Yupiiii

"you're here to see drake." damien said flatly. his grip on the large oak doors looked steady, and his brows were furrowed. "aren't you aware of the time? it is simply insulting to show up at another person's abode at such an ungodly hour," he tipped his head backwards, making a show of examining the large grand-father clock that was in the entry-way. it read eleven forty-six p.m.

your eyes rolled automatically at damien's comments-- another thing that had also become a steady element within your life. "yes, damien," you answered, stepping past the entrance and peeling off your shoes, "i am acutely aware of the time; that's exactly why i'm here, actually."

one of the boy's eyebrows cocked upwards, and his arms crossed over his chest. the glitter of a watch that looked far more expensive than you'd ever want to know almost blinded you.

"your brother hasn't spoken to me all day-- only once, like an hour ago, to apologize and say he's busy with homework." taking off your coat, you began your decent down a long hall-way to an even longer set of stairs going upwards, towards your boyfriend's bedroom. "i'm going to rip that computer from his cold, dead hands if i have to." you mumbled. behind you-- it sounded much like damien was groaning about not being that imbecile's younger brother, along with him skittering away to whatever he had been doing prior to your arrival.

good riddance, you thought (lovingly), now taking two-steps at a time up the stairs. if no one will stop tim from over-working himself, i will.

✩✩✩

that task, you soon found out, was easier said than done; tim was practically hunched over his desk, fingers working at an inhuman speed against the keys of his laptop. papers were spread-out all across the expensive wood of the table-top, and you heard the boy inhale sharply and drag a hand down his face.

"tim," you tried again, crossing your legs from where you had sat down on his bed, "please jus' take a break."

"i can't." he said simply, going back to typing.

the sigh that fell from your lips was almost laughable. almost, because there was nothing humorous in the fact that your boyfriend had not gotten up from his desk in at least four hours. "why not?" you questioned, patience wearing thin. "it's not good, y'know, to constantly be working this much--"

tim reached a palm out to grab the energy drink in front of him. taking a sip, he glanced backwards at you-- underneath his eyes, it was clear, they were thick with exhaustion. blue irises squinted at you momentarily, before something flickered across his expression. "i know, baby," tim agreed, lips still pressed to the metal of his drink can, "but i just have so much shit to do, taking a break isn't feasible right now--"

"over-working yourself to the point of passing out is not feasible! ever!" you exasperated, leaning backwards onto your palms. his mattress barely creaked at the newfound weight against it, and his sheets felt crisp and warm underneath your touch.

"i don't pass out all of the time," tim grumbled, turning back to his laptop screen.

you scoffed, darting your tongue out to wet your lips. "oh yeah? when was the last time you went to sleep voluntarily? and not because your body was running on empty?"

tim's own lips pressed into a thin line, and his silence was your answer.

exactly, you thought bitterly.

another round of thunder cracked above gotham, and you watched tim flinch ever so slightly at the noise.

"this isn't healthy, tim." you said suddenly-- to the boy, your sentence was far more jarring than the weather outside. he froze, fingers hovering above his lap-top keys. "you go days without properly sleeping, or getting any sort of rest-- you're constantly working on," you paused, eyes squinting at your boyfriend's papers and screen, "god knows what--! that's another thing, too. you drown yourself in work and- and all i want to do is help you, but i don't even know what you're doing!" you hands flew out in front of you, now gesturing to underneath his desk. his trash-can was practically overflowing with energy drink cans. "you refuse to ingest anything without caffeine in it, and you barely leave this house." you swallowed, emotion suddenly washing over you. "i don't remember the last time you and i went on a date, much less hung out without your lap-top third wheeling us." you laughed bitterly.

that got tim's attention. the sound of his desk chair turning to face you reverberated off of the walls of his bedroom. "don't say that," he fought weakly.

"why not?" you asked, voice wobbling. "it's true."

"i know but--"

"why won't you let me help you, tim? i'm right here, and you won't even tell me what you're doing. it's like--" your throat closed up. "it's like i'm just here so you can say you have a girlfriend. you don't-- you don't actually want to put in the effort to have one."

all tim could think to say was your name. it came off of his tongue all crooked, his voice breaking-- due to exhaustion or something else, you couldn't tell. "that's not true, baby,"

"well then act like it." you replied sharply. "take care of yourself-- shit, just let me take care of you, so you can act like you want this relationship to last."

rain pattered against the large windows of tim's bedroom rapidly; each one leaving a trail, just to have it replaced by another's.

"act like i matter enough for you to trust me." you whispered, eyes boring into tim's. he blinked silently, dark lashes resting heavily against his pale cheeks as he breathed in and out. underneath his sweatshirt, you could see the soft rise and fall of his chest. "why do i have to drive to your house at midnight for you to even talk to me, tim? that's not fair."

there was a long stretch of silence before either of you spoke again; you could tell, the moment you had said the words-- something in the air of the room had shifted heavily.

tim didn't turn around and start typing again. he didn't speak, didn't breathe. just sat, watching you, for what felt like an eternity-- before he reached behind him and shut his laptop closed. it was slow, the sound of the screen meeting the lower half of it a stark contrast to the weight of your words. despite the speed in which he did it, there was no apprehension in his action-- as if, in it, he had made a decision. one that was final.

it looks like tim is thinking; his posture, the way he leaned onto his elbows and the way his forehead had crinkled-- it'd be almost impossible not to see the cogs turning in his mind.

it almost makes you upset, because even in moments like this-- tim cannot shut his brain off, cannot stop thinking, cannot let himself go.

suddenly, he stands. in a few strides, he's crossed the room-- lowering himself onto the bed beside you, tim cautiously brings a palm to the side of your cheek. his hands are cool against your flushed skin-- the contrast in your bodies making your head spin, and a rush travel down your spine. "i never meant to make you feel that way," tim starts, swallowing, "nor was i trying to push you away."

icey blue irises look deep into your own, scanning you-- trying to pick your brain apart; as if your emotions are a puzzle he can solve. there's an earnestness to this search, though, and your heart clenches.

"i just... once i get sucked into my work, i just don't know how to stop,"

you exhale, and some of the heat from your chest dissipates. despite yourself, you turn into his touch, pressing your face deeper into his palm. it isn't an acceptance of his apology, but it is an allowance to be close. tim looks almost startled at the fact that you hadn't pulled away.

his shoulders drop. like the weight of something has finally begun to be lifted from his chest, like something has finally given out. tim shifts closer, hesitantly, causing your thighs to press against each other's. his eyes glance downwards at the contact as if he's expecting you to push back; you don't.

"i'm sorry," he whispers so quietly, you have to strain to hear it. it's soft, not defensive-- quiet, honest, and drained.

"you don't have to figure everything out all at once," you offer, voice just as low. you have to look upwards, ever so slightly, to maintain eye-contact with your boyfriend-- and your words brush against his bottom lip. "just let me help you figure out whatever is going on right now."

tim pauses, his thumb stuttering against your cheek. when he breathes, it's intense in a quiet sort of way; "i don't know," he starts, "how to stop unless somebody tells me to."

an eyebrow of yours quirks upwards at his comment.

"i don't know how to do things that i really mean, unless somebody tells me how to do it," tim swallows, and you watch his adam's apple bob up and down. "i really, really, want to make it up to you-- because i hate that i ever would have made you feel that way in the first place, like you're not the most important thing in my life-- so tell me how."

"tim," you murmur.

"tell me how to apologize to you properly." tim's vision flickers to your lips, his grip on your jaw tilting your own head up closer to his-- to make it easier for him to slot his plump lips against your own. "i'll be--" the hint of a blush suddenly creeps onto tim's face, heat blooming and crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, "i'll be so good for you."

"you'll be good for me?" you question. your mouths now are so close, what little gap remains burns with a fiery anticipation.

tim nods, licking his lips.

wordlessly, your mouths connect-- and tim is kissing you like he's never done so before. it was hesitant, in its first few moments; practiced, respectful. but as your arms looped around your boyfriend's neck and you tilted your head further to deepen the kiss, tim groaned-- opening his mouth against yours to allow your tongue to entangle itself with his.

you can feel tim's breathing growing ragged and uneven beside you-- his hands wandering, once aimlessly, with a certain passion and purpose now across your skin. fingers hooking into the edges of your shirt, pushing past and onto the expanse of your stomach-- the nape of your neck, pulling you into him as if you're the only thing that he craves.

you pull away from him, only in search of oxygen-- tim's face falls with a certain desperation, his lips swollen and slick with saliva as he chases your mouth. a chuckle leaves your throat, and you lean forward to press open-mouthed kisses to tim's throat. his breathing stutters as you sigh against his skin, "you're so eager, baby."

tim whines at your actions, moving forward and into your touch. "god," he shivers, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he feels your tongue lick a singular stripe up from the base of his neck to directly underneath his ear.

"i know." you whisper against the shell of his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling away. "lay back," you instruct, pointing to the end of tim's bed.

your boyfriend listens wordlessly, scooting himself right up against his bed-frame; tim's face is flushed, a pretty shade of pink washed over his cheeks, nose and ears. black locks fall into his eyes softly, messily tangled from where they linger near the nape of his neck.

tim is beautiful.

you crawl up onto the mattress, slowly and tantalizingly, before stopping right in between tim's legs. his mouth was parted as he watched you closely, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. "good boy," you praise softly, pressing your hands underneath his shirt. sitting forward on your knees, you're able to lean down and press kisses to tim's stomach and abs.

tim gasps softly, fingers threading themselves into your hair and holding your head steady. "i was going to apologize to you,"

blinking up at him, yet still remaining connected to his skin via your lips, you hum in question of his statement.

tim swallows as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants.

"well, uh, y'know," he states quietly, blushing furiously as his pants begin to fall past his waist.

you tap underneath his thighs to get him to tilt his hips forward, allowing you to take his pants off completely. "no, baby, i don't."

tim whines.

"say what you mean with your chest, or you're not getting anything."

"y-you don't have to do this," he stutters out, "i want to be the one to make you feel good, i don't deserve you doin' anything to me,"

tim's already hard as your eyes flicker down towards his crotch. beneath his boxers, the outline of his erection teases you-- and a low heart-beat within your cunt spurs to life.

"i think," you inhaled, pressing kisses to his lower stomach as you shrugged his boxers down, freeing his cock, "you're going to let me do whatever i want to you; that's how i want you to apologize."

you barely even give tim a chance to respond before you stick your tongue out and slap his dick against it-- the obscene sound, plap, plap, plap, echoing throughout tim's bedroom.

the boy gasped, hips jerking towards you abruptly. your name fell, broken, from his lips.

"don't you think that's what i deserve? getting to touch n' suck and make love to my boyfriend after him not paying any attention to me all week?"

automatically, tim finds himself nodding. "y-yeah," he replies breathlessly, watching you pop the tip of his cock into your mouth easily.

you suck on it for a few seconds, salty drops of pre-cum invading your senses already, before you take the rest of him-- inch by inch-- into your mouth.

tim shudders, jaw going slack as your mouth wraps around his cock. his moans, despite just starting, are already obscene.

tracing a vein with your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. tim gasps beneath you, moaning and whimpering, and you hollow out your cheeks in response.

"ooh, baby," he groans, legs thrashing as your head bobs up and down his length with a practiced precision. "you-- haah-- you're so good at this,"

you hum around tim's cock-- and he practically sobs at the sensation. the vibrations cause his whole body to tingle, his fingertips and spine numb with ecstasy. another set of moans rip themself from his throat, and you peel off of tim's cock almost immediately.

"shh!" you hush, fingertips digging into your boyfriend's hips. "i know for a fact alfred n' damien are home! you need to keep it down," you warn, before dipping down and tracing a flushed vein with your tongue from his balls to his tip.

tim sobs, back arching off of the bed. "i- i can't," he whines, his forehead glistening with sweat as he watches you-- feels you, entirely-- take his dick back into your mouth. "i haven't seen you in so long, i- i forgot how good you are,"

as tim continues to talk, you let his tip hit the back of your throat; your eyes water, tears spilling involuntarily onto your cheeks and down your face as your nose gets pressed against his lower stomach. tim's whole body shivers as you have him all the way into your mouth.

"i-- oh god-- m'sensitive!" tim cries, pressing one of his hands over his mouth to muffle his moans. hips rocking steadily to meet the way your head bobs up and down on his cock, the air has practically been stolen from tim's lungs.

when you take yourself off of tim's dick-- the tip flushed angrily, and leaking a pretty, pearlescent substance-- a string of saliva keeps you bound to the boy's appendage. "you're sensitive, huh?" you ask, mockingly, wrapping a hand around him to pump. the sound is nothing short of pornographic; your boyfriend's alluring blue irises fogging over with tears as your pace against his cock is absurdly fast-- far too fast for the boy to handle.

he yelps, head tilting backwards and hitting his bed-frame; a shiny layer of sweat coats his neck and face, accompanied by the blush against tim's pale skin. "yes!" he sobs, thrusting into your touch.

at his exclamation, you grin-- hand only pumping him harder, deeper, faster, as pleasure invades every sense tim has.

"i'm cumming," tim wails suddenly. his moans grow incoherent, head thrashing against the bed-frame and hips tilting and stuttering in tandem with your palm along his cock. his legs twitch, and your free hand goes straight to your boyfriend's neck.

it isn't painful-- but as you give a good squeeze to his throat, tim gasps, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. "that's right," you coo, panties practically drenched as you watch your boyfriend's orgasm wash over his entire body, "cum all over my hand like a good boy,"

your praises go straight to tim's dick, and his balls tense-- hot ropes of cum spurting all over your hand and his stomach. his jaw goes slack again, his mouth falling open into an 'o' shape as his cock twitches and throbs within your grasp. your touch remains unrelenting, the pace against his skin continuous, practiced, and evil, as tim continues to thrash underneath you.

"it's too much," tim manages, chest panting and fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

much to his dismay, his newfound tears only spur you on further. when you stop, tim thinks he'll be able to catch his breath-- until you sit up onto your knees and yank your jeans and panties off in one swift and urgent movement.

"the last i remembered," you began, straddling your boyfriend's hips and sitting flush against his lower stomach, "you're being my good boy, and apologizing n' letting me do whatever i want to you, right?"

tim nods, dick involuntarily twitching as he feels your slick meet his lower half. when you begin to grind subconciously, tim groans, his sturdy hands flying to your waist.

"exactly," you hum, the feeling of his rigid abs underneath your cunt only making you throb with anticipation. the sensation of it-- riding him-- causes short and yearning whimpers to leave your throat, "so you'll let me use your body i want to."

"okay," tim blubbers, hands gripping your waist as if his life depends on it. "please," he whines, "please just sit on my cock."

moans fall prettily from your lips as you continue to ride his abs, your clit being stimulated by every inch of his lower abdomen. "i know you can beg better than that."

the boy's cheeks flush deeper, and his mouth parts in desperation. "please, baby, please," tim groans, "i- i'm sorry i was a bad boy, sorry i didn't talk t'my pretty girl all week,"

"w-what else are you sorry for?" you question, hips stuttering as your cunt weeps against his belly.

"m'sorry i don't take care of myself, i will, please-- i'll be such a good boy, i'll take good care of myself for you,"

you sigh at his words, an easy grin spreading across your face-- in reward, you hover yourself above tim's groin, aligning his flushed and fat tip with your entrance. you give his dick a few last pumps, causing tim's hips to jerk at the stimulation, before you sink down on his member.

"ohh, fuck baby boy," you moan, hissing as he fills you up good, the stretch of his cock within your pussy divine, "that's right," you praise, "you'll take such good care of yourself for mommy, won't you?"

tim sobs as he bottoms out within your sopping cunt-- every fold and crevice of your wet pussy practically strangling his dick. "yes, yesyesyes, i will mommy."

a few moments pass as you adjust to his size, before you pull yourself up on tim's cock to slam yourself back down on him-- "good boy," you groan, hips tilting and grinding upon his cock steadily now.

tim cries, face contorting in pleasure as you ride him into the mattress. his mouth has fallen open, and drool carelessly seeps down his chin; clearly, he's far too fucked out already to care. "fuck, mommy, i--"

tim's moans are cut short as you reach behind you on the bed to grab your panties-- balling them up in your hands as you grind lazily along his cock, abruptly shoving them into his mouth. "i told you," you warn, gasping as tim's tip abuses your g-spot at your grinding, "you need to be quiet."

black locks cling to his forehead as tim nods, tears spilling onto his flushed cheeks; your panties, a deep shade of burgundy, contrast obscenely to the shade of tim's skin.

for the second time that night-- the thought floats through your mind: tim is so fucking pretty.

raising yourself up again, you start riding your boyfriend-- again and again and again, tim's cock pumps in and out of you. your underwear, whilst it compliments your boyfriend in the sluttiest of ways, does little to stop the boy's noises from seeping out. he moans loudly, each groan and whimper and sob echoing lewdly within the confinements of your boyfriend's room.

it doesn't take long for tim's second orgasm to approach-- a few minutes later, your riding becoming methodical and pleasure-inducing, tim's moans grow in decibels. blue irises widen, filling with a fresh set of tears, and his hands go from your waist to your thighs-- squeezing the plush fat of them in warning.

"it's alright," you soothe, huffing ever so slightly, "you gonna cum, pretty boy?"

tim nods erratically, his hips thrusting upwards to meet your own; at the action, the tip of his cock practically bruises your cervix.

"cum then," you instruct simply, letting your head loll to the side as his dick pulses inside of you at the command. his seed spills into your pussy, and you squelch and clench around his cock in response. unrelenting, however, your hips remain; up and down and up again, to the point of tim's legs convulsing beneath you.

your boyfriend sobs-- one of his hands, without your permission, reaching upwards to tear the panties from his mouth. he tosses them to the side and swallows, before he yelps. "it's too much--! i jus' came, i can't keep going, please mommy, i--"

"too bad," you hush, riding his cock with such vigor now-- he involuntarily throbs inside of you again. "i wanna cum all over my cock-- you're going to let me do that, right?"

"but i can't," tim tries.

your movements, much to tim's surprise, cease. you're breathing is labored, and despite the fact that he's bottomed out within you-- you're unmoving. "you can't?" you whisper.

a shiver shoots up tim's spine, the hairs on the back of his neck raising in both arousal and expectation. "well--" he fumbles.

"that's okay," you coo suddenly, mock sweetness dripping from your voice. you pull off of tim's cock, cunt aching with the desire to be filled again. tim's cum oozes out of your crudely, and you shift you entire body to hover over tim's upper chest. "if i can't ride your dick," you say breathlessly, dragging a fingertip against tim's bottom lip, "i'm just going to ride your face."

tim whines, nodding eagerly. "please, mommy," his voice is hoarse from all of its usage-- hands impatiently grasping your hips in an attempt to drag you down onto his face. "need your pussy on my face so bad-- please, i'll eat it so good,"

without a second more of hesitation, you take a seat riiight down on tim's mouth-- his moans at the contact muffled by your dripping folds. you gasp, back arching at the sensation of his tongue licking slowly along your slit. "i- i know you will, baby,"

tim groans at your taste, lips latching onto your clit and sucking harshly. more of his cum seeps out of you, dribbling onto his chin and into his throat. the taste of both of your arousals causes the boys hips to tilt and buck into the air, one of his hands leaving your hips to jerk himself off as his mouth continues to make love to your cunt. he continues to mumble incoherently against your pretty pussy, palms finding the flesh of your ass and kneading it greedily. holy shit, thank you, fuck mommy-- all muttered incomprehensibly against your pussy.

you're riding his face, hips bucking and grinding, with intensity now-- the way his tongue curls on the inside of you, against your walls, along your clit-- making you see stars. rocking forward further onto his face-- onto the bridge of his nose-- you moan whorishly. "t-tell me you'll take care of yourself,"

"i- i will, baby, i swear--" tim groans, mouth now freed momentarily as you grind yourself along tim's nose, "fuck, jus' like that, mommy, please fuck yourself on my face,"

his comments only spur you along further, a familiar knot beginning to form quickly within your core. your fingertips and toes tingle, and without warning, you sink back down onto tim's mouth.

tim's hand hasn't let up against his cock-- leaking and oozing embarrassingly with pre-cum, tim moans into your cunt as he latches himself onto your clit again. his voice is muddled and uneven as he speaks into your pussy-- the vibrations only causing that same bubble in your core to expand rapidly.

"yes, c'mon baby, jus' like that," you whine, grinding down harshly onto tim's face as your orgasm approaches. "you're gonna make me cum," you warn, head tilting backwards as ecstasy floods your system.

tim's head nods back and forth-- and the slick sound of him eating you out and his hand pumping his aching cock fills the room obscenely. "please," you're able to make out from beneath you, "please cum on my face-- please, please give it to me, i've been such a good boy,"

any energy you would've had to tease tim and contradict him flies from your chest as your orgasm rocks you-- cunt spasming and clenching around tim's tongue with such intensity your vision blurs. "oh, fuck, tim--!" you gasp, hand reaching down into tim's gorgeous black hair and tugging hard.

tim inhales sharply as you pull on his hair and it isn't long before you feel hot spurts of tim's cum splash onto your back-- his moans and whimpers into your cunt absolutely entrancing. despite his orgasm knocking the wind out of his lungs, tim still helps you ride out your high; his tongue continues to lazily lap at your pussy, milking every drop of cum (both yours and his) from your cunt possible. when your body begins to quiver from overstimulation, you pull off of his face and collapse next to him.

the silence that encapsulates the room, save for both of your labored breathing, is charged. it isn't until tim drags a hand down his face, licking his lips to gather what little slick and cum of yours resides there, that either of you speak.

"i really am sorry," tim says earnestly.

you tilt your head to the side to meet your boyfriend's gaze-- blue eyes clouded with little lust and a lot of guilt.

"i know, tim," you speak softly, reaching a hand forward to carress the boy's cheek. "i jus' care about you a lot. it hurts me to see you let go of yourself like that, when you get wrapped up in all your work,"

tim swallows, his palm coming to rest on top of yours. contrary to before, his hand is warm against your own. "i'm going to try n' be better for you, baby," he whispers softly. "'cause you and i both deserve it."

you nod, and lean forward to press a chaste kiss to tim's forehead. "good," thunder crashes loudly from above the manor-- but somehow, it sounds distant in the safety of your boyfriend's presence. "'cause don't think i'll fuck you this good every time you're on the brink of passing out again."

© PLUVOiA 2025 | PLAGARISM, REPOSTS, TRANSLATIONS, & AI FEEDING STRICTLY PROHIBITED. - masterlist

loren's thots: tim drake i need u so bad.. also my kinktober is SO backed up rn it feels shameful to even apologize but i really do mean it im sooo sorry yall i love yall sm im sorry im behind its js midterms szn rn so. ugh. but my inbox is open feel free to drop them drawls in them yall (aka THIRST pls dont acc drop them...........pls everyone keep ur panties ONNN)

loren's tags--!

@soggywhore  @inlovewithpsychos @battlebaesworld @amoreselli @68saturnism @stellacherryfairy @kryptonkiss @sixtoads @luckysalbum @unseenzombieprototype @thekentfiles @unclearblur @blv3rd @cassiecasluciluce@k4sey1st@needy-self-ship-jjba@solarsunset222@clarknsun @crushcunt@navyhaze@moviecritc

Your lack of fear—for a boy raised to believe terror instilled in others was power, already struck the wrong nerve. If it wasn’t obvious from his cold, scornful tone whenever he spoke down to you, it would be his stubborn will to avoid you.

Every year, as fallen branches wither in the snow, it had been agreed upon your two families that you must reside with the League during the months of winter, to partake in the same trainings as Damian. Thanks to Damian, your classes were quickly separated.

"I refuse to be slowed down by some incapable child." His gaze never once drops to you, trained on his instructor instead with barely concealed fury when you had entered his personal training session.

"We are of the same age." You scoff. There it is again, that shock that flickers in his gaze when you respond with the same fire, unwilling to leave the room simply because he commands it.

"Think twice before spouting your incompetence as if it were some achievement." He mocks, bumping against your shoulder as he made it towards the exit. "Isn't it shameful to be as slow-witted as you are, if we really are of the same age?"

He was cunning, ruthless, a perfect soldier—but frustratingly immature. He refused to see you as an equal, so you refused to see him as yours. With a personality like his, you strongly vowed to never let your heart soften for the demon spawn crafted meticulously from Ra's Al Ghul’s hands to dominate the world.

The first time you see Damian cry, you had only turned ten. His grandfather had punished him to be isolated in his room, for failing to kill. An insubordination, Damian’s longest tutor—revealed to be an assassin.

Hesitance from Damian to strike—was all it took for his grandfather to name it weakness, and Damian took his punishment in obedience. He didn’t break, not as he watched the execution of his personal tutor. He didn’t break, when his grandfather instructed that Damian was to be left in isolation till he proved himself to be deserving, capable—worthy.

No, it was when you peeked through the slim crack of the door to his bedroom, did you hear his quiet sniffles.

The balm hidden behind your palm, under your sleeve, grows warm under the tightening of your fingers over the metal. You had only seen his wound because you had been hiding in the corner, watching as Damian hid the blood on his sleeves from his grandfather’s view. Stubborn, too prideful to admit the assassin has spilt his blood with a blade.

It wasn’t your place to go against the strict instructions given that Damian was to receive no visitors, but—wasn’t your duty to your betrothed, before anyone else?

Gritting your teeth, you slipped through the door with a subtle push before sliding it close. You don't recognise your mistake till you're shrouded in darkness, alone with the demon head's prodigy. There wasn’t a single second spared between the click of the door and Damian tackling you into the ground.

You both fell with a harsh slam onto the floor, your back digging into the wood—the balm sliding around to land above your head.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses.

You wince, feeling the grip of his fingers tighten into your wrists, pinned above you to immobilise your movement. “Ridiculous.” You hiss. “This is the thanks I get for sneaking in healing ointment?”

His painful grip finally falters at your words, but the shadows that shield the depths of his eyes from you makes it impossible to gauge his reaction. Only the pauses between his breath and your own, measures the time stretched between his calculations—before he pushes himself off with a grunt.

“I never asked you to.” He mutters, and from his tone alone—he sounds offended. As if you’ve insulted him with your offering.

“That’s the role of a betrothed.” You spat, hands flaying around for the balm before capturing it with your left. “To take care of her partner, when he’s being too stubborn to do it himself.”

His entire body freezes, movement stilled in the admission of your words. You’ve surprised him. Getting up onto your knees, you don't miss your chance as you wobble over to where he’s sitting, your hands landing on his thighs to stabilise yourself.

He hisses, ready to push you off but you grab his wrist before he’s able to.

“Let me treat you.” You say, one hand raised to show the balm in your hand. “I saw the wound you hid.”

He hesitates, and you expected stubbornness—but not till this point of idiocy. “My grandfather will have you punished, or worse—if he discovers that you were here.”

“Good thing he won’t know then.” You reply coolly. “This balm is scentless, and leaves no trace. My family was chosen for this alliance for a reason.”

Specialised in herbs, ointments, poison—the League has kept an eye on your family for centuries.

His annoying fretting to snatch his wrist out of your grip weakens, but it's clear he hasn't fully given in. “Why should I trust you?”

You purse your lips. It’s the right question, as expected of Ra's heir. Damian has a clear target on his back, leaving him in a position where not even his betrothed could be ruled out from an assassination attempt.

“Here.” You click open the clasp, and your fingers dig into the balm. You apply it on the exposed area of your arms, rubbing the ointment into your skin.

He watches, eyes driven to your revealed skin like a hawk, as you wait—and wait.

“No stings, or rashes.” You show, leaning in closer so that your arm was near his eye view. Up close, you feel the sensation of his long lashes fluttering against your arm.

He swallows, drifting his gaze between your arm and your face. “My grandfather has given clear orders.” His voice is weaker than you’ve ever heard it, ending in a low rasp that signals his pain.

“And your grandfather has taught you that survival comes first, above pride or following orders blindly to your death.” Your words cut through without a hint of remorse. “I will not have my betrothed die of something as minor as wounds, and be forced to marry another child younger than either of us.”

He grits his teeth at your mocking, before letting out a low ‘Tt.’ Turning around, he lifts off his tunic, and you see it immediately despite the low light.

The cut has worsened on his side, healing wrong—covered in sweat mixed with both dried and new blood. You mutter a curse as you grab for other supplies you have snuck in through the useful, hidden pockets you’ve sewn into your garments—cloth, alcohol, bandages.

A louder hiss escapes his gritted teeth when you dab alcohol to clean his wounds, but Damian makes no complaint. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’s punishing himself for falling weak to your temptation of medicine, and submitting himself to the sting of the pain.

By the time you’ve finished, Damian has leaned almost fully into your shoulder, shuddering breaths leaving his lips as you gently apply the balm over his scarred skin.

“Why?” He whispers weakly. You suspect if it weren’t for the pain, he wouldn’t have dared ask you such a question. It sounded uncharacteristically vulnerable coming from him.

“You’re my betrothed.” You answer simply, as if it answered everything.

Maybe it did, but to you—the answer was a mere simplification. Damian is the only person you know, who looks you straight in the eyes instead of cowering like the other children do in your homeland. With a strange look of contempt and understanding, knowing exactly how it feels to be born into a world that rejected you outright before you even had the chance to form a semblance of identity—in the face of what they preferred you to be.

A cracked mirror, and your only, twisted sense of a companion.

Damian doesn’t speak of the incident to you ever again. It’s a silent promise that you don’t bring it up either. A forced truce, because even a whisper of what happened will reveal your insubordination and his shame.

You half expected him to fully ice you out for your insolence. Not only have you disrespected his grandfather's orders, the man he admired most, you had also seemed him at his most vulnerable. Damian was a prideful person, and he didn't bare vulnerabilities easily.

So, it surprised you—when things began to shift.

Damian begins to linger after his trainings to watch over yours, insulting your stance and muttering sudden tactics mid-way through your own fights. His distractive presence is frustrating, but knowing his assessing gaze is locked onto you—it pushed you further than any instructor has. When you tackled your opponent down for the first time, his eyes flashed with brief pride.

Damian sits beside you during meals, instead of across the table. Making pointed remarks when you opt too much for fruits instead of meats—muttering strange declarations of not being able to accept your unbalanced diet. "I can't afford to have a betrothed who will collapse on herself by not prioritising her meals." He tuts. "It will be a disgrace if you are weak."

Damian so happens to cross your guest bedroom most nights, opting for a longer route back to his. He’ll slide the door open, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he eyes your décor with distaste, commenting on how one should never be attached to material things. Yet, he finds himself seated next to you on the tatami mat, listening to you rant of your snuck-in possessions—of bands with loud electric guitars, and comics of superheroes that actually exist in this world.

Damian isn't easy to read, but it was a quick realisation that he was strangely obsessed with one of your collections in particular—Batman. A crime-fighting vigilante that rose to popularity after being introduced in the Justice League collections. He's practically mere myth. A terrifying, dark crusader who hides in the shadows of Gotham. Damian claims that the depictions you own is pure bogus fiction, that they didn’t even get the facts right, but you spot that rare glimmer in his eyes. Curiosity, longing.

"I don't get your fixation on him." You tut mockingly, a habit that's only sprung thanks to his constant clicking of his own tongue. "Wonder Woman is clearly the best member of the Justice League."

His glare flashes with a familiar defensive fire, and you're quick to smother your teasing smirk as you keep up your pretense. Holding out your collection of the Dark Knight, you wave it callously in your hand. "I suppose since you don't want to take it, I'll just throw it in the trash."

He's quick to swing his arms, capturing the collection before you can even aim for the bin. His glower is down-right murderous, but the way he's holding onto the binding as if it were something precious... your lips are practically bitten past the point of recovery to hide your smile. He's so stubborn. He's clearly wanted it from the start, and yet, he was so desperately trying to restrain himself.

You don’t comment on the obvious, of his presence orbiting around you whether consciously or not—and you allowing him to do so. Just maybe, you found it more pleasing than you'd like to admit, seeing this side of him that only revealed itself the longer he continued to seek you out. It felt as if this version of Damian, was only yours.

"Tell me about your father."

Three years have passed since the incident. At thirteen, Damian still sucks in coming up with excuses when he visits your sleeping quarters. His excitement had been brimming since your arrival, obvious through his impatience, when you returned to the League with more collections piled under your bundles of cloth to prepare for a harsh winter—comics, manga, posters, you name it.

You don't tell Damian that you purposely brought more Batman publications, just because you liked the way he furiously flipped through the pages—or snuck in more shoujo, because you noticed how he secretly cared for the endings more than he'd like to admit.

Comics are scattered around the both of you, and he's tucked under your sheets as the lamp shines a low, muted orange over his features. His gaze reflects a hazel-like hue, the green in his eyes mixed with a softened, yellowed rim.

"Haven't you collected most of his depictions?" He mocks lowly. "Stories by my mother barely compare to your obsession with my father."

You snort, because sure, you're the one obsessed with him. Deciding that mocking him could be reserved for another time, you push forward. "You say none of it is real."

He tuts condemningly. "Because it isn't."

"So, tell me." You murmur. "You say he's a great man."

"He is." Damian huffs with a hint of pride. "There is no man my grandfather respects more than my father. His detective prowess and his martial skills, it is only a waste that he did not continue his training. He would have been carrying the League's legacy, if he had accepted my grandfather's offer."

"Do you hate him for it?" You swallow, your words touching a forbidden territory. "For leaving this world behind."

The faint smile in Damian's lips drops at your question. You're nearly convinced he's one breath away from telling you to drop the subject, but he doesn't. He does that less nowadays, pushing you away. "...Hatred is useless. He has made his choice, and I must fill the gap that he has left."

Your brows furrow at his choice of words. The way his tongue stressed on the word, must. "...Because you want to?"

He nods firmly, leaving no room for hesitation. "I will make my grandfather proud."

"Isn't it pressuring?" You ask, your head already weighing heavy just at the thought of it. "To be the one and only heir of the Ra's Al Ghul. He is... harsh on you."

Ah, was that too on the nose? You've been noticing the strange dynamic between Damian and Ra's, as if they were master and pupil, rather than family of the same blood. It's no secret that Damian admires his grandfather with a loyalty carved of steel, but you can never forget that look on Damian's face... when Ra's had declared his hesitation as weakness. That barely concealed fear swarming in Damian's eyes.

“My grandfather—” Damian rushes through gritted teeth. “—I am and always will be his sole heir. His trust to shape the world he’s envisioned is given to me, because I am worthy—because he deems me worthy.”

Your brows furrow, and—it isn't pity, but your heart aches unwillingly. “You don’t have to convince me that he loves you, Dami.” You whisper.

He scoffs, abrasive and rushed. “I do not need to convince you. He is family. He has told me himself—of my value, of how the combination of my father's blood and his teachings will make me his greatest pupil. Of course he—”

His words falter, quieting into a thickened silence. It had hung right there, on the tip of his tongue. What was making him hesitate?

“Do you think your family will love you—even if you’re not worthy?” You ask after a moment.

Damian doesn’t reply you. The silence stretches, and you think you’ve found it. That aching core that made him who he is. The reason why he has never failed—even with every task and expectation soaring higher than before, even when exhaustion plagues him and discipline carves him raw off anything but his defined role.

“I would.” You mutter, and you're not sure why you're saying this. It's not like your opinion matters over his family's, a stranger to blood. “As your wife, I mean. You have many roles to fill, but as my husband, I don’t really have any expectations.”

He’s quiet still, and you almost believe he’s fallen asleep, right beside you in your mattress. He had overexerted himself today during training, gruelling his body past its limits—till it reached a newer level surpassing his previous record. Maybe that's why he still hasn’t left your room, hidden under your sheets and laying beside you to hide the ghastly bruises coating his arms.

“That’s what a moron would say.” He finally speaks, his voice a weaker imitation of itself. “You should have expectations for your future husband.”

Surprised he was willing to delve into a topic like this, when even the mention of romance and marriage used to make his cheeks flush—you turn your head towards his shadowed silhouette with a delicate curiosity.

“And what are these expectations?” You prod. “I’ll let you define them since you’re the one who has to live up to your words.”

Your question catches him off-guard, and his lips part in a rare loss for words. “Well—for one, a husband should swear their life to protect their wife.” He answers, the tone of his voice off—awkward. Making him sound more his age than he usually does. “To be her shield and sword.”

You blink slowly. “Isn’t that what you’re already doing?”

He clears his throat, uncomfortable. “And a husband should make sure their wife is of good health.”

These all sound… incredibly familiar. Your lips curl into a knowing smile, and you hide it behind your palm, pressed against your mouth.

“And?” You press on, muffled by your fingers.

“I suppose a husband should spend time with their wife.” He admits, and you're sure even in the dim light, his ears must be a bright red. “Why else would you be paired with another in a vow sealed for life?”

“That was… the most romantic thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.” You tease. “Have you been sneaking another read at my shoujo?”

“Silence.”

Your laughter trickles under the sheets, muffled by the cotton as you close your eyes, a warm smile etched in your lips. Maybe your arrangement wasn’t so bad after all—if it meant Damian was willing to take his role as your betrothed so seriously. Who would’ve thought—that little, bratty kid with the tongue of a viper, would turn out so considerate?

"Those are your words, not mine." You taunt. "You're the one who has to keep your promises—since you made them yourself."

He scoffs lowly, but much—much later, when your eyelids grow heavy and the edges of your room blur into one, you hear his voice, soft—unguarded in the mistaken belief that you've fallen asleep. "Of course I will."

At sixteen, Damian sneaks you out for the first time. Despite his discipline, years of knowing him has revealed the underlying rule-breaking tendencies running through his veins. He's practically memorised the blind spots where guards loosen up during patrol, especially in the crooks where only he could climb.

His hand is wrapped around your waist, stabilising you as you climbed into an abandoned watchtower, hidden behind tiles of roofing. At your first peek as your hands make contact with softened snow coating the tiles, your breath stills in awe. A rare snowfall has coated the entire mountain terrain, twisting the surrounding forests into an icy, winter wonderland.

A huff of warm breath leaves your lips, caught off-guard as Damian climbs up, offering you a hand and lifting you onto the platform, which overlooks the mountain valleys where the frozen river separates the banks. The sun hasn't completely risen, and in the serene quiet of the world, you suspect maybe only you and Damian were blessed with this rare sight.

"You—woke me up at the crack of dawn for sightseeing?" Your teeth chatter slightly as you spoke, a gust of wind numbing your reddened cheeks.

He huffs a low breath, light snow particles dusting his lashes. Looking over to you, you spot a rare amused smirk. A heavy weight drops onto your shoulders—his coat. He doesn't give you a chance to process or tease him, his lips parting to speak.

"You were always boasting of your homeland and its beauty." He mocks, a puff of air leaving his lips. "You know I'm not fond of letting you gain the upper hand."

You scoff. "As if you've ever let me have the upper hand, Dami."

The nickname rolls off easier when it's just the two of you alone. Something you had once picked up, teasing him when you overheard his mother calling out for her son in a sweet, low voice. It had reddened his ears in such a violent red that you never lost the habit of doing it.

It doesn't affect him as much as it did the first many times, much to your chagrin, but he still blinks slowly, processing the soft call of his nickname like a feline, before forcing himself to look away from your face, a slow bob of his Adam's apple.

"This is where I come to—rest." He admits. "No one will finds us here."

He's showing you a place that has previously only been reserved for him. His hiding spot.

You swallow thickly, unable to form your strange, erratic heartbeat into proper words. "You sure this isn't you orchestrating my murder before we're wed?"

He snorts, hand tugging you closer so you'll have a clearer view of the terrain. His back envelops you with warmth, shielding you from the gusts of chilling wind, and his hand comes up to shadow yours, guiding your index finger with his own towards the river banks.

"On the left." His low voice brushes past your ear. "Those are hunting grounds. In the spring, that's where animals are most fond of frolicking—and you'll find the rarest beasts only known in these lands."

Right, you're usually back in your homelands for spring. You've gotten used to the cold, near unbearable winters in the mountains here—that imagining the lands covered in green instead of frost, was almost impossible.

"To the right." He gestures, coaxing your hand once more. "That path leads towards the waterfalls. The spring water is said to be blessed with good fortunes."

"Your grandfather bathes in those too?" You tease.

Damian's chest rumbles lowly, amusement flickering in his features when you twist your head slightly to meet his gaze. "Focus." He mutters, a warm breath falling over your neck that has goosebumps appearing down your skin.

You turn your gaze back towards the lands, his lands. You realise he's teaching you, helping you understand the terrain because... in a few years from now, this will be your home.

"It is beautiful." You admit. The sun has risen past the spruce trees, coating the icicles with a warm, emitting golden light.

"It is yours." He reminds you.

You blink, unable to contain your—what was this feeling? This strange, erratic tugging in your chest. You've gotten used to teasing Damian, to his grumblings and pulling of your sleeves as he drags you wherever he pleased.

"Isn't it common sense that you are to accompany me?" He once scoffed, ears brimming a faint red. "Your duty as a betrothed is to remain at my side."

It only occurs to you now, in this rare morning light—that without putting it into words, these years have blurred together and you've grown closer to him without realising. To be worthy of his trust in sharing this private spot with you, of his low murmurs in your ears as he mapped out the landscapes of the mountains, of his soft grip over your waist to ensure you didn't slip.

Without being ambushed by the expectations of others, you've begun to truly feel the true weight of being his betrothed on your shoulders. It no longer felt like a simple term encasing you in another role to fulfil, another shackle. It's... starting to mean something new, to be his—and he yours.

At seventeen, you successfully tackled Damian down in your shared trainings. It had been his suggestion, to resume shared classes if you truly meant to keep up with him.

”No way.” Your voice lowers in disbelief, sweat pooling at your brows, hovering over Damian’s disgruntled expression. “That was a completely, fair takedown. I won.”

He scoffs lowly, his expression unsurprised. “I was going easy on you.”

“Sure you did.” You tease, leaning in so that your nose brushes against his. His lashes flutter, a habit he doesn’t notice he does when he’s flustered. His ears redden, but he doesn’t push you off.

“This isn’t an advisable tactic for distracting your opponents.” He mutters hoarsely, voice dropping several octaves as his gaze narrows on you. You love when he does that, the green of his eyes darkening into a similar shade of spruce leaves shadowed by his lashes.

“It’s working on you, isn’t it?” You mutter.

His breath hitches, his chest slowly rising as if fighting for oxygen against the impact of your question. His mouth curls into a scowl, before finally pushing you off.

He shouldn’t have gone easy on you if you were willing to pull tricks like that. Warmth burns at the back of his neck, trickling down with sweat—and he runs a hand through his wet hair to discard useless thoughts concerning the whisper of your question brushing against his lips.

He hears your light laughter, a sound rare within these walls, but it’s delightful enough that he wishes he could bottle it and drink it dry—another mad thought only you’re capable of summoning.

He only catches himself smiling—a foolish mistake, when he turns his head away to avoid your teasing gaze. His eyes lock onto another pair matching his own. His mother was watching him with a set line across her lips—disapproval. The twitch in his lips drops immediately.

When had she returned?

Careless. It's an immediate reprimand, and he senses an error he's made, somewhere lost between the languid smiles you dragged out of him, and his own guard loosening around you. Too often, has he gotten used to indulging in your presence, that he has forgotten the very reason why the exchanges of your smiles and banter never happened in public, around the many eyes and ears surrounding the estate.

A strong union was encouraged, but it was also expected to be emotionless, a mere contractual linkage. If word got around that there he carried a genuine fondness, it would complicate everything. A strategy meant to strengthen his legacy will become a thorn at his side, something easily exploited.

When his instructor dismisses him, he finds his mother stationed outside the corridor. He hasn't seen her in nearly a week, sent off on an escapade his grandfather has ordered her for, and he snuffs out any relief at the sight of her uninjured—or disappointment when his mother's eyes remain narrowed upon his arrival.

Talia Al Ghul stands before him, gaze assessing. “Pulling your punches?”

His jaw twitches. "It is practice, Mother."

His response does not please her.

“Remember, Damian.” His mother’s voice echoes along the walls. “Weakness does not survive in the world we shall build.”

Damian flinches at the accusation. It is not weakness, he wants to argue. You are not his weakness.

Yet, he sees it. The knowing, the pity in his mother’s eyes. She has stood in his place, and till this day—he’s never truly unraveled the truth from his mother’s tightly sealed lips. She once whispered of a secrets she cherished when he was but a boy, still soft enough to lay in her arms without being deemed weak for coveting her embrace. When it had been only the two of them, for his father never returned.

“Your purpose is greater than fleeting, young affection.” Her voice doesn't waver, carrying a tone that is meant to will him from disobeying. “Your grandfather has gifted you with the right to reign over his empire. You will not lose this honor.”

"That thought has never left my mind." He mutters, for it is the truth. How could he ever forsake his grandfather's blessing, to be born with an honor only he is worthy of holding?

A loud slam echoes through the corridors before he can convince his mother further, and he makes the mistake of searching for you instinctively with his gaze. He feels the way his heart thrashes into his ribcage when he finds your body pinned to the ground through the agape door, your expression twisted in pain. His fingers twitch to reach out for you. To be your shield.

Weakness. The voices that have judged his every action, every word, line of thought—combine into one coherent word that slithers down his throat.

His mother places a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening in a way that slithers through his defenses. “I understand, my child. More than you realise—which is why you must listen.”

His fists tighten, digging crescent moons into his palms. He must not be attached. Before his mother’s suspicions are proven right, before his grandfather notices—he mustn’t let you be his weakness. For as much as alliances have let his grandfather prevail in his reign, allies are as easily cut off the moment they no longer serve their purpose to the League.

If even a possibility of you being a liability holds true, you will be eliminated.

He will—no, he must protect you. Even if it’s from himself.

Damian has remained distant ever since that training. You had thought it was mere pride—it was your first success in tackling him down after all. Despite your attempts to coax him out of his sudden walls by teasing him softly, he does not budge.

It felt like a slap to your face when it was announced that your trainings were to return to being one-on-one. A horrid, cruel prank that demanded an explanation. Yet, by the end of the first week of this sudden change, his footsteps do not come by your door.

The comics he once poured over with you remained in their kept box, too painful to scour through when reading them lacked the company of his disgruntled expression and opinionated comments. Even during meals, he opts for different timings—and you end up sitting alone, poking at your fruit with no voice ranting to you on the importance of iron in a cold climate like his.

The silence gnaws at you, and loneliness accompanies you as a shadow when you return to your chambers, lips bitten to silence the ache in your chest and the tears that slide down your cheeks when the night grows too cold, and the wind whips at the windows.

Three months pass by in cyclical days, with hope dying out in your chest when Damian’s shadow doesn’t even cross ten feet of yours during the night and day. You catch servants pitying you, believing you to be thrown away by their master, his affections souring dry. Your own instructor berates you for your lack of focus, and again for your anger that slips between the cracks of your fists pummeled into the punching bags, spilling its contents over the floor.

Controlled. Composed. Obedient.

You didn’t know how to be those things anymore. Not when you had begun to see this place as a home after all these years, accompanying Damian’s side. Exposed to his humanity and a warmth that still lingers in his soul, despite the freezing cold of his climate and family.

After all, he had been the one who promised you, didn't he? Made you promise too, in that quiet, indirect way of his—that your first duty to him was to be his companion.

The loss wasn't only your routine, or your consistent stability as Damian’s betrothed—but also... your best friend. In a world as cold and isolating as the only one you've ever known, you never expected he would take his company from you too.

For the first time in years, when your winter visit is over and you return to your homelands—you choose not to return to the League.

When Damian hears of the news—of your delayed visit, with claims from your family that your trainings with Damian has been more than sufficient and you will continue your own studies in your homeland, he should have felt relieved.

He was—he had to be. No longer did he have to battle himself every morning, to avoid the path he’s succumbed to for years when passing your room, spotting your shadow illuminated by the dim light of your lamp. A room now desolate of your belongings and character, posters and colourful bedsheets removed in a hollow ache of what used to be a comforting sight. He didn’t have to wrestle with discipline, at the sight of your lonely gaze that lingered on his silhouette, twisting something horrid in his chest.

He wasn’t mourning the loss of your laughter, or your warmth. Distractions—that’s all it was. These pointless, fleeting memories that flickered in a passing servant’s movement, similar to your height—or when he stumbled over a fallen manga stuffed in the corner of your room's shelves, forgotten and torn in its pages.

He does not miss you, because you are not his weakness. He will function perfectly as he always has, even in your absence—because to admit anything else other than that is to give power to—No, he has never let himself linger on that teetering, dangerous edge. If he were to admit it, he'll never recover from his admission. So long as he didn’t let the words slip from his lips, and his heart didn’t tremor too strongly when his fingers flip over the teared pages of the volume you had left in your absence, hidden under his sheets. He does not miss you, because doing so will only endanger you.

So... why couldn't he stop these incessant thoughts of you, consuming his every waking moment? Not only have you left a gaping hole in his wake, but you refuse to leave him to rest even in his dreams, haunted by your tears and a piercing disappointment in your gaze. He hates making you cry. He hates it so much, that he has to remind himself, hand over his chest when he wakes, that it is not real. That you are gone, and you are better off for it.

...

The mountain peaks seemed more intimidating in your mind. Once looming over you, towering giant waves as a child—the pointed edges have now disappeared into the greyed clouds. Up at the highest point, that is where you shall be married.

To your betrothed whom you haven’t seen in three years. Unanswered letters on his part, cancelled visitations on yours, Damian has completely isolated himself from you aside from name.

Your gown feels impossibly heavy on your limbs. The paint on your lips has long dried, and your legs have gone numb from the journey. You had always known this was the outcome—set before Damian had even mattered to you as more than a shackle. Today, Damian—your betrothed, a blurred figure in your memories despite your many attempts to recall the green flecks of his eyes, the warmth of his scarred hands—he will be the one to place a ring on your finger and seal this arrangement.

You will be his wife, and he, your husband.

You wonder if he has grown any taller, his scowl any crueler. The hidden twitches in his expression, did they still shine through when the smallest, mundane things astonished him? Did he still sneak up to that hidden watchtower, observing the faint cracks of ice flowing along the rivers when winter began to thaw?

Did he still secretly flush reading shoujo, or has he never touched a single page since you left? You had left a singular volume in your room years ago, but you doubt he would’ve found it. It was his favourite—you would know because his eyes always lingered on the title, despite all your efforts to push him to take it for himself.

You know you're only avoiding the most likely truth—that you wouldn’t recognise the man you’ll marry. He wasn’t a boy anymore—who once carried the world’s weight on his shoulders. By now, he must’ve already learnt to harness it in the palms of his hands—without weakness, without attachment. That is the way of the League, and it shall be his.

The journey uphill is no easy feat, requiring careful turns to ensure there is no skidding along the icy roads, and the slow trickling of time has made you recklessly sentimental. You didn’t need this whirlwind path down memory lane, not when you were a mere pawn used as a symbol for this union.

Not when he's made it clear with his aversion, his piercing silence—that you have always mattered only to that extent.

The vehicle hasn’t moved in minutes, and your surroundings are deafeningly silent aside from the harsh whips of cold wind. Your gaze flickers to the darkened windows, to the deep caverns that disappeared into mist.

The car has been in a standstill for too long. Enough for your gut to churn in anxious dread. No… something was wrong.

Your knuckles knock against the separator between you and the driver, an opaque black blocking your sights from seeing what was up ahead. It's a simple three knocks that is meant to be returned with a knock pattern you're used to.

...There is no response.

Your heart stills, unable to breathe. There are only two possible options. The driver either hasn't heard you, which is nearly impossible from the weight of your fists against the material. Or he has left the vehicle, possibly dead. And someone else has taken his place.

"Is everything alright, miss?" An unfamiliar, detached voice responds to your knocks, snapping you out of your calculations.

Your test has answered your suspicions. You can barely think over the erratic pounding of blood in your ears, but you muster a response before the culprit suspects that you know something is off. "Fine." You respond quickly, eyeing the child lock that's been activated on both doors on either side. "How long is the duration till we reach the League?"

"Not too long from now, miss."

Lies. From the angles of the mountain peaks alone, you can tell there's easily an hour left to reach the League. You are trapped, on a one-way road that's accompanied by a cliff to its left, with a fall that's non-survivable. Even if you escaped now, you'll be easily captured with nothing but snow and gravel in your surroundings.

There is no choice. You'll have to play along till you reach your destination. Your phone has no cellular connection up in these mountains, but you can only hope to send an SOS and it'll catch onto a satellite, anything—to alert the League, to warn Damian.

“A husband should swear their life to protect their wife.” You hope that at the very least, he'll keep his first promise to you.

Damian has lost. He has obeyed his grandfather’s every command, to keep you safe from his prying eyes, to prove that you are nothing more than a useful pawn—and not his weakness. He has parted himself from you for years, despite his every thought being consumed by you even with the distance, carving himself hollow through burying trials and trainings and bloodshed, and he has still lost.

You have gone missing. Kidnapped, despite being escorted by your homeland's guards. All vehicles have veered off into an untraceable path, and if it hadn't been for your quick thinking, he wouldn't have found your blinking location sent from your phone before it had mysteriously disappeared too without a trace.

He’s barely present in this nonsensical meeting, discussions of the culprit and tactics to recover you—when he should already be down in the mountain valleys, looking for you himself. He has failed to protect you.

His grandfather doesn’t bother with the pretense of caring. His hand waves loosely, as if he had matters more important to deal with than the loss of his grandson’s betrothed. “Send men to find her. Alive or dead, as long as we have found her body. That shall suffice as an explanation to her family. Our alliance can continue in other forms.”

Damian’s blood runs cold. How dare he—acting as if you were replaceable. Something horrid churns in his chest, an anxious, writhing pain over the flashing thought of you dead. If this world has lost you, it is not one he could remain in. All his years of teachings, of the new world he's meant to build—he'd let it all burn if you were its sacrifice. He has had enough of this pretense, of this madness.

“You will not send these fools in my place.” It is the first time he’s spoken in this entire meeting, and his voice slithers almost inhumanely—daring anyone to cross him. “I will find her.”

“You will not.” The order cracks like a whip. All nearby warriors freeze, but Damian doesn’t slow in his movements as his fingers scout across the map laid out before him.

“We do not know who is desperate enough to threaten this alliance.” His grandfather reminds him, his voice tinged with slight impatience—viewing Damian as an incompetent boy who’s refusing to see the bigger picture. “Be wise, Damian. She is a mere pawn that can be replaced. To go off on your own, when your importance to the League—"

“She is not a pawn.” Damian snarls. “She is my wife.”

Ra’s glare falters at the sight of his grandson, willing to defy him. His narrowed eyes sharpen, darkening in fury. “You will go against my word, boy?”

It's a challenge, his last warning for Damian to step down.

“You may view this as a mere alliance, but I pledged my loyalty to her.” Damian declares. “She awaits for me. I will not fail her.”

“If you turn away from me now.” Ra's threatens. “You will never be welcomed back, Damian. Choosing your weakness over your purpose, is a fool’s dying wish. You will regret this.”

Damian’s back is turned to his grandfather, his fingers trembling over the grip of his katana. His head raises, facing forward without once looking back.

“She is not my weakness.” Damian announces. “And if I find her blood soiled in the snow, I shall make it your life’s regret for stalling my time—and no Lazarus Pit can save you then.”

He hears the sound of his grandfather’s sword un-sheave, and he readies his own—his steps never faltering towards the gates.

"Damian—you insolent child! I command you to stop."

He must not make this long. You are his priority, and there will be nothing stopping him from getting to you.

Blood streams from your forehead. Not yours, but of your captors surrounding you, littering the floor. Exhaustion plagues your bones, and every movement forced from your limbs is sluggish from what must be an hour of brutal survival—battling again and again with nothing but a stolen sword and numbed fingers.

The League's training has prepared you for this, but even you're at your limit. How much more can you take—before you collapse too? You hear more yelling echoing from beyond the walls trapping you, and a heaved sigh escapes your lips. You're so tired, and you don't know how much longer you can remain on your own two feet.

The frantic shouts echo into piercing screams, before it's replaced with a sudden, deafening silence. You force yourself to crane your neck from the wrecked floorboards, gaze locked onto the closed door.

The grip of the sword in your hand tightens, the blade trembling from the spasms in your fingers, and you ready yourself. It's a simple stance, one Damian taught you long ago.

"To preserve your energy." His hands guide your waist, linger over your skin. "A simple, head-on strike."

How rude of him—to plague your thoughts even here, when life is dancing on the thin edge that's bound to snap.

The door slams open. You squint your eyes, vision blurring as your steps forward tremor. Then, it clears—and you're convinced you must still be unconscious, hallucinating a dream that you desperately wanted to be true. You let out a disbelieving huff, close to a maniacal laugh. Your grip loosens on your sword, the blade falling to the ground with a loud clang. Finally.

How much time has been wasted in between these lonesome years, since you've met his eyes head-on? No, it's been far too long.

Your knees bend in on themselves, and the world tilts in its axis. Only your betrothed could fill you with such mind-numbing relief that strength would leave you so easily.

His silhouette is a blur, moving almost inhumanely across the many bodies you've slaughtered. You only register his touch, your body having never even touched the floorboards, when your heavy eyelids force themselves open again. Despite the impulse to fade away into your unconscious, you fight it because—you need to see him up-close with your own eyes.

Damian has grown taller, shoulders broader than you remember under all his armour. Time has carved his face into sharpened edges, stained with blood trickling down his cheekbones. His eyes finally familiarise themselves in your mind, that haunting green that you've been trying to remember since they faded from your memories. It's softer than you remember, his gaze. Trembling, frantic—desperate as he finally reaches you.

He's kneeling, and that's what snaps you of your daze. The heir of the demon head, Damian Al Ghul, he never kneels for anyone. The grip of his hands pull you into his chest the moment he meets your widened gaze. His chest heaves, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. Relief, you recognise—a shaking Damian was holding you in his arms as if he needed you to breathe.

“Took—you long enough.” You cough out, barely able to inhale without the soreness of your body punishing you. “Thought you gave up on me.”

“Never.” His fingers dig tighter into your frame, and you don't mind it even if it digs into the bruises he's unaware of. He's here—and real. “You are mine—the only opening for Death to find you is if he found me first."

You... are his?

“...Is this you repaying back for the ointment?” You mumble, light-headed from the pain and exhaustion. “Or something more.”

He’s silent, and you think maybe you screwed it up by mentioning that incident. You promised secretly after all, to never speak a word of his moment of weakness.

“Don’t abandon me.” You whisper, hugging him as tightly as you could with your weakened grip. Reality and hope are converging, and you find yourself lost in time—back to when that stubborn boy had just begun to open up to you. Don't turn your back, and leave. “I’m sorry for mentioning it.”

“I will never abandon you.” He responds immediately, his voice a frightened tremor, as if your words have struck him. “Never again. From the moment you chose to defy orders and save me, I already knew I was past the point of return. You are my beloved, and I will always come for you.”

"I made a promise, remember?" He swears. "I will be your sword and your shield. And—you need to keep yours."

Your... promise? "What's—that?"

"To remain by my side." His hands are now assessing, checking your pulse, the blood that covers your gown to make sure it isn't yours. "That's all you need to do from now on."

"I thought you... didn't want me anymore." You mutter weakly.

He lets out a strained breath. His head falls onto your shoulder, buried in the crook as he whispers. "I have always wanted you."

His admission is all that keeps you conscious.

"Even when I knew it was wrong, I allowed you to be my weakness. I could not push you away." He confesses. "I have loved you from the moment you stumbled into my room, declaring yourself as my wife. I have loved you in every single moment spent, in every memory I refused to part from. You are my wife, and I will never promise myself to anyone but you."

"I love you." His voice is softer than you've ever heard it, so raw in its honesty that you have no choice but to accept it. "I have failed you, and I shall never make that mistake ever again. From this moment on, I will never fail you."

The way he's holding onto you now, as if you were his only anchor in this world—how could you ever doubt the desperation seared into his voice, his touch?

"What's going to happen to us?" You ask weakly. This bloodshed will complicate the circumstances of the arrangement, his presence here will surely exacerbate the process.

"We shall be wed." He answers, his arms wrapping around you and hoisting you gently into a bridal-carry. He doesn't falter once as he walks towards the exit, his grip a stable anchor, latching you to him.

"Then?" You ask tentatively.

"Your captors will pay the price for their insolence." His voice darkens, blood staining his shoes. You can't tell if that came from outside, when he had forced his way in, or from your own doing. "Whatever is left of them, they shall perish from this world."

"...I will keep you by my side." He murmurs. "Till spring arrives, and I shall bring you to the waterfalls. When it is summer, I will watch you soak in the sunlight that you adore, to your heart's full content. When autumn comes, I will carry you on my shoulders so that you shall collect as many crimson leaves as you'll like. In the winter, I shall bring you to the watchtower, and we can watch the snow fall together."

"What happens after winter?" For as long as you have known Damian, you had only been able to keep him encased in memories of winter, of snow landing on his lashes.

A soft kiss is pressed to the crown of your head. "We shall begin over again, till your heart's desire."

"I'd like that." You whisper, eyes drooping shut in the weight of your exhaustion.

"Rest, my beloved." His voice is a comforting lure, and it works. "When you wake, it shall all be sorted. I will take care of everything."

Distance hasn't changed the way your body caves into his, the tension of survival fading from your bones because you know. There is nowhere safer than in Damian's arms.

He'll keep his promise, and in his embrace, you'll live to see the snow melt into spring. With his hand in yours, there is nothing more sturdy, more devoted than the bond sealed between the two of you. From the moment you snuck into his room all those years ago, carrying a simple balm for a child that mattered more to you than some political union.

From the moment he uttered his promises to you under the bedsheets as your betrothed—your husband, he vowed to keep them till his dying breath, and even then. For there is no world... Damian has envisioned without you by his side.

His one and only beloved.

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dc masterlist -> damian + other dc works

You don’t budge, eyes purposely wide as saucers, hoping your pleading's visible enough to coerce his sleep-deprived brain cells to work on something that wasn't the large Bat-Computer, illuminating a spotlight on his eye-bags.

He sighs. “Fine. It shouldn’t be that hard to think of.”

“I guess..” He mutters distractedly, multitasking your strange request and his work and an indulgent sip of his over-steeped tea. “He hates clumsiness? One time, Dick knocked over his printed Bat-Cow mug and even though he caught it immediately, you should’ve seen the look on Damian’s face.”

Not off to an amazing start. You don't dare recall the amount of times he’s caught you from face-planting in your shared apartment—or the number of plates you’ve broken when they slipped from your hands while washing them.

“Right. Clumsiness.” Your laugh comes out forced. “Anything else?”

“Hoarders.” He mutters through another sip, even as his nose scrunches at the bitterness. “I keep a bunch of files in the Bat-Cave, because forbid a man for wanting physical archives in case the Bat-Computer’s compromised. He snapped at me on the amount of useless cases I had collecting dust in the corner.”

Your heart squeezes traitorously, already aligning yourself with the trait before you could even deny the semblance. You didn’t expect him to accurately describe someone like.. you?

Your collection of junk is still stored inside a designated cardboard box, keeping letters he’s given you throughout your relationship, receipts from closed-down restaurants, or even the bed that's littered with your worn plushies. You rarely threw away anything as long as it held a small amount of sentimental value.

“Uh-huh.” You mutter distractedly—thinking back on your shared apartment and the amount of drawers you took up.

“I suppose—people who can’t protect themselves?” Tim shrugs apathetically. “He’s already so strict on his own training regime, I doubt he could possibly understand anyone who doesn’t know self-defence.”

You feel like you’re going to pass out. Tim finally stops, looking over to your distressed expression. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to you.” His mug’s 'Best Detective' claim flashes at you, sipping awkwardly at the realisation that he may have made a huge error with his words. “I just think he naturally has a lower tolerance for anyone that isn’t you.”

Tolerance, something that wears out in time. What if Damian was holding in all these things and it could potentially lead to resentment that you’re a combination of all the traits he finds annoying?

“Don’t take it to heart.” Tim says, his expression akin to one trying to disarm a bomb. “Seriously, hell will freeze over before that demon spawn ever hates something about you. You’re like—his only exception.”

You nod faintly, mind too preoccupied to truly listen. Your phone buzzes, lighting the lock screen and a notification for one of your packages has arrived. “Ah, I better get back! Nice seeing you, Tim. Thanks for the.. information.”

“No problem?” He answers, sounding unsure. “Don’t tell Damian I said anything!”

—

“Beloved?” Damian calls.

You barely hear his voice over the furious typing on your laptop, much less his trained footsteps that you could never detect. You raise your head, casting him an over-enthusiastic smile. “Hey, Dami!”

He tugs his coat off, placing it on the coat rack—gaze lingering on your laptop. “What are you doing?”

You feel as if you’re caught in the middle of a heinous act. “Um—” It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. Maybe he might even be proud that you’re being proactive about improving your self-defence. “I’m signing up for a martial arts class.”

His brows furrow, his expression perplexed. “All of a sudden?”

“Just thought I’d try something new.” Your white lie slips out easily. “With how Gotham is, I realise I should probably learn some moves. Just in case.”

He frowns. “Is there something concerning you regarding safety?” Looking around the apartment, he analyses the astounding upgrades he’s done with a displeased frown. “I was thinking of thickening the window’s glass to have an increased bullet-proof rebound rate. Or installing motion cameras-”

“No! No.” You stop him, already detecting the pattern of his mind, unravelling into a never-ending state of over preparation. You’re sure that even if the Earth splits into two, your apartment would still be standing unscathed with what he’s already done to the structure. “It’s just a hobby, Dami. You did a great job already.”

The last thing you wanted was to add on more burdens for him. He’s been taking on more cases than usual, back on another silent war with Tim on a silly tally-off, not like either has been keeping a fair count, and him being away for more hours meant that you had time—the chance to show him this improved side to you.

He pauses in his fretting, blinking slowly like a feline before beckoning himself over to where you laid, chin tucked to your neck as you hoarded your favorite corner of the sofa.

Brushing your hair aside, he places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Alright. Anything you want.” He obliges. “You’ve already charged it to my card, yes? If you feel anything inadequate about the instructor, cancel it immediately. I’m more than willing to train you myself.”

From the way he’s looking at you, it’s almost like he wants you to say you prefer his suggestion. You almost do, tempted to let him teach you instead—because a hot trainer who is also your boyfriend sounds like a match-made in heaven, then you remember Tim’s words. I doubt he could possibly understand anyone who doesn’t know self-defence.

If Damian saw you with his own eyes on how ill-equipped you were to protecting yourself, what if he sees you as even more inadequate? You shake your head, a perfect vision of Damian's disappointment swarming your thoughts. “I’ll see how the first class goes. Apparently, it’s super beginner-level so it should be perfect for me.”

He stares at you, and you can feel his mind racing in its analysis before he nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll join you.”

“What!” You splutter.

“I have to ensure the instructor is truly capable in teaching you.” He states casually.

“Damian. You’re probably more knowledgeable than he is.” You deadpan. “It’s going to feel like how advanced calculus was for you. Toddler’s work.”

His expression doesn’t so much as shift, but you spot tension in his shoulders. “He? Even more reasons to join then.”

Oh god, what did you just unleash?

—

“Welcome to ‘Gotham Martials-Beginner’s Class'!”

The instructor is in the tightest, most neon-green outfit you’ve ever seen and under the intrusive lights, it nearly blinds you with its reflective power. Damian doesn’t bother hiding his grimace at the sight.

“Don’t be intimidated, folks. I've only held a black belt in Taekwondo for the past fifteen years.” He boasts. “If there’s anyone who’s going to make you Nightwing-material, it’s yours truly!”

The mention of his brother sours Damian’s expression, visible in the tick of his jaw. Sibling rivalry was only ever intensified among him and his brothers. He schools it into perfect nonchalance when you look over at him, trying to contain your laugh.

“Now, who’s a willing volunteer to come up and let me show them the ropes?” The instructor calls out. “As I always say, learning from example is better than theory!”

The instructor eagerly scans the room, and his mark makes its target. “What about you, lady? You look excited to start your journey in becoming a Martial Arts expert!”

It must’ve been your nearly-dying expression over Damian’s scowl that caught you in the web of his gaze. Your smile drops, feeling nervous with the numerous eyes on you from the other trainees. “Well—”

”There’s no need.” Damian calls out, his hand brushing against yours in reassurance. “I volunteer.”

“Ah! An enthusiastic young man.” The instructor claps. “Very well, come on to the front.”

Damian casts you a grimace, before he strides to the front. It was almost a comical sight with how he towers over the instructor, his arms crossed in disinterest. His gaze flickers over to you, clearly unimpressed.

“Ah, the first rule is to never cast your eyes off your opponent—”

It happens in a flash. One moment, the instructor is charging at Damian, and the next, he was on the ground with a loud bang!, with Damian pinning him down.

“Agh!” The instructor chokes out, and a chorus of gasps echoes through the room.

Damian lifts himself off, brushing his hands against his shirt. “You were saying?” He says dryly.

Your own hand is clasped over your mouth, but unlike the others, you’re trying so hard not to laugh. Damian's clearly terrified the rest in the room, as the circle of trainees distance themselves from the spectacle.

The instructor lifts himself off the ground, gripping onto his lower back for dear life. “Ha-ha—Right! I was going easy on you. Good example, folks. This is exactly how you pin someone down.”

His eyes avert Damian’s raised brow, sweat pooling at his brows. “Now, let’s resume the class at its usual distance. I’ll be in the center, and all students will be behind the red circle.” He points down at the faded drawn line, suddenly not willing for an up-close demonstration.

The class continues on with a series of stretches followed by beginner poses. You doubt any moves you were taught would actually save you against an actual criminal on the streets, but seeing Damian being forced to do such minimal movement with a disgusted expression made it all worth it.

“I think I gained a six pack just by watching you.” Your core was still burning from the restraining laughter as he inserts the key to the door of your apartment. “Never seen you so—restrained.”

He casts you an unimpressed look. “The mystery of how this city has so many civilian kidnappings was all answered by that lacklustre session. If that’s the highest rated ‘self-defense’ class in Gotham, it’s no wonder this city’s crime rate hasn’t gone down.”

“It must’ve been a pain for you." You sympathise as best as you could with an Al Ghul prodigy. "Even if the session had been a hundred times better than Mr. Neon Tights, I doubt it would’ve been useful compared to your experience.”

His narrowed eyes soften, hand kept extended to hold the door open for you. When you enter, he swiftly closes the door, arm still hovering over you and cornering you in. “That wasn’t my intention.” He says. “If I had attended for self defence, that would’ve been highly unproductive. But—”

His free hand comes up to caress your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his eyes fully. “My intention was to spend time with you. And seeing you have a good time, regardless of the quality of the session, had always been the goal.”

Your cheeks warm, and he’s doing that weird thing again where he makes you feel special for doing absolutely nothing. “You’re cheesy.”

“Hm.” He hums. “Maybe I’ve been too affected by Mr. Neon Tights.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out, and his smile deepens—highlighting a soft dimple that you secretly obsess over. Falling into character, you clear your throat. “Aren’t you aware, Mr. Wayne? It’s not always about the result, it’s the journey.”

He huffs in amusement. “I wasn’t aware of such peculiar words of wisdom. From now on, you’ll be training with me. No more of that nonsense, even if it entertains you, beloved.”

“What?” You pretend to gasp. “Whatever shall I do without his neon tights to motivate me, Dami? You’re cruel.”

Leaning in, he murmurs. “I can think of other ways to motivate you.” Hands parting from the door, they wrap comfortably around your waist, gently pushing you back against the wood as he leans in. His lips press softly against yours, and it’s the soft moments of domesticity like this that you wish so desperately to stay longer.

By the time he parts from you, your lungs were screaming for more air than they’ve ever did in that class.

“How’s that?” He taunts lowly.

“Not bad. I feel pretty motivated to do a push-up right now.” You affirm, a little dazed.

Damian’s rare laugh is heavenly to the ears.

—

Damian’s away on another patrol, and in the midst of his absence, you’re uncovering your hoard of memories that look more kindled to trash now that it’s laid out on the floor. Damian’s letters, still too precious to ever even consider throwing away are stacked in a pile to your left, and your childhood stash is on the right.

You stare seriously at your pre-school drawing, a horrible attempt of drawing the Bat with fangs coming out under his mask. It's abstract, and you're much too biased to throw away a four year old's masterpiece. Maybe you could use it as a birthday card for Bruce?

“Beloved, what are you doing?”

You quickly hide the card, your body covering the junk as Damian enters the bedroom from the window. He’s covered in soot, but no blood is seen on his suit. Your immediate relief soothes your body, but his gaze set on the mess behind you seizes you to stand.

“Dami!” Your voice sounds way too chirpy to be anything but suspicious. “Nothing, I was just cleaning out some old stuff.”

“At 3 A.M.?” He asks incredulously.

“Cleaning jitters.” You shrug.

“Alright.” He says slowly. “I’ll take a quick bath, then I’ll assist in sorting it out with you.”

“No, it’s fine!” You quickly interject. “You must be tired after patrol. I’ll just quickly clean this up. So you can go to sleep, I know you don’t like mess.”

His hand lifts to detach his domino mask. Nothing stops his trained eye from sweeping the floor for this supposed ‘mess’ you’re talking about.

“My letters?” He asks, surprised.

“Oh, I just wanted to store them somewhere safely.” You explain. “If it hadn’t been for the letters, we.. wouldn’t be here now. I didn’t want dust mites to get to them.”

His lips quirk up faintly, softening at the memory. He looks over to the corner, where Mr. Paddington, one of your remaining childhood plushies was stuffed into a paper bag.

“Why is Mr. Paddington there?” He interrogates.

You swallow, averting your gaze. It's just a bear. A bear who's been through your ups and downs for the past decade. “I realised he’s—in really bad condition. And I keep hoarding things because of sentimental value, but it’s taking up space over the apartment. Like the bed is 55% my plushies and I don’t want you feeling like you’re running out of space because it’s your apartment too.”

He stares long enough that you start to feel it dig into your skull, before he turns fully and stops in front of you, lowering himself to your eye level.

“Is this an indirect method of asking me to expand our living quarters?” He asks, straight to the point as ever. “I can have us a new apartment by the end of the week.”

“No way.” You say flatly, his words stoking a flame of protectiveness over your shared home.

It’s an understatement to say you love this apartment. Call it being biased, but it was the first place you and Damian truly created into a home, and the memories stored within the brick walls (another addition you love), is something that will have to be pried, tooth and nail, from your cold hands.

“I just—I want to be more considerate, of the space and my junk. You may need more hanger space for your 10% shade differences in sweaters.”

He doesn’t so much as shift at your teasing, a blunt attempt at distraction to his skeptical eye. “Whatever is mine is yours.” He emphasises. “I got us this place because I wanted you to have a comfort space. I want you to use it.”

He bends, taking Mr. Paddington into his arms and patting away some dust that’s gotten on him. “You’re right, the stitching in his eyes has come loose. I’ll send it over to Alfred. He has been itching for something to do ever since most of us moved out, and he’s adequate in sewing.”

You don’t know why, but Damian being so considerate despite you having full evidence of your hoarding habit splattered over the bedroom floor tugs your heartstrings hard. You can’t resist hugging him, even when his suit is dirty. He holds you tight, Mr. Paddington squished between the two of you.

“Is there anything else you want?” He asks gently, his other hand gently rubbing your back. “You can always ask, beloved.”

You shake your head. “No, this is perfect.”

He hums. “Leave it be. We’ll sort it out tomorrow, together. I’ll run a quick bath, so why don’t you put Mr. Paddington back on the bed where he belongs, and I’ll accompany you to sleep as soon as I’m done?”

He’s perfect. It’s almost terrifying how easy it is to lean into his arms and accept his help. You should take care of your mess, not give him another task to do when he’s already tired from patrol. Still, when he places a soft kiss over your forehead, you find it hard to disagree tonight.

When he sinks into the bed, the faint smell of his body wash envelopes your senses. His weight tips you towards him, but even gravity isn’t as quick as your boyfriend’s instincts, pulling you into his arms till his frame shields yours. His chest moves in synchronicity with your breathing against your back, and the thought hits again that you don't deserve him.

Somehow, against all odds of your bad luck where he’s discovered your flaws two times in a row now when you're only trying to improve them, the softness in his gaze has never shifted, annoyance never once making its way into his expression.

Was Tim really right? That Damian’s intolerance for the flaws he listed out fades when it comes to you? You want to ask, but hearing Damian’s slowed breathing, meaning he’s fallen asleep—you think not all hope is lost yet. There’s still one more flaw you could work on, to make his life a little easier for all the times he’s loved you despite your flaws.

—

If you’re not going to get better at self-defence or the habit to hoard, at least you’ll master tackling your clumsiness. You’ve managed in avoiding plate arson for the past week, and call it over-confidence, but when you spot the clock’s hand frozen over the kitchen, you think it’s finally time you get over your fear of ladders.

“Beloved? What are you doing?” Damian calls out, a hint of distress in his voice when he spots you, on the second highest level of the ladder, hands fumbling with the clock.

“Taking out the clock.” You answer, distracted with the hook that’s stuck onto the nail. “Its battery needs changing.”

“I can do it.” He offers, his hands coming up to stabilise the ladder. “You need not concern yourself with small matters like these.”

”Yeah, but I want to.” You answer, finally unlatching the clock. “Got it!”

When you feel your balance tilt, you realise your miscalculation. With both your hands on the clock, you’re no longer holding the wall, and your feet stumble as your back arches backward. You yelp, falling backwards—right into Damian’s arms.

The clock is still in your hands, covering your face halfway to hide your shame as Damian stares at you, and you see the waver of relief, worry, and amusement playing out in the flickers of his gaze.

“That’s so embarrassing.” You mutter to yourself, still using the clock to shield your face from his prying eyes. “Let me down. Oh—can we please pretend that never happened?”

He doesn’t respond, hands still firmly wrapped around your torso, leaving your feet dangling in the air as he pins you under his gaze. “No, I think I quite favour this position.”

“Don’t tease, Damian.” Calling him by his full name doesn’t do the trick. If anything, it makes his smugness triple in size. “I seriously thought I accomplished getting over my fear of ladders. Now it’s hyper-intensified and my fears have turned to actual trauma.”

He snorts softly, carrying you over to the sofa and settling down. You lay there in his arms, which is admittingly, very comfortable, making it difficult for you to climb out of his hold. Not like he’d let you, the only time his arms wasn’t wrapped around you was when he took one hand to tear the clock out of his hands, settling it at the coffee table.

“What is bothering you?” He finally asks.

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

“First, the training classes, then Mr. Paddington, and now, the clock?” He lists out. Damn him and how observing he was. “Something’s bothering you.”

You hesitate. It’s irrational, but what if you list out the traits he hates, and he realises that you’re really all the things he despises? Your mind knows Damian loves you, but at moments, your heart wonders why.

”Well..” You swallow. “Promise not to get mad?”

“I could never be mad at you.” He answers immediately.

You don’t even know where to start. “You always take care of me. And you rarely complain. So I was starting to wonder if there was anything I did that could.. piss you off that you never mentioned.”

His brows pinch together. “Was there anything I did to make you reach that assumption? I know my communication of my feelings still needs.." He grimaces as he manages the word out. "Improvement. If I ever made you feel at unease, it was never my intention. I’ve never felt that way about you. Ever.”

“No—no.” It’s a relief to hear him say that, but it’s much harder to sound convincing when he’s looking down at you with his unbridled concern, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen. “I just didn’t want to accidentally do something in habit that irritates you when you’ve been nothing but good to me.”

Averting eye contact, you focus on the jammed hands of the clock. “I asked for a list about what you hated and—it felt as if each description pierced right through me, so I panicked and over-compromised.”

His gaze sharpens. “What list?”

“Um—” You discreetly feel Tim’s lifespan shortening. “Just a couple of things. Hearing them made me realise that I could be a burden to you because of all the annoying things you have to deal with—so I tried to improve them. I don’t want you feeling like you have to take care of me because I’m not good in doing it.”

He shakes his head, mouth pursed and ready to argue but not quick enough to avoid the finger you place on his lips. “It’s not that I don’t want you taking care of me, because I love that you do. I appreciate it so, so much that I’m scared that I’m relying too much on you.” You admit, feeling a lump growing in your throat. “And I’m scared that taking care of me gets tiring.”

He gently caresses your wrist, pulling it aside so he can speak. “I want to take care of you.” He reassures you.

“But you hate clumsy people.” You croak out.

“I love your clumsiness.” He answers in a factual tone. "It's easier to get you into my arms."

“And you hate people who hoard.”

“I hoard things you gift me.” He bites back. “It’d be hypocritical of me to judge you for that when I partake in the same habit."

“You—“ Somehow, his easy way of dissuading your worries is working, and you can’t think of much else. “You hate people who can’t protect themselves.”

“Then what is my purpose, beloved?” He asks. “If not to protect you. If I could not fulfill even that duty, I would condone that hatred on myself. Never you.”

“Then what has this week been for?” You moan. “Felt like a humiliation ritual—Like I was horribly incapable as Damian Wayne’s partner.”

His lips quirk up. "Adorable." He whispers, as if he can't help himself. "You are capable. Of more things than you think.”

“You understand people better than I do, which is why you tried to be considerate of me by doing this.” He adds. “I appreciate your efforts, beloved, but you don’t need to be anything more or change yourself because I cherish you as you are. You’re already perfect for me.”

Damian’s love has always been shown through his actions, his unwavering patience he’s harnessed just for you, evident by his siblings’ complaint of unfair treatment. Yet, to hear him say it so directly—you can barely think of what to say back without sounding like an emotional mess.

“Where did you obtain such an unreliable list?” He asks after a moment.

You wince. He stares and stares, akin to a falcon, till it comes out of you. “…Tim?”

He scowls, gaze hardening with a familiar murderous intent. “I’m going to kill Drake.”

“Please don’t.” You plead. “It’s my fault, really. And if it hadn’t been for him, I would still be avoiding this conversation and I wouldn’t have gained the guts to say it out loud.”

His lips purse in a thin line, which is his best attempt at consideration. “I’m still not pleased that he indirectly made you feel unworthy when that’s never been the case. But you are right.” His free hand brushes over your cheek, growing serious. “Next time, if you ever feel this way, tell me first. I’ll listen, always.”

“And believe me when I say—you could never irritate me.” He declares. “You’re my gift in this world, and there’s no other person who brings me peace the way you do. You’re not meant to exist without flaws, and I love every single one of them. It makes you human, and more precious in my eyes. So don’t hide your worries from me. Bear them with me instead, and I’ll reassure you.”

Your eyes feel wet when you blink, your lashes clumping together, and your heart is thumping louder than it should. “Oh, man.” You mutter. “You just made me fall for you all over again. That’s not fair.”

His lips twitch into a soft smile, and presses a feather-light kiss over your forehead. “Then you’ve been unfair on me too. I suppose I'll have to be more unbearable in my affections to not let such silly worries get to you. I haven't been doing a good job in my duty if you could believe in a list like that."

“And for the record.” His gaze softens. “I didn’t see anything we did this past week as a burden. I enjoyed spending time with you, at the martial class, and the morning we spent organising your childhood memories, and even now—because that’s the reason I want to be with you. To be in your life, to be your support, your person.”

Your throat clogs together, and if he wants to succeed in making you a wreck, he's done it well.

“Cause..” He murmurs. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. Isn’t that what we promised?”

“Then, do you also solemnly swear, Damian Wayne—” Lifting up your pinky finger to him, you muster your most serious expression. “That you’re truly in this even with my flaws, on the good and bad days?”

He links his pinky with yours, wrapping it close to his chest right above his heart. “I solemnly swear.”

Damian always keeps his promises. You could ask him to capture the Sun for you, and he'd somehow find a way to do it before Monday.

“What else did that lunatic say?” Damian interrogates.

Your mind scrambles for anything to save your future brother-in-law’s life. “Tim did say I was your only exception.”

He huffs. “I suppose there’s one thing Drake finally got right.”

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The sound of his annoyance made you turn your head towards him, “Something wrong?” You ask. “Yes, something's wrong! Your goddamn neighbors have literally been at it for nearly a whole fucking week now!” He hissed. He wasn’t pissed at you, but he couldn't help but reply in such a tone. “I’m all for minding my own business but couldn't they at least tone down the volume?” He sighed, fingers squeezing the flesh of your hip to relieve some of his stress. 

You giggled at him, he was angrier than you, and he didn't even live here. “I thought you would've tuned it out by now.” you hummed, leaning your head back on his shoulder again. Goo grumbled something but tried to focus back on the action-comedy movie playing on the television. Still, no matter how hard he tried to tune out the infuriating sounds of your neighbors, he just couldn't!

That's when an idea popped up in his head.

“Heyyy…” His head slowly turned to you with a mischievous smile. “I can already tell from your tone that this is going to be a bad idea,” you said, not once tearing your gaze from the television. “Excuse you, all my ideas are great,” he frowned, poking your side to make you giggle. “Seriously, this idea of mine is great. I bet you’ll love it too.” he grinned. You rolled your eyes and finally shifted your gaze to him.

“Wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?” he asked with a stupid grin.

“Establish dominance?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “To show your neighbors who the boss is!” He leaned closer towards you, shifting his body so he could wrap both arms around your middle. “C’monnn, don’tcha wanna give them a taste of their own medicine?” he coaxed, his voice carrying obvious innuendo.

The constant sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with salacious moans. Goo had you with your head down and your hips raised, one of his hands moving from your hips to your ass. He leaned forward, toned abs brushing against your back. “Not loud enough,” he whispered into your ear in a singsong tone. “What d’you wan’me to do about that?” you stuttered through gasps. How in the world was he keeping up his pace while making conversation?

“Just means I'm not fucking you good enough.” he hummed, leaning back and giving your ass a slap—which earned him a moan from you—before rubbing the spot to soothe the pain. You could only grip the sheets when Goo decided to speed up his thrusts, jaw loose as you moaned and whined louder. “That's more like it,” he panted as he pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin. 

Goo groans when he feels your walls squeeze around his dick, hitting all the spots that made you twitch. He was always obsessed with the way his dick felt in you—didn't matter which hole it was. Could be your mouth, your ass or your pussy; he loved it all.

“Fucking nasty,” He teased, spreading your ass cheeks apart to see where you and he connected. To see the way his dick dragged in and out of your ass—the sight was even better when he came with you for the nth time. ”Feelin’ good?” he asked, a stupid smile still on his face as he leaned over you. 

Poor you could only whimper in response, fingers letting go of the sheets as you panted. A hand came up to turn your head towards Goo. “Look at that.” he whistled with a cocky smirk as he took in your fucked-out expression. “Think you were loud enough for them?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because I think you weren't.” 

And with that he pulled out and flipped you over so you were on your back, the action causing you to let out a small yelp. Your hazy gaze tried to focus on him as he put both of your legs over his shoulders, one hand holding them in place while the other lined his dick up with your cunt.

“Make sure the volume doesn't lower this time, sugar.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours before his hips slammed into yours, immediately pushing a moan past your pretty lips. This was really feeding Goo’s ego—watching you squirm in place and moan helplessly. Your mind was blank with overstimulation as he pounded into you again and again. Each thrust more delectable than the last, the drag of his cock along your velvety walls as he drove it in and out.

“Too much–! ‘s too much!” You whined, and Goo thought it was absolutely adorable. “I know you've still got it in ya, your body's practically shaking for more.” he pressed a kiss to your leg on his shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth comfortingly on your knee. 

Hell, if you keep whining and looking at him like that, he doesn't think his dick would go down for a looong while. His free hand moves up to your clit, the pad of his thumb rolling a languid circle over it. 

He decides to move your legs off of his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist instead. It gave him more space to get as close as possible to you. The moment he was within arm's reach, your hands were already grabbing him for support.

He groans at the sensation of your nails raking down his back. Even in your stupefied state, you couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he looked. The bead of sweat rolling down the side of his forehead, some strands of his blond hair falling out of place. You comb his hair back, which makes a small smirk spread across his face. He presses his lips against yours, swallowing all the wanton moans falling from your lips.

His thrusts had grown sloppy yet feral, not even bothering to slide his full length out anymore, simply half-thrusting into you. It's loud, it's messy, it's absolutely pornographic. Which is exactly what Goo has been aiming for all throughout! 

He lets go of your leg, the veins in his forearm flexing as he grabs onto the headboard of your bed. He could feel his climax approaching fast, and it didn’t help that your tight pussy was squeezing his dick so deliciously.

“Haa..I’m gonna cum,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss. He looked down at his length, coated in your juices. How many times has he made you cum? How many times has he cummed? Either way, he didn't keep count. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, grumbling curses as he chased his orgasm. 

Snap.

He felt himself come undone, emptying his whole load—or whatever was left of it in him—into you. Your breaths mingled in the air, the soft sound of your panting being the only thing that could be heard.

The only thing that could be heard.

Seems your neighbors stopped in their own endeavors. Goo considered this mission a success, but he still hated your neighbors. He doesn't understand how you put up with all the things going on in your complex.

“Y’should move in with me.” He mumbles into your neck. You really should, he thinks. His darling only deserved the best, after all. Plus, if you moved into his condo, he’d get to touch you just like this anytime. It’d be a win-win situation.

ᯓ★—GUN

Gun wouldn’t consider himself a family man. Sure, when he was younger, he dreamed of having a normal family, but wanting it and actually having one are entirely different. He could never imagine himself as the type to be a father or a partner, given his rough childhood and the nature of his work.

And then there’s you.

The one person who managed to shake his resolve. Gun had always kept his walls up, and somehow, you found a way through them. Yet, even after that, he tried to keep you at a distance—not because he thought he didn’t deserve you, but because he loved you too much. He wanted to protect you from the dangers surrounding him. But you stood firm, seeing right through his defenses, refusing to back down.

He’s thankful. Thankful that you stayed with him, even after learning about all the dark things he’s done. You became one of the few people he could rely on when the weight of it all grew too heavy. The words "I love you" feel foreign to him, much more than any language he’s learned. He doesn’t say them, not because he doesn’t feel them, but because expressing emotions in that way is hard for him. Instead, he shows you through his actions.

Sometimes it’s by spoiling you with gifts, letting you splurge as much as you want. Other times, it’s through physical affection. Like now.

You’re tucked under the blankets, reading a book, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating your face. Gun approaches quietly, slipping beneath the covers and pulling you close. “Trying to ruin your eyesight?” he mumbles into your hair.

“I wasn’t reading in the dark,” you reply defensively, “I just wanted to finish the last page.”

You close the book and set it back on the bedside table. “Did you eat dinner?” you ask, turning to glance at him.

“No,” he answers, nuzzling into your neck, his hands wandering across your body. “Hungry for something else.” His large hands begin massaging your breasts, and the deep rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core. You let out a soft moan.

When your eyes meet his, there’s something in his gaze that tells you tomorrow’s going to be rough—you’ll be waking up with sore legs.

Your knees are nearly pressed to your chest, and Gun’s thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. The pace is so intense that your nails scrape down his back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t even feel it—pain is something he’s long been accustomed to. You’ve lost track of how many rounds you’ve been through; your mind has been lost to the pleasure ever since the third, which was only with his fingers.

“Yuuu…” you whine, the overstimulation making every nerve in your body feel like it’s on fire. You’re torn between exhaustion and wanting more. “What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting his gaze from where your bodies are joined, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“I want you t’cum in me,” you murmur shyly, your cheeks flushing as you look up at him.

His movements stop abruptly, leaving you confused. “What did you say?” His voice is sharp, serious.

“Why’d you stop—”

“What did you say?” he repeats, more forceful this time, almost like an order. 

You swallow nervously. “I said…I want you to cum inside me.”

For a moment, Gun just stares at your stomach, and you can’t help but worry if you said something wrong. “Or just…forget I said that,” you mutter, trying to close your legs, but he pushes them further up against your chest.

“Forget that?” he echoes, suddenly thrusting into you again, his tip hitting that perfect spot inside you. The air in the room shifts. “You think you can make a request like that and expect me to just ignore it?” A small, dangerous smile plays on his lips. Your moans fill the room once more, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’ll make you the prettiest mother around,” he whispers into your ear before capturing your lips in a deep kiss, one hand sliding down to rest on your stomach, his thumb brushing softly over it.

Let's rewind to what I said earlier, Gun had always thought he wasn’t cut out to be a father. But then, you came along. As he gazes at your stomach, the idea of filling you up with his seed suddenly doesn’t seem so unthinkable. In fact, the thought of seeing you swollen and pregnant with his child excites him, surprisingly.

Your arms drape loosely around his neck, and as your tongues dance in a gentle but passionate kiss, you realize only you have the privilege of seeing him like this—soft, vulnerable. And Gun intends to keep it that way. No one else will ever see this side of him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as moans slip from your lips into the kiss. The obscene, wet sounds of your bodies only spur him on. One of your hands moves to cup his cheek as you break the kiss to catch your breath.

Gun takes that moment to glance down at where your bodies are connected, watching as his cock disappears inside you. His movements become sloppy as his climax approaches. With gritted teeth, he finally releases inside you, ropes of hot cum filling you. One child would be nice—a son or a daughter, he doesn’t care. Either would make him happy.

But that’s not enough. You’re leaking, and if he’s trying to breed you, he can’t have that. Looks like he’ll just have to try again.

After all, his beautiful wife is waiting to be knocked up, and he can’t keep you waiting, can he?

ᯓ★—GOO

Originally, Goo hadn’t planned on attending his distant cousin’s wedding. After all, he barely knew the guy. His clearest memory of him was from when his cousin was still in middle school and had hired Goo to beat up some kids who were bullying him. That was years ago. But then, when Goo told you about the wedding, you looked so excited. How could he say no after that?

And now, here you are, having the time of your life. You’re bouncing a baby in your arms, laughing with the other women at the wedding. You glance over at Goo, say something to the baby, and wave its tiny hand at him. He gives you a small wave in return.

You’d make a cute mother.

That’s when it clicks.

Goo, much like Gun, has never imagined himself as a father. Given his line of work, it seems impossible, maybe even dangerous. He’s the last person anyone should want as the father of their children. But watching you hold his cousin’s baby stirs something inside him. He’s always been vocal about his love for you, showing it in various ways—gifts, words, and even through intimacy. But now, a new idea forms in his mind. What better way to express his love than by creating something lasting, something physical?

That thought consumes him for the rest of the wedding reception, and even more so during the drive home. He’s almost too lost in his fantasies, too focused on imagining you with a round, pregnant belly. You snap him out of it by waving your hand in front of his face.

“Goo?” you call his name, concerned.

He blinks at you.

“You okay? You’ve been so quiet,” you ask, your voice soft. “Seriously, I haven’t gotten anything from you but ‘mhms’ and grunts.”

Before you can say more, he interrupts you with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue already pushing its way in. Whatever plan he’s been brewing, he’s ready to set it in motion right now.

It’s no surprise when, not much later, he’s pounding into you with fervor. The bed sheets are sliding off with every pull of your body toward him, and he’s standing at the foot of the bed, your legs spread wide. One of his hands presses down on your stomach while the other props him up on the bed for balance. “Gonna fill this pussy up nice and full,” he chuckles.

“Mhm! Please cum in me!” you sob, your mind too clouded with pleasure to realize just how much your words are fueling him.

“I hear you, sugar,” he leans down, voice soft in your ear. “Can’t say no to my sweet girl now, can I?” His thrusts quicken, your toes curl, and stars fill your vision.

“Just look at how greedy this fucking pussy is,” he teases, letting his hand trail down your stomach to the back of your legs. He spreads them a bit more to get a better view of how your pussy takes him in with every thrust. The lewd squelching sound of your arousal only makes him harder, his cock twitching inside you. All you can do is moan in response, too lost in the sensation to speak.

“Say,” he pants, “what do you think—mmh, shit—about having two kids? One boy, one girl?” His imagination runs wild as he talks, and it only makes him go harder. “Or—ngh—two girls, maybe?” He’s thinking out loud now, and all you can do is nod.

With a groan, Goo empties himself inside you, thick ropes of cum filling you up. But some of it begins to leak out, dripping down his length. Goo clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t waste it,” he says, using his thumb to push the escaping liquid back into you.

“I’m not trying to—!” you gasp, only to be cut off by a sharp thrust of his hips. He’s already sliding back into you easily.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, wiping away the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure you’re stuffed until I can’t give you any more.” His voice is a low purr as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

He’s made up his mind: you’ll make an incredible mother, and he’s determined to make that happen.

With a sigh, the man pulled out of the run-down neighborhood and drove back to his apartment. He turned up the radio, trying to drown out his own thoughts as they began to anger him every passing moment. The deep, raspy voice of the artist soon flooded the silence of the car and he slammed on the accelerator pedal, driving well past the legal speed limit as he raced through the freeway.

𝑂ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙, 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒.

𝑆𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑜ℎ 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠, 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑂ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙, 𝑂ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙.

Before Goo knew it, he arrived at his apartment, still seething in his spot. The adrenaline of the drive didn't improve his mood at all, merely adding to the fire burning inside him. Goddamnit. He takes a sharp turn into the parking lot below, nearly crashing into the cars as he curves and turns like a serpent in a frenzy. He stops in the middle of the parking lot garage, screeching to a halt as his tires burn against the tar pavement. Swinging the door open, Goo steps out and wastes no time to race towards the elevator.

His attention being clouded by his own thoughts, he didn’t even notice when the elevator stopped at his floor nor did he notice when his feet carried him to the entrance of his apartment. Only when he walks straight into the door does he notice. With a growl, Goo fishes for his keys in his pocket, roughly inserting the key, and nearly ripping the door off its hinges opening it. He steps into the comfort of his home and slams the door closed. His landlord surely will have his head if they heard him.

Goo tugged at the scarf around his neck, loosening the grey fabric, and tossing it onto the couch. He kicked his shoes off and slid down the black suspenders from his shoulders, wincing as the bands slid down his arm. He couldn’t help but frown, his mood worsening at the thought of a broken bone. How will he be able to hug you or hold you up now?! Especially during intimate times?!

A low growl rumbled in his chest, his nose twitching. What a night. What a fucking night. The man grumbled incoherently in his spot, shaking his head as his chest rose and fell quickly. He tried calming himself down, trying to use the breathing technique you taught him, but nothing. It only made his blood boil even more.

“Goo? Are you alright?”

Goo perked up at the sound of your voice, his irritation seemingly forgotten as he saw your head pop out the kitchen doorway. Your brows knitted together, not expecting him to be arriving before one in the morning. Usually, he had a few loose ends to tie up at work or went drinking with Gun, arriving late into the night either way. “You’re home early. Is something wrong…?”

You noticed the blood and bruises on his face, gasping at the sight. You dropped the kitchenware in your hand onto the counter and raced into the living room, reaching out to him as you spoke urgently, “Jesus, Goo! What the hell happened?!”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, the blonde immediately enveloped you in his arms, ignoring the throbbing ache in his arm, wanting to hold you tight for at least a few minutes. He didn’t know how to explain it, but just your very presence soothed him. He ignored your previous question, mumbling incoherently in your hair.

You state still for a moment and sigh, looping your arms around his neck and letting him bury his face into the crook of your neck. Times like these, you couldn’t help but worry, yet you knew that your boisterous boyfriend wouldn’t say a word until he deemed it necessary.

The man held you close, his hand resting on your hip whilst the other tenderly held your face. The sullen look he expressed tugged at your heart strings, the small frown he was fighting made your brows pinch together, trying to piece together what has gotten him so down. But he'll never say a word, not yet.

Your hands rest as on his chest, clutching the fabric of the golden long-sleeve. Your head tilts and the silence was intense, nearly suffocating. Usually, the boisterous blonde filled the air with his laugh and honeyed voice, making sure to fill you in on the job he just did and gossip about the people he’s come across. Though now, the man before you didn’t resemble the man who swept you off your feet. For the first time in months, you see a new side to your beloved.

“Goo, are you okay…?”

Goo wanted to scream. His body begged for rest as it burned from every punch thrown at him, his mind running with every possible outcome and scenario. And for the first time in years, worry and fear had struck the man into silence.

Goo pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally, to your lips. His mouth lingered for a moment until he pulled away. His gaze met yours as it dazed over, filling him with a new vigor to forget the hell of a night he’s had. He needs to forget.

He wanted nothing more than to curse at God himself for making an enemy as strong as him and Gun. An enemy younger than him that took nearly every muscle in his body to overpower. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to thank him for letting him win. He wanted to kiss the very God who let him come back home to his girl, who patiently waited for his return.

His girl.

Damn, how lucky was he?

Your mouths pressed in a heated kiss, Goo taking the chance to slip the golden shirt off as you hooked your arms around his neck, your fingers entangling themselves in soft blonde tresses. You tug at his locks, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. He groans, slithering his tongue in. Your tongues danced in a passionate rhythm, yet neither one tried to dominate the other. An act that surprised you as Goo always enjoyed making you submit to him in the battle. As your spit mingled, you could feel the bulge of his pants press against your lower abdomen.

A whimper reached the blonde’s ears and he began to grind his throbbing shaft against you, pulling even more sweet whimpers from you. The need for air became too strong as your lungs screamed for fresh air, forcing you to pull away and push your beloved by the shoulders. A string of salvia connected both your lips, yet the link broke as he hurriedly began to undress, his glasses long forgotten on the table.

As Goo slipped the large shirt over your head, his mind did not calm down when he captured your sweet lips once again. He unclipped your bra and tossed it to the side, making you walk backwards until the back of your knees hit the couch.

Goo could barely hold himself up against the beast within Daniel, a fight he never thought would happen the way it did. What if he encounters the boy again, but you were with him? What then? Can he protect you or would he finally meet his match and lose? Would Daniel hurt and kill you?

The thought of him losing made shivers run through him. Goo pulled away and he pressed his mouth desperately against your neck, his breath hitched in his throat. His warm lips opened wide, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck, his big hands running against your sides, squeezing the soft skin. Every nip and bite pulled sinful moans from you, stirring the blonde man more.

No, hell no. God himself would have to step away from his throne and come down from his kingdom of light to kill Goo himself before he ever says goodbye to you. No one, and I mean no one, is going to take you from Goo. Not even Satan if the devil offered him a deal of a lifetime.

No, you were worth more than anything in the cruel universe.

Goo pushed you onto the leather couch, your bare back meeting the sleek cushions and making you shiver at the cold sensation. Your legs were forcefully torn apart by your boyfriend's rough hands, easily removing your shorts and panties, discarding them like a sinner does with the words of a priest trying to help.

Now that he thought about it….

The person he was, isn’t he practically God? He chose the fate of people everyday and bestowed upon them mercy and wonderful gifts, easily overpowering every one of them.

He must be, no?

With the way you melted under his touch, looking up at him with teary eyes whilst you had a vice-hold around his cock, he must be God.

Yes, he must be God.

It’s been nearly two hours and he’s had you like a little fleeting lamb at the mercy of their savior, crying out with every orgasm he blesses you, pleading with a broken voice for him to stop. But why should he?

He’s God.

He’ll stop when he’s satisfied.

“My pretty little whore,” Goo cooed, rolling his hips against yours, giving long deep thrusts. He gasped, your velvet walls constricting around his throbbing cock, sucking him in so greedily. “I’ve been neglecting you too much, sweetkins, even your pussy misses me. Fuck… Ha-ah.” Goo closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as you tighten around him even more, an act he didn’t even know was even possible. It’s been a couple hours since he’s arrived and he hasn’t let you go since.

Goo cracks his eyes open and he peers down at you, bouncing with every thrust and tear-stained cheeks. The sight is nothing but beautiful, watching your lewd face scrunch up from the overwhelming pleasure. Almost like a lamb who can’t escape, he digs his nails into your thighs and he hoists one of your legs onto his shoulder.

A laugh leaves Goo, his head tilting.“Ah, fuck, how can I forget?” Goo hums, picking up momentum, fat balls smacking against your ass. the raise in your hips allowing him to hit a new angle. The new position made your head spin, each thrust brushing against that sweet spot that made you weak and crying out for his name. The sound of your moans seems louder than a choir in a catholic church, a sinful symphony of your cries and sinful mewls. He could only imagine the neighbors trying to sleep, only to hear your beautiful melody. They should be glad, this blessing didn’t come often. “You like when I talk like that, don’t you, my dirty girl?” Your mouth parted as you hugged the pillow close to your chest, the blonde’s words being confirmed as your cunt squeezes around him once again.

Goo scoffs, grinning down at you. “Yeah, you do. Awe, my good dirty girl, you’ve been ignored by your boyfriend, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. Doesn’t matter if it takes all night,” Goo rasps, pulling his hips back and sliding out till only his tip remained. He slammed back in and you could swear you see stars at that moment. “Dirty girl, so cute and dumb on my cock. Am I making it up now?”

“Yes..! G-Goo...!!” You couldn’t even speak, the way his fat cock stretched you out with every snap of his hips had the ache between your legs bubbling quickly. Each cry slipped from your swollen lips as easily as he slid in and out of your slick cunt, the squelching noise dancing with the symphony of sin, the curve of his dick brushing against that sweet spot. “Oh, hah, fu-fuck--Sir!”

“Sir? That’s a new one...,” Goo grunts, ripping the pillow from your hold and leaning in, pressing your thighs to your chest. His heart hammered in his chest and he narrowed his eyes at you, scoffing, “Thought I told you I didn’t like that….” He placed his hand on your sternum, brushing against your skin before it trailed up to your neck. Long coarse fingers wrapped themselves firmly around your throat, pressing against your windpipe, giving it a hard squeeze as Goo’s cockhead gave a stiff kiss to your cervix. His blood couldn’t help but boil at the mention of the name, his head recalling the event from a while back. Little bastard tried stealing his girl. Your eyes rolled back, blood rushing to your head, the light-headed sensation and the spread of your tight cunt making your back arch.

The blonde growls and gives one hard thrust that makes you squeal. “What? You like how that dumbass kid was addressing me?” Goo slipped your other leg onto his shoulder, stopping his movements completely. “You like seeing me angry or something….? Or do you just want me to treat you like the little slut you are since you’re so needy for my dick?”

You didn’t respond, meeting his question with a pitiful whine.

“Pathetic. Whatever, sweetkins…” Goo released your throat, scoffing at your gasp for air. He wasted no time as he grasped your ankles for a moment, coarse hands running down your legs, stopping midway up your thigh. His arms hooked around your knees and he pushed them far as he leaned in close, hunching over as he held them near your head. He began rutting his hips in your dripping core, raising his hips as he thrusted like a dog in heat. You cried his name, slipping your arms under his bicep and digging your nails into his back. The burn of your nails raking down his back made him hiss, absolutely loving the feeling of your touch bringing him pain. Fucking masochist.

“I’m a god,” Goo whispers, hot breath fanning your skin, biting the shell of your ear. “Your fucking savior from that dumbass. I’m not a sir, I’m not your master, or your daddy - I’m your one and only....”

“Goo…!” You arch your back, the familiar ecstasy washing over your in powerful waves, gushing over him, juices squirting into his lower abdomen. The squelching noise began to increase as Goo thrusted fast and deep, surely bruising your poor cervix. The world spinned and your ears rung, but all you could focus on is the sweet stretch of Goo's cock.

God? Fuck, he sure was one.

“Come on you know the word - say it,” Goo groans, eyes fluttering shut and thrusting sloppily. He was so close, the squelching of your slick cunt making the coil in his stomach wind tighter and tighter. Fuck, he knew it was just a few more seconds before he reached his climax. “F-Fuck, come on, my good girl…!”

So close! Just a little longer!

“Goo-bear...,” you breathe out, a small smile gracing your lips, your hands cupping his face. His hips stutter, thick ropes of cum spilling deep into your womb and he pauses, eyes popping wide open as he stares at you with a look of shock. His cum begins to leak out, filling you to the brim with every spurt, yet, he can’t even focus on the sensation. His chest slowly rises and falls, panting as he tries to process your words.

Goo… Goo-bear?

What?

What?!

A snort leaves Goo, then he snickers, and he breaks into a small fit of laughter. “Damnit, you were supposed to say ‘man’. ‘Man’, honeybunch! Fu-hahaha!!” He sits up, extending your legs until they lay limp at his sides. His golden locks stuck up in various directions, cheeks flushed a bright red, a few red welts painted on his neck - he looked like a sinful painting. He looked nothing like the man who arrived in your home hours before.

Goo looked down at where you connected, pulling out with a groan, grinning at how his cum leaked down your entrance and slowly stained the beige leather couch. It’s been awhile since the two of you went raw, perhaps two months.

By God, he hoped you were on birth control or he’d have to say goodbye to rough sex for nine months.

He moved his knee to the side and sat up from the couch, letting out a grunt as his feet hit the carpet. With a frown, Goo looked at you. “You ruined the mood, I wanted to go for another round,” Goo whined, looking for his discarded clothes. He found his bright blue underwear and stepped into them, easily pulling up his striped boxers. Biting your lip, you look at the way his bottom flexes while he bends down and stands up. Such a cute bubble butt, you don’t understand why he tries hiding it sometimes. You absolutely loved it.

Goo clicked his tongue as he took a tissue from the coffee table and cleaned you up, mumbling incoherently with a smile. The soft material passed over you and you shivered. Usually, Goo took you to take a bath with him after such intimacy occurred, with the occasional tissue aftercare. Guess today was a lazy day. “But you were a good girl for me, I’ll be honest, even when I was rough.”

You smile at him, your face heating up at his words. He tosses the tissue perfectly into the wastebasket near the doorway, his eyes never leaving you. “Awe, there’s my cute smile. Does my pretty girl like being called ‘good’?

“Goo…,” you sigh, tone filled with warmth, looking away bashfully. “Come on, I’m cold. Stop teasing me, please.” His laughter reaches your ears and he tosses you your panties, the cotton landing on your stomach. You give a quick glance at it before looking back up at the blonde, only to met with his annoying grin.

“Ah, it’s fun to see you get worked up! But alright, I’ll be back.” Like a ghost, he disappears into another room, leaving you alone. You take the time to slip on your panties, hissing at the throbbing ache of your lower half. As amazing as Goo’s dick game was, the aftermath was a little bit too much to handle alone.

But absolutely worth it.

After a few minutes, Goo returned with a fleece blanket wrapped around him. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight; a giant who just rearranged your insides wearing your grey-pink blanket like a cape on his shoulders. He ran to the couch, jumping over the armrest, and enveloping you in a sudden embrace. The couch sinks, both you and the cushions being squished under the sudden weight.

A loud yelp leaves you while Goo shimmies himself between the pillow and your small frame, tugging the blanket and covering your nude figure. He wraps his arms around your [plump/lean] waist, burying his face into your hair as he makes himself comfortable. His fingers were cold as ice as they pressed into your mellow plush skin. He ignored your protests, humming in content from the warmth you radiated.

“Now, let’s rewatch the movie because I saw an interesting scene and I wanna know what led up to it!”

“Really?”

“Mhm! Come on! Tonight was movie night and we’re having our movie night!”

As laid-back and playful your boyfriend is, he really knew how to make a girl unwind and melt under his touch. You just forgot how easily he can switch from a dominating man to a silly guy within seconds.

That's one of the things you love about him.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜,

He feels nothing for you.

There was absolutely nothing compelling about you. If he had to guess, he'd say you were probably bullied in your younger days (or even now).

You're not here. Not there. Absent. A ghost. Totally average. No confidence in your rather tense posture.

And yet, he still found you in every corner of the room.

It was getting tiring, to be frank.

Who are you and why are you everywhere? Are you a stalker?

Goo sips at his boba tea, watching you through the lenses of his glasses. You wouldn't be the first. Certainly won't be the last in such a wrecked world as his.

He's surprised he hasn't caught you lurking around in his suite room.

Oh, well.

Whatever happens, you'll regret it in the end.

The following days flew by with the breeze of autumn. Goo has felt like he was being watched. At the sauna, he felt eyes (not exactly out of the ordinary, not to brag, but have you seen his back muscles??). He sweats profusely and grunts when someone sits a little too close.

"What, isn't this heat enough?" To say he was a little upset is an understatement.

He hasn't had anyone to play with for a while.

Maybe he'll go to a brothel?

Goo tilts his head curiously. Nah, too many scandals. And, though he may not seem like it, he doesn't like to pass around women.

Karaoke. With whom? Oh, maybe he'll bring along a secret friend. Get to know each other one on one.

"Sounds like fun!" He tells himself. He can't wait.

Nine on the dot.

He's got his room, and his snacks will be served by so and so, hopefully soon cause he's starved. He's waiting on his good secret friend and trust him, the man would've complained (subtly maybe) about how goo never wants to pay. It's pretty annoying.

"Hm," the tanned man yawns as his head rolls back, his shirt straining to contain his muscles. "Where are the women?"

"Tch!" Goo fiddles with his microphone. He doesn't think every situation requires anything remotely nice looking for it to be fun. He isn't enough? "Why can't I hang out with my special friend?"

His whine rings as static in taejin's head. He's used to this. Goo doesn't exactly follow through with his word.

"I'll just call an escort service. You brought me out to have fun, I was genuinely expecting what you promised." Women, booze, music. Perhaps an unexpected fight.

"Go right ahead," a loud bass reverberates the speaker. Goo jumps upright when his song starts to play. "Eh? Damn it, I lost points already?? I haven't even started!!"

Goo shouldn't be surprised that taejin knows his way around a schedule. He also shouldn't be surprised that business owners are willing to drop anything to serve him, so the fact that an escort service picked up his request on a busy Saturday night with no prior appointments shouldn't leave his jaw dropped.

Lucky.

That wouldn't happen to him.

When the women filter the room with pumped up shouts and whoops, a suggestive wave is thrown his way as he stops halfway into his song, a tad bit embarrassed.

He clears his throat.

The screamo music isn't going to work wonders for his voice tomorrow.

"How do you like them, Mr. Cheon?"

Goo watches curiously from the corner of his eye. The tanned man doesn't miss a beat. He knows what he wants.

"I like 'em shy. Quiet." Like they won't scream, presumably. Goo scrunches his nose. What a sick man.

"Yes, sir."

The fake blond shuffles through his Playlist, observing the lineup of six escorts. A girl was sent to sit beside taejin. She doesn't look his way, only to her shaky fingers.

Another one clings to a bottle of champagne ordered, in the far corner of the booth, a duo play with each other's hair.

But allll the way to the end of the room is the one who dropped off the drinks.

Looks familiar...

Oh.

His eyes narrow.

All these pretty women and you're here. With that typical look on your stupid face. Like you're an innocent lamb, the sweetest. Your lips are drawn in a thin line, eyes glossy by the lights hitting your face.

You smile when you see him, just to be polite.

He stares you down, brows raising and chin jutting up like he's some sort of higher up. Maybe he is. His suit surely looks expensive. That stitching is impecable, and the fabric might be wrinkled, but you can tell that, even with your poor sight, it's top tier.

"Hi." Your voice cracks. Obviously, you haven't been speaking in a while. He gets the obnoxious urge to roll his eyes.

Thank whatever lord for all the flashing lights.

You seriously have to be a stalker or something. Don't tell him you work here?

Gah! Just let him enjoy his stuff.

Almost as if his answers were answered, you turn around to leave, casting your gaze downwards. "If you need anything else, press this bell here, please, and thank you."

Something in his head turned. He presumed it to be the cogs clicking and slotting into each other perfectly.

There's no way you can resist him when it's your job to attend to his every need.

Goo thinks long (for a minute) and hard (he didn't need much convincing). He wants to have some fun and frankly, being here isn't enough.

Do you have a breaking point?

How would you react? Would you scream, cry, or quit on the spot? If that were to happen, maybe he'll hire you.

The prospect of having his little plaything — to have someone interested in him... it excites him. Yes, it's weird. And he knows, morally speaking, this is wrong.

But who hasn't wanted someone to control?

To break someone's heart and watch them throw up from heartbreak.

To be important enough to cause such a thing.

Plus a certain scar-face [redacted] had a few things up his sleeve, why can't he?

So, not even a minute since you left, Goo rang the bell. He gave it ten seconds before ringing once more.

Knock knock.

Knuckles lightly scratching his jaw, he watches eagerly when you turn the knob, his heart starts to thump erratically and he can feel a smirk crawl on his face.

This is a feeling fighting never gave him.

The door opens just an inch and you falter when you spot him sitting across the only exit in the room.

He hides his smirk behind his glass cup of cranberry juice. His eyes linger on the name tag clipped to your shirt — [name].

Silly.

You didn't look like your name. Whatever meaning behind it has been thrown away and disposed of by him.

"What can I help you with?" You didn't clasp your hands behind, or in front, of you. This isn't like the typical worker. It is etiquette to do so.

Your fingers tighten around the knob as if anything will force you to bolt out of there within seconds.

But this isn't a matter of politeness or submission. This is a stance on awkwardness. Did you hate yourself so much that you couldn't bow, just once, to show your appreciation?

Settle down, goo tells himself, talk like that and you'll realize why we eat the rich.

"I don't like alcohol." His first thought blurts out before he can stop it. Wow, he sucks at purposefully bullying someone. So maybe he might push and prod at his friends and clients, but it was all unintentional. He's a natural tease. This is getting awkward. "Get me something else, will ya?"

"Would you like some water?" Your gaze falls onto the cup in between his fingers.

He curses softly in his head.

He forgot he ordered juice.

"..Yeah."

"Still, sparkled, purified, or spring?" Water is water. Why the heck are there many, many more? "Ice or no ice?"

"...Purified, no ice, bottled." You nod and head out.

He tries to occupy himself by popping open a beer and pouring it into the glass of the pretty girl beside him.

His cheeks burn but quickly plays it off by being around such a pretty sight.

Embarrassing.

When you returned, he tried again, yanking at his tie to swallow properly. "I don't like this brand. It tastes like garbage."

"What do you like?"

"The most expensive one." He points at his companion, "Put it on his tab."

"Okay."

...That's it. That's it???

You're not going to sigh, or roll your eyes? Or even apologize?

Man, this is hard.

When you returned, yet again, he clicked his tongue. Your shoes hit the floor very annoyingly. It's bothersome.

"Pick up your feet." His muttering was met with an 'okay'. He tried not to let it get to him. You have no manners whatsoever, forget his last statement!

He's starting to sound like him.

Great, now he's starting to feel upset.

Along the nagging, someone took his turn singing, not that he minded.

"...What are you doing?" Taejin, who had be observing silently, raises a brow, only by a centimeter but he spots it, clearly disturbed.

That makes two of us. Goo eyes the shaky girl in the man's arms as he stretches lazily, he invites the girl over with a tilt of his head. She doesn't hesitate to rush to his side.

"Playing around."

Every time you walked in, everything you did, every reaction you gave him; he observed it all. Regardless, no one would have been able to tell that his sole attention lies with you.

He's good at hiding himself.

You bite your nails when you get nervous, you shuffle around too much when you try to appear more 'in the moment', you hum when it gets awkward.

You, [name], are so annoying looking.

But also so fun to watch.

You didn't get upset at him. He didn't feel any annoyance radiating off of you. Trust him, he has lots of experience.

You really did see this as a job, rather than an incompetent man who asks for directions to the restrooms when they're clearly down the hall.

(A grimace took over his face when he realized you might have been put through this many times before).

He left you a big tip, promising to return with a sly smile. The owner of the place looked extremely satisfied with your work.

Kim Joongoo often lets the wind take his words. He could whisper a promise with his fingers crossed behind his back with no hesitation.

This time, he wants to see you again.

A thing like you isn't hard to come by. But a thing that can handle his annoying behavior is.

This is all for selfish gain.

He makes up his mind as he showers, his head filled with thoughts of you. His hand runs down his abdomen as water trickles over him. Would this fluster you?

Would his muscles embarrass you so?

Could he teasingly raise his shirt to wipe off sweat and fluster you silent?

This is so exciting.

The next day, goo showed up at the same karaoke bar at the same time as yesterday. He didn't want to make it obvious he was here for you, his hypothetical stalker.

Are you the reason why he's been feeling eyes boring into him?

"[Name] doesn't work here." Apparently, when things get overcrowded, they call for catering and extra hands. You worked for free just cause you could. "I'm not authorized to release any other information."

So. This meant you put up with him because you wanted to?

Oh.

All the more reason to crack you open.

He can't remember the type of smile he sent to the receptionist, nonetheless, she freezes, shoulders tensing. "What can you tell me?"

"Uhm- I-I don't know.."

In his hands, he held a book. If it hadn't been useful, he would've ripped it in half from his sheer irritation.

He wore his most sweat-inducing shirt for nothing.

"...Is everything okay?" His shoulders tense up slightly. That aggravating voice spoke softly (yes, two very contradicting words but that was the best he could describe it), the hesitation, the lack of any notable emotion — it's you.

Goo sends a deprecating smile to the receptionist, "Thanks a bunch." – Then, he proceeds to place his romance manhwa on the counter to lean up against it, shoving his elbow deep into the marble fixture.

"Things are just peachy."

The man, albeit stubborn, backed away. He doesn't turn to look back, he forgets to close the door on the way out and, he didn't take his car keys out right away.

He strides as slowly as he can. . .

His brown eyes narrowed when he didn't hear any footsteps chasing after him.

...He left his book behind on purpose, betting you would run after him like in the manhwa he read earlier this morning, the very one he left behind!!!

Step one; don't seem desperate.

Step two; leave a belonging of yours behind.

Step three; they will run after you.

Step four; ask on a date.

He lets out an exasperated breath. Do you just not care whatsoever? Do you even remember him? Everyone does.

He comes to an abrupt stop as he spins on his heel, stomping his way back into the building, brushing past customers who are there to enjoy themselves. The body guard doesn't blink twice at his mood swings.

This could also give him an excuse to talk to you. He'll march right up and yell 'watch your mouth! I am Kim Goo.'

When he enters the reception area again, he finds two things missing. His book and you. Great.

"...Where did it go?"

The lady shivers and refuses to meet his eye. Not that he cares much. She isn't his type. He thinks, that if he can get your attention, he won't even focus on anyone else.

She doesn't respond.

He's hitting the pool table.

One hit, two hits, three hits, he's got no luck. Man, he really sucks at these games but at least he caught a glimpse of a very familiar-looking specimen.

You.

You walk up to him, his book in your grasp. Had you tried to steal it or return it? Whatever.

"I didn't take you for a thief."

"You forgot it..." You explained lamely, "I had to get my phone before anything so... sorry if you were looking for it."

You talk rudely.

Goo polishes the tip of his stick. He's been doing so for the past minute. He has no clue what he's doing but, in his mind, he thinks this is what would make him seem cooler.

"Would ya read me the title." This isn't a question. He's not asking you. He wants you to do it. And you do, without a single thought. Can he really push you around like that?

You hold the manhwa in front of you, in the most perfect position for him to bend over the table and pretend he was going to hit the balls that clack around aimlessly.

"'Me, the bully, and how I fell in love'—" You startle when an alarmingly loud RIIIPPPP! rings in the particularly empty lounge area.

The pool stick tears a hole through the hardcover book faster than you could blink, the rubber tip brushing against the tip of your nose. He deliberately aimed to your face.

In the chaos, Goo stays calm. His poker face is undefeated.

"Oops." He fails to hide a teasing smirk.

"That book cost me. I warned you to move." No he didn't.

You blink, perplexed.

"Oh... sorry." That's all you have to say? "What do I do?"

Like a little lamb — sheltered and slow. Your mind couldn't keep up with what happened. Had he ordered you to stay very still as he tried to aim around you, you would've. Such a pity (for you).

He feels heat blossom across his chest, his heart pumping in his ears.

"How much did it cost?" Your voice shakes near the end. It's entertaining. He holds back a chuckle.

"One million won." The disbelief in your gaze is nothing compared to his lie. "Cash. Do you have that kind of money on you?"

"No.. but I didn't break it.." You try to defend but he's already made up his mind —

"Yeah. I figured. Since you enjoy working for free—" You raise a brow at this claim. He spoke it as if it were true, "Work for me. I'll actually pay you... Until you can pay me back more than one million won."

"Oh." You slap the withering sheets of paper over the pool table where he props his elbow to watch you. "I do work, actually-"

"—Really?!" Goo adjusts his glasses, standing to his full height, "Quit it! I'll even make a contract to reimburse the money spent to get to me. Transportation, gas, if you break a leg running to me."

Weird.

Who would actually fall for that?

...Actually, he knows quite a lot of brute men who would.

"...What do you expect me to do?"

He pouts lightly. The sight of a grown man doing something a child should be doing brings a shiver down your back.

"There's no fun in spilling secrets. 'A magician never reveals his tricks' or whatever."

"You do magic?" He shakes his head, but this seems to be the last straw for you. "Then I'm not really interested. I'll find a way to pay you back..."

He gapes at your back.

Seriously?!

Who even are you? Are you seriously leaving because he isn't a magician or is he reading this wrong?

"I want you to entertain me." You shoulders tense up and he notices the disdain on your face.

"Ew, not that." He feels sick looking at you, "I have people for that. I have no intention in using you. You don't seem worth my time." This can cure him.

You don't seem offended but.. you gaze falls downwards with disappointment. Goo doesn't know anymore.

He wants to figure it out.

"...Then what will I be doing?"

"I don't know. Just put up with me." Starting now. He throws his arm over your shoulder, slumping into your side and forcing you to his height. "I don't like to wait, so make up your mind quickly."

1... You shake yourself out of this shock.

2... He watches your expression flicker with curiosity. Would you reject him? Or, give in?

3... You nod.

The mistake of your life has begun. Goo is not nice. He's mean. He's a self deprecated idiot with glasses and, ironically, a good eye for gold. He took your contact information with no other words, no name to give, nothing.

Before the first phone call you lived quite the subtle life. A day to day life of a simpleton. An intern who fumbled about with paper work and a dress shirt.

Then, an unknown number contacted you.

It was him.

He sent an address and a silent order to come alone. That day he took you out to play golf and he forced you to hold all of his things — another typical task of an intern. He'd throw his arm over your shoulder and pushed against you with a flex of his bicep.

The next hour, after returning home, he spammed you with messages until you read his favorite; You reek of loneliness. When will you learn that?

It's a pattern. He is nothing new with his harsh words and a sneer like no other. He forced you to accompany him to watch him beat up some 'goons' (his words) in the background but if someone were to even turn your way, he'd wack their eyes out of their sockets with anything he can make a weapon. Then he asks you to videotape your favorite moments of him when he's covered in blood (which were his calmer, thinking moments- it's a blood-curdling thought. How used to violence is he?).

"You still haven't paid me in full." He tells you to hold it together. He says you're weak, he threatened you but he defends you so sweetly and you can't tell if he really hates you or if he's bipolar.

He seems to have a luxurious life. Money, too much, the looks, connections...

He's also very smart, maybe not how he spends his money but he knows his data.

Since then, he became the hound picking at your heel until you fed him.

Come watch me fight.

File my taxes but don't submit them.

Do my groceries.

Help me dye my hair.

"You should go a darker shade." You told him, eyes half lidded as they droop with sleep. He purses his lips and shoves your blanket off. About a month and a half of his offer, he gave you a spare room to sleep in so he could have 'better access to you'. "It'll pop out your smile. It's magic."

He climbs into bed with you and his arms, as if they have a mind of their own, wrap around your shoulders, cradling the back of your head to his broad chest.

Scratch that, you wished he had. Instead he shakes his head, grabs your wrist and drags you out of bed.

He would never do that.

You yearned for a good touch. A touch that would show you his sweet nature, he had it in him...

"I already got the dye."

Wake me up early.

Stand there and look stupid.

And not even a thank you.

You put up with him because you liked him but how far can a crush go without turning into hatred? Ugh. You didn't quit your last job but just a few more days of documenting what the man says (and a bit more evidence) and you might be getting a promotion.

And you'll finally get paid.

Goo's contract wouldn't activate until after you paid him off. That would take months.

"Heya." Speaking of the devil. His lips stretch out in a self deprecating smile as he throws his arm around your waist to pull you close. You don't do anything to stop it. "Let's dilly dally and mess around."

"What are we doing?"

He likes to stay mysterious. Keep you wanting and waiting anxiously.

However. . .

Through his hatred, he hasn't realized his desperation.

Everyday, every second, every minute; he won't leave you alone. A time for yourself is rare, you haven't returned home yet.

It's like he wants to keep you here forever.

"You'll see."

Bright lights, music blaring from speakers, sweaty bodies and the smell of alcohol and copper.

He took you to a gentleman's club.

"I thought you don't like places like these?" He guides you with a palm on your lower back, grunting when someone gets too close to you. You watch in awe at the dancers. They must have a magnificent core to be doing all that!

"I don't. It's disgusting and unhygienic. I figured you might-" Cry from embarrassment.

Passing by a table in the back, your eyes widen at the sight of a big kid — probably no older than eighteen. You subtlety snap a picture (silently thanking Goo for not allowing the guards to confiscate it) — "A kid?"

Goo hums in confirmation, "Yeah. That's normal round here. My favorite spot used to be one ran by a kid. A shame it was taken down."

You frown and his eyes narrow.

The shame came from the children running the place. Goo genuinely wants to know what you'd said to him, maybe spit some insults, bare your teeth at him, yet you gave him nothing but a frown.

He needs to amp it up.

He wants a reaction out of you.

He adjusts his glasses, "We're almost there."

You nod sternly and follow after the waitress who leads you past the restrooms.

To your surprise, a dancer, dressed as an angel with her fluffy white wings and a halo over her head stands outside of your destination.

The pretty lady eyes you with a flirtatious smile, her manicured hand tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. The longer you keep eye contact the harsher his glare got.

Your gaze shifts downwards, however you can practically feel his eyes bore a hole into your head as a devilish smirk grows on his features.

Your face burns with contemplation.

One minute he looks disgusted and the next he's upset with you?

What is this behavior...

"Huh." He raises a brow, "Feelin' shy? It's her job, you know."

"...What if she did find me cute?" You know that isn't a case. It's a 'What if'.

His brows knit together and his upper lip curls into a soft scowl as if you cursed damnation to his life! Does he know the face he's making? Sometimes you feel he does it on purpose.

"You?" Your heart aches at his tone. He sounds disgusted, appalled at the thought of someone wanting you.

"There's nothing wrong with me.." With a tightening grip on your camera, you turn away from him.

What's something he loves more than money?

Annoying you.

"That's absurd." He barks back, no longer touching your back gently, but rather he's clutching onto your clothes. You're afraid he'll rip it off with his abnormal strength and behavior.

He doesn't feel like taking you to your 'private show' anymore. His stomach churns with the worst gut twisting feeling — it feels so similar to jealousy.

He can't have that.

"No one will want someone who can't speak up." It's quite the contrary to his behavior. "And if it seems like I want to be yours, doubt it. I'm like this with everyone."

You didn't even think of that.

You quickly step away from him and the crowd forming as they glance over for a piece of drama. They could watch but you just hope no one could hear.

It's embarrassing.

Goo follows behind you, pocketing his hands to hide the way his fingers twitch to hold onto you again.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Your question is met with a pensive silence.

Mean? He nearly bursts out with laughter. This is who he is. This is who he's always been.

"...We're leaving. You ruined my mood."

There he goes again. Doing what he likes like he's a higher up.

Selfish man.

"Mr. Kim–" He scrunched his nose at the god awful habit of yours, "With all due respect, let's continue with what you planned for me."

"With all due respect?" He repeats (you can't tell if he meant it mockingly. He's not in a state to think, surely not an environment either). "Don't wanna. Nor do I want to stand here and argue so let's just go home— I mean to my house."

He crosses his arms and stomps his way out of the club like a child throwing a hissy fit. You decide to record this experience, camera shaky in your hand as you hold onto the burn in your eyes.

What a baby.

Your chest heaves with the chance to calm yourself.

He's so annoying.

He's such a–

"Douche." You mutter low enough for yourself. Though to your surprise, goo stops in his tracks. Did he hear you?? Oh no. You didn't mean that.

You stay planted in your spot, camera held behind your back as his slow walk turns into long strides to get back to you, the glare of his lenses catching against the lights. It messes with your vision and makes you see color.

"Wha-?" A familiar warm touch reaches out to grab a hold of your elbow, hauling you into a back room. You quickly adjust your stare to the side of his sculpted face.

There's a glint in his eye that states he isn't as angry as you thought.

"You wanted to see your surprise?" He coos. He directs his attention to the pretty lady standing awkwardly in front of the curtains to your room, "Don't disturb."

Whatever look he sent her worked since she quickly complied despite looking extremely confused and disturbed by his behavior, strutting away hastily.

He drags you into the room, shutting the thick curtains behind him. "Originally, I paid for that pretty girlie to give you a lap dance, maybe a couple of pets here and there. I figured that was going to make you snap—"

He scowls at the thought.

"–I had no intention of ever doing this. You wouldn't want to do this with me." When he turns to face you, you're a lot closer than he expected, and his back brushes against the velvet texture of the curtains behind him, "I'm a good guy... You just don't seem to understand me."

You pay close attention to him, from the practically invisible mole on his chin to the count of his lashes.

He struggles to maintain direct eye contact with a shaky gaze.

He crosses his arms to place some distance between you and him. The muscles on his arm flex beneath their sleeves, which catches your attention just for a split second.

"What are you talking about?"

He huffs and shuffles around until he can plop himself on the couch. He can't begin to describe how disgusting they could be. Drenched in sweat and.. fluids. Maybe only wiped with a disinfectant wipe.

But he wants to sit, so he will.

"I play around with you out of curiosity. At first, I thought you were my stalker-" You stiffen up but he pays it no mind, "You went everywhere, I saw you everywhere. It was fun thinking I had an obsessed fan that would blindly believe everything but then I spent time with you and I noticed nothing got you more frustrated than when I made others do something to you."

He put you through all that because he wanted to test your limits?

Your fist balls up.

Is he some sort of sadist?

Is this just some kink to play into his fantasies?

"So I bought you a dance which clearly.. I rejected. Now, we just have this room and some dry champagne.. oh, it's this gross-... hm?" His voice is deflating. You look at him with a gaze of such disgust that he has to pause.

That's new. . .

His brows fly up in surprise, eyes widening just a bit.

"You have many other things to do. You talk of Charles Choi and his pets, his schemes, and your friends, and yet, you distracted yourself... with me?"

He wants you to play?

Okay.

You'll play with him.

Preparing to leave the place, you leave your camera on the bench beside him, the red blink of the light disturbing the corner of your eye. It did belong to him anyway, — "I'll see myself out."

Goo quickly nudges his knee against yours, knocking your legs together in the process to stop you. You eye his gesture. After everything, he still wants your attention.

That cowering smile blinds you with rage, "I knew you couldn't handle me."

He seriously doesn't care...

After all this time spent together, he won't let up. He won't let you in and he certainly won't let you go.

He must hate himself so badly to have such a stupid motive to seek your friendship.

"I don't ever want to see you again, Mr. Kim. Please do not seek me out. I would not have liked a lap dance, I do not like clubs and I do not like you."

Goo watches with wide eyes as you grip your clothes to stop yourself from doing something stupid. He could easily grab anything, something, to defend himself.

Goo is good at what he knows and he knows you're holding back a violent reaction.

His wide eyes search for an indication that you'll raise your hand, or a curled fist to his face. For nothing.

"You wanted a reaction out of me?! This is harassment. I could report you, I could.. I could just leave. Don't try to stop me. I'm serious."

He wasn't thinking. It's strange for him. For a man so good at maths, so intelligent. Quick-witted... to keep his mouth glued shut.

Yes, he wanted a reaction. Yes, he wants something to value.

But he did not want you to leave.

Such a shy and quiet person as yourself shouldn't be pushed around so much. You'll grow a backbone.

"Y-..You're seriously leaving?"

You don't get to leave me!

"Yes." As you go to take a step towards the exit, he pushes himself off the red cushioned couch to kneel in front of you. You stop before you could trip over him and his stupid actions.

Goo panics. This is so weird. He isn't like this. Well.. not always. He just seems to act like this with you.

You haven't reacted so harshly to him.

You haven't cursed him out or tried to fight him when he aggravated you. You calmly watched him rant off and play games, and you helped him get ready and you praised him and his hard work.

You handled him well.

"Let me explain myself properly."

He thinks himself weak willed.

He is here, kneeling and groveling for your aggression when he hates you. Yes, he thinks so. He doesn't want to be in love. Not with you. Not some stalker of sorts, not the little lamb

But then why was he so jealous?

Nonono. He only wants your attention.

Only look at him. Just that.

Don't think of anyone else.

He's the one who rescued you.

He's the one who took you out of your shell.

You're everything he never wishes to be and so much he envies.

Everyone seems to want you; you've got friends he cut off, you were happy doing what you liked but you didn't speak your mind, there wasn't much to say anyways, but you were so awkward and polite, it became endearing.

He helped you.

Goo doesn't bow to just anyone, so...

"Look at me." He damn near begs but you don't listen, your gaze doesn't even flicker. He rests his cheek against your thighs, his warm breath fogging up his glasses.

Finally, finally, his action got your attention.

Your lips nudge downwards and your hand draws down to remove his glasses, your finger brushing his hair back just as he usually wore it.

Then you hear it.

The soft distinct sound of a whine. It peaks at the back of his throat in a way a dog would whine. With a voice like his, it's shocking to know he can make such a sound.

Your breath hitches audibly.

"Sorry," He watches you with a hazy look as if he were stuck in a daze by your presence. "I wanted to get to know you... That's all.."

Is this real? Is he actually laying his head against your abdomen and kneeling between your legs too??!??

Why is there a tent pinching his dress pants? You look away from the scene to avoid embarrassing him further. It's natural. It's normal for it to happen randomly.

Remember when he said he could never do anything with you? Yeah. Trust that.

"Mr. Kim.. Your- your pants.." Goo looks down at his lap and his arms tighten around your waist. Not knowing where to put his glasses, in a fit of nerves, you put them on instead. Goo's hips jump at the sight, "Um-"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Your throat goes dry, "I can pull away but please don't leave yet."

"No.." This is making your brain go foggy. He relaxes, hunching his shoulders over his body to hide the boner before he stops and gives up, adjusting himself so you could have a better view of him in all his glory. "What's going on with you..?"

"[N..name]," he mewls, blinking away the tears in his eyes, "I'm lonely. We don't have to do anything- I.. I can do all the work, just stay with me."

"I thought I wasn't worth your time?" You recall the words he said to you before. To entertain him. That's what he meant. Bullying you was his way of being entertained but really he was just lonely.

That's no way to get rid of your problems.

This can't go unpunished.

You smile to yourself.

He shakes his head, cheeky smile nowhere to be found, "No. I was wrong.. this moment will be more than one million won!"

His lashes flutter shut like the wings of a butterfly. Your thumb swiftly wipes away the tear that leaks out, "More than a millon?"

That's it, right? You're free with that.

You could leave with this footage and provide it as evidence for his claim and then you could receive the money entitled in his contract.

The red light beams in the small distance between you and the squeaky cushion but it might be the perfect angle to capture him in all his glory.

He's too preoccupied with you to notice it so it doesn't worry you much.

"Go ahead." He settles his hold on your hips, tightly. You cut yourself off with a startled gasp. What is he going to do?!

Goo nuzzles the side of his face in your crotch area, his cheek squishing up with his movements.

He rubs his cheeks against your ever-growing arousal before you hear him whine quietly again and watch him shift with his aching hips in anticipation. No. He has to be patient.

"You really know how to get under someone's skin." You grunt between your words. His eyes sparkle at the new sound of your strain.

"Thank you," He gasps out. He pokes his tongue out, panting like a dehydrated mutt, then he licks a stripe leading to where you drip through your pants — his drool and spit wetting you.

He opens his mouth wider, his teeth catching and then nibbling on the fabric of your pants. He's actually trying to rip them off...

You scold him lightly. You know he's eager, and desperate to make things up with you. To keep you with him but he needs to be patient.

"Easy, Mr. Kim, I'm not going anywhere yet." He props himself closer, mouthing at you at a much slower pace. His tongue wets your clothes but you don't mind, "Will we take — ahh.. your car home?"

He nods without hesitation, "mhm!"

Feeling a bit bad about leaving him out, you push his thighs apart using your shoe — receiving a desperate noise and a deepening blush in return — teasingly shoving your foot in between his legs and prodding his tent with the tip of your shoe.

Goo squeezes his eyes shut, "W-what did you work as? hnggg.."

Your chest blooms with happiness that he's getting to know you so you rest your foot over his clothed cock, barely putting enough pressure to have him sigh in frustration, "An intern at a police precinct."

"Huh?" He huffs against your skin, pushing your shirt up enough for him to brush his lips on your warm skin, "What did you..."

He trails off, getting lost in the feeling of your skin. Oh, he loves how you smell.

"I am tasked to handle administrative work and, at times, I am allowed to visit crime scenes to collect evidence and to investigate-"

"Uh-huh.." Goo raises his hips, moaning in a low-pitched tone when your shoe presses down on his sensitive head.

He's not even listening to you anymore.

And this is his biggest clue as to why you ever agreed to his contact so easily.. before you liked him. A little bit.

Your fingers thread through his dyed hair, the fake blond knotting in between the gaps of your fingers as you pull his head back.

He gasps lightly with frustration clouding his eyes. You're a blurry figure to him — he's unsure if it's his bad sight or his tears — but he's sure he's redder than a beetroot.

The back of your knee hits the couch and you tumble on it, adjusting your hips with the intention of getting comfortable.

"Hump me." You watch him blink his daze away. He crawls closer, and the small shuffle of his knees against the carpeted floor catches your attention. Does it hurt? Or has he experience on his knees? "Hump my shoe if you want a taste of me. I want to see how desperate you can get. You have other people for this, you said. Do they see this side of you?"

Goo shakes his head with another self deprecating smile. Seems like he always does it.

"Only you." He admits.

"And if I filmed it?" He hesitates as his eyes dart to the camera lying a couple of centimeters to where your hands are planted on the cushion, "I think you look your best right now."

His eyes widen when he catches the red glint.

That means it's recording right?

Instead of that sick feeling he should have gotten, the shame, he feels aroused enough to nod eagerly. It's like someone else took over his body.

But your smile is worth it as you pick up the camera and peer into the lens to watch him through it.

He tenses up.

He's gotta put on a show for you.

Goo holds the back of your calf to guide you over his tent, his hands tremble terribly but he pushes through.

It's such a rush he doesn't get with anyone.

Is this how Gun felt when he got sucker punched by that boy?

He peers into the camera lens with a tiny pout, "You aren't going to leave?"

If you hand in all the information you collected in the time you spent with him — the crimes, the photos, recordings, secondary information, the evidence... You could get that promotion. You could get paid. Finally. You could eat well, maybe not as well as Goo feeds you but still.

"..Not right now."

At the end of the day, you're just like him. Trying to find something to stimulate yourself; and you've found it in pushing him around.

Just a bit.

Heaps of used tissues were piled up by the bedside. The flu medication you received from the clinic you visited earlier that day was strewn all over.

'Man, I feel like a sick child in the Victorian era,' You thought to yourself, sniffling and using a new ply of tissue to stuff into the runny nostril as you lay in bed like a dying person.

You had already taken the medication as the labels instructed, slowly feeling its effects. Before succumbing to a deep temporary slumber, you quickly texted Adrian:

sorry, gotta cancel our weekly hangout

down with a cold :(

don't want you to get sick too

Chucking your phone aside, you made yourself comfortable before closing your eyes. Minutes passed by and yet, you found yourself floating between consciousness and a dreamlike state, unable to fully fall asleep. A loud sigh reverberated off the walls of your room — a wave of lethargy hit you as you rested in bed. Maybe sleeping too much the previous day was a bad idea after all.

The sunlight that streamed into the windows of your room gradually disappeared. You were bored. So bored to the point you started to feel horny. It was ridiculous but, there was nothing you could do except indulge in it in order to make it go away. You could only hope you could finally get the much-needed rest and doze off.

You shrugged your pants, leaving you in only your undies. With haste, your right hand made its way south, lightly rubbing circles over the fabric — feeling yourself slowly getting worked up. It didn't take long for your panties to be moved aside for easier access. Wet slick noises filled the room as you move your fingers in circular motion around your clit. To your dismay, you just couldn't reach the point where you could feel the blissful build-up before the mind shattering orgasm.

You groaned, stopping your movements and slumped against your bed. Sweat trickled down your forehead and the back of your thighs. As you were about to resume in getting lost in the frustrating pleasure, your eyes glanced at the door. Your entire body froze as you made eye contact with none other than your bestfriend — fingers still on your sopping core.

"What the fuck man!" You shouted, burning in shame as you throw the duvet over your body. "Ever heard of knocking? I thought I texted you not to come over?"

Adrian whose eyes were glued to where your pussy was, finally blinked to reality, looking up to your face. "Yeah about that, was worried and..." He got distracted, eyes lowering to where he was staring at previously. You suddenly felt self-conscious, wrapping the blanket even tighter around you.

"I brought chicken soup," He spoke, breaking the brief silence that befell you two. "Thanks..." You replied, still flustered at being caught. "Sorry for making you come all the way here but you can head back or stay. Make yourself at home... Wait, no! Don't want you to be sick too..." You mumbled towards the end, eyes averting his gaze.

"Do you need help to orgasm?" He asked bluntly, making the heat rise up your neck.

"Are you insane?" You replied exasperated, covering your head in shame at his question. "Don't friends help each other out?" He frowned as if you were the one who was crazy to reject his offer.

"Adrian– bestfriends don't do that. And frankly, I'm mortified you saw me like this," You grumbled from under the covers.

"I don't get it?" He replied, genuinely confused at your reaction. You could feel a pounding headache coming your way.

"I see it as way to get closer and bond with your BFF." If you were drinking, you would had spat the water straight at his face. You peeked out from under the blanket, eyes widened in shocked at how unbashful he was to the circumstances presented before him.

"I can masturbate just fine," You quickly dismiss the idea even though deep down you knew you would take longer or even not be able to get off as you wished. That was when it hit you. Your eyes shut, realising why you were having a hard time to do something that could be done in half an hour. Or much lesser.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just pl–" You took a deep breath and left the words hanging.

"Its because of the meds, isnt it?" Silence.

"I don't know what you're trying to say," You scoffed, pretending to not know what he was talking about.

"Kinda been through that. It was hell. Like dont get me wrong, I usually do not like to participate in such acts unless its with Chris–"

"You and Chris fucked?" You exclaimed so loud you were sure your next door neighbours could hear you.

"No! Like threesome together. Not with each other," He clarified, his forehead contorted into a furrow.

"Oh my god just stop talking for a moment," You replied, feeling the full force of the pounding headache. You finally let the duvet dropped to your waist, looking at your bestfriend while trying to figure out how all of this didn't bother him.

"Point is, been there, done that purely on accident. Which is why Im asking if you need help."

It felt as if you were at a crossroad; to seek his assistance or pretend this whole thing never happened. The answer, however, was pretty straightforward as you felt the dull ache between your legs.

"Promise me things won't get weird between us," You warned him, swallowing hard when you saw him slowly approaching the bed.

He only nodded, lowering himself so he was eye level with your covered cunt. Even though there was no words spoken between you both, he silently looked to you for permission. With a meek nod from you, he lifted the covers. You shuddered a little when the cold air hit your bare skin. All of a sudden you felt so exposed, reminded of who it was currently having a whole view of your glistening folds.

Your pussy clenched onto nothing, growing wetter after having seen how blown his pupils were. Without warning, you let out a cry, fingers tugging at his curls the moment you felt his tongue lick a stripe against your cunt. Looking down, you could only hold onto his head for support as he eagerly lapped at the juices, swirling the muscle against your bundle of nerves.

"Shit, fuck– Adrian!" You moaned, feeling him slowly getting into a rhythm. It was weird but you couldn't deny how hot it was seeing your bestfriend using your thighs like an ear muffler, enthusiastically eating you out like you were the best damn dessert he ever had.

Any initial thoughts of not being able to cum went out the window when you felt him flattened his tongue harder against your pleasure button.

He's a munch alright.

"When the fuc! W-when did you learn how to eat pussy? No offense," You couldnt help but ask him, biting your lower lip to prevent loud moans from escaping you as you felt that familiar ectasy sparked from beneath your stomach.

He stopped for a moment, removing his mouth from you, making you whine at the loss of contact. He adjusted his fogged up glasses before answering you. "Lots of experience," He shrugged, infuriating you at how nonchalant he was.

"Holy–!" You mewled, melting into the bed — hands fisting the sheets below you when his lips connect with your cunt. Your back arched off the bed at his relentless assault on your clit.

Incoherent words and profanities left you as you shake and moan from the abrupt climax that coursed through you. Despite being crushed by your thighs, Adrian kept on going, savouring you as if you were his last meal on Earth. His hands grabbed onto the flesh of your inner thighs, prying them apart so he could delve deeper into the crease of your sex.

Your eyes rolled back, your entire nervous system buzzed as you felt that same feeling at the pit of your belly again. What tipped you over was his hand, squeezing and fondling one of your tits. Creamy liquid gushed against his tongue and he reveled in it, lapping at your cunt hungrily trying to coax more out of you.

"Sensitive..." You manage to muster a weak response, toes curling and leg quivering around his head. Seeing that that didn't worked, your right hand reached out to tug at his hair. Hard.

"Sorry," He sheepishly grinned, finally releasing his hold on you. He looked downright filthy — the glint of your essence apparent on his chin before he wiped his lower face with the back of his hand. Fuck. That was oddly attractive.

He suddenly got up and left the room, leaving you to question where he went. "Here," He returned, handing you a glass of water before settling to sit at the empty area of the bed. "You should eat this too," He looked over at the takeaway container filled with chicken soup he placed on your bedside table.

You could only nod, still exhausted as you catch your breath. "Thanks," You took a sip and smiled weakly before setting the cup aside. You were then reminded once more that you were sick, reaching out for the box of tissue to stuff your leaky nose with.

To your horror, you felt none. Panicked, you looked in it to confirm there wasn't any left. "I'll go get new ones," Adrian quickly stood up, leaving the room to find you a new box of tissue. A soft chuckle left your lips as you rested your head against the pillow, your right arm covering your eyes as you try to comprehend — what the heck just happened.

“Baby, not today,” you prayed to him in a whisper, smiling at your boyfriend's almost childlike grin.

“But you have to know how many eggs a clownfish lays a year,” he insists, following you around the house like a puppy as you take off your boots and coat. The man rushes to help you unwrap your scarf, though he only manages to make them both get tangled up. “Oops.”

And just like that, he made you laugh. He brightened your day. Adrian always manages to bring a smile to your face, even when you're at your lowest.

“How many eggs do they lay?” you asked then. 

 Adrian follows you around the apartment as you start to undress, talking about how clownfish lay 200 eggs a year, manta rays curl up to sleep and hammerhead sharks build caves. You were almost certain those facts were wrong, but you asked if clownfish all lived together, if manta rays curled up together when they found mates or if only hammerhead sharks built caves. You loved the way his eyes sparkled behind his glasses when you egged him on, and in return, he helped you by choosing comfortable underwear and giving you his favorite tshirt to sleep in.

“And whales eat one shark a year,” he continues, still excited, while adjusting the shower water for you. Exactly the way you like it. “Are those my socks?”

 You look at your feet, naked except for the blue stockings with goldfish. Yes, they're Adrian's socks. You probably put them on in your sleep that morning, amidst the chaos that mornings with your clingy boyfriend always were. It was hard to get out of bed with Adrian promising to make you feel great if you skipped work. And as tempting as it sounded, you had bills to pay, and he had some bloody work to do too.

“They are,” you laugh as you slip them off your feet and step into the shower. You place a soft kiss on his lips before disappearing behind the glass screen. “Sorry, baby.”

Baby.

The nickname drives him a little crazy.

“You can wear whatever you want, my lovely Glaucidium brasilianum,” he assures you, and that's saying everything.

The man was very particular and careful with his clothes, cutting off all the annoying labels and wearing only 100% cotton. Except for his boxers, those had to be made of cool silk. 

 And yes, Adrian Chase thought calling you by specific animal names was romantic. You had no idea what a Glaucidium brasilianum was, and you weren't sure you wanted to know.

So, as you finally relaxed under the warm water after a long and arduous day at work, Adrian began to unload all the facts he knew about marine animals. That night it was about pufferfish and clownfish.

 There was something relaxing about the scent of your special soap and your boyfriend's constant chatter. Most people found Adrian a little annoying, especially when his nerdy exciting side came out, but that's precisely what made you fall in love with him. His love for (in)correct facts is just one of the ways he shows his appreciation, his boundless energy and the sweetness and innocence hidden beneath that bloody antihero exterior. The intensity of his personality was simply a reflection of the intensity with which he loved. And Adrian Chase loved you intensely.

And that's why, even as he helped you dry off after you'd already washed, he kept talking about marine animals, but they weren't facts anymore.

“You remind me of an angelfish,” he murmured, trying to pull your underwear up your legs, but he was actually tangling everything somehow. “Although with this, you look like a disco fish,” he added, looking at the pattern of your clothes.

“Thanks, baby,” you replied as always, because you understood that was his way of complimenting you.

 You put on the Eggle t-shirt Adrian gave you for Christmas and fix your hair a bit, all under the watchful eye of your boyfriend, who never stops talking.

“Although you were as hypnotic as a betta fish,” Adrian remarks after an unusual moment of silence. Your gaze meets his in the mirror. You can see him frowning behind his glasses. He seems to be analyzing you, though he looks more like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head.

“What’s wrong?” you ask with a yawn, walking toward him and raising your hand to adjust his glasses, which are slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“You look tired,” he murmurs, as if it were an afterthought. You smile tenderly.

“I am, baby.”

 For a moment longer, Adrian just stares at you as if he's trying to do some major mental calculation. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he picks you up, pulling your body over his shoulder. You squealed his name in surprise, but he completely ignored you.

“Did you know that fish sleep curled up?” he continues, rambling, leading you to the bedroom, gently lowering you onto the large bed. “And they cover themselves with seaweed, nestled in their little reef houses,” he says, covering you with the sheets and beginning to undress. “They decorate their houses with dead snails,” he doesn't stop, making a mess by turning off all the lights and snuggling up beside you.

And it fills your heart with something warm. When you and Adrian first met, he barely tolerated you holding his hands, but now he was the one initiating contact.

“Are we fish now?” you manage to joke, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, snuggled together. Your words make Adrian laugh.

“Don’t be silly,” he laughs, hugging you tightly. “You are you and I am me,” he states matter-of-factly, but adds: “If we were fish, we’d be wet and we’d live in…”

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice was soft, but Adrian still kept his eyes on the rocks he was stacking. 

“Playin’,” he answered simply, hoping that would be enough to send her on her way. He took a deep breath as he stacked the next rock. If this one was steady, it would be the highest he had managed so far - a big accomplishment for the seven year old. 

“Do you want to play together?” she asked, and Adrian paused, wondering if this was a trick. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had invited him to play and then he became the joke. 

“I’m stacking rocks,” he settled on, hoping that his words showed enough disinterest for her to move on and not hurt him. 

“Yeah, I can stack rocks too,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Adrian noticed that there wasn’t the usual hint of malice like when he was around the other kids. He finally allowed himself to look up at her. She was smiling with a few missing teeth, her eyes were bright, and she was wearing a teal dress, one that matched her shoes, nothing like the mismatched outfit Adrian was wearing. 

“Well, I’m not just stacking rocks, I’m also looking for bugs. My mom said that’s umm…multi-doing,” he said confidently.

“Multi-tasking?” she asked, head tilting to the side. 

“No, multi-doing, I would know I’m doing it right now,” he said matter of factly and she smiled, picking up her own rocks and stacking them. 

“Okay, well we can ‘multi-do’ look for bugs and stack rocks together,” she said, matching his tone, making him pout.

“But I’m doing it,” he insisted, putting his next rock down, making the tower wobble slightly. 

“Do you know ‘together’?” she asked, as if it wasn’t just a vocabulary word from the week before, and Adrian frowned. 

“I’m not dumb, yes I know.” He figured this was where the shoe would drop. She was going to knock over his tower and call him stupid. 

“Okay, then we can do this together, right?” she pressed, and Adrian sat back, taking a moment to look around the playground. All the other kids were running around with their friends. 

Adrian figured it couldn’t hurt to have someone like that, and she didn’t seem to want to hurt him. She was actually being very kind to him.

“Okay, we can do it together, but I have to teach you,” he settled on, and she nodded, watching him do the simple action closely. Adrian was grateful that she let him teach her, even if she already knew how to do it.

Recess every day was substantially better after they became friends. Adrian had someone to stack rocks with, someone to play tag with, and her favorite someone to push her on the swings. 

Adrian wasn’t a huge fan of that last one, but he figured out that when she was on the swing she didn’t mind if he endlessly talked. He also loved watching the way she moved on the swing. It almost looked like she was flying like a superhero.

They were in third grade the first time the two got to have a playdate, long overdue from both of their points of views. Their moms arranged it for them, but all week they talked about that Friday like it was Christmas day. To Adrian, it basically was. Every recess was spent discussing what amazing things they were going to do.

Adrian had already sat out all his video games, Pokemon cards, and all of his Magic Tree House books in order of what he wanted to show her. He had his mom promise to make dino nuggets and mac n’ cheese, with no broccoli this time, and to let them hang out in peace. He wanted no hovering and time to show her all his toys and play.

When she showed up in the morning holding the bus pass from her mom they looked at it like it was the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. They both walked it up to the teacher, making sure it got to the office, neither of them willing to take a chance on it not being approved. 

“We’re going to be the second to last bus stop. It sucks in the afternoon, but in the morning it’s great because I get to sleep in a little,” Adrian said as they both found an empty seat, Adrian giving her the window seat.

“I’m one of the stops in the middle,” she said, looking around.

“Perfect middle ground,” he said with a smile, as he dug through his backpack. “Do you wanna play with my ‘etch a sketch’ from show and tell today?” 

“Sure!” she said, happily taking it from him. Adrian watched closely as she began making a cool design, much better than Adrian could. “What kind of after school snacks do you have?” she asked, and Adrian's mind went blank.

Absolute, pure panic struck his features. How could he have forgotten the after school snacks! His mom could be making anything right now including ants on a log. Adrian hated ants on a log, but his brother loved it. He hated how he let this slip by. He had planned everything so carefully, and he had forgotten the snacks!

Who cared about dino nuggets when you’re too full from a bad snack! What if she hated the snack so much she never wanted to come over again and this was their last play date? Their friendship would be over before it even got really started.

Adrian wasn’t even aware he was crying until her hand came to his shoulder, refusing to look at her up first. 

“Do you not have afternoon snack?” she asked honestly, and Adrian looked at her, bottom lip quievering. “That’s okay, we can just play till dinner.”  

Adrian immediately stopped crying. The way she had said those words, as if having no snack after school truly didn’t bother her, shocked his young body to its core. 

“I have afternoon snack, I just forgot to tell my mom what to make, so she might make something my brother likes that I don’t like,” he said, wrinkling his nose. 

“Can you keep a secret?” she whispered, pressing herself tightly to Adrian as if they were surrounded by spies on the bus. Adrian took her words like they were the strongest vow as he nodded and moved closer. “I brought candy for us to share in secret.” 

Adrian smiled, she always had a solution ready for him it seemed. She could anticipate what he needed before he could even tell something was wrong, from bringing an extra book to school to lending him a toy for show and tell. She always had his back and Adrian was determined to pay it back. 

They were in fourth grade the first time he really felt he was able to pay her back for all her kindness and worry for him. It had all seemed to happen in slow motion to Adrian. 

The bully’s hands on her, escalating the argument. 

The hard shove that followed. 

Her falling to the ground with big crocodile tears in her eyes as she sat up in the soccer field, maybe fifteen feet from where they first met. He watched her fists ball up and pull at the grass, clearly itching to do something but feeling unable to as the bully taunted her more, other students watching and laughing.

If she was unable to, then it had to be Adrian’s job to do something, he decided. 

The rest was a blur as Adrian practically jumped the bully like a rabid animal. He was screaming, his fists were flying, and it didn’t take long for them to start bleeding. 

But he didn’t stop. Even as they begged.

Hit after hit landed on the bully’s face as Adrian’s knuckles split. He smiled wide, knowing he was protecting her.

He was vaguely aware of all the kids around him screaming, but it didn’t matter because this kid just hurt his friend. He was a bully, and bullies shouldn’t be allowed on the playground. If bullies were going to be on the playground, then he was going to have to handle this himself. 

Two teachers had to pry him off the bully and take him to the principal, all while he kicked and screamed. Their fingers dug tightly into Adrian’s arms, but he didn’t stop, even when they made it inside. He thrashed, trying to escape, screaming for them to let him go or at least let him check in on his friend as another teacher walked her and the bully to the nurses office. 

He screamed and screamed about it being the right thing to do, everyone just telling him over and over again that you shouldn’t use violence no matter what happened.

“He pushed her to the ground!” he yelled, his parents sitting on either side of him in front of the principal. “He hurt her! That’s wrong, he should be in here! Not me! I stopped him!” 

“Adrian, you broke his nose and we had to physically remove you from him. We cannot use our hands to solve problems, you should’ve gotten a teacher so-”

“So it could happen again?” he said, standing up. “He was going to keep hurting her, at least I stopped it-”

“Adrian, that is not your job. You are supposed to get a teacher! We have zero tolerance for violence in this school, you know that,” the principal said, and Adrian could tell that she was getting upset with him. He knew he lost this fight, especially as the principal read out his suspension stipulations, so he threw himself back in his seat, arms crossed. 

It wasn’t until he and his parents were walking out of the school that he saw her, through the nurses window. Adrian was happy to see she was at least not crying anymore. 

Their eyes met and she quickly mouthed, “thank you.” Despite the punishment he knew was coming, he didn’t stop smiling the whole day. He especially felt vindicated when his knuckles were fully healed in the morning, and all signs of the fight on his body were gone. 

In fifth grade, the two spent three whole months independently trying to convince their parents to let them have a sleepover, not understanding why boys and girls couldn’t have a sleepover. But after his dad left his mom his mom was practically catatonic, so her mom let Adrian spend the night. He was sure pity was driving her mom’s decision, but he’d take it. 

He had arrived, sweaty and breathing hard from his bike ride, an hour before the agreed upon time. He knew if he had his mom drive him it would take forever to get her to actually leave so he opted for the long ride on his own, leaving her a note that he left early. His backpack was heavy, filled with his favorite pajamas, his Game Boy Advance with almost all of his games, snacks he had stolen from the pantry, and his stuffed ostrich, Stretch, he’s had since he was little.

He had debated heavily if he should bring him or not, but Adrian had never slept a night without him, and he knew she wasn’t going to make fun of him for it. So Stretch got to come along to Adrian’s first ever sleepover. 

“Hey!” he said, out of breath the moment she opened the door, a smile on her face as if she always expected Adrian to be this early. She was already in her pajamas, clearly feeling the same excitement he was. She opened the door wider and Adrian walked in, pointing up and when she nodded he led the way to her bedroom.

He smiled as they got closer, her radio already on and her room set up for their sleepover. Every single stuffed animal she owned was out on her bed, ready for cuddles, a stack of DVDs checked out from the library, and the tv from her parents room moved into hers for one night only. 

“Nice, I also brought snacks!” he said, throwing his backpack on the ground and dumping everything out. He got on the floor to start sorting through everything he had brought, immediately started to categorize everything he had brought to her. She laughed, falling to her knees next to him as she looked through his games. 

“Oh! You still need to show me your final Pokemon Silver team!” she said, holding the game up and he smiled. He had spent almost every day at lunch since the game came out talking her through step by step what he had done in the game, and she had hung on to every word.

“Yeah! I saved the final fight to show you too, since you’re not going to play it,” he teased, sticking out his tongue. She returned his mean face with a laugh.

“When you buy me a Game Boy or finally let me borrow yours, then I’ll play it,” she said, arms crossed.

“But if I let you borrow mine then I won’t be able to play anything!” he complained, and she laughed and shook her head. Adrian’s heart did that weird thump it had been doing when the two were alone. “But whenever I get my first job I promise to buy you a Game Boy,” he said, hand on his heart, and she smiled at him. 

The smile was…different than normal. There was something shy about it, and it had something that caused Adrian’s heart to skip a beat and a light blush to cross his features before he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the Game Boy, his hands fiddling with the handheld console as a sudden nervousness came over him.

“You okay?” she asked softly. 

“It’s just my first sleepover, I want it to go well,” he answered honestly, dodging the way she was making him feel, and something changed in her smile. It was more warm, like she understood just how important this was to him. 

“It will go well, we have movies, games, you brought snacks, my mom is going to order us our own pizza, and we’re just going to spend the whole night in my room and the first one to fall asleep is getting their face drawn on,” she teased as she reached behind Adrian to grab a sharpie off her desk. Their bodies brushed as she went back to sitting on her knees. 

Adrian had been running an experiment lately. He never liked the tight hugs his mom would throw him into, he didn’t like the noogies and hits his brother gave him, and he certainly did not like when family members would touch him or pinch his cheeks. However, whenever she brushed against him, gave him a hug, or grabbed his hand to pull him around it was different. He liked it. He wanted it.

He had a hard time describing the feeling. Saying that it just felt ‘right’ felt like a cop-out to Adrian, and saying it felt like home also felt wrong - Adrian barely liked being at his house. With her, it was something different, something unexplainable, something…special. 

He cherished those little brush ups, those hugs, when she’d laugh so hard she’d lean into him like he was the only thing that could hold him up. It sent him spinning in a way that confused his whole nervous system.

“You always fall asleep during movies first, so are you sure you want to challenge me to that?” he asked, snatching the sharpie out of her hands.

“We’ll see about that, Chase!” she said, moving to lean against the back of her bed. Adrian smiled, moving so he could sit next to her. He reached and grabbed his Game Boy. 

“Let me show you my Typhlosion!” he said, turning it on as she pressed herself against him to get a better look. The feeling, as always, was warm and comfortable; two words Adrian almost never used to describe touch.

It almost made him wish he had another friend to talk to about this. About why he suddenly started feeling this way around her. His brother would be no help, he avoided his mom at all costs, and he may struggle with social cues but he knew telling her about it could open a whole can of worms that he wouldn’t know where to even begin with. 

If she could feel how hard his heart was racing, he’d probably lose it. He couldn’t even think of a believable enough lie that would make her not think it was because of her, and that feeling scared Adrian. 

“Oh! My mom wanted to know what kind of pizza you wanted?” she asked, her hand coming to tap his arm, drumming a song against him that he couldn’t hear. Each tap felt almost electric against his body. He looked over at her with a lazy smile on his face, and she groaned, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, he preened at the familiar contact. “Pineapple and ham?” she said with a judgemental groan.

“Yes please,” he answered happily as she made fake throw up sounds and pressed closer into him, making him laugh.

The night was one that Adrian would hold close to his heart for forever, even as they had more sleepovers in his young mind none of them were ever as good as the first one. They ended up watching three movies, talking through most of them, eating so much food and drinking so much soda that they both felt sick and as Adrian laid down on the pallet on her floor his eyes were locked on her hand that hung over the side of the bed. 

He wondered how she’d react if he just…grabbed her hand and held it all night. Her soft snores alerted Adrian that she did in fact fall asleep first, but he made no attempt to grab the sharpie. Instead he stayed awake until his brain wouldn’t let him, listening to all the noises in the house and watching her fingers twitch slightly in her sleep as he held onto Stretch, imagining what it would feel like to sleep directly next to her instead of her floor. 

In the sixth grade Gut’s regular bullying took a sharp turn. More cruel, more painful, more never-ending. It was then Adrian started to notice something strange about himself. It had happened before too with his split knuckles, but it was no longer a cool trick to Adrian. It was much worse. 

His brother would hit him, pull his arm too sharply, or scratch him with something sharp but before he could show anyone the mark would disappear or turn so faint that it made Adrian look like he was lying.

His mom didn’t believe him at all, especially when Gut pressed that he was lying. 

“Why would I do that?” he’d repeat over and over again, smiling at Adrian when his mom’s back was to them. Gut was always the favorite, Adrian knew that. He had heard and felt countless times that his brother could do no wrong while Adrian was known for being whiny and for stretching the truth, making him the perfect target for his brother. At first Adrian would scream and argue and beg his mom to just listen to him, to see what was happening, but over the months he just shut down. It wasn’t even worth fighting about anymore. 

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with his body, what was making it do this, but it was starting to wear Adrian down.

He would watch her with marks from falling from gym or getting bumped too hard by something, and some of the bruises would last over a week, but for him nothing seemed to last longer than a day - even less if he fell asleep.

It all came to a boiling point one Sunday at her house, he had been hiding out more and more at her house on the weekends to avoid Gut, especially since it was no longer football season and he was around more. She was sitting on her bed, reading a book, while he was playing a video game on her floor, sitting across from her in a comfortable and normal silence. She was hugging her knees, and there was a painful looking bruise on her calf. 

Adrian couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was a dark angry bruise, with various shades Adrian had never fully seen on his own body. None of his bruises tend to move past a light brown or pink color. It looked painful and like it was sticking around for at least another week, probably longer. If it had been on his body, it would’ve been gone once he woke up in the morning. 

He knew she had gotten it a few days ago during gym, tripping over someone during basketball and hitting the ground hard. She had told Adrian about it at lunch, pulling up her pants just enough so he could see the angry mark.

But now, it looked just as angry as it had been two days ago. 

“How long do you think that’ll be there?” he finally asked, voice cracking slightly. She looked at him confused but once she followed his eyes Adrian watched her flex her leg out and look at the mark.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of weeks. It was a bad spill.” she said simply, frowning and looking back at her book.

“Mine don’t last that long,” he whispered and she hummed, eyes moving across her page. 

“My mom said sometimes people’s bodies are just different. Maybe your metabolism is better than mine?” she said, finally meeting his eyes. He didn’t like the concern that painted her features once she looked at him.  

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, sounding uncomfortable as he shifted slightly, silently begging her to turn her attention back to her book. Adrian would do anything to not have this conversation with her, the last thing he wanted was for her to not believe him. 

“Is…something going on where you have a lot of bruises?” she asked gently, Adrian watched her put down the book and walk slowly over to him like he was a scared animal. 

“I mean, nothing crazy if that’s what you’re thinking!” he immediately said, trying to pull back the conversation, but it was too late Adrian had said too much already.

Adrian watched as she pulled up his sleeves inspecting his arms for something that wasn’t there. Something she wasn’t going to find. 

“Do you get bruises that disappear fast?” she asked carefully, still holding his arm as if he’s made of glass. He felt a lump in his throat. 

“Sometimes,” he whispered, eyes flickering to hers, afraid she was going to be able to read him like an open book.

“How are you getting bruises, Ade?” she pressed. 

“You’re not going to believe me because you won’t see them,” he murmured and he hated that his voice was shaking and tears were starting to well in his eyes. He hated how easily she could get through to him, like she spoke a language that only applies to him. 

“I don’t need to see them to believe you,” she insisted, her brow furrowing like it was the most obvious answer in the world. It was at those words that Adrian broke. He was no longer able to keep any of it in. It was just so simple with her. She trusted him fully, in a way Adrian didn’t even understand. He couldn’t help but start to sob, trying to tell her what had been going on.  

He wasn’t sure what words tumbled out. He knew he told her what Gut had been doing and through his tears he saw her confused and angry features. He knew he begged her to not tell her mom and he knew she looked long and hard at her closed door. They were 11, and Adrian knew this was too much for them to carry alone, but he couldn't stand another adult calling him a liar, so he begged and begged till she agreed through her own tears. 

“You can come over more, to get away from him. I’m sure my mom would let you spend the night more or if it helps I can come over more. Maybe he’ll leave you alone then,” she whispered, sitting next to him, their bodies pressed tightly next to each other as if she was scared he was going to disappear.

“No, I don’t want you near him! What if he hurts you too?” He said, eyes wide with panic and she gave him the faintest smile. 

“If he’s worried about being caught he won’t do it in front of me and if he does then it’s our word against his to your mom and maybe that’ll help.” She whispered, hand gently rubbing his arm. He paused, thinking about it. He wasn’t sure if Gut would actually leave him alone in front of her, but Adrian knew if his brother tried anything on her he would fight back hard. 

“Okay, maybe that will work,” he relented, his mind still reeling. “You really believe me?” 

“Adrian Chase, I take offense to that. Of course I believe you, you’re my best friend,” she said, pouting slightly through her own tears. And despite everything, despite knowing at the end of the day he still had to go home to his cruel brother and his mother who didn’t believe him, it would be okay because she had his back.

Even if the torment didn’t lessen, the load got a little lighter for Adrian. 

It was once they were in the seventh grade that the best thing in the history of their friendship had occurred.

They finally had a class together, not just recess or lunch, but for once they had the same homeroom and the same math class.

They had to be separated multiple times through the year, but nothing ever topped that first week of school.

During the first week, it had been free seating, so she and Adrian were quick to grab two seats at a table of four near the back.

“What do you think? Next to each other or across from each other?” she asked, placing her stuff on one of the corners as Adrian looked at the two seats. He tried not to think about how everyone else seemed to be avoiding their table.

That would be fine with Adrian at the end of the day, to have her all to himself, but he was starting to become more aware of the fact that despite the fact they were each other's closest friend, she still had friends other than Adrian. It made his chest feel funny to think about how she could one day just decide to not hang out with him anymore or how there might come a time where she chose someone else over him.

“Across from each other might make it easier to talk, but next to each other might be easier to whisper to each other,” he said, scratching his chin, and she laughed at how serious he was taking this. 

“Sit across from me and then in math we can sit next to each other,” she answered, and Adrian quickly moved to sit across from her, smiling widely as he watched her get out her folder and pencil pouch. As if on instinct, she pulled out two pencils, handing one to Adrian as she got more stuff out her bag. 

His heart did another funny flip as he looked at his already messy backpack, a hand me down from Gut. Despite it being the first day of school, Adrian had in fact forgotten to bring pencils. 

“How’d you know?” he asked, leaning forward as he watched her closely. 

“Becuase I know you, silly,” she responded, sticking out her tongue, and Adrian smiled. 

Those words carried him for a long time. 

He wasn’t sure before her if he had ever been known. Sure, his parents tried, and he had his brother but he wasn’t really close to any of them. His parents didn’t understand his interests, and most days Gut refused to acknowledge him.

How lucky he was for that girl to demand his friendship all those years ago as he stacked rocks and looked for bugs - multi-tasking. 

However, once eighth grade hit, there was a stark change in her and not him. One that he noticed immediately, as if he was more in tune with her body than he was with his own. She had gotten taller. Now she was taller than him, something she happily gloated about. Her body had started to fill out, and she was moodier.

One day he had simply poked her, and she snapped at him like he had killed someone in front of him. He wasn’t sure what his face must’ve looked like because immediately after snapping she broke into tears and practically threw herself into his arms. Adrian was very confused but still held her tightly as if he could fix everything for her with a simple hug. 

Adrian’s mom told him it was natural; that she was becoming a woman (whatever that meant, Adrian wasn’t sure) and that the two would be fine. She just needed time to navigate these changes.

Adrian knew from health class what was happening on a textbook level, and he knew girls developed before boys, but as he watched her no longer wanting to do their silly traditions as much, his heart began to ache. She started using the word childish and started suggesting they start new traditions - going to the mall instead of riding bikes, watching dramatic and romance movies instead of animated films, and the hardest one for Adrian was the fact she wanted to invite more friends into their small bubble.

He started pestering his mom about when he’d change too, grow to be taller than her again, and maybe catch up to her in a way that would restore their friendship to how it was. Maybe if he was taller or looked older she would want to ride bikes with him and watch cartoons and have sleepovers again. 

It was all Adrian wanted. 

“Adrian, it doesn’t work that way, you can’t rush it!” she said one night, Adrian planting himself at the kitchen table looking at his homework but making no move to complete it. Maybe if he left it blank she’d help him in the morning before class.

“You definitely can’t rush it, you’re going to be a pipsqueak forever,” Gut said walking behind Adrian as he smacked the back of Adrian’s head. Adrian hissed and glared at the back of his older brother’s head, who went straight to the fridge to grab food, completely ignoring that their mom was making dinner.

“Maybe you can ask her mom if we can have another sleepover soon?” Adrian asked and he heard his mom sigh.

“Adrian, it was fine when you guys were little but too much has changed that I just don’t think it’s appropriate for a boy to spend the night at a girls house at your age.” 

“Come on, Mom. Adrian’s not going to knock her up!” Gut said and Adrian’s face turned beet red as he looked back down at his homework. 

“Excuse me! We do not talk like that in this house! You know better!” his mom scolded, but Gut didn’t care, he just rolled his eyes, grabbed food, and left the two in the kitchen. “Where do you think you’re going? Dinner is almost ready!”

“I’m going to Chris’s, I’ll be back tomorrow,” Gut said as the front door slammed shut. 

Adrian released a breath he wasn’t fully aware he was holding at his brother’s leaving. 

“I just want her back and things back to how they were,” he mumbled, and his mom looked over at him, pity all over her face, making Adrian feel even worse about how he was feeling. 

“She’ll come back to you, honey. I promise.” 

If she was going to come around, it wasn’t in ninth grade. 

Adrian immediately hated high school. He had gotten so used to not having to deal with his brother at school that now with him being a junior, and Adrian a freshman, it was a new wave of fresh hell. 

To make matters worse, high school came with its own league of challenges. The two had no classes together, not even lunch, and there was no recess. The only times they got to see each other was occasionally in the hallway and in the fifteen minutes after the buses arrived before the bell would ring for class. 

His bus always arrived five minutes before hers, so Adrian would quickly beeline to his own locker, throw everything in, and essentially run to her locker - almost always beating her there. 

Some days she’d walk over to him and sit next to him on the ground and the two would talk and hang out, but more recently she had been walking up with more friends. They would already be laughing and talking, a few of the other girls would give Adrian a dirty look when they realized he was there, but Adrian didn’t care because she always looked happy to see him. 

“Your puppy is here,” one of her friends murmured to her as they came up to Adrian. He watched her face closely as she looked at the other girl with almost a look of shame as Adrian’s heart dropped. 

Was he being too much? Was she growing sick of him? Behind his back were they calling him names? 

“Don’t call him that,” she said back softly and turned her attention to Adrian. “Hey Ade, how are you?” 

“I’m okay,” he said gently, looking at the two girls next to her as she opened her locker, her hands moving on autopilot as she watched him closely. “I just wanted to let you know that umm the rest of the week I wasn’t going to be able to meet you at your locker.” 

Adrian immediately hated the words coming out of his mouth. He wanted to take them back, to call that girl a bitch and tell her that she just didn’t understand their friendship. He wanted to say that no one else would ever have what they have.

But the words never come out. 

“Oh, okay,” he hated the look on her face as she looked at him closely. “Are you still coming over this weekend?”

“Of course! We can’t break our tradition!” he said with fake enthusiasm. Her friends didn’t seem to see through it but he could tell by the look on her face that she knew. 

Of course she knew. 

To make it worse, he knew she wasn’t going to let it go. They moved through the rest of the week at an awkward pace, still saying hello in the hallway, but true to his word for the rest of the week, he avoided going to her locker. Multiple times he had to stop himself halfway on his usual path to her locker and turn around to go to his first period instead. 

When Saturday rolled around he was slow to get ready. Normally he’d be up, showered, and ready to go by 8 a.m. even if they weren’t hanging out till noon. Today however, Adrian was moving like it was causing him physical pain, taking extra time on each task as if it would change the plans for today.

He was silent the whole car ride over, letting his mom talk about whatever she wanted, not minding that Adrian didn’t speak up once. 

“What time do you want me to pick you up?” she asked as they pulled into her driveway, the front door already open and waiting for Adrian. 

“Can I just call when we’re done?” he asked softly, not wanting to get trapped by giving her too late of a time. 

“Of course, honey. Are you feeling okay?” she asked, and Adrian smacked her hand away as she tried to check his temperature on his forehead. 

“I’m fine, just tired, okay?” he said, and thankfully, his mom dropped it as he got out of the car. He dragged himself to the front door, knocking lightly as he listened to his mom car pull out of the driveway and started to head home. 

He was really in it now. 

“Hey!” she said, rushing to the door with a smile at his first knock. He fought his own smile as she opened the door. “My mom had to run some errands so it’s just us for a couple of hours and I went ahead and checked out some of our favorite movies from the library yesterday.” 

“Nice,” Adrian said, keeping it simple as he followed her through the house to the living room. 

He took his usual spot on the couch as she started the movie and ran into the kitchen to get them some snacks. He watched as she brought out all of his favorite snacks and drinks. 

“We also have stuff for banana splits and my mom got us some frozen pizzas if you want to stay for dinner,” she said sitting next to him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said softly, keeping his attention on the movie. 

They last twenty minutes into the movie before she couldn’t seem to stand whatever was happening with Adrian.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, pausing the movie, and Adrian tensed beside her, rubbing his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. 

“Yeah of course! Totally fine! Better than fine actually, I’m amazing,” he said, giving a fake laugh, and she tilted her head. 

“Adrian you don’t have to lie to me,” she said gently and Adrian’s face snapped towards hers. 

“Lying? I’m not-“ 

“Adrian, I should’ve stood up for you when Gabby made fun of you. I was a bad friend, I love that you come to my locker in the morning. Please don’t let other people ruin that for us,” she said softly, putting her hand on top of his hand and for the first time in their entire friendship, he flinched.

It was involuntary. He didn’t mean to. And when he looked at her face he wanted to puke. 

She looked like she was about to start crying. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, voice cracking. It sounded almost painful to Adrian’s ears, he felt like his own heart was going to start cracking.

“No! God no! No I’m, this is just-“ 

“Do you still want to be friends?” she asked, and Adrian watched in horror as tears started falling down her cheeks. He had never really seen her cry like this, at least not because of him. Sure they had both cried after sad movies, but this was different. Adrian was making her cry. 

“Yes, of course I still want to be friends,” he said, panic taking over him. “I just I don’t…I don’t umm it’s like-“ 

“Like what?” she cried. 

“Sometimes I just don’t know if you still want to be my friend!” he blurted out, eyes darting around the room. “I don’t know where I fit in with your other friends.” 

Adrian’s eyes finally locked on hers and despite her crying, a smile comes across her face. She looked almost relieved that that was what was bothering him. 

“Adrian, you will always fit in with me. I would tell all my other friends to suck a dick and get lost if you asked me too. You’re my best friend, I love you,” she said, and Adrian’s heart was pounding. 

He didn’t know what to say so he did the next best thing he could think of, he launched himself at her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She was quick to hug him back as she released a sob. 

“Don’t cry, I’m sorry. I love you too, please don’t cry!” he panicked, and she let out a wet laugh as she squeezed him. 

“Please come to my locker on Monday?” she asked, he could feel her breath on his ear as he jerkily nodded. 

“Of course, always,” he whispered. “But you don’t have to tell Gabby to suck a dick it’s okay!” 

She laughed and pushed them back on the couch so she was on top of him, holding their bodies close together. 

“I will if she’s mean again to you, I promise,” she said, and Adrian smiled. 

After that there were no issues with him at her locker. He wasn’t fully sure if she told her other friends to lay off of him or what, but while they never go out of their way to be kind to him they’re no longer mean to him.

If only those girls were the only bullies Adrian had to worry about. 

In tenth grade, Adrian experienced one of his first (of many) twists of jealousy when it came to her and possibly dating someone (who wasn’t him).

Maybe twist was too strong, he was certainly uncomfortable by what was happening, but he never expected anyone to say anything to him about it. She didn’t owe him anything, but he still couldn’t help the feelings. 

He especially didn’t want to tell her about it. 

Adrian still wasn’t sure why he as a sophomore had to have gym with his senior brother and his friends, but here he was. He also didn’t understand why they cared enough to make his life a miserable hell. He knew the best way to get through it was to keep his head down.

He had tried to get his mom to do something, to tell Gut to leave him alone, but she just kept telling him that boys will be boys. 

Which Adrian consistently called bullshit on, considering he wasn’t walking around the school trying to make other people’s lives hell like his brother was. 

“Hey thimble!” Chris Smith, one of Gut’s closest friends, shouted from across the locker room and Adrian closed his eyes and held his breath. At least this time he didn’t seem to notice him till he got his pants on. He’d take the small win.

He thought maybe if he kept his eyes shut they would go away, pick on literally anyone else, but no such luck as a hand came down on his shoulder - hard.

He tried really hard not to flinch, knowing that flinching would only make it worse. 

“So, you gotta tell me, that girl that’s always hanging off of you - you’ve fucked her right?” Chris asked, grinning at Adrian as he felt his face heat up.

“No, it’s…it’s not like that, we're just friends,” he said quickly, angling himself out of Chris’s grasp, which Chris accepted with a wolfish smile. 

“So, you won’t mind if I…” Chris trailed off, waggling his eyebrows up and down, and Adrian felt something twist in his stomach. Something nasty and hateful and a pure need to protect her from Chris.

“Do what?” he asked, voice unusually tense. Normally he wouldn’t disagree or fight back with any of his brother’s friends - especially since they just go back to his brother, and then Gut will start harassing him even more at home. 

“You know…take her out for a spin, underclassmen are always the best for a quick fuck. They’re easy to convince and easy to dump, plus she’s hot as fuck,” Chris said with a shrug as if she wasn’t a living breathing person with feelings, not just a pussy to fuck. 

So Adrian panicked. Saying the first thing that came to his mind that would possibly deter Chris from going anywhere near her. 

“She’s a lesbian!” he shouted, and then threw a hand over his own mouth as heads turned towards him. “I mean, yes she’s a lesbian but I’m the only one who knows and you know if that came out…I mean if people found out she’d be really upset.” 

Adrian watched as Chris nodded, chewing on his cheek for a second. 

“I get it man, secret’s safe with me,” Chris said, clapping Adrian on the shoulder before leaving him alone. 

Adrian learned quickly that the secret was not safe with Chris. 

They were in her room, Adrian was sitting on her desk, head against her wall as she laid on her stomach on her bed. She was working on homework and he was supposed to bring his over too, but he never did. Frequently opting to just watch her and take in all her little movements instead. To him, school could wait, studying her could not. 

“So, Chris Smith came and talked to me yesterday after school,” she said, and Adrian immediately tensed at her tone. It wasn’t the first time they had talked about Chris or any of Gut’s friends, but he could already tell where this was going. 

“Yeah?” he squeaked out. 

“Yeah, he wanted me to know that he was an ally and respected my choice to be a lesbian.” Her voice was tight as her eyes narrowed at him. 

“Wow, that’s umm…well that’s very progressive of him!” Adrian tried, cringing slightly as she sat up on her knees, eyes not leaving him.

“Adrian, why-” she started, but Adrian was already spiraling. 

“I mean, I would never expect Chris to be that accepting especially considering he’s one of Gut’s friends and he’s called me the f-word like a thousand times. Not fuck or fuckwad, but the other f-word, so it’s just shocking-”

“Adrian!” she said, her face was angry as Adrian fell silent, suddenly more interested in his socks than anything else. In his head he already knew how she looked, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, and mouth tight. It was rare her anger was at Adrian but it didn’t make it sting any less. “Did you tell him I was a lesbian?” 

“Maybe?” 

“Adrian!” 

“Okay! Yes! I did, but it was because he going to ask you out and all he wanted to do was fuck you and I didn’t want you to get hurt and I-”

“Adrian! I’m my own person, I can make my own decisions!” she said, and Adrian's hands shook as he gripped the desk while looking at her angry face. He wasn’t sure he'd ever seen her this pissed.

“I know! I know you’re your own person, but I didn’t want him to hurt you!” 

“That’s not your decision to make!”

“You want to fuck Christopher Smith?” he yelled back, his own temper starting to rise at the idea of her not being thankful for protecting her from Chris. Chris was friends with his brother, and that had to mean he was at least a little bit of an asshole if he regularly dealt and seemed to like Gut. 

“No! I don’t want to fuck Chris, but you don’t get to tell people I’m a lesbian so I won’t fuck them! Adrian, you realize that’s wrong, right?” she said, eyeing him sharply and he sighed. 

“Yes, I know,” he whined, holding his head in shame. He listened to her shuffle around and he didn’t look up to her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up at her, sniffling and fighting tears. 

He was expecting her to look at him with anger or hatred, but when he met her eyes he was only met with love and acceptance. 

That made him cry harder. 

“Oh, Ade, it’s okay,” she murmured, a hand coming to brush the tears running down his cheek. “Hey, I’m not upset, okay? You don’t need to cry.” He tried to look down, anything to get away from her watching him, but she simply moved herself to hold his face in both hands to make him look at her. Her thumbs brushing his tears away on the apples of his cheeks, if this was any other time he knew his face would be bright as a tomato. 

“You should be upset,” he muttered. 

“Okay, I’m a little upset that now there’s a rumor going around that I’m a lesbian, but I’m not upset at you,” she said softly and he released a shaky breath. 

“You can tell people I’m gay if it makes you feel any better, Gut tells people that anyway but they’d probably believe you more.” 

“No, Adrian. I’m not going to tell people that you’re gay, but you can start by telling people I’m not actually lesbian.” He nodded gently, not wanting her to let go of his face just yet. 

“Okay, I’ll tell Chris tomorrow,” he said, bringing his shaking hands around her waist and pulling her closer. She chuckled but moved so they were in an awkward hug, Adrian’s head resting on her chest.

“For the record, I would never ever go out with Chris or any of Gut’s friends for that matter. They’re assholes and I am totally uninterested. I need you to know and understand that, Ade.” she whispered, one of her hands running through his hair.

“I know,” he whispered, squeezing her tightly against him. He did know, she knew how much that would hurt him, but there was always that feeling, that doubt, that worry that would swim in his head.

In eleventh grade, their weekend tradition of watching movies started to become more difficult to schedule since she had gotten her first job and she ended up working most Saturdays as a hostess at Fennel Fields. At first Adrian had hated the change, it left significantly less time for them to hang out, but unlike him, she was saving for college, so he tried not to comment too much on the lack of time she suddenly had for him.

“You know, they’re hiring for busboys,” she said laying on her bed on her stomach, feet in the air as she chewed on a pencil. Adrian was sitting at her desk, his chemistry notes in front of him as he attempted to study for his final.

“I don’t know, won’t me getting a job make it harder for us to find time to hang out?” he asked, spinning in her chair to look at her, her eyes were already on him with a smile. 

“Not if we tell the manager we have availability on the same days, we could work together!” she said, and Adrian frowned. His mom was on him about doing something after school. He had avoided every club and sport like it was the plague to avoid his brother and his shadow, but working with her would get his mom off his back, he’d earn some money, and they’d get to spend time together. It was a win win win.

“You like it there?” he asked, and he watched her smile grow, clearly knowing she’s already hooked him in.  

“I mean it’s a job, but the money is okay and we get tips sometimes,” she said as she sat up. 

“Okay I’ll apply,” he said and he watched as her smile turned almost devious. 

“Your first training shift is Monday, I already convinced them to hire you,” she said, and Adrian laughed, smiling brightly at her knowing him. 

“What were you going to do if I said no?” he said, getting up and stretching before walking over to sit next to her in the bed. 

“You’d never say no to me,” she said, knocking her shoulder against him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah unfortunately.” 

Monday rolled around, and the job wasn’t too bad. It was definitely better when she was also working, but he really didn’t mind the tasks. He didn’t have to talk to anyone and after a few weeks carrying the dish tray around got easier and easier.

Their other co-workers didn’t seem to like him much, but they loved her, so they learned to tolerate Adrian. 

But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more excited for his first paycheck. He had long decided what he would be spending it on and he was so excited to show her. It was so long overdue that he was completely convinced she’d be fully surprised by it - which considering how bad Adrian was at surprises he was excited to finally be able to pull one off.

He made his mom drive him straight to the bank with the first check and then to the store to spend it. Having just enough to complete a promise.

“Can you drop me off at her house?” he asked, and his mom smiled. It was a small and knowing smile, one that Adrian didn’t quite understand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

The whole car ride Adrian felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest as he imagined her reaction. He hoped she would be excited or happy, but sometimes she wouldn’t react how he’d expect. Like when he showed up at her house close to three in the morning to show her his finally finished English essay that she had helped him with. He didn’t understand at first why she was so angry but as she rubbed her eyes and Adrian’s adrenaline disappeared he had felt a sharp pain of embarrassment and he made a note for the future. 

Anything past midnight and before five in the morning wasn’t okay. 

But right now, it was only ten in the evening, plenty of time to still be reasonable as he knocked loudly on the door. Adrian was bouncing back and forth on his heels waiting for someone to answer the door. 

Her mom came to the door first. 

“Oh Adrian! I didn't know you were coming over, come in!” she said, letting him in and he smiled, pointing in the direction of her room. 

“Is she in her room?” he asked, cutting to the chase, the box heavy in his hands. 

“Yes, she’s-“ Adrian had already started running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the gift firmly in his hands. 

“Mom, who-“ she called down, opening her door to be greeted by Adrian beaming at her. “Oh hey! What are you doing here?” 

“I got you this!” he said, forcing the box into her hands, she tilted her head to the side and looked at him and the box. 

“Adrian, you got me a Game Boy Advance?” she said, eyes wide as she walked into her room, Adrian following her in, shutting the door behind him. His smile was wide as he watched her face carefully as she looked at the box. 

“Yes! I promised I’d get you one and I finally got my first check today! I didn’t have enough to get you any games, so I brought a few you can borrow,” he said smiling proudly at her as she smiled softly. 

“Ade, you didn’t have to do that,” she said gently and Adrian shrugged suddenly feeling bashful under her appreciative look.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said as simply as possible. 

“Thank you,” she said, setting the box on her bed and pulling him into a hug. He was happy for her tight hold so she would miss the way his face turned bright red as he hugged her back. 

For some reason he would think about that hug for a long time, imagining it on hard days. 

Twelfth grade brought a new challenge Adrian was uninterested in dealing with. 

They both had agreed as underclassmen that homecoming was dumb and they’d rather spend the night hanging out, playing video games, and eating as much junk food as possible. 

But Adrian quickly learned prom was another beast entirely. 

This year they were able to work the system in their favor, which meant that they finally had a high school class together. Sure it was intro to art, but a class nonetheless. Neither of them had been particularly interested in taking the course but it was only offered for fourth period which meant not only did they have a class together but they would also have lunch together so it was truly a no brainer in whether or not they would take it. 

It was fantastic, even if Adrian was having trouble with 70% of the lessons. He never really cared much about any of his grades so struggling in art didn’t really bother him. 

In fact, he liked seeing how good she was at her classes more. 

“So, prom?” she asked as she focused on her sewing. Adrian’s fingers were already sore and bleeding from the amount of stitches he had messed up. 

“What about it?” he asked, fiddling with his half abandoned project. He felt his heart rate spike. 

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, avoiding his eyes suddenly. “Are you going to go?”

“To prom?” he asked, shifting to look at her closer but she stayed focused on her work. Almost surprising Adrian, she never avoided him like this.

“Yes, Adrian. To prom. Are you going to prom?” she asked, exasperated. 

“Oh, no, probably not,” he answered honestly, and he watched her slightly deflate. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know, I want to go, but I don’t want to go alone,” she mumbled. 

“You could go with Gabby and those friends!” Adrian suggested with a bright smile and she frowned, suddenly not willing to meet his gaze. 

“I’d rather go with you,” she muttered.

“With me?” he yelled and winced as everyone’s eyes flew to the two of them. “Sorry!” he whispered, holding his hands up as everyone went back to work.

“Yes, with you,” she hissed and Adrian’s heart started pounding. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to prom with her - hell he’d do anything with her. If she asked him to jump off a bridge he’d follow with a smile and a helping hand. He could do a few hours at prom if it made her happy. 

“Oh,” he said softly, rubbing his hands together and thinking. “What would I…would I drive us?” he asked gently, thinking about asking his mom for the Sebring. 

“I mean, you could,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes anymore. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to go to prom just because I want to.” 

“No, I…if it’s you I want to go,” he nodded, trying to put as much conviction into his words as possible, anything to get her to believe him. 

“Okay, I can get the tickets for us tomorrow at lunch,” she said and Adrian smiled, assuming that would be the end of it till prom in a few weeks as she went back to her art project, strangely quiet the rest of the class.

Unfortunately, that was not the end of the prom conversation. 

His mother was constantly questioning him the moment he told her. Asking him what color she was wearing, what kind of corsage she wanted, where they were going for dinner before, if he wanted to rent them a limo, planning a time for them to go rent a tux. 

It was endless and it was grinding Adrian’s gears because on the other side of things she seemed too nervous to talk to Adrian about prom. 

“Do we match?” he asked a week before prom at her locker, she had looked at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” she asked as she opened her locker, Adrian noted her shaking hands, but tried to not call attention to it.

“I mean, sorry. Should we match for prom? Like should my tie match your dress?” he asked, shutting his eyes tightly. He hated trying to navigate new social situations, especially when he felt like he couldn’t ask her for help.

“Do you want to match?” she asked softly, and Adrian heard her put her books in her locker. 

“I don’t know! Are we supposed to?” he asked, voice pitched up. 

“Are we supposed to match?” she repeated back, and Adrian threw his hands in his hair, letting out a loud harsh laugh, clearly panicking. 

“Are we supposed to match to prom? Does my tie need to match your dress? What color corsage do you want? Are you getting me a boutonniere or do I need to get that when I get the corsage so we match or does that not matter? Jesus, are we getting dinner too? Do you want a limo or-”

“Adrian!” she said harshly, pulling his hands away from his hair, he was vaguely aware that he was pulling his hair roughly. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the girls bathroom. He tried to stop her, but he was crying and panicking too hard to do anything to stop her. “Jesus, take a deep breath!” she said as she pushed him into the handicap stall, locking the door behind them. He slid down the wall to the floor, hyperventilating. 

“I can’t breathe,” he wheezed out, hand on his chest as she fell to her knees next to him. Adrian could barely focus on anything outside of her own panicked expression as she grabbed his hands. 

“Hey, you’re okay. You need to breathe, okay?” she said softly, and he whimpered. 

“I can’t, I can’t do it! It’s too much,” he cried out, trying to stand back up, needing to get away from her. She didn’t let him, simply pushing him back into place and pulling one of his hands to rest over her heart. 

“Try to match my breathing, Ade,” she said, and Adrian watched as she took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. She repeated a few times before Adrian started to mirror her, letting out sharp gasps occasionally when the crying became too much. “Adrian, honey, you are okay. Please breathe.” 

“I’m trying,” he answered, wanting to stop so at the very least she wouldn’t panic anymore. He was somewhat aware that the bathroom had cleared out due to the morning bell going off, but she made no move to bring them out of the bathroom. 

He wasn’t sure if it was five minutes later or an hour when he finally felt like he could breathe again. He was still crying, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out anymore. 

“Adrian, I’m going to ask some yes or no questions, okay? All I need you to do is nod or shake your head, alright?” she asked softly, and he nodded. 

“Do you still want to go to prom?” she asked, he took a beat, but nodded. She nodded back. 

“Would you like to match? We don’t need to at all and it won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to,” she said gently, and Adrian looked at her face, there were no hints on her expression on which way she’d prefer. 

“What would you-” he started to croak out.

“No! Sorry, I mean, no Ade. I’m asking, would you like to match?” He paused and thought about it for a second. He knew Gut matched both girls he took to prom his junior and senior year, so he knew that was probably what they should do. 

He nodded and she smiled. 

“Okay, good. Do you want to pick a color now?” she asked and he nodded. 

“Teal?” he whispered, and she laughed. 

“Should’ve guessed that, okay yeah I can work with that. Do you want a boutonniere?” He shook his head and she smiled. “Okay then don’t get me a corsage okay?” 

He nodded.

“Do you want to go out for dinner?” she asked, reaching behind her for some toilet paper, carefully cleaning the tears off his face. 

“We can,” he whispered and she nodded in agreement. 

“Do you have any other pressing questions before prom?” He started to open his mouth, “about prom, Ade.” She clarified and he closed his mouth, causing them both to smile. 

“Prom is going to be fun, okay? And we don’t have to do it like anyone else, there’s no pressure to follow what anyone else is doing, especially not your brother, Ade. We’re going to have fun, we’ll take some pictures, eat dinner, dance to a few songs. It’ll just be us and whatever we want to make of it, okay?” 

“Okay,” he whispered. Clearly satisfied that he had calmed down enough she stood up, holding out her hand for him to grab. Before letting go of his hand she pulled him into a hug. 

“It’ll be a fun night, okay? No more stressing, and we don’t even have to stay the whole night,” she murmured in his ear as he swayed them a little, holding her tight. 

“Okay,” he whispered, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Prom ended up being a blur of fun, one that when his mom asked him how it went when he stumbled in at midnight all he could do was smile and say it was amazing, the best night of his life. 

The whole night Adrian was very well aware of how beautiful she looked, even in his shitty car, and even though her heels made her much taller to him when they walked in. He didn’t care about all the people looking at him, clearly surprised that he had come to prom, because he had her hanging off his arm, his closest friend, his person, just…her. 

By the look in her eyes, he had to assume she felt the same.

He loved every part of the night, from the dinner to her controlling the music in the car to the venue. For once in his life he wasn’t aware of the looks or the anxiety that bubbled underneath the surface of his skin. He loved talking to her all night, running his hand over the fabric of her dress and her doing the same with his matching teal tie. He loved jumping up and down and dancing poorly with her, making her laugh so hard and him beaming as if he had just won the lottery.

That night, it truly felt like he did.

Adrian is not a religious person, but if he was he would thank God daily, hell even hourly, for her and her friendship, her love. 

It was the summer after graduation, and Adrian had been dreading going over to her house. He knew this was coming and had been coming for too long, he just was still in denial.

Denial that she was going to college five hours away and he was staying in Evergreen with no future plans. 

He assumed if he just hid all summer, pretending that nothing was going to change come August it would end up being true. But as he pulled into her driveway and let himself into the house to go to her room he was immediately met with the stark reality that that was truly not the case. 

Spread throughout the room were boxes and her suitcase filled with various items, clearly preparing for her big move. 

“Oh,” he immediately said, hands falling to his side as he looked around. She smiled at him as she ran up to him pulling him into a hug. 

“Adrian!” she said happily, swaying him slightly. He shivered as her fingers wrapped around his curls, his own hands loosely around her waist. “I’ve missed you! You didn’t come over last weekend!” 

“Yeah, sorry I was helping my mom with some stuff,” he answered softly, and she tsked him. He fought a smile as he noticed a framed picture of them at prom on top of one of the boxes. 

“Yeah that’s why when I called your mom said you were at the gym,” she said, pulling back to inspect him. “Why are you working out again?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just something to do for now,” he lied, still not sure how to tell her about his idea to become Vigilante.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t sure if she’d support him, but more that he didn’t want to cause her to worry too much about him yet. Besides, he knew from experience that he was going to have to ask her for help to design his suit and keep it in tip top shape.

“That’s fair,” she said gently, biting her lip. “I wish you had applied with me to college still though.” 

“I know, but it’s okay because in four years you’ll be back in Evergreen, right?” he asked, and she released him fully, walking back over to the bed where she had been packing. 

“I mean maybe, it depends on if I get a job here or somewhere else, Ade,” she said simply, and Adrian frowned as he walked over to sit on her desk, his usual spot. 

“No…you’ll get a job here,” he repeated like it was the most obvious thing on the planet. Her hands froze over the blanket she had been folding and she turned gently towards him. Her expression was almost unsure, like she was afraid of hurting him. 

“Adrian, are you wanting to stay in Evergreen forever?” she asked, walking over to him, hands gently grabbing his. The two had always had casual touches between them but ever since prom there had been an extra charge he felt between them. He found himself wondering late at night if he was alone in thinking about those touches.

“I mean, not forever, but I like it here. I don’t want to leave,” he said carefully and she nodded. 

“I might not want to live here forever, but wherever I end up, you will always have a place there, okay? And I’ll come back to Evergreen too, okay?” she said looking him in the eyes, Adrian smiled at her conviction. 

“When’s your first break?” he joked, not willing to acknowledge the possibility of them not living fifteen minutes apart anymore, and she laughed, one of her hands coming to slap his chest. 

“Thanksgiving, but you better drive up with us and help me unpack. I don’t think this will all fit in my mom’s van. We’re going to need the Sebring.”

“Can I spend the night?” 

“Adrian, I don’t even know my roommate yet,” she said, rolling her eyes, and Adrian chuckled leaning forward so his forehead was resting on her shoulder. He had finally managed to catch up to her in height, but most days he still preferred to be seen as smaller than her, finding comfort in her warmth. 

“Maybe? If she’s cool with it?” he tried. 

“Jesus, okay, maybe. We’ll see after we move everything in,” she relented. 

Even if the idea of her leaving Evergreen stung, he knew at the very least she’d always have a place for him and he would always make sure she had a safe place in Evergreen to come back to. 

Her being away at college wasn’t as hard as Adrian anticipated, post her freshman year the two had developed a very solid rhythm for chats and hangouts. If she couldn’t make it up for a long weekend Adrian would simply come down, doing the five hour drive solo with a smile on his face.

It was the leaving that was the most challenging for Adrian. 

But on weekends that it simply didn’t work out that either could go see the other, they would talk on the phone. Which was great because he learned very quickly she didn’t mind him calling her almost constantly on the phone. 

He would ramble about his day, his plans, ask her about school, her new friends. He kept on his radar who she was friends with and how they were treating her. 

Adrian wasn’t the biggest fan of her having new friends, but he kept it to himself and attempted to keep himself in check. It was a struggle, but he understood that if he didn’t come with her to college then he had to accept that some part of her would need in person connection. There was only so much he could do on the phone and on short trips to her.

The two would frequently sit in silence on the phone while she studied and Adrian tinkered or looked at weapons online, sometimes even playing video games. Occasionally one of them would speak up to share something that had happened during the day, but for the most part it felt like their usual after school hangouts, minus the actual school part. Which was always Adrian’s least favorite part, so this was significantly better.  

“Oh hey, I told you about Ethan, right?” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. His own smile played on his lips, as he assumed she was about to tell him some embarrassing story about a classmate. He was hoping for something with blood or at the very least public embarrassment.

“The guy that you keep running into at the dining court?” he asked, the phone smushed between his cheek and his shoulder as he played video games. His eyes focused hard on his screen.

“Yes! Okay, so last time I saw him, he asked me on a date and we went out last night and it went really well, Ade! Like really well,” she said with a light giggle, one Adrian didn’t understand but still caused a sharp twist in his stomach. “We got dinner and walked around and talked almost all night. We’re going out again in a couple of days!” she said with a wishful sigh and Adrian’s fingers stilled, dropping the controller harshly. His eyes blurred as his character on the screen died.

“Is he your boyfriend then?” Adrian blurted out, feeling hot anger flash in his voice. He could feel tears starting to well. 

“I, well maybe? He hasn’t asked me yet but I’m hoping he does,” she said, clearly confused by Adrian’s reaction. 

“Well that’s great, I hope you guys have a great wedding and have tons of fun,” he said, hanging up the phone as tears poured down his cheeks.  

He was confused by his own feelings, even more confused by how when her name popped back up on his phone he was filled with instant dread. 

He was spiraling, he knew he was spiraling, as his brain immediately jumped to a future that she had that was completely without him. It would be so easy for her to be done with him, maybe he was just a placeholder this whole time for her. He knew she’d make more friends in college and as painful as it was he knew there would be stuff in her life without him, but this felt different. 

This felt wrong. 

He didn’t answer his phone. He let it ring and ring till she gave up. It made him feel sick, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. 

He was unsure if any of this would ever feel the same again. 

It was less than a year later. She and Ethan had officially gotten together shortly after that call, and Adrian had pulled back as much as his heart could handle. 

He would wake up and tell himself that today was the day he would go all day without thinking about her, without calling her, without texting her. He never ever lasted the full day. 

She did most of the calling, and Adrian for the most part always answered, especially when it was late at night and he knew she was walking home. He responded gently on the phone and didn't ask any prying questions. Not because he didn’t care anymore, but because he wasn’t sure his heart could handle it. 

He missed her daily, she was always on his mind, but he wasn’t sure where he lived in her world anymore. 

“Hey, do you wanna come up next weekend?” she asked and Adrian frowned, looking down at his sketchbook. He was just starting to workshop ideas for his hero name and suit. He desperately wanted to get her opinion on it but was scared that she would tell stupid Ethan. 

“I don’t know, I'm kind of busy with work and some stuff,” he said, shrugging even though she couldn’t see him. He heard her sigh on the other end and his heart ached. 

“Maybe I can come visit next weekend?” she asked, sounding hopeful. 

“Don’t you have finals or something?” 

“Adrian, it’s February.”

“I don’t know how college fucking works!” he said honestly, and she laughed lightly. Adrian’s heart pounded in his chest at the sound, missing the way she always made him happier. 

“Okay, it’s settled. I’m coming over next Friday. I want to see what you’ve been working on!” she said, and Adrian smiled. He could finally show her the beginnings of his Vigilante basement and get her help on his suit.

It was something he wanted, so for the first time since she had started dating Ethan he gave in.

“Okay.” 

The following week Adrian heard the doorbell from where he was working in the basement. His test suit was ready for her to look at.

He knew it needed improvements, his sewing was atrocious and some of his choices were probably more cool than practical, but it was a start. He just hoped she wouldn’t freak out or try to stop him from becoming Vigilante. 

“He’s downstairs, honey. He never lets me in the basement anymore but the door should be unlocked! Oh my it’s so good to see you, how’s college? Are you still doing okay?” Adrian listened to his mom talk to her as they walked down the stairs, he frowned as his mom didn’t even let her get a word in as per usual. He rolled his eyes as he went to the door, opening it just enough to stick his head out. 

“Okay, mom. I got it from here, goodbye! Thank you!” he said, and she laughed, turning towards his mom. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Chase. I’ll stop by before I go back to catch up some more I promise.” 

“Ugh, no you won’t because we’re going to hang out all weekend,” Adrian said, a smile tugging on his lips as she rolled her eyes, but his mom finally started to make her way back upstairs. “Hey, uhh before I let you in…can you promise not to freak out?” Adrian watched her as her eyebrows narrowed.

“What did you do?” she asked, immediately suspicious of him and he frowned. 

“I didn’t do anything, well I mean. I did but it’s not bad, but I just wanted to talk to you about it in person, but I don’t want you to immediately panic,” he said honestly. He saw something strange flash in her eyes. Something different, it was almost like concern, but closer to fear. What did she have to be afraid of around him?

“You’re freaking me out, Ade,” she whispered, he watched her shuffle slightly, trying to see over him into the basement. “What are you hiding?”

It was now or never. 

He moved out of the way, holding the door open for her, revealing a handful of weapons and his prototype Vigilante suit. Before she could even ask him any questions, he immediately launched into his speech he had been mentally preparing since he decided to tell her. 

“Do you remember how like, when we were kids I’d get hurt, and it would heal really quick or I’d faint and then I’d be fine after like 10 minutes? Well, I think I’m like a superhero - nothing insane like Superman, I’m not like an alien! But I think I can use my healing for good, like I’ve been going to the gym and working out and training and I think I can help make Evergreen a safer place, by becoming the Vigilante and stopping criminals. I mean you know the cops here, they’re fucking corrupt, it’s ridiculous and maybe I can help fix that,” he rambled, watching her as she moved closer to the chest plate, her fingers moving gently across the teal spray painted v shape. 

“Teal?” she said, a smile playing on her lips, and Adrian released a sharp breath, happy she was at the very least not panicking right now. 

“Yeah, it’s the best color,” he answered like it was obvious, face burning at her clear recognition of the teal matching their prom colors. He moved so he could inspect her face closer. “You’re not panicking,” he observed. 

“It’s just not what I was expecting, but your brother is friends with Chris Smith, and isn’t he the Peacemaker or some shit? This isn’t a complete surprise, I guess.” 

“Wait, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing it was just something Ethan had said that was bothering me I guess,” she said cryptically, but before Adrian could even ask what that meant she kept going, “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately?” she asked softly, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Adrian immediately took the chance to write off his behavior as part of being nervous about becoming a hero - even if that wasn’t fully true. 

“Yeah, I just…didn’t want it to change how you see me,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers as she seemed to melt with those words. A small sound came from her mouth before she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“You’ve always been my hero, Ade. You know that and if you think this is something you need to do, then of course I’ll support you always. I just want you to be safe and keep me updated, okay?” His heart was beating hard and fast, he almost felt faint at her words. He knew he wanted to be a hero for Evergreen, but actually hearing he was her hero this entire time, it did something to him. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his features, he was her hero. Her hero and not because he was running around in a costume fighting criminals, but because he protected her. 

“Yeah, of course.” He said, tightly holding her back. “I was wondering while you were here if you could help me with some sewing on the suit? I want to make it so I can pop the chest piece off quickly but I haven’t been able to figure it out.” 

She pulled back, Adrian immediately missed her warmth but let her inspect his suit closer as she hummed. Adrian felt his heart pounding as he watched her touch the suit with such reverence, it made him wish he was wearing it instead of laying it out for her to look at. 

“I’ve got a few ideas we can try this weekend,” she said as she nodded, a smile pulling at her lips. “On one condition.” 

“Anything.” 

“After every patrol, I want a text or a voicemail that you’re okay. Even if all you can manage is five seconds, okay?”

“Deal.” 

It had been a few months since they had spent the whole weekend workshopping his Vigilante costume. He was so thankful she had helped him because of her use of velcro so he could pull it off with ease was unmatched, especially when he was injured or just plain exhausted. He had watched Chris fight too often with his too tight suit to want anything to do with that. He needed comfort and protection and like always she helped make it happen. 

He had also made sure to keep good on his promise. Sending texts and leaving late night voicemails so she knew he was okay. Between working and being Vigilante and her class schedule and Ethan it did mean that the two were talking considerably less than normal.

However, Adrian hadn’t heard from her in two weeks. He knew his schedule with being Vigilante meant he slept a lot during the day, but even then, she still tended to call between classes or send something so he knew that she had seen his message.

He had sent at least fifty unanswered texts and it was beginning to worry Adrian. He debated driving up to see her, just to put eyes on her to make sure she was okay. 

He had never done that before and before Ethan he would have never doubted that idea. She was always happy to see him, but now he wasn’t so sure what his place was.

Adrian would be fine if she was ignoring him in favor of something with school or if he had done something, he would not be fine if something had happened to her.

It was with that fear that after a long patrol on a Friday night that Adrian bought a couple of redbulls and some of her favorite snacks as an apology for just showing up out of the blue. He spent most of the car ride going back and forth from being excited and being petrified that he was doing the wrong thing. 

The last thing he wanted was to upset her worse, especially if she was already mad at him. 

It was always a possibility that Adrian had made her upset in some way, said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing, or simply missed a social cue. Normally though she would take a breath or if it was really bad a few days before talking to him. 

But now standing outside her apartment door, arms full of snacks he wasn’t so sure, but before he could lose his nerve he knocked. 

He heard shuffling behind the door but it wasn’t her, it was her roommate, Kate.

“Oh, hey Adrian,” she said, letting him in. Adrian awkwardly shuffled in, never knowing how to talk with the other girl. 

“Is she here?” he asked quietly. 

“Oh, she didn’t like, call you over?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Adrian felt his heart pounding, not knowing how to handle this social situation.  

“Uh, no. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks so I brought some treats and just wanted to put eyes on her,” he said softly and the girl nodded, clicking her tongue as she led Adrian through the apartment. 

“Probably a solid move, considering the state she’s in,” she whispered as they got closer to the door. 

“What do you mean?” he whispered back, eyes flickering to her door. 

“Ethan cheated on her,” she said as she knocked on her door. Adrian felt his entire body flood with anger. How the fuck could anyone, especially some lame guy named Ethan, do that to her? She was amazing, beautiful, kind, and just perfect and that asshole fucking hurt her. 

He wanted to kill him. 

He could, he totally could. He had his suit and his weapons in his car. He could turn around right now, sure all he knew was his name but he could figure it out. 

“Honey, Adrian is here and he came bearing gifts, come open the door.” Kate’s soft voice interrupted his murderous thoughts as he heard a soft groan come from her on the other side of the door. 

Murder can wait, first he needed to make sure his friend was okay. 

She opened the door and Adrian didn’t want to be rude but he had never ever seen her in such a state. Her eyes were bloodshot, hair was a wreck, and her skin was a mess. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there looking at her, but it was long enough for Kate to leave the two of them and long enough for her to fall into him, immediately sobbing. The bags of treats awkwardly between them.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he murmured, slowly guiding them into her dark room. She didn’t go far from him acting as if she was glued to his side, just how he did when they were younger. Adrian tried to calm his mind as he took in the complete disarray of the room, the half eaten food on her desk, the growing amount of laundry, and the drawn blinds. It was too much, he should’ve come up sooner. 

His heart ached in his chest - how long had she been sitting like this wallowing in this pain while he simply thought of himself and only himself? 

“Hey, give me one second to set this down okay?” Adrian murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head while she nodded and drew herself back, still hovering close to him, as if he’d suddenly leave her if she let him out of her sight. He moved slowly, carefully. He sat the snacks down and moved to hold her in his arms, she immediately held him tightly back. 

“God, you look terrible,” he whispered looking at her face. It was then she finally cracked a mix between a sob and laugh bubbled out as Adrian immediately panicked. “Shit, I mean, fuck okay I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t look terrible, you never look terrible I just meant, I’m worried about you, you don’t seem like yourself. I mean your room looks like my room which cannot be a good thing because you’re supposed to be the one doing better!” 

“I don’t feel like myself,” she said softly, voice cracking slightly as she untangled herself from Adrian. He fought the urge to keep her close as if that would make all her problems disappear as she walked over to her bed and moved under the covers.

“What do I…how can I help you?” he asked, moving to sit on the edge of her bed, his hand coming to sit on her covered leg. Adrian fought his own panic as she sighed, deep and heavy. 

“I don’t know,” she answered and Adrian felt his own panic begin to rise. Truly not knowing what to do to make her feel better. He turned around towards the snacks he brought. 

“I have your favorite drinks, but they’re warm now. But I also have some candy, your favorite chips too. I can also go out and pick you up some real food or even ice cream if you wanted. Ice cream is what they always have after a break up in the movies, right?” he rambled, pulling everything out and lining them up on her desk as something he could at least control in some capacity. 

“Can you…can you hold me, Ade?” she asked as a harsh sob came over her, and Adrian’s hands stilled as he moved the food. It took him a moment, but once he snapped out of it he moved quickly, getting under the covers and pulling her close. She was pliable against him, instantly molding into him as she cried. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeated like it was a mantra, like if he said it enough she would start to believe him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she cried, rubbing snot on his shirt as one of his hands rubbed circles on her back and the other weaved into her hair. 

“No, you’re okay, I don't even like this shirt. It’s kind of one of the worst ones I own to be honest, so no harm no foul at all,” he said, trying to put her at ease and she laughed, but it still sounded wrong to Adrian. It wasn’t bright and playful, it was heavy and unearned and it hurt him to hear. 

“No, that I…I should’ve texted you back or told you what happened but I was just so fucking embarrassed,” she whispered harshly. 

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about!” 

“He cheated on me for four months, Adrian and I was too fucking stupid and blind to see it.”

“You guys were only together for like five months,” Adrian said before he could stop himself, and she sobbed harder, pushing herself even closer to him as he grimaced at his inability to fucking read a room. “I could kill him, if it helps,” he murmured, pushing his nose into the top of her head, breathing her in. Even at her worst he had missed her so much. 

“What?” she croaked, looking up at him. Adrian took in her puffy face and red eyes.  

“You know a little Vigilante justice, he hurt you and you’re like the most amazing person on the planet. I’ve killed criminals for way less back in Evergreen,” he said softly, smiling as he imagined the man who had hurt her screaming in pain, begging for forgiveness he would never get from Vigilante. “I could just…make it so he never hurt you again.” 

“You’d do that for me?” she asked honestly, and Adrian blinked owlishly. 

“I’d do anything you asked of me,” he said like it was obvious, and for the first time the whole night a genuine smile played on her lips. 

“I don’t want you to kill him, but if you want to…scare him a little I think I’d be okay with that,” she whispered, snuggling close to him.

“That can be arranged." He was already thinking of various ways he could make Ethan’s life hell. 

Adrian wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that there were no more college boyfriends to deal with post Ethan. 

He did know that it was a good thing that post college she had moved back to Evergreen, getting an apartment in the city and a local job. Meaning that whenever Adrian had a free moment he was at her apartment. 

Honestly, with or without her. 

He always tried to make sure her fridge was stocked with her favorites, if he knew of a bad day or something was coming up that she was dreading he would do his best to alleviate as much of the stress as he could. 

She never seemed to mind him in her space. Adrian frequently ended up crashing on her couch, sometimes on the floor in her bedroom if the two wanted to have a good old-fashioned sleepover. 

It was the highlight of his week. Before she had moved back, a lot of his days blended together since he was almost always either working at the restaurant, patrolling, or sleeping. She helped break up the boringness of every day.

He tried not to ask too much, she only had a one bedroom apartment so Adrian was careful to not suggest being roommates as much as he’d love that. He wasn’t sure how thrilled she’d be at his suggestion of him crashing on her couch every week and moving more of his stuff over. 

“Oh hey, I got something for you,” she said the moment he walked in. Adrian smiled as he watched her get off the couch with a stretch, her shirt riding up slightly as she walked back towards her bedroom. “Stay there, it’ll just take a second!” 

Adrian locked the door behind him and walked deeper into her living room as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Ecstatic at the idea of a gift, he was torn between hoping it was the new Pokémon game and a real surprise. 

He was surprised when she came out holding a huge duffel bag. She walked over to him smiling, handing him the bag - it was heavier than he expected. 

“Oh, thank you? I have a duffel bag though, but I mean more than one is always a good thing!” he said and she laughed, placing one of her hands on his shoulder. 

“Adrian, it’s a first aid kit,” she said with a smile and he frowned. 

“I have a first aid kit in my Vigilante room, I do keep it pretty well stocked, but I’m sure I’ll need to replace stuff at some point.” 

“Oh, I mean you can take it home if you want, but I figured we could keep this one here. That way if you ever get hurt on patrol you can come here and I can help you,” she said, looking away from Adrian almost looking shy and Adrian bit back a smile. 

“You wanna stitch me up?” he said smiling, his tone light and teasing. 

“Want to is strong, I want to make sure you’re okay. I don’t like that you’ve been sleeping in your car when you get hurt,” she said and Adrian frowned. 

“Yeah but I heal after a quick nap?” 

“Just because you do, doesn’t mean I have to like that that’s what you’re doing, Ade. I like having eyes on you, making sure you’re actually okay. You tend to let things build till they're unbearably bad.” 

“Agree to disagree,” he said with a shrug and she got a hard look on her face. One he recognized well, so he pouted.

“Adrian,” she said sternly and he groaned. 

“Okay fine! But if I start coming here after getting hurt you can’t freak out because it’ll freak me out!” 

“Jesus, Ade. Fine, deal. But if it’s really bad, I get to freak out a moderate amount.” He smiled gently at her insistence. 

“Okay, you get a 20% freak out,” he decided, and she laughed, hard, leaning against him so he wrapped her arms around her. It was a sweet gift, something he should’ve expected from her but he was still surprised. 

He couldn’t help himself, having her this close was intoxicating, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. It was soft and not quite new, but carried words neither of them had said yet. 

She squeezed him tighter. 

It was a few months later, and Adrian had started coming over when he was slightly injured. He made sure if it was really bad, despite his promise, to stay away. Not willing to make her cry or hurt her by seeing him bleed.

But she was much better than him at stitching him up. 

However, today he had called her over to his moms house, wanting to show her some new weapons he had gotten his hands on. 

Shortly after he had showed her his new katana they had cuddled up on the couch in his Vigilante basement, not an uncommon place for the two to be. He had just finished completely regaling the whole butterfly saga to her with wide eyes as she laid on top of him. Her hands drawing shapes and patterns on his chest. 

“That sounds so fucked up, Ade. I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly, her eyes looking up at him from where her head laid on his chest. “I wish Chris had called me when you were in the hospital.”

“Nah, I was only in there for like four hours before I left. Chris didn’t even come visit me! That’s how unserious it was,” he said, as if that made everything okay. Her hand stilled on his chest, holding flat on his chest. He wasn’t sure but it felt like she was feeling his heart beat. His hand played with her hair. 

“Some best friend,” she muttered and Adrian stilled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying you always say Chris is your best friend, but some best friend to not even visit you in the hospital,” she said tensely, and Adrian’s brows furrowed, not understanding where this was even coming from. 

“Yeah, but I was fine. I’m sure if I was worse he’d visit me,” he said gently. 

“If he didn’t visit you, how’d he’d even know you’d be okay?” she asked, her voice still angry as she pulled herself off Adrian. 

“Wait what’s happening?” he asked, following her up but she wouldn’t look at him. 

“Nothing’s happening, just going to leave you to hang out with your best friend. I’m sure he’s so worried about you right now,” she said, and Adrian wasn’t the best at social cues, but he could tell that was sarcasm. 

“Wait, are you upset that Chris is my best friend?” Adrian asked, head tilting as he watched her gather her stuff. He stood there, hands drumming anxiously against his leg. He missed her warmth, he wanted her to come back and lay with him, but he didn’t know what to do to get her there. 

“I’m not upset,” she said, voice tight and even Adrian knows that she’s lying. He bit his lip, struggling to navigate through this. 

“Then why are you leaving?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to catch up to what was happening. She sighed and Adrian watched as she forced her body to relax. 

“I just don't understand how we’re not best friends. Adrian you’re my best friend and it just hurts that after literally two decades you still won’t call me your best friend, okay?” she said, and Adrian moved towards her, but she had already backed away. Leaving Adrian alone in his basement.  

The next time she had crossed his mind in a new way she wasn’t even around. Well at least not technically. 

Finding himself in an alternative universe was one of the coolest experiences in Adrian’s life. Getting to ask himself questions about himself was even better. It was trippy how much he had in common with his alternate self, but in a way it made sense. This universe didn’t seem much different from theirs so far and Chris had said that this place was so much better than their dimension. 

“And is she still one of your friends?” Adrian asked, pulling out a picture of the two of them from the back of his phone case, the polaroid had been there since she had given it to him on a whim when he had helped her move back into Evergreen. Unpacking the boxes the two had found her old polaroid camera, she had them take two pictures together. One for her, one for Adrian. 

It had made Adrian’s heart clench when he imagined her with their picture on the back of her phone. 

“Dude, more like she’s my best friend! Of course she is!”

“Really?” Adrian asked, getting excited. He wondered if he had enough time to meet her alternative universe self. Would she talk the same? Have the same opinions? He wondered if the two met in school the exact same way and if-

“Dude, that's my wife! Of course she’s my best friend, she’s my person. Your person too, right? Did you guys have pizza at your wedding too? We did rootbeer for our toast since we weren’t 21 yet, but-” His alternative self started rambling and Adrian felt like he was about to pass out. 

“You guys got married at 20?” Adrian asked, bewildered. Did this version of her not go to college? Did he ask that of her? How could she be happy with that choice? 

“Yeah, it was the only way we could get housing together our freshman year and we both knew we were going to get married anyway. Why? Did you guys not do that?” 

Adrian felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest or he was going to faint in this suddenly too warm and familiar basement. He couldn’t believe it - his alternative self went to college, not only that but went to college with her. They got married, they had a wedding, they ate pizza and toasted with rootbeer. It was probably the best night of his life and he didn’t even get to experience it. They probably had amazing mind blowing sex with each other and it’s something Adrian could only dream about in the shower. 

“Dude, we’re not even dating!” Adrian said and his alternative self started laughing, causing Adrian to pout. 

“That is such a good joke, man! She would get a kick out of that one, I can’t wait to tell her!” 

“I’m serious! We’ve never even kissed. We’re not dating, we’re not even best friends!” 

“Who the fuck is your best friend if it’s not her?” He asked, head tilting to the side. 

“Chris Smith! The Peacemaker!” 

From there the whole conversation got away from Adrian. He had so many questions that went unanswered and he knew it was more important to make sure Ads was safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder what was the difference between him and his alternate self that made her love him. 

Post their conversation about Chris being his best friend and him returning to the right dimension, she had successfully avoided him. Avoiding him hard core. 

Texts were unanswered, calls went without being picked up, and whenever Adrian stopped by her apartment she was never home. 

He really wasn’t sure how she was doing that last part, but it was making him a mess. 

Every buzz of his phone had him rushing to answer, hoping, praying that it was her. That she finally answered him, only for his heart to plummet when it wasn’t here. He wasn’t sleeping and was having a hard time remembering to eat. He's lucky his friends have been taking pity on him and have been doing like 80% of his job for him. Killing criminals is starting to be the only thing that makes him feel semi-normal. 

He needed to talk to her. He needed to clear the air and tell her the truth, but he didn’t know how to do that if she wouldn’t let him and it was killing him. 

So he did something shitty. 

He figured that if she came back home and his Sebring wasn’t in the parking lot of her apartment she’d assume she was in the clear.

So Adrian had Ads drop him off after work and he waited in her living room. He was at least comforted by the fact that even though she was avoiding him like the plague, the pictures of the two of them and trinkets from various hangouts were still spread throughout the apartment. 

“You’re not my best friend, you’re like my person,” he said abruptly the moment her front door opened. She looked at him with a confused expression so he continued, "It’s a completely different roster, a list of one. It’s always been that way but I was too scared or too stupid to notice, but I swear to you you’re the most important person in my life, you’re the most important anything in my life. If you asked me to quit being Vigilante, I would do it in a heartbeat not because I want to stop but because you asked me and that makes it important.” He rambled, barely noticing that she was moving slowly towards him, a smile itching at the corner of her lips at his confession. 

“Really?” she said breathlessly, but Adrian kept rolling, needing her to understand this. To understand what he was trying to tell her without breaking their friendship. 

“You’ve been my person since we were in the first grade, I don’t look at anyone else the way I look at you. The way I think about you, the way I care for you, the way I want you in my life. Hell the way I need you in my life is completely different than anyone else.” 

“Adrian, but-”

“I love you,” he interrupted softly, his hands moving from her shoulder down to her hands, nervously playing with her fingers, suddenly too shy to make eye contact. “And I know we say that. We say I love you, but when I say it…I don’t mean it in the way that I love my other friends or the way I love being Vigilante or the way I love video games. I mean it in a way that you are just so much a part of me that I don’t think I could be the person in front of you today without you and your amazing influence.”  

“Adrian-”

“And I know this might ruin everything and I hate that, I hate that I have to risk everything because I don’t know what to do if you hear all this and just tell me we’re friends and that’s how it is,” he said. She moved one of her hands to his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn’t even know was there. “I just love you so much it fucking hurts sometimes, and yeah, Chris is my best friend, but you are just…so much more than that. Like calling you my best friend is disrespectful to how much you mean to me, ya know? I need you to know-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because her lips are on his. 

She was slow and careful, Adrian was clumsy and unsure. He had dreamed of this kiss with her more times than he could count but somehow this was better than anything he had ever imagined. 

Both her hands came to cup his checks, brushing tears away as he released a full body sob against her. She laughed, it was wet and unsure as she pressed more kisses against his mouth and face. As if she had been dreaming about this the same way he had. 

“You’re okay, don’t cry,” she murmured against him and for some reason those words just released something in him, cracking at walls he had been convinced would be up for forever. 

She pulled Adrian slowly back toward the couch and he collapsed down, the shitty futon groaning under his sudden weight as she joined him slowly. 

“I love you too, Adrian. I’ve loved you for a very long time. I just figured…” she trailed off and Adrian looked at her as he sobbed. All the emotions of the confession catching up to him, even with her positive reaction it still was a lot for Adrian. 

“Figured what?” he cried, and she smiled at him. It was weak and watery as if she was about to start crying as her hands came up to his head, pulling him against her shoulder. He took a deep breath, happy to have her close again.

“I don’t know, that you’d never return my feelings. That we’d always just be friends and I’d have to accept that the only way to have you in my life was as a friend - as my best friend.”

“Well you’re my person,” he murmured against her collarbone and she chuckled, her hands playing with his curls. 

“You’re my person too, Ade. Ever since you mansplained stacking rocks to me,” she joked and Adrian pulled away, face confused and upset. 

“I was not mansplaining! I was helping you understand, come on you know I’m a feminist!” he said and she laughed before pulling him for another kiss. This one was more confident and it made Adrian smile against her lips. 

“What does this mean for us, Ade?” she asked carefully, inches away from his mouth, he leaned in for another gentle kiss. His heart was pounding at the fact he could just do that now, kiss her. 

It felt like something had been missing this whole time and the two had just discovered it. His whole body was on fire. 

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend? I wanna be your boyfriend,” he answered honestly, and she smiled as he laid his forehead against her. “Hell, I wanna be your husband, but we probably should go on at least one proper date first.” 

“I love how simple you make everything,” she murmured, hand brushing a curl behind his ear as he tilted to follow her hand. “Yes Adrian, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

He watched her smile as if she was debating saying something else, her eyes flickered to his hands. “And your wife, one day, but let’s do that first date first.” 

“Awesome sauce,” he whispered, unable to say anything else out of fear of combusting and she laughed, a full body laugh that made him laugh too. 

All that time, all those memories, all the questioning where he fit in was all worth it if it meant she got her. 

His classmate, his friend, his person, his soulmate.

Just her.

___

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"Welcome to Evergreen Zoo! I'll be your tour guide today and we're going on a special round trip in the buggy. Established in 1934..." You began your regular spiel, checking your mic volume was okay and started up the zoo tour buggy.

The school holiday season was over so during the week was pretty quiet, only a couple of retirees on a sight seeing holiday and your regular Tuesday attendee were seated.

Your regular was a man by the name of Adrian Chase and today he was wearing his classic attire of a heather grey sweatshirt under a teal jacket and washed jeans. A sparkling white pair of new balances finished off the endearing ensemble.

Adrian always joined your tour on Tuesday mornings, his day off work, despite your tour usually going through the same beats if any newcomers were onboard.

Halfway through your tour the old timers were ready to get off and stretch their legs by the cafe. Meanwhile Adrian stayed, seated at the back row and nodded for you to keep going.

"Hey Adrian, I really appreciate you going on my tours but don't you find it kind of boring? My tour doesn't change too much and you must've heard that stuff like a thousand times by now..." You asked him bashfully.

"Huh? Boring, no way you could never be, I love you- your tours!" Adrian caught himself at the very last moment.

He loved going along every week to the zoo to see the animals of course, but most of all he had become smitten with you.

Infatuated even.

It didn't matter how many questions he asked, you patiently answered them and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to him.

The way you spoke lovingly about all the animals and explained the exhibits, gave out so many interesting animal facts with a bright smile made Adrian's heart nearly explode with how full it got.

But he didn't want to seem creepy or bother you while working and if there were other passengers aboard, he sat at the back patiently.

Careful not to cross any line or boundary with you and evoke the reaction of you're annoying Adrian! That he always seemed to elicit.

"Aw thank you! How about you come sit up front? I doubt I'll get anyone else today." You suggested with a bright grin, waving him over.

Wow you wanted him to get closer? That pleasantly surprised him.

"Awesome, yeah that'd be rad!" Adrian sprang up and shuffled to the front row, sitting right beside you.

"You're like my favorite audio book I get to listen to!" He gave you a dopey grin and slid those large wire framed glasses back up his nose.

"Wow that's quite the compliment!" You found yourself blushing.

Adrian really was handsome, even more so up close. But he never indicated any interest in you outside of the tours or animals.

"Tapirs are related to pigs right?" He asked as you stopped by the little group of them.

"They're actually odd-toed ungulates, making their closest living relatives rhinos and horses." You corrected him gently.

"Cool!" Adrian enjoyed that you never made fun of him getting a fact wrong or made him feel silly for asking a question.

"What's a group of tapirs called?" You quizzed him back and Adrian adorably rubbed his chin thinking on the answer.

"A herd?" He guessed.

"I gave you a bit of a trick question there. It's a candle because they are generally solitary animals." You grinned as Adrian wrote that fact down in his phone for later.

"Ready to keep going?"

"Hell yeah, let's get this show on the road!"

You giggled at how eager he was, checking out all the enclosures with a sense of wonderment.

"You really love animals don't you Adrian?" You remarked fondly.

He could feel his heart thudding away faster when you slightly leant into his shoulder while taking a sharp corner. "Uh yeah I do!"

I also really love you. Adrian could feel the words at the tip of his tongue but kept them at bay. He didn't want to ruin this.

Having this time with you was so special to him and whenever he had confessed to the few crushes in the past it had always ended horrendously.

In high school when he asked out a girl in science class who was assigned his lab partner to prom she cried.

She was so upset that 'someone like him' thought of her that way and that really affected Adrian to this day.

Ugh I can't believe such a creep like you would even ask that?

How could you begin to think I'd ever say yes?

He wasn't allowed to put his creepy crush onto you like that. Surely you'd just run away and tell the teacher to switch classes and call your older brother to beat him up after gym class for daring to catch feelings for you.

"I think anyone who loves animals is a good person in my book. We have so much to learn from them don't you think?" Your kind voice broke through the dark thoughts plaguing him.

"Um yeah. We have tons to learn from them, I love learning new facts and stuff..." He gulped when you stopped at the lemur enclosure and smiled right up at him.

Wow you were so pretty...Adrian caught himself staring down at your lips instead of the lemurs.

Stop staring at me you freak!

Another woman spat when he went over to ask if she wanted to go for drinks at the Fennel Fields Christmas party a few years ago. Turns out she was pretending to be nice but making fun of him behind his back according to Taylor.

Adrian snapped his gaze straight ahead. No gazing at you, try to act normal!

"Lemurs have female dominant structures where they..." You continued on but Adrian found himself thinking he'd like that structure with you.

But you were an awesome zoo keeper and he was a lame bus boy! There was no chance here.

"Your job is so cool, all I do is clean tables and get yelled at." He lamented.

"What? Who could ever want to yell at you? You're so lovely!" You were shocked.

The tips of his ears went bright pink at your praise, "Me? You really think so?" Usually girls only told him he was annoying or strange.

Outside of Leota and Harcourt but they didn't really count, they were like his strict older sisters or aunties or something.

"Yeah you're super sweet."

Super sweet? Adrian must've misheard, but no you'd definitely said that in his direction. It gave him a sliver of hope but surely this was because you didn't really know him.

A myriad of horrible memories flooded back to him, shouting against his fluttering heart at your kind words.

Adrian is such a weirdo...did you see his dorky getup today? So cringe!

All he wants to talk about is pointless animal facts and lame television shows.

Who would ever want to date him?

Did you know he still lives with his mother, what a pathetic loser!

Yuck he's probably a serial killer like Norman Bates or something. Those glasses of his are terrible.

Adrian hadn't realised the rover had stopped until you gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, if you're still free did you want to come and feed the meerkats with me?"

You watched as his green eyes widened behind those cute glasses of his.

"Uh...fuck yes I do!" Adrian pumped the air in joy at your proposal.

"Great! Just follow my lead through the gates." You instructed him and Adrian nodded, careful to not trip up.

Getting out the feed bag, you both dove in for the insect meal to toss out for their lunchtime.

"There are dried scorpions in here?" Adrian wondered aloud and you grinned.

"Yep! Meerkats love eating scorpions, they are immune to the venom."

"Killer!"

Digging your hands back into the bag, they  brushed up against one another and Adrian's whole body seized, face flushing bright pink.

"Ah shit sorry, I seriously didn't mean to!" Adrian wrenched his hand right back and held them up as if he'd committed a crime.

Don't touch me weirdo!

A colleague had told him that recently when he tried to help her with a precarious stack of plates about to fall.

"It's okay, you're fine Adrian. It was just an accident, hey look at all the little babies! Meerkats have usually one to eight pups per litter, on average and this gal had a magic eight. She's an octomom!" You laughed so brilliantly, carefree and loud.

It made Adrian immediately forget his worries and join right in, marveling at the cute little meerkat babies trying to crawl about after their mom.

"Woah! She could have her own TLC show!" That silly joke of his made you laugh even louder and Adrian found himself staring back down at your lips.

Shaking his head clear of that ridiculous line of thought, Adrian focused back on the adorable meerkats.

"So cute! I want to put one in my pocket."

"I know right! The temptation is real." You agreed.

"Meerkats actually have a complex language with over 10 different calls, barking for threats, purring for contentment, and a vurruk-vurruk sound for hunting!" Unabashedly you mimicked all their sounds and Adrian tried them out too.

After the meerkats were all full and happy, you led Adrian out of the enclosure.

"Well feeding time here is over, I have to get to the other non-visitor access enclosures now sorry."

"Oh that's all good, thanks for letting me tag along!"

"Anytime Adrian it was fun, I'll see you next tour?" You waved and got back into the buggy.

"See you then!" Adrian waved you goodbye.

A whole week seemed like a really long time now to see your beautiful face or hear your kind voice talk to him about animal facts again. But he couldn't let himself get greedy or delusional.

There was no way you would be interested in him.

When Adrian caught up with the gang that night he was still trapped in a daze from getting to hang out with you.

"Dude what's going on with you?" Chris waved a hand in front of his face.

Adrian still didn't fully snap out of it, "Huh?"

"We were saying what did you get up to on your day off?" John asked.

"I went to the zoo."

"Damn, you really do always go on Tuesdays!" Adebayo giggled.

"Yeah that's when the best tour is on." Adrian explained, downing the rest of his beer.

"She's really knowledgeable about all of the animals. It's so cool and today she let me feed the meerkats with her!" His expression got animated the more he spoke excitedly all about you, cheeks going pink.

Adebayo and Harcourt raised conspiratorial eyebrows at one another.

"And does it also help that she is pretty?" Adebayo ventured a cheeky guess.

At that Adrian's hand slipped and he dropped his drink on the ground, glass and foamy beer splattering against laminate. "Fuck!"

"And no, I mean objectively she is like super mega pretty and attractive, but that has nothing to do with it!" He snapped defensively, going to try and clean it up.

John flagged down a staff member to help out with the mess so Adrian wouldn't cut his palms open and add to the puddle.

"Aww I think our Adrian has himself a little crush!" Harcourt teased.

"I fucking do not! I'd never let myself have a crush!" Adrian shouted, glowering at her.

"Let yourself? What does that mean?" John asked with a concerned frown.

Gripping at his curls anxiously, Adrian ground his teeth, not wanting to discuss the stupid  topic any further.

"Ugh just drop it!" He pleaded, but they wouldn't back down.

"Why do you not let yourself have a crush Adrian?" Harcourt pushed him on it.

"Because nobody would ever want me to think of them that way. So I don't bother anymore all right?!" Adrian wanted them to stop teasing him about this already.

It wasn't funny anymore. He knew it was stupid having a crush on you. But the feeling persisted and twisted him up inside.

"Adrian, that's not right. Come on, you deserve to find someone like anyone else." Adebayo tried to give him a comforting hug on the shoulder but he reeled away.

"I said leave it. Now I have to go take a shit, if you'll excuse me!" He yelled back, storming off to the bathroom.

"I'll go talk to him..." Chris sighed and quickly  followed after Adrian.

When Adrian slammed the stall door closed, he couldn't help but think of you.

Your smile was so gorgeous, wide and bright.

You laughed with your whole body, letting your head tip back.

Your hair was pretty in a ponytail underneath the khaki cap you wore.

You're super sweet!  When those words left your lips, he wanted to steal them into his, wrap his arms around your waist.

And never let go.

No, this had to stop! It was a ridiculous train of thought.

Kissing...he couldn't even get that right.

His one and only terrible kiss was years ago now.

I dare you to kiss Adrian!

Some girls in his high school class had whispered loudly to each other, pointing at him like he wasn't in the room.

Eww gross I'm not going to do that!

Yeah, make it something else!

Adrian didn't even really want the kiss from her but they all circled around him and he was scrawny. Plus he didn't want to hurt their feelings. His mother always said he had to be extra nice to girls.

I'll do it, but you owe me twenty bucks! 

Another girl pushed past, shoving him roughly against the blackboard.

Close your eyes loser! I'm doing you a favor.

He closed them tightly, trembling.

Tears dripped down Adrian's nose when his first kiss was taken with a scornful smacking of lips and then a ring of mocking laughter.

Ugh yuck, there I did it. Now pay up and give me my money bitches!

She sounded so disgusted by him, wiping her mouth like there was something wrong with his lips. Was he not a good kisser? Was he really that weird?

Is he seriously crying?

Another girl scoffed and they all turned around to glare at him.

What the hell?!

They called Adrian rude, and said he should feel grateful for being bestowed such an honor. But all he felt was lesser, different and ashamed.

Adrian avoided kissing anyone so he couldn't make whatever mistake he pulled, the Vigilante mask stayed on during sex bonding.

If he tried to kiss you, he'd surely mess it up somehow. Ugh, why was he even considering that like it was a possibility?

"Fuck." He felt a wetness brimming his eyelashes. Tears spilt down before Adrian could try and stop it.

"I'm sorry..." Adrian apologized to you with a hiccup. "I won't think about you that way anymore, I promise!"

A small knock at the door interrupted his muttering.

"What's wrong buddy? You can talk to me." Chris offered, but Adrian stayed put.

"Nothing. I'm just taking a massive dump over here, leave me alone." Adrian said, trying to hide his shaky voice by speaking in a strange low register.

"It sounds like you might be crying in there BFF." Chris said gently.

"Yeah that's because it's painful. I'm really constipated or something." Adrian lied, grabbing a handful of toilet paper to dab his stupid teary eyes away.

"Dang that sucks bro, want me to keep you company while you work through that killer shit?" Chris asked, leaning against the stall door.

It was obvious by the insane public restroom gap that he was standing up crying but Chris played along.

"Yeah okay, you can if you want." Adrian nodded, sniffling.

"You're allowed to have feelings for her. I get that it's scary and all..." He began after a little while.

"I don't!" Adrian argued. "And I can't...she would hate it if I loved her. Which I totally don't, so this conversation is pointless."

"How do you know that she would hate it?" Chris asked.

"Because, that's what the others all said. I'm not cool and suave with the ladies like you are P."

"Not true at all! Those chicks in the threeways always have a good time with you." Chris insisted.

"That's different. I do that stuff when I'm Vigilante, and it's bro friendship bonding."

"How's it so different to go ask out the cute tour guide at the zoo as Adrian?"

Adrian gave a deep shaky exhale before providing an answer.

"B-because dude when I'm Adrian Chase..." He said, voice choking up. "I'm just a pathetic creepy loser who still lives with his mom."

Adrian bit down on the shuddering sobs into his palms, praying that his idol Peacemaker couldn't hear them.

"Hey come on, that's not fair on yourself."

"It's true. Why would she ever want to date someone like me?" He gulped for air, nose blocked.

"You'll never know if you don't ask." Chris told him sagely.

"Come on dude you're Vigilante, you've taken on a whole butterfly invasion and fucking travelled across universes! We're about to start up Checkmate thanks to you and your awesome blood curse money."

With that pep talk, Adrian unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open with a creak.

Chris grinned at first, but as he walked out to splash water on his face, Adrian still wasn't convinced.

"I appreciate all of that but I can't do it P. She's so cool and smart. I'll fuck up somehow and then she won't want me to go on the tours anymore."

"Sometimes the things that are worth the most need a little risk!" Chris urged him to reconsider.

"It's a risk I don't want to take." He said firmly, washing his hands. Adrian's eyes were slightly puffy but outside of that he seemed back to normal.

"Dude, come on..." Chris knew better, this wasn't right. Adrian was hurting.

Adrian stared back at his best friend through the mirror for a moment. What if he took the gamble and you said yes?

But then he caught a glimpse of himself and was reminded how unlikely that was.

No, he couldn't afford to lose you and the joy you brought him out of his life for these selfish feelings inside. He'd bottle them down and enjoy your warmth from afar.

"I don't even get crushes like normal people do." He lied, heading back out to the bar.

The rest of the night was tense but Adrian paid it no mind, laughing his head off and ordering drinks like there was no tomorrow.

Anything to dull the ache he felt in his gut.

He hadn't drank this much in a really long time, getting loose, dancing and swaying, words slurring and tying together. Adrian was a total mess and loving it, his mind didn't focus on you at all anymore.

Until it did.

By that point he was walking outside and the ground spun around, concrete, traffic cones, streetlights, melding into one big blur.

"You're super sweet!" Your melodic voice replayed in his mind on loop.

Oh no.

"Fuck...I'm gonna be sick." Adrian whined, hurling into a nearby bush.

John patted his back through the vomiting and Adebayo went to get you some bottled water.

After he had something to drink and could stand back up, Adrian felt the flood hitting and couldn't stop it.

"Shit, s-she said I was super sweet..." Adrian burst into a drunken sob against Chris' shoulder.

"That's a good thing buddy." Chris replied, gingerly rubbing his shoulder.

"Nooooo! She was just being nice!" He refused to accept that and continued to bicker with them all in the taxi ride home.

"It's promising Adrian! Hey, what if we go with you, for support?" Adebayo suggested and the whole gang nodded.

"You guys would seriously do that for me?" Adrian asked quietly with a big squint.

His glasses were confiscated, currently folded and in Adebayo's purse for safe keeping after he took them off and nearly sat on them.

"Yeah! We can do a group tour. Put in some good words for you." Harcourt added, completely onboard.

"I've booked next Tuesday." John showed the Evergreen zoo confirmation email.

"See, you'll have the 11th Street Kids with you! No matter what her answer is, it'll be okay." Chris grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

"O-okay then...don't take me home though. My mom freaks the fuck out when I'm drunk." Adrian nodded back at them and they all giggled at that.

"Sure buddy, you can crash at mine." Chris nodded.