a text. Sometimes it was to chatize me for skipping class or to complain about something — even as simple as class was boring that particular day, how he ran into some idiot or a minor mention about how he was concerned about Komadea’s whereabouts, wherever he was. There was always some message left for me to read. .  . but today, there was no such thing.

It felt wrong but I simply told myself it’s nothing for me to worry about. I know that. Maybe it was a busy school day and he has no time to sneak out his phone. . . but, in the depths of my mind, I know that’s bullshit. School already ended and yet there was no sort of contact. . .

Something was happening. I can feel it but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.

The only thing I’m certain of is that I can’t get in contact with anyone. No matter how many calls I attempt, all I can reach are answer machines after answer machines. Slowly, it was wearing me down and making my anxiety spike.

“Nanami-chan!” I gasped in relief. All my attempts to reach anyone was finally paying off. . . but it was uneasily dead quiet on her other side. Even when answering my calls, she usually would be playing a game one handed and my sensitive ears could pick up the music. I uneasily swallowed. “Nanami. . . are you okay?”

“Chiaki Nanami has passed on.” I froze. It was like everything shut down all at once. I will admit I’m surprised the phone didn’t escape my limp grasp as my jaw hug open as a fool, but could I really be blamed for such a reaction?

I didn’t want to believe it. It had a to be a prank. A rather cruel or un usual one because it would be easier to accept other than the fact my friend was . . . dead.

I tried to rummage through my brain for any possible explanation or reason. . . but I couldn’t find anything that stood out. It made no sense. Who would hurt her? She was always a nice and understanding person. Even eager to help me out on my project. . . who would. . .

Oh . . . Oh no . .  

Was she attacked because she was helping me with my rehabilitation program? No. That can’t be possible. I put so much effort into it to made sure it wasn’t discovered. . .

But. .  .

What if this really is my fault?

“You’re hyperventilating.” That cold and empty voice reminded me I was on the phone. I took a moment to compose myself and pressed firmly the phone to my ear once more. I have to see this. I have to see this for myself. It’s stupid but I don’t want to believe she’s actually dead unless I see the body myself. . . but then. . . If she’s really gone. . . I’ll have to accept it, won’t I? That helping me most likely caused her death. . . God. She didn’t deserve that for helping me. . . but. . .

I have to . . . I have to do my job. . .

“Where is the body. . .?” I practically feel disgusted by the words coming out of my mouth. I can’t believe myself. Asking to see my own friend’s body from a stranger.

“. . .Did you calm down that fast?”

. . .A really familiar sounding stranger. . .?

No way. It couldn’t be. . .

I must be going mad. . .

but. . .I know that voice. . .

“Ha. . .Hinata-kun. . .?”

The line went silent for a moment.

“She called me that too.”

“She? You mean. . . Nanami-chan?”

“You’re nervous.” For a moment, I dumbly blink. Was the line so quiet on his side he could easily pick up the sound of me tapping my nails against my desk? I place my hand in my lap to avoid anymore distractions in this conversation.

Still, that wasn’t a question . . . It was a statement.  Hajime did the same thing, more as a means to point something out for entertainment, but the way he spoke made it sound like he made a rather clear, quick and intelligent observation. What happened to Hajime? He vanishes for half a year, causing turmoil and pain for both me and Nanami and then, all of a sudden, comes back as shit starts to fall apart. The worst part is that he, of all people, is telling me that my best friend is dead — in some uncaring emotionless voice.

Im just so. . .

“I’m. . . confused.”

“You have no idea what just occurred.” I could feel my blood run cold in response to his cold and accusatory tone, but the worst part was that he was right. I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to learn programming and bring my project to life I’ve avoided school for the last several days. All of those e-mails begging me not to return to the school had no impact on that decision in the long run. I’ve simply been working so hard and it coincidentally allowed me to avoid whatever was happening outside the walls of my home. Whatever chaos that took my dear friend from me. . .

but. . . what about Hiyoko? Kuzuryuu? Tsumiki? My class? Are they okay?

"How dull. . .”

And like that, Hajime hung up on me.

The dial tone fills my ears,  but to be honest, it barely registers to me. I’m at a lost for words and a thousand thoughts run through my head. It feels like static is consuming me and the only sound that can truly reach me is white noise. Even the sound of my cellphone clanking against the surface of my desk fails to rouses me from my horrified stupor. Normally I would have freaked out if my phone hit the floor, or anything in general, but I can’t find the will to care for it. Right now, it’s so minuscule in the scheme of things.

Goddamn it. Why wasn’t I there? I should have listened to Fuyuhiko and gone to class instead of hiding in my house to work on a goddamn program. I could have done something. . . I could have saved Nanami. . . I could have. . . I should have. I should have done something more. These thoughts only let the uneasiness in my stomach only grow and churn like a storm at sea. I cover my ears, trying to stop the pressure from building behind my eyes, but it’s useless.Even as my body trembles and I try to curl in on myself, the white noise is so loud and it’s jointing with the eternal clapping in my ears.

I can’t explain how or why, but I can simply feel it now. Something truly terrible has happened to the people I love and care for all while I was hiding in the comfort of my home.

This isn’t fair. . .

We made so many promises. I swore to show her life in places she couldn’t reach. And we. . . we made a promise to complete my rehabilitation program so we could help people. . . Damn it. Even if we were to ignore the promises we made together, Nanami must have had many more. She of all people must have had many things left undone. . . Things she wanted to see and do. The Class of 77-B. . . we were supposed to graduate together. . . and I . .

Slowly, I peer over my arms and through my tears, looking over the cork board situated next to my desk. It was covered in little bits and pieces of my memories of the time I spent in Hope’s Peak.

Neatly tucked into the bottom frame of the board were the stubs from various movies I saw over the year. Some tickets came from a few girl’s night that both Nanami and myself were dragged to. It was a bit awkward at first but the tension seemed to vanish as we made ridiculous remarks at the scenes. There were also the pleasant occasions where Kuzuryuu offered to take me to a movie because he just ‘happened’ to have an extra ticket and he thought I would be interested in seeing the movie in question.

On centered on the right side of the board I used two pushpins to hang the Omamoris from Tsumiki (good health) and Peko (safety and protection) by their colored strings right above the ticket stubs. Because of their thoughtfulness, I’ve come to hold the two charms close to my heart. I never expected anyone to come and visit me while I was sick around New Years, much less to bring me gifts. I don’t remember much of the visit because I was as sick as a dog, but, their care and thoughtful nature always makes me smile.

Above the Omamcoris hung a few specially chosen keychains on their own pushpins since I didn’t have space for all of them. Thinking back to how I acquired them amuses me. I wasn’t sure what to request for my birthday and I ended up asking for keychains. From what I’ve been told everyone searched high and low for their idea of what could be the best keychain to give me. I received an interesting assortment of keychains; animal shaped, shoujo, video game and some that were handmade.

The left side of the board was covered in Mahiru’s professionally taken photos from various events and scenes over the school year. Our beloved sensei was missing from them due to her transfer but. . . but we were so happy. . .  

My chest feels like it’s filling with a great warmth as I think of my dear friends. That smile on my face quickly screws into the most determined look I could muster, and I clench my fists as I jump to my feet. There was a year’s worth of memories pinned to this board. Even if it’s so far away now, they’re still valuable memories that I simply can’t disrespect by sitting here and crying. It’s for that reason. . . I have to get up and so something.  Maybe someone from my class isn’t hurt. Maybe they’re in need of help, right now.

And I ha-. No. I must find Nanami’s body.

If I can’t put her soul to ease soon, she’ll become a monster or a restless soul that will be shackled to this world because of those feelings of unresolved things. I can’t let her suffer a fate like that. If this is all I can do. Then I have to help her, one last time.

TRACE CALL?

>YES    NO

I never thought there would be a secret passage under the statue of the school’s founder, Izuru Kamakura, if I’m remembering right, but . . . it certainly exists. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my cellphone to light my way as I descend down the stairs. As I did, I could feel something. Something malicious in the air. I didn’t like it. It was too quiet and eerie. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what existed down here and what happened to my friends.

“You’re not paying attention.” A voice suddenly rouses me from my jumbled thoughts. I jerk my cellphone in the direction of the voice to find. . . a very strange boy standing there, who amazingly did not flinch or change his expression at the light suddenly being shined at them. Instead, he just stated at me and I stared back, confused. That was definitely Hajime's voice I heard, however — just like on the phone — he simply spoke in monotone and bored tone. It was strange. It was definitely him, without a doubt, but he looked nothing like the Hajime I remembered.

He was wearing the same the same uniform he would wear as a Reserve Course Student — black loafers and slacks held up with a black leather belt, a white dress shirt and black tie under black suit blazer with all three buttons undone — and his familiar greens eyes that I’ve come to known were replaced with sinister and calculating red eyes — which had odd target radar-like symbols running across his pupils. His short, shaggy brown hair — even his silly ahoge — was gone. It was’t as if he was bald, it was quite the opposite. It was like he had too much hair now. Long messy strands of black hair obscured part of his face and nearly reached the floor. Even stranger, his skin tone had changed as well. Hinata always had a tanned complexion and many cute freckles on his face but now, he was sickly pale and blank as a canvas.

“What. . . ?” He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away in order to head into the darker depths of this place. I was hot on his trail but when I told him to wait, he seemed to move faster. God. He was still a smarts and an asshole, wasn’t it? Even after. . . whatever the hell happened, he hasn’t changed too much.

Hopefully. . .

But that little hope seems to vanish as we walk down the hall together in silence. The clapping is louder than ever before. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m in new territory . . . or if its because of Hajime. Even if he’s physically changed, I don’t want it to believe its because of Hajime. He sounds cynical but he’s a realistic person that happens to think and worry a lot more than mot people. He’s smarter than he gives himself credit for and despite that he’s a total snarker and a huge nerd, but . . . He’s someone I trust.

There’s no way he can be causing these sounds.

“I could kill you.” Alarmed, I suddenly stumble over my feet, causing me to crash into Hajime’s backside and fall flat on my ass. Glancing up, I noticed he wasn’t looking my way as he began to elaborate himself. “You’re the kind that trusts too easily. It leaves you open and vulnerable.” In a flash, Hajime spun around and raised his fist, however, I easily backflipped away. He blinked slowly, as if he was taking in this new information I supplied him with.

“Yuuki Kazehaya. . .” He speaks the name slowly, as if suddenly mystified by it. “That’s not your real name, is it? No preacher would have skills to so swiftly and easily avoid that hit.”

“. . .No. It’s not.” I reply softly as I get to my feet. My fingers shake as I pull the white veil from my face, undoing the magic that kept my identity a secret for the last year. It’s not like I need it any more anyway. . . If today is the day, it will be the same day I’m leaving and no one will be able to prove I ever existed. The olive Greek complexion of my skin returns to the ethereal pale and hastily cut black hair changes to a light shade of blonde before growing out to reach my shoulders in a instant. “My name is. . . Khrystie Melody."

“That wasn’t an illusion.” It was a simple statement. No disbelief or confusion in his voice. I nod my head. He hums in return. There’s something like. . . curiosity on his face but it’s hard to tell as he takes my wrist and pulls me down the hallway. I stumble for a moment or two but manage to keep my footing and follow after him.

The sounds become louder — almost too complicated to tell them apart from my own rapidly beating heart — but finally, after an endless series of hallways we enter a wide room . . . I finally see her. Laying face down in her own blood that escaped form multiple holes, as if she was violently speared to death, was Nanami. I could feel my legs shaking, almost ready to give out but I willed myself to move closer to her. Once I was close enough, and I knew without a doubt that it was her, I kneeled down next to her. At this moment, I could careless that there was blood on my knees and the edges of my brown uniform skirt. I continued not to care as I rolled my friend onto her backside. Her face was twisted in pain and sadness, tears and blood.

Looking over her body, my sadness gave away to anger. Long before she was impailed, she was suffering. An injury to her right eye, the bone in her right arm is shattered, her leg stabbed with an arrow and a rather huge hole in her foot — too big compared to the holes in her body.

“Who did this. . .?” I find myself asking, my voice low and dangerous. Hajime simply stands behind me, shifting his weight onto one foot and crosses his arms. “Hajime! Answer me!” I snarl, snapping my head in his direction. To my surprise, his eyes widen with a margin of fear but that emotionless face appears once more.

“Junko. Junko Enoshima."

That name was some how familiar but I couldn’t quite place why. . . but, I’ll figure it out later. . .

“We need to go.” Hajime suddenly informs me. Without a response he calmly, but quickly, he makes long strides to one of the darker corners of the room where tall curtains obscure the view of anything behind it. Placing a hand to the back of Nanami’s neck and my other under her knees, I quickly hurry after him in order to join him behind the curtains. Plunged in darkness, I can feel his body pressing against mine and I’m certain the small sliver of light is showing off how flushed my face is. Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

It’s. . . hard to tell unfortunately.

I open my mouth to question him but he quickly places his hand to my mouth.  “Shut up.” With his other hand he points through the sliver between the curtain and the wall. Two girls stood around the spot where Nanami’s body previously bled out. . .

One was a rather tall young woman with an hourglass figure and . . . huge chest. She had big eyes and long, thick, strawberry blonde hair tied in two ponytails — one decorated with a white rabbit hairlip and the other used a large red and white bow. She was wearing a beige cardigan on top of her uniform shirt and a white tie loosely dangled around her neck. The sleeves of her white button-down top were rolled up to her elbows and the first few buttons were undone to expose the black bra she was wearing. To finish off her uniform, she was wearing a navy skirt and black platform boots with red laces.

The other young woman was a bit shorter with black bobbed hair and blue eyes but her eyes were much. . . sharper and precise than the other girl’s, which looked analytical. She was a bit paler than the other girl that made it easy to see the freckles that lightly decorated the bride of her nose. Her clothes were much simpler — boiling down to just a white dress shirt with a red ribbon around the collar, a brown uniform skirt, black knee length socks and loafers and a pair of light brown leather gloves.

The second girl was. . . off. No matter how normal she looked compared to the other girl, the way she walked and carried herself was as if she was a soldier but that couldn’t be right. She was only a high school student. Then again, Hope’s Peak Academy searched for all sorts of skilled children. . . maybe finding a child soldier wasn’t that hard for them. . .?

“Ehh? Where’s the class representative’s body?” The ponytailed girl questions, hands on her hips as she kicks around the puddle of blood.

“I don’t know.” The other replies. The ponytailed girl huffs before slamming her boot into the other girl’s stomach causing her to land flat on her back and proceeds to step on her stomach.

“You stupid ugly bitch, don’t you know how to do anything?!” Talk about a mood swing. Moments ago she seemed so laid back but in a split second she flipped to rage. . . .and the other girl looks like she’s really. . . enjoying getting stepped on.

“B-But — aaah! — I-I was with you t-the whole tim—eek!"

“Getting of on your little sister punishing you? You’re such a pig Mukuro!” The pigtailed girl grinned, kicking the black haired girl — Mukuro — in the side, forcing her to roll over onto her back. She expertly, and happily, takes her punishment as the pigtailed girl stomps on her backside. “Well, even if it is your fault the body is gone, it’s not like it matters. Chiaki Nanami is dead.” She ceases kicking Mukuro to let out a dreamy sigh as she clasps her hands. "and her dear friends have fallen into an endless sea of despair. They were the ones that probably took it, maybe they’ll crucify her body for all to see!”

"B-But didn't we miss one of her classmates?” Mukuro asks as she submissively sits on her knees before the other girl. The pigtailed girl suddenly looks bored. She begins to check her red nails and pick dirt from them. I couldn’t help but be baffled by this girl’s good swings. Seriously. What is up with her?

"Ah. That preacher chick, right?" The pigtailed girl lets out a hum. "She was a preacher for some Goddess of Hope; Her lessons of hope, friendship, love and care captivated just about anyone who heard her sermons. . .” She  shorts.  “How ironic that she abandoned her friends when they needed her the most." The pigtailed girl starts to laugh, a sound that would later come to haunt me. "Upupu~ Maybe my loyal despairs will find her. Won't it be fun to watch all she's ever believed in and preached about fall apart before her very eyes." The young woman wraps her arms around herself, nearly salivating with joy. "To watch a woman of hope fall apart and crumble to utter despair is beautiful! What a joy it would be to watch that! Oh she'd be useful to my plans if she begin sermons of a new goddess! A Goddess of Despair!"

"She'd refuse, wouldn't she?” Mukuro asks. Immediately, the pigtailed girl stops laughing. She gives Mukuro a pointed look before grinning in an utterly delightful and terrifying way.

"That's why we have the Despair Video. All she has to do is watch it and she’ll become become my preacher and tell the world of the wonders of despair!” She giggles once more, spins on her heel and makes her way to the exit, a spring in her step. "Lets go Mukuro, we still have plenty of work to do~"

"C-Coming Junko. . .” Mukuro stumbles, rising after her feet to follow the young woman out of the room through the way they came. I, on the other hand, was frozen as I took in the information those two spewed.

Junko.

So the terrible woman who killed Nanami and harmed my classmates, was none other than a student at the school? How did such a student get into the school in the first place? What was her goal? What was her obsession with despair? I couldn’t understand this at all.

“What’s your next step?” Hajime questioned as he pushed the curtain back and stepped into the light once more. Right. I can’t stay here. The Tragedy is coming and I have to leave with my findings in order to help resolve this situation. . . but there was something I had to do first.

Kneeling down, I placed the lower half of Nanami’s body on the floor and used the hand placed at the back of her neck to tilt her torso back. I take a deep breath before raising my other hand to her chest.

“Nanami. . . please come out. . . I know it must be hard. . .dealing with the fact you’re dead, but, we can’t leave our friends the way they are. We can still help them. . . I can combine an AI with your soul, the culmination if all your memories, heart and feelings, and you can help rehabilitate them in the program. Help them realize who they truly are and achieve what only they can do.” And as I hoped, a sparkling ball of gray-pink light left Nanami’s body. Gently, it floated about, as if she was waiting.

“Will you really complete the rehabilitation program?”

“I’ll find help. . . no matter how long it takes, I will complete it and help our friends.”

“I’m glad. . .I want to see them all. Even if it's one more time. . .” I smiled softly, my expression torn between pain and genuine happiness. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a glass jar that had a string around its short neck and a cork selling it shut. Unsealing the bottle, an unseen force proceeded to suck Nanami’s soul inside and once she was safely inside, I sealed the bottle once more. Strangely, it felt familiar and melancholy as I held Nanami’s sealed soul. I don’t quite know why. . . regardless, stowing the bottle away in my bag, I lifted Nanami’s limp body into my arms and made my way to the exit.

Quietly, Hajime followed behind me.

Surprisingly, the rain had stopped by the time I emerged from the secret passage but I could hear riots in the distance — students demanding justice for reasons unknown to me — however, for the time being, I ignored them. As quietly as I could, I snuck through the thicket that surrounded the school and escaped from the campus.  The soil was damp and easily gave away under my footing, causing me to slip and fall. I let out a yelp as I tumbled downward, thankfully remembering to clutch my friend’s body close to my own and save her from getting too messy.

A shrine is too far and I don’t want to bring her body home to her parents. . . so at the edge of a stream, I decided this would be a good place as any to prepare a small funeral for Nanami. With a motion of my hand, water raised from the stream to wash over Nanami’s body —  removing dirt, specks of blood and mud — before returning to its source. I reach into my bag, I pulling out a sewing kit and the lovely white dress I received from my godmother for Christmas.

Looking over the length of the dress I decided it should be enough fabric to modify her uniform into a kimono and so, once I dragged my hands down her clothes, dying all of it white, and the sewing kit began to do the work on it’s own. The forces of magic lifted Nanami off the ground so it could work without any issues; first the red ribbon around the collar of her shirt was removed along with her backpack and placed to the side for the moment. The tools move with expertise and precision, snipping fabrics and seamlessly stitch fabric back together in order to create a unique but presentable makeshift kimono. With the job done, the tools automatically placed themselves back where they belonged.

“It’s folded the wrong way.” A shriek suddenly escapes me. With my concentration gone in an instant, Nanami ceases floating and falls, thankfully, into my arms. Looking to the source, I wonder why I had not expected this. Once again, it’s Hajime. However, this time he’s appeared with something over his shoulder. . . I can’t quite tell what is it is but I’m not threatened by them. . . but to be honest, I am anxious of him and him alone. Maybe its because I haven’t seen him in six months and he suddenly reappeared with no rhyme or reason? As glad as I am to see him, it is weird.

“Hajime, what the heck. . .?” I find myself muttering. “How did you find me?” He lets out a deep sigh, still carrying whatever is over his shoulder, and approaches me with a bored expression.

“The footsteps I followed matched your size and the imprints were deep enough in the mud to indicate whoever left the prints was carrying something of equal mass.” He simply explains. “You’re lucky no one found your tracks before I did.”

“Oh. . .”

Jesus christ.

What an intelligent response.

To save myself from this awkward situation, I motion to the object he’s carrying. It looks rather long. . . like. . . a casket?

“What’s that Hajime?”

“A casket. I made it myself.” He states, dropping it on the ground before me. For a moment I flinch, not expecting him to abruptly drop it, but as I examine it I can’t help but be in awe of the craftsmanship. No splinters, just smooth wood with a beautiful shine. Its not even awkwardly shaped at all. There doesn’t seem to be any flaws at all. It’s so well made that it would be impossible for anyone to tell it was made by hand.

“A casket? I didn’t know you could make one. . . “ I find myself murmuring as I carefully place Nanami’s body inside the box. Without blinking, Hajime leans down and begins to fix her kimono. In swift movements he undoes the obi to cross the front right side of the kimono over the left side. For a moment, I forgot that was the proper way the decease wears the kimono. I guess my head was in such a tizzy I didn’t even notice it.

“It’s my talent.” Hajime suddenly mutters as he pulls six yen coins from the pocket of his uniform. He gazes at the coins for several moments before placing them in Nanami’s limp hand and gently forcing her hand to close into a fist around the coins. He then places the hand on her chest and the other on top of it to make it look like she’s praying.

“I, uh, I didn’t know carpentry was your talent Hajime.” I fumble as I tuck her bag into the casket. Looking away from the face of my deceased friend I find Hajime staring right at me with his red eyes.

“It’s not.” I stare at him for several moments with a blank expression before it twisted into outright confusion. Then how did he make this casket? It’s too good to be something made by someone who has no talent or knowledge in how to make one. So, is he trying to say he just happen to have it laying around?

No.

That’s just. . . too bullshit to be real but what the hell did he even mean?

“What?”

“Super High School Level Hope, Izuru Kamakura. That is who I am."

If my face wasn’t screaming what the fuck before, it was now. It had to be. Izuru Kamakura? That was the name of the school founder and what the hell is SHSL Hope? Was hope even an actual talent? Even then, how does having hope mean you’re good at carpentry? Even if I was an individual training to become the next Goddess of Hope, this made no sense at all.

“Since when?” I demand incredulously.

“Ever since I woke up.” He responds calmly and as if this isn’t a troubling concept. “I am Hope Peak’s dream. A man with every talent, born to deliver hope to all. . . but, I lack the talent you posses. The feats you can do are no illusion but are impossible to perform. . . and yet you do. You defy all logic, reason and expectations. I suppose, that’s why I haven’t killed you. I’m interested in you.” My face flushed — to which he immediately responded with ‘not that way’ — but that didn’t make me feel any less awkward.

“I guess. . . that’s why you never reacted to me calling you ‘Hajime’, huh?”

“A useless name for a useless person.” He states this as if it was a fact. A fact that he was a useless person. Jesus Christ.

“I’ll fight you on that.” I huff, crossing my arms. “There’s more to life than talent and Hajime was a wonderful person.”

“Then why was I created?” Haji- no, Izuru questions, his tone as empty as before. “I was created because mankind needed someone with my talent.”

“Your talents aren’t even real!” I argue back. “Talents or hope isn’t something you can just. . . jam into a person! Talent is something that comes naturally and hope is something you inspire into others, you can’t just . . . fake that stuff!”

“And yet, here we are.” Izuru states simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Or, are you simply mad that you were never able to confess to who I was before?”

What.

“How pitiful. You never realized the extent of your own feelings. You showed all signs and symptoms of being attracted to the past me. You blushed often, kept eye contact, maintained physical contact, you were often lost for words, your breath caught and your heart excellerated. You were always excited to be by his side.”

“Just. . . shut up.” I weakly mutter.

To be completely honest, I have no idea if I liked Hajime or not. I never put thought into it before and to have all of this pointed out to me, when its too late to even talk to Hajime, is just. . . mockery? Its painful to think of what could have happened if he knew or if I knew sooner. I let out a dejected sigh before glancing around for some sticks however, Izuru flips out a lighter from the breast pocket of his coat. Huh. As SHSL Hope, he’s probably good with fire and pyrotechnics now. . . but I can’t help but be concerned that he’s just carrying a lighter. Ignoring it for the moment I take the lighter from him and with a flick of my thumb against the flint wheel, the lighter produced a small flame.

“Well, I know you’re with me Nanami but I want to make sure you’re properly sent off before things get any worst around here. You were a really kind and helpful person. . . thanks for everything you did. . .” I look to Izuru but his face clearly says he has no idea what to say. That or he really doesn’t care to say anything. Nonetheless, I drop the lighter into the casket, setting her Nanami aflame. For two hours, I stayed by her side until there was nothing but bone and ashes left behind. I was surprised that Izuru decided to return to the impromptu funeral and cremation after leaving forty five minutes in but he returned with a beautiful white urn decorated with swirling flower designs and two pairs of chopsticks.

Silently, we worked together to pull her bones from the ashes and carefully place them in the urn from her toes to her neck. Once all other bones were stored in the jar, we placed her skull inside and sealed it shut. I stared at the urn, suddenly apprehensive of it. Nanami’s remains are inside. . . but shouldn’t it be delivered to the shrine her family has a grave at? I don’t know where that is and I doubt I’ll have enough time before Jossie comes to get me.

“I’ll take care of it.” Izuru simply states, his eyes closed. “Your face says everything.” Thought his expression was bored, his eyes seemed to shine with a hint of pain. How long was he like that. . .? Even though he can’t recall being Hajime, he can feel pain for the loss of Nanami? Maybe, even though the mind cannot recall, his heart can? It was a strange concept but. . . maybe. . . maybe I can use it to improve my rehabilitation program.

Maybe. . .

“Wait, before you go. . .” I call out to Izuru. I reach into my bag and pull out a switchblade knife. “Take this.”  Shifting Nanami’s urn into one arm, he takes the knife and expertly flips the blade out. He repeats the motion a few more times before pocketing the closed blade. "I’ve had this for a while, I don’t really remember where I got it from, but it’s gotten me out of some situations before. So, stay alive until I return to help you.”

“Help me?”

“I want to help all of my friends. . . I doubt you knew this would become of you. . . and my friends are suffering because of Junko. I want them to be happy and safe. . .  so, once I finish the program, I’ll be able to come back. . ."

“. . .I’ll wait for that day.” He murmurs softly. “I want to see your idea of hope."

“Until then. . ."

“Until then."

Even if today is the day I was foretold about, the day I couldn’t avoid no matter what work I attempted to do to prevent it, I have to do something.

I was given the choice to kill class 77-B or find an alternate method to deal with them at the beginning of all of this but, long ago, I decided to take the ‘other’ option. The memories I’ve built have shown me the true feelings and emotions my friends have carried. There’s no way they would willingly bring forth The Biggest, Most Atrocious Despair Inducing Incident in Human History if they had any choice. . . and I cannot strike down a person who was forced or manipulated to do terrible things. Refusing to give help to those who need it is bullshit in my books.

One thing is truly clear to me right now.

When people are killed, they die.

That’s been the logic she’s known all her life.

And yet. . .

She’s pretty certain she’s alive. She’s swinging between consciousness but. . .  yeah, she’s pretty sure she’s alive.

She lifts her hands up to the sky, which has a strange purple hue to it, and her hands attempt to reach out to the clouds in the sky.

What a strange feeling. . .

She can still feel it coursing through her veins, pulsing and beating. The magic that bastard woke up in her . . . He said it was magic from a past life. If she was dead, it most certainly would have left her body by now.  But that pulse is proof that she’s alive.

Her arms limply fall to her side and she lets out a sigh, allowing weariness to consume her once again.

When she wakes up again, she’s in something . . .  Something in her tells her it’s not quite a house but it’s someone’s state of housing. Something of a magical nature. Following that is the realization that she’s been bandaged up. . . and stripped of her clothes in the process. Normally she would have screamed or made some big deal out of it — just like . . . Khrystie would have — but she still feels too tired and drained to do anything.

She rests her head on her pillow, hands flat on her stomach, and gazes out the window. The sun seems to be in the sky. . . but the strange color in the sky makes it hard to tell what time of day it is.

Hearing the door open, she looks away from the window and to the door to find. . . a

Um. . .

A hand?

Yeah. . . It most certainly was a giant gloved hand with a simplistic and cartoony face.

“You’re awake!” It greets. She blankly stares back at this. . . glove, unsure of what to say. It introduces itself as . . .Handude. A very. . . original name. It doesn’t have much to say, it simply checks over her condition before exiting the room, saying they have to fetch the master of the household.

Phantom.

What the hell kind of name is that. . .?

Well, that experience woke her up a little more and now she realizes there’s magic pumping all around her. She’s never felt such so much magic around her before. The worlds she’s lived in before were bare of magic. . . now it simply feels like there’s magic everywhere.

Was this what it was like for Khrystie? To be constantly aware and conscious of every living being and the magic they gave off? It’s too strange of a feeling. She’s really. . . underestimated her. . .

But that’s all she’s ever done, hasn’t she?

Assumed so much about her sister. Usually she’s simply assumed the worst — like that she was a dirty whore and that’s why she had so many children — and blamed her for things she had no fault in — it was never her fault that Lavender vanished — and assumed that Khrystie was so utterly was weak and useless. That was never the case. She was so powerful but she was holding back against her the whole time. . . because she loved her despite how shitty she was.

How could she be so blind to how nice her sister really was. . .?

“Are you awake?” She opens her eyes to see the presumed owner of this place. She’s pretty sure it’s a girl. . . who had to be as young as her.  Long messy brown curls, brown eyes framed with glasses and some freckles that stood out on her pale skin. She was dressed in all black; coat, pants and shoes.

Next to her was a guy in black clothes as well. The collar of his coat added a bit more color to him; pale purple, orange and navy. There was even blue on the stomach of his coat, a shape similar to a wave. Interestingly, he had a tanned complexion, gray eyes and shoulder length hot pink hair.

“Pink. . .” She mumbles before she could stop herself. The guy gave her a look but she didn’t quite register it, since she was thinking about dying her bangs a light pink color. They’ve been pale purple for a while. It would be nice to change things up.

“She seems to be conscious. . .” The boy mutters, somewhat annoyed. His companion smiles.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Sheryl. . .” She pauses.

Melody. . .?

No.

She’s completely shamed that name with her ignorance and stupidity. Khrystie was the only one who truly carried that name with pride and nobility. She can’t keep carrying that name anymore. . . She’ll need a new one for the new life she’s somehow living.

“Nolen. Sheryl Nolen.” The pink haired guy raised a brow, looking a bit doubtful. Sheryl is pretty sure the girl caught onto her lie but she didn’t seem to be bothered by it.  She simply nods her head.

“My name is Phantom,” She introduces herself. With a hand, she motions to her companion. “And this is Sean. He’s my Denizen.”

“Denizen?” Sheryl squints her eyes. That sounded vaguely familiar, but she’s not so sure why.

“Ah, well, that’s quite a story. . . We can talk about that at another time.” Phantom smiles, crossing her arms. “Why don’t we talk about you Sheryl, what were you doing on the side of the road?” Sheryl shrugs her shoulders uselessly.

“Dying, I guess. . .”

“Well, that would make sense given your injuries. . .” Phantom mumbles. “What were you fighting?”

“Fighting?” Sheryl blinks.

“You don’t your kind of injuries by sitting around and doing nothing. Ruptured organs, broken limbs and third degree burns. It’s a miracle you’re even alive!” Sheryl looks out the window once more, her tried fingers curl into a fist.

“I. . .I fucked up really badly. I was terrible to my older sister . . . I never tried to understand her. I assumed things about her and called her terrible things. . . worst of all, I put her and her entire family in danger by selling her out to some god like thing that had a vendetta against her. That thing could absorb people into its flesh and destroy so many civilizations in the matter of days. . .” Sheryl clutches the bedsheets in frustration. “It promised me it could get rid of her. . .and I stupidly thought, if she was gone, my real sister would comeback . . ."

“One of her husbands slapped some sense into me. . . and I tried to call off the attack against her but. . .that bastard lied to me. He was just full of bullshit. . .  He didn’t even know a damn thing about her. So what if she knew about Hamon. . . That shit couldn’t even kill him, much less hurt him. . . He just wanted her dead because she married the descendant of the person that defeated him over eighty years ago . . .”

“So, did this thing attack you for trying to stop him from attacking your sister?” Phantom asks. Her voice is firm and steady. It doesn’t seem mad, more pointed and concerned. At least that’s what the melody is telling Sheryl.

“I think so.” Sheryl sighs, her fists uncurls and she rests her hands upon her stomach. “I can’t really remember. . . It happened too fast. I just know it wasn’t my sister that attacked me. . . I can remember the anger on her face when that bastard hit me. . . After all the shit I put her through, she’s just. . . so concerned with me. I really don’t deserve a sister like her. . .”

“It doesn’t matter if you deserve her or not,” Phantom shrugs. “I think it’s pretty clear that she thought you were worth it. Your sister really loved you.”

Sheryl refuses to look into anyone’s eyes. Just out the window, with her expression that is nothing more than pain and grief. Phantom and Sean decide this is their cue to leave. She’s not quite sure what compelled her but Sheryl glanced back to the door just as Phantom closed the door behind her. . . and noticed a familiar pin attached to the bottom of the girl’s coat. It was the mon that belonged to her sister’s clan.

Somehow, someway, she ended up so far away from everything familiar. . . and yet she was found by one of her sister’s allies. . .

Steve was gone now.

He was off, following his destiny to become the heroic and iconic Captain America. He would meet Bucky again. . . They would fight back to back, as heroic icons. Then the man you foolishly fell in love with would die. Steve would vanish too, lost and frozen in time, for years to come.

With both of them gone, you are left behind and alone.

Sitting home alone you felt empty but you felt no will to move yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go to work or to attempt your beloved hobby of gardening. It hurt. Everything. Your heart, your body, your entire existence. . .  every passing moment felt as if there was an unbearable pain that crushed and compiled upon your very soul. It chastising you over and over for being so foolish in all of your actions in this era.

And gazing upon the silver ring that rested on your left ring finger it crushed you all the more. This ring belonged to Bucky’s mother. . . He gave you something so precious with the intention of returning to you, you carry you off to happiness in a white gown.

But it was just that in the end, a dream. . . and you were Fate’s toy in this hazy web of joy and despair. You knew from the very beginning that this was a terrible idea. You should have listened to the voice in the back of your mind that once screamed that you should stop this before you hurt yourself.

God, but, you were so stupid.

You can vaguely hear voices speaking all around you. You don’t know where it’s coming from but you cover your ears and try to block it all out because it’s Bucky’s voice you’re hearing. It’s as if you can hear him everywhere, speaking and reliving those cherished moments you spent together. The sound of his voice at this very moment makes you want to cry.

Darker thoughts creep forward, snuffing out the voices and remind you that this suffering is all your fault. . . and maybe. . . it was. If you never left your apartment that day this never would of happened. If you hadn’t, you never would have gotten yourself in that situation where Steve came to help you. If Steve hadn’t stopped to save you Bucky never would have looked for his friend. . . and you would be able to live without this ache and pain in your heart.

Your feet are moving without your command, not that you were aware. Even if you were you wouldn't know where you're going right now. You're simply moving.

You have no memory of what you do anymore.  Every day blurs into the next; nothing is really worth remembering anyway.  Do you even get out of bed?  Do you shower?  You must be paying your rent, because you’re not evicted yet.

Things get done and your body moves forward without your mind, same as it ever was.  Has it been a day?  A week?  Years, even?  Time is meaningless, you can’t get back to your own time either way.

The dark thoughts swirling within you, telling you that is right. . . That isolation and purging your memories are the best solutions to your dilemma but, deep down, you know it’s impossible to do so because even trying to forget about the happiness you felt with Bucky is a much heavier pain for you to handle. You’ve already lost everything. Everything else you called precious to you before, and the love you felt for him was something so true and genuine. . .

You can't let it go.

No.

You refuse to let it go.

The pain to forget, the pain of memories and dreams that cannot be hurt you, but you love him so much more . To be never remember him or to strip him entirely from your life would do more damage than good. . .

Hopeless. . .

You are so hopelessly in love with that man. . .

You don't have to forget.

An unknown voice rings out.

Shocked by this you jump up to your feet, looking around wildly. This was the moment you realize you're no longer in your apartment. You're elsewhere. . . You're not so certain where this elsewhere is, however.

It appears to be a tunnel made of white light that swirls around your body and there are apparently several holes in this tunnel and inside them images move and voices come forth. You can recognize each of these scenes without any effort. After all, they're your memories.

You're baffled by all of this. Have you gone mad with grief?

You have not. You must return to where you belong.

Back to where you belong. . .

Your eyes are downcast and you clench your hands. Biting your lip, it hits you once more how out of place you were. You weren’t a dame from the 1940s. You were a struggling adult from 2014. . .

Honestly, you should have seen this event coming. . . After all, in the beginning, you wanted to return to your time. However, after everything, you're no longer sure and left without a choice. . . but. . . Where will you go? You've been gone for so long. . .

There is no family waiting for you. Your home and job are most likely gone too.

Home

You're fairly certain that's impossible. Lifting your head you glance around yourself once more and to your surprise many of the rifts replaying your memories are starting to close up. The only ones that remain open are the ones of Bucky. His smiling face, his kind smile and the sound of his laughter.

All of these warm feelings surround you once more and you can't help but smile between the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes.

Home. . . is where Bucky is, isn’t it. . . ?

If . . . if that is true, you want to be home right now. . .

You want to be in his arms once more. . .

Returning to the hospital now with one unidentified female that was found at the site. No identification was found on the individual. They seem to be in their early twenties. Full extent of their injuries are unknown. Witness claims they fell from the sky-

What the hell? She fell from the sky?

That's what the witness reported. . . Fell from the sky and there was a crater at the extraction point. They obviously impacted with the ground with incredible speed and force. Miraculously, there seems to be no head trauma.

D-Do you think. . . she's one of them? A m-mutant?

Whatever she is, she needs help and that's our job.

You slept for a long time and the world continued to move without you in the meantime. The doctors and nurses that looked over were filled with both amazement and fear. Your injuries should've killed you; after falling from such a height your skull should've cracked wide open but it didn’t. Instead, you were left with minor injuries such as a bruised and scraped face along with several broken bones.

When you finally woke up, it was the middle of March, 2015. In two months, it will be a full year since you … since you ... since you what? You must have suffered some damage to the brain or something; why else would so many memories gone?  Where have you been these last ten months?  You have the strange feeling, though, that something apart from just a  physical injury is causing your amnesia.  Either way, it can’t be helped; it seems you’ve forgotten everything.

Everything but a face, a name and a voice. They all belonged to one man. One man who smiled and spoke kind and loving words to you. Someone you loved dearly without a doubt. Day in and day out, with every free moment you had -- between therapy and checkups from the hospital staff -- you drew his face on every blank sheet of paper you could find.

Finishing your most recent sketch, you glance over to the flowers in the vase on your bedside table as the door to your room quietly closed with a click. They were gifts from a nurse, one of the nicer ones. It wasn’t like anyone else could get them for you. The doctors told you that you had no family after all.

You stare at the flowers a little longer. Your gaze shifts to one in particular, a white flower with scalloped petals, trimmed with stripes of pink-red hues.  Its name … you know it.

“. . .Carnations.” You whisper in a soft voice, reaching out to a flower in the vase but you stop yourself and place your hands in your lap instead. “Striped Carnations. . .”

Time seemed to drag on slowly without Bucky’s smile to greet you everyday. You tried to distract yourself with work and a bit of gardening but it didn't work all the time.

You would still meet up with Steve between his classes and his continued attempts to train. It was admirable but a bit worrisome with his health in mind that despite what happened at Coney Island he was still determined to enter the army.

Speaking of the army, received letters from Bucky on a weekly basis, but your life still felt. . . hollow.

Maybe this was a normal feeling one would feel when separated from someone they love. Or maybe it was a guilt that was slowly starting to pile on you, scolding you for even engaging in such a relationship despite knowing how it could only end in a tragedy.

Ultimately, with so little to distract you now, you realized your bandaged hand was starting to become unbearably itchy.

It was just before Christmas when Bucky finally returned from his training camp.

It was a pleasant surprise to say the least. Even more so to see him in uniform as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He was incredibly handsome in that uniform, but - uniform or not - you were so overcome with joy you leapt right on him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, refusing to let go for a second. You didn’t care how improper it was, even more so in this era of time.

Your goddamn boyfriend was home and you were happy to see him again.

He was finally here again and you were happy. He was too, seeing how he grinned in response to your affections. He wrapped an arm around your backside and placed a hand on the back of your head as he dipped you downwards and greeted you with a kiss on your lips.

He pulls back, gently pressing his forehead to your own and your noses brushing against each other in a loving action.

“Hey doll. . .” He smiles. You return the smile, dragging him down for yet another kiss. This is a happiness that can't last much longer - you know that. . . . but you’ll take it. All its worth and all it is, you’ll take every ounce of it.

A few days later, you find yourself preparing to experience another page from your history book - Stark Expo.  You never got to go to the ones Tony Stark organized in your time, but you’ve seen the pictures in the magazines. There’s always so many cool things to look at, and new science to not understand but find really cool anyway.  You wonder if you can get into a photograph that will be used in a history textbook entry for Stark Expo, you can point and laugh at it later if you ever get back.

Either way, you’re opening your door, shouting “WHO’S READY FOR STARKCON” at Bucky and Steve, who just look at each other and grin.

“So I take it you’re excited.”  Bucky’s giving you that half smile again.  God, you’re not sure you could ever get used to that look on his face, and you’re also not sure you ever want to get used to it.

The amount of happiness this man could bring you was almost sickening.

“Of course I am!” You beam. Without a second thought, you took a seat on Steve’s bed, next to your boyfriend. There was a dumb smile on your face as you pressed your face to Bucky's arm. Grinning, he pulled the arm from you to wrap it around your waist and kiss the top of your head.

“C’mon love birds,” Steve laughs as his grin grows wider. “We should head out soon. We shouldn’t keep your friend waiting after all, Cosmo.”

Oh yeah, that’s right. Your co-worker, Sapphire Starlight, was bent on attending StarkCon as soon as she heard about it. She didn’t have the money for it, even with the extra time she put into it but it turned out Bucky had a spare ticket and he was glad to offer it to your friend.

She could even be a cute date for Steve!

Which she was more than glad to be. Sapphire was a sweet person, a bit of a firecracker, and she was clearly enamored by Steve. . . However, the same couldn’t be said about him. Despite all the excitement of the event, it didn’t seem like Steve was. . . there. Mentally at least.  He barely paid attention to anything that was going on.

You did, however, have to laugh a few times at a few of the presentations - some of these technologies you’ve never even heard of, and they keep insisting it’ll be in replacing electricity in fifty years.

Howard’s presentation, though - dang, that guy seems to be on the right track or something.  He comes up in front of a car that looks more like it should have come out of the 60s than the 40s and can fly on top of that! Actually, the only thing about him that’s from the 40s is his suit and the backup dancers. (Which anyone knows is a Stark aesthetic at this point.)

“Dang, where’s my flying car?”

Bucky laughs.  “I’m sure they’ll be affordable in fifty years.”

Just then, the flying car decides to crash back onto the stage to the midst of screaming dancers scrambling for cover.

“...I’m sure they’ll be safer too.”

You can’t help but smile when you turn and see Bucky grinning at you.  “Well, if we’re both still alive in fifty years … how about it?  Do you want a flying car?”

You snort.  “If they become affordable and …” You look over to the flaming stage. “Safe.” Unfortunately, history roused it’s ugly head, reminding you once more your beloved would not be by your side in fifty years. To distract yourself, you called out to Steve.  How about it, Steve?  Want to pool money together for a flying … Steve?”

But he was nowhere to be found.  Just like him, of course.

Actually, Sapphire wasn’t around either. . .

God. They better not be making out somewhere.

On second thought, that would probably be much better than Steve trying out for the military again. Then again, fate dictates that's gonna happen anyway. Regardless of making out or not.

Looking through the crowd once more, you quickly do a double take when you see a couple in the crowd. This time you’re more than certain of who you saw. Steve is grinning, his face a red hue, as Sapphire hangs off his arm with a smile on her face and one fist pumped in the air, as if she’s cheering him on. He looks strangely excited about. . . something.

Bucky seems a bit surprised about this sudden change in his friend’s behavior.  Before, he barely smiled and wasn’t even really paying much attention to anything around him.  The grin is almost splitting his face and half and he’s almost glowing.  The grin - so similar to Bucky’s - wipes every concern you had; now that you recall, you don’t believe you’ve seen his face that lit up … ever, really.

“Oh boy,” Bucky grins, getting the smaller in a headlock. “Who woulda guessed that little Stevie would run off for a dark corner to smooch a gal, huh?”

“That's not what happened.” Steve firmly denies, his cheeks a darker shade of red. Both you and Bucky know that’s not what happened, since Steve it too shy for such a bold move but it’s still pretty fun to tease him.

“Well, I think Stevie is going to have a very exciting time in the future.” Sapphire hums, continuing to hang off Steve’s arm. If it was possible, Steve’s face grew even redder. Sapphire smiled, satisfied with this. “Come along Stevie, why don't you walk me home tonight, like the gentleman you are?”

Steve made a rather vague reply. If one could call it that, it was more like strangled sounds of a dying animal. Sapphire simply giggled, pressing her head to his shoulder as his took shaky steps forward. You wolf whistle and see his ears turn an even brighter shade of red as he picks up his pace, as if trying to get away from the gales of laughter coming from Bucky now..

Bucky looked to you, a grin on his face and wiping happy tears from his eyes.

“They seem to have the right idea. Why don't we head over to your place doll?”

And so, between smiles and soft laughter you brought Bucky to your apartment once again. This time however, it didn't take long for simple touches and kisses to become something far for intimate and passionate.

Clothes were quickly removed, thrown to the floor in as they were distractions to what you both so longly craved, leaving behind a trail to your bedroom.

Between kisses to the column of your neck Bucky unbuttoned your shirt, revealing your bare body that was clad for nothing more than your undergarments of choice. He mutters something along the line of 'beautiful' between the kisses he leaves on the underside of your jaw. Bucky's hand rests on your left breast, giving it a squeeze.

Arching against the bed, you let out a loud shameles moan, however, upon realizing the sound you made you quickly glance away with red cheeks. In retaliation, he grins and tilts your head in his direction to kiss you passionately once more. As his lips occupy your own his hands slide over your body, pushing your shirt off your shoulders. You assist with the task of fully removing the article of clothing by sitting up and rolling it off your shoulders with a sultry look in your eyes.

Crawling across the bedspread you make your way into Bucky’s lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands slide down your naked waist, feeling your body. Humming, you pull him into a kiss with a handful of his short hair. He groans in return, squeezing your hips tightly. You kiss him with a little more force as his hand starts to run down the length of your leg, occasionally stopping to gently rub it with the intention of gently coaxing moans from you.

It works and so he fervently to hear you cry out once more. Your lowered into your backside and he is kneeling above you. Grinning, he tosses aside his shirt, his hungry eyes focused solely on your blushing heaving form. You could hardly look him in the eye with how flustered you were.

Bucky kisses you once more, sucking all of your breath away. His hands slide under your back to fight with the clasps of your bra. Leaning back, he takes in the sight of your naked torso and smiles. His hands carefully run over the bare skin, eliciting shivers and moans from you. A hand starts to slide down your sides, hooking your underwear . . . but, there's a pause.

“Wait, doll,” He suddenly whispers, his voice heavy with pants. Looking into his eyes you notes that they were both passionate and serious.

“Y-Yeah. . . ?” He licks his lips, as if he’s nervous about something. He brings you in for a soft gentle kiss and gazes right into his eyes.

“When I come back from the war, I wanna marry you.” You’re unable to stop yourself from gasping or widening your eyes. Your face grows a dark red hue in the darkness of the room and tears prickle the corner of your eyes. Smiling, his left hand gently cups on your cheek, you lean into the touch and in return he strokes your cheek. “I can’t give you much, but, I want to spend what I have with you. So how about it? Let’s be together, forever. . .”

You should reject the idea. You should tell him ‘no’ to leave to prevent grief on both behalfs. You should run. You should deny this all. This isn’t fair. This dream isn't one you should have with this man. . .

Despite that all, like a fool, you said;

“Yes! Oh God, of course I'll marry you Bucky! Of course! Of course! Oh god, I love you so much Bucky. . .”

I love you was repeated like a mantra between the two of you. And for that night of passion, between kisses, moans and intertwined fingers, there was truly no one but the two of you in your universe.

“I love you.”

Slowly, he absorbed those words. Love was a concept he wanted and he so desperately craved for. . . so stupidly craved for. . .

A sad shallow craving lead to hushed whispers in the hallways of the academy, red marred skin on delicate pale skin, disgusting black and blue bruises that littered his body and crude words strewn on his skin . . . So many one night stands where he was nothing but an object to be used.

The concept of love left I’m so dull and empty. . .

But, for the first time, as he stood there with wide eyes, he felt something.

He could hardly believe it. For the first time. . . in what was maybe forever, Chi’s honest words made him feel something. . . Something profound and wonderful.

And he absolutely loathed it.

He hated feeling connected to others. He hated the friendship Nagisa showered and shoved upon him with no regard of his feelings. He hated how Lucifer would worry for him. He hated how people cared. He wasn’t something to care for.

He didn’t deserve love.

So he laughed.

“I’m sorry. You’re mistaken Chi. . .” With a smile that betrayed the pained look in his eyes, he turned his back and walked away. Chi called out to him and running became a brisk walk and soon enough he was running. Running deep into the forest on the Academy’s campus and before he knew it he was up to his upper thighs in the water of the lake.

He was cold and his clothes were sopping wet. . . but he didn’t care. Sobs wracked his body and his screams of agony echoed through the forest, frightening away animals. Chilled to the bone, the water only reflected a pathetic, helpless weeping child. 

To say you were thrilled and terrified was an understatement. You’ve never had the chance to go on a date before in your life and now, here you are, going out on a date with Bucky.

For the event you went out of you way to buy a new outfit, a peasant blouse with a white floral pattern, a matching skirt that went inches below your knees and a pair of wedges to complement your outfit.

Just as you finished applying red lipstick you heard knock on the front door of your apartment. You heart flutters and you nearly tripped over your feet to rush to the door. It’s no surprise that it’s Bucky standing there with a wide grin on his face, dressed in a beige pants and a waistcoat, which was on top of a white dress shirt and red tie.

Shit. Your mind goes blank for a bit. Did he turn up the handsome today, or is it just because you're going on a date?

“Hey.” There's that smile - the one you saw last night. God, it could make you melt.

“H . . . hey.” You realize you hadn't been breathing since you open the door, and force a breath in. Smooth. “You look great.” You smile, brushing a curl of your hair back.

“Oh. Well . . . so do you.”  His face . . . oh God, is he turning red too? He's blushing!

He offers you an arm, which you accept as gracefully as you can while being all too aware of how red your face is. You reach back to pull the door shut behind you, and look up at him to see a huge, goofy grin on his face.

“What?”

“I'm just . . . I'm really lucky to be going out with a gal like you.” You’re screaming on the inside. That’s just so. . . sweet to say! Your smile grows all the wider. Beaming, you lean up on the tips of your toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky smiles, facing you so he could cup your face in his hands with ease. He lightly kisses you on your lips. “I mean it to, you’re a one of a kind gal. I’m really lucky. . . ”

Smiles on both of your faces, Bucky releases your face in favor of holding your hand. Smiling, you return the gesture by holding on tightly to his own hand and threading fingers together.

The dinner was good - at least, you think it was?  You can’t actually remember what you ate, or where you went, really.  You vaguely remember music playing in the background, but the clearest memory from the dinner is definitely Bucky’s face and he laughed and talked.

The next thing you know, you’re walking again, Bucky excitedly leading you down the street.  He leads you to . . . oh God.  “I can’t dance!”

“Neither can I!” He replies with that goofy grin on his face. You can't help but laugh. Neither of you can dance, and it’s a really terrible idea to be here dancing in public, but you’re here either way.

It’s comforting in a way. Despite being so awful and the fact that quite a few people are watching and gawking at the two of you, you’re having so much fun with Bucky.

At this moment, he is the center of your universe and you’re content with that.

The night comes to a close and you find yourself at your apartment once more. You’re smiling over such a wonderful night but you're also a bit upset it’s all over. This time of joy and happiness you’ve spent with Bucky, you never want it to end.

And seeing how much he’s kissing you as you’re pinned between him and the wall, you’re rather certain he’s not quite ready to part with you just yet.

You shyly kiss back with a little more force, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading a set of fingers through his short hair. His lips move to the curve of your neck, which he peppers with light kisses before he bites the skin. A light moan escapes your lips. Your fingers curl tighter in his hair and your other hand moves to his backside, clutching him and pulling him closer to your body.

Bucky’s lips return to your own as one of his hands slide down your side, feeling your body through the fabric of your clothes. Shivering, you bite your lip, suddenly too aware you’re in the hallway of your apartment building.

“W-Wait,” You stumble. He seems not to hear you, completely love drunk. “Bucky-! Ah- wait!” Thankfully the punch to his shoulder brings him to a stop.

“Sorry doll," He apologizes, a thumb gently stroking your red cheek. "was that too much?”

“N-No. . .” You mutter. Realizing what you just said you face grows darker. You punch Bucky’s shoulder once more when you see that dumb grin on his face. “Th-That’s not what I meant!! I just. . . we’re in the hall and anyone can see us. . . .and I want to be with you as long as I can.” You shyly glance away, feeling flustered and embarrassed once more.

“Can you stay the night with me?”

“Stay the night. . .?” He softly repeats, his cheeks lighting up a light shade of red. You nod your head, taking his hand into your own, as you focus on your feet.

“Y-Yeah. . . Just, stay with me. . . lay in bed with me. . . and hold me tight. . .” To your delight, Bucky squeezed your hand before pulling it from your grasp. Soon enough his arms wrapped around your body, kissing your temple.

“I’d like that doll.” Smiling softly, you invite him into your apartment once again. He closed the door behind himself, telling you to go ahead to prepare yourself for the night. Still embarrassed, but feeling overjoyed, you gave him a smile before taking your leave.

You made quick work of cleaning up your make up and tossing your clothes into the laundry once you pulled on your nightgown. As you tie your hair for the night you return to the living room, where Bucky waited. He was sitting on the couch, his shoes on the floor by the coffee table which is where he left his folded up waistcoat.

He must of heard you coming because he’s looking at you, grinning yet again. He walks up to you, capturing your face in his hands for a light kiss on the lips. His thumbs gently brush against your cheeks and you lean into the soft touch with a content sigh.

“Is there anything you don’t look absolutely stunning in?” You smile, but it quickly leaves your face for a look of shock as he lifts you into his arms as if you were his bride. You yelp, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. Grinning, he carries you back to your room, where he toss you on your bed without a warning.

Despite that, you’re unable to stop yourself from giggling on impact or from wrapping your arms around his neck as Bucky lays down beside you in the bed. You’re smiling, smiling so much it hurts and you're tearing up. You hold on as tightly as you could, pressing your face to the crook of his neck, lightly kissing the skin. He smiles, kissing your forehead and brushing his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

That Monday, you and Steve see Bucky off for his military training. Looking around you note that the appointed pick up spot was overcrowded with friends, family and loved ones of  individuals that were leaving.

. . . You couldn't help but wonder how many would leave with promises of return only to not. How many will leave behind a loved one. . .?

It’s such a sad thought, but it’s one that’s decided to rear it’s head once more with Bucky’s departure. His history is already known and it is death that awaits him. . .

“Don’t look down doll.” Bucky smiles, tilting your head upwards. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. A kiss that spoke of gently, loving and kind words to reassure you. “I’ll be back. I promise.” Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his torso and hold on as tightly as you can.

Bucky wakes up in Khrystie’s bed and quickly realizes the bed is empty beside himself. He squints his eyes at the spot he previously saw his significant other sleeping in hours ago.

He quietly notes that ever since they became an official thing he’s started to sleep easier and even started to sleeping in on occasions. His face starts to heat up and he presses his face into the pillow to hide it. 

He comes to a stop when he ears the sound of feet shuffling across the floor. It’s a special delicate pattern he’s come to learn. It could only belong to Khrystie; she’s told him when she was younger she ended up using more magic than her body could handle, in return the bottom of her feet were burned a charred coal and walking on them would bring her so much pain.

Glancing up proves his thoughts. Walking to the balcony of the room is none other than Khrystie. It’s an art to walk her simply watch sometimes. Her movements are light and graceful as she walks on the tips of her toes.

Bucky shifts on his side, watching her lean up on the tips of her toes and stare at something down below. His face grows red once again as he notices she’s wearing his t-shirt. It was a little too small for her, riding up that he could see her underwear. Bucky presses his face into the pillow once more.

oh my god

“Ah yes. . .” Khrystie suddenly hisses lowly. Bucky lifts his head in confusion. That’s not the kind of thing he expected her to say while looking out on the balcony. She sounds like a predator that found its pray. . . “Nice ass Rogers. . . “

And he loudly chokes, startled by what slipped out of her mouth. In return, she yelps, nearly dropping a pair of binoculars that were in her hands. She takes a moment to juggle them and hug the device to her chest. 

“Y-Youre awake.” Khrystie awkwardly laughs, brushing her bangs back.

“Why are you looking at Stevie’s ass?” Bucky questions. Seconds later his face grows red once again. He immediately hides his face in the pillow as he recognizes his mistake and to avoid the dumb grin on his girlfriend’s face.

“’Stevie’?” Khrystie questions. Bucky does not reply but she doesn’t let that stop her. She bounces back into her room and throws herself onto the bed, landing in the empty spot next to him. He pulls the sheets over his head and tries to hide but his girlfriend cannot be stopped. “You like him!” Eager and grinning, she rips the sheets away from him and plants herself on top of his waist. He tries his last ditch effort to hide, to hide his dark red face behind his hands. Khrystie instead, takes his hands from his face and intertwines their fingers together.

“Don’t you?” Her voice is soft and gentle now, no longer eager and excited. Probably finally able to recognize how embarrassing this all was for Bucky. Smiling, she presses their foreheads together and places a small kiss on his neck. “I knew it. . . The way he looks at you, with such gentle fondness and love. . .You have a nickname for him. You two were lovers once upon a time, weren’t you?”

“Y. . . Yeah. . . long ago. Before the war. Before. . .” He trails off, unwilling to continue that line of thought. Khrystie understands, kissing his forehead. Bucky smiles a little. He takes his hands back from her own, resting them on her cheeks as he pulls her in for a kiss. She hums softly in return. When they part she leans down, resting her body against his. Bucky wraps an arm around her body, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“He still loves you, you know.” Khrystie hums. “I can tell by the way he looks at you. . . I think that works out for us.” Bucky raises a brow. She smiles, playing with a long curl of her white hair. “I like Steve and we’re both on pretty good terms. You’re in love with him and he loves you. I think we can be happy together.” 

Bucky’s face grows red once more. He cant understand how she can say things so easily. He can only assume it comes with running the Melody Clan.

Still. . . Bucky cant deny that he likes the idea of going out with Steve again. . . Steve was happy any chance he got to be with him, now that he thinks back on things. . . Of course he loves Khrystie too, she’s a real heaven sent gift to him and her love is so genuine and real. . .Hell, Steve would probably fall in love with Khrystie if the chance came.