MყKιƚƚყ💖

He kneels next to you, panic rising like bile in his throat. Your eyes are closed, your head heavy in his hands.

“Y/N,” he says, an edge of panic to his voice. Please wake up, he thinks. “Y/N, honey.“

You’re completely unresponsive. Thinking the worst, Finnick presses his fingers to your throat. Thankfully, he feels a steady pulse, though it doesn’t do much to calm his spiking worry, not when you’re still unconscious.

“Can you hear me?” He tries gently tapping your cheek but to no avail. He curses. “Johanna!” He yells out, past being polite. “Water, now.”

“It’s coming!” Johanna yells back from the shoreline, clearly as agitated as he is.

Finnick grits his teeth and takes your face in his hands, trying his best to be gentle when he’s so panic stricken. “Hey. Baby, come on. Wake up.”

When you don’t respond, he carefully lowers your head and swiftly slides his hands to your shoulders. He’s careful but firm as he shakes you. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to be rough with you, but he’s glad he’s done it because it works. Just as Johanna arrives with a seashell full of water, Peeta and Katniss hot on her heels, your breath catches. Then your eyelids flutter, and then your lips part.

“Finnick?”

Finnick releases a shuddering breath, his heartbeat a pounding drum in his ears. The relief in hearing your voice is akin to a spear being pulled out of his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, hey, I’ve got you. You can hear me, right?”

“I can hear you,” you say. You try to turn your head, searching for him even in your disoriented state, but Finnick holds you in place.

“Don’t move, sweet thing,” he tells you. Unable to look away from you until he knows you’re absolutely alright, Finnick puts his hand out for the water wordlessly. Johanna hands it to him quick as a flash. “Can you open your eyes?”

You can, though it takes you a little while, blinking sluggishly in the harsh light. Finnick’s quick to shade your face with one hand. Your eyes appear, glazed but beautiful as always.

“Good girl,” Finnick tells you, hand on your cheek. He’s still buzzing — the heat of the sudden onslaught of panic hasn’t dissipated just yet. He carefully strokes your hair away from your sweaty neck with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna cool you down, okay? Can I unzip you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Finnick unzips your suit halfway down your chest, taking care to angle his torso so the others don’t see anything they don’t have to. Slowly, he tips the water over your hot skin. It slides over the slopes of your shoulders and creeps down into your suit. It must feel good because you shudder and let out a small breath.

Finnick thumbs your collarbone, feeling overwhelmed with relief. His hands don’t leave you, afraid you’ll disappear again if he lets go. The panic ebbs slowly as he watches you come back to life, your eyes becoming clearer by the second.

“She’s okay?” Peeta speaks up after a long moment of silence.

Finnick nods. “She’s okay,” he assures. “It was the heat, I think.” He finally lets himself look away from you, if only to ask Peeta, “Could you get us some more water?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The other three all trail off, leaving you and Finnick on your own. You try to sit up as they leave but Finnick presses his hand to your chest, palm flat on your warm skin.

“Don’t,” he says. “You’ve gotta lay flat, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, looking bashful. “Sorry,” you say softly.

“Don’t be sorry. No more fainting though, okay?” He rubs your shoulder. “I know I’m really handsome, but you don’t have to be so drastic about it.”

You groan but it quickly morphs into a laugh. Finnick kisses your forehead and then holds your hand until Peeta returns with the water.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You must not have found one. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

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

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

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

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

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.” He promised.

It started off as a secret, and you haven’t been able to drag it out into the light ever since. When you and Four met, he was two years out of his own initiation, just starting to get a grasp for how to be a training leader for the new crop of Dauntless. You had just dashed your blood into the vessel for the bravest faction, had just thrown yourself off of the roofline to land in Dauntless once and for all.

You should have known then that Four was too great a secret for you to keep. He had looked at you like you were something worth keeping around, and you liked how it felt a little too much. When the two of you started seeking each other out, either for silent glances in training or longer conversations after hours, there was no way it would have gone anywhere else.

Soon enough, Four was calling your name like a blessing, some guarantee of safety in the midst of all this mayhem. You knew you loved him when you won your fights and saw him watching you approvingly, when you could go through your fear landscape fastest because the one thing that scared you most was thinking that what you had with Four wasn’t real, and you already had to face that every day.

You graduated top of your initiation class soon enough, with both a new title and a hand holding yours. Four confessed how he felt two nights before initiation ended, praying that somewhere in all this darkness you’d be able to be his light. He didn’t like being so alone, he said. You made him think that there was a world outside of hurt and challenge.

The only problem was how it all looked. You couldn’t be happier with Four, and you know he feels the same way, but the facts of the matter line up differently to everyone else. If the other Dauntless knew that you and Four were seeing each other, they’d start asking questions about just when all this started, if it had any impact on your rankings. Corruption festers deep in Dauntless, but people still like to pretend otherwise. They’d jump on this in a second if it meant switching the blame away from themselves.

So, you keep it a secret. You’re allowed to be Four’s friend, of course, and train with him like the rest, but the moment your gaze lingers on him with the sort of softness that doesn’t belong in Dauntless’ cold atmosphere, people start wondering. You’re certain that a few people suspect, but most of them just joke about it. Wouldn’t that be something, the boy with hardly any fears and the girl who could make you think that she had none at all? If only they knew that their rumors were actually true.

The only problem with keeping this secret is that it isn’t quite enough. Part of loving someone is belonging to them, being able to seek their shelter in the midst of any storm. You can talk to Four, sure, and treasure his kisses when no one else is looking, but you still want something more.

You can’t help but envy the other Dauntless couples you see around the faction, the ones that get to walk with their arms slung low over the hips of their partners. These lucky ones pull their significant others close without a second thought, paying no attention to how it all looks. Or maybe they care too much, and every gesture is strictly orchestrated to give off the illusion that they’ve got it all. At any rate, you’d love to have that choice, to have or to hold. Anything more than the nothingness that threatens to swallow you whole.

You’ve brought this up with Four a couple of times now, but he knows just as well as you do that there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re only a few months out of initiation, working in your first choice of a job and still benefiting from your high rankings. People would suspect foul play if they knew you were dating, so it stays a secret. It has to stay a secret, as neither of you want the sudden attention that only comes with sordid rumors.

Yet, in the cold stillness of his room after hours, you can’t deny that it doesn’t feel like enough. You joined Dauntless because you were sick of being in the shadows. You wanted to make a name for yourself, be the kind of person that had people in awe of your slightest movements. You certainly didn’t sign up for this faction to skulk about in the darkness, exchanging clandestine kisses as if your love was something that wasn’t good enough to be seen.

As time goes on, it only gets worse. This should be perfectly fine- you have the boy you love, you have your faction, you have your job, yet it all feels like a slim shadow of what you should be experiencing. To live is not to hide, nor to lie, but to take risks on everything. That’s what the Dauntless believe, at any rate, that no risk is worth taking if you won’t devote yourself to it utterly, and as a Dauntless, you believe it too. Not going in blind to the dangers feels like a betrayal.

Still, there’s nothing you can do. Four tries his hardest to keep you happy, though. Today, for instance, he’s called you in to help with initiation, something about how he’d love to have an extra fighter on hand to deal with the useless masses. Some of these trainees scarcely know their proper forms, yet they’re still mouthy enough that you’d think they’ve been fighting all their lives. He wants you there to help keep the order.

You’re not about to pass up the chance to see your boyfriend outside of your apartment, so you take up his offer with a smile. Besides, Four becomes a different sort of person when he has to be intimidating. His back straightens, his eyes grow cold. In all honesty, it’s pretty hot, and you like seeing it. We all have our quirks.

Four strides briskly into the training room, you at his side. The initiates look surprised to see you, likely because they’ve grown used to having only Four and Eric watch them train. Their surprise is good; changes in routines will show who’s really good and who’s just coasting along with the norms.

Four reaches the front of the room, addressing the young Dauntless in a brisk tone you remember from your own training.

“Alright, initiates. Today, as you may have noticed, we will be joined by a special guest. This is Y/N, who’s going to be helping with combat training. She finished first out of her initiation last year, so if I were you, I’d pay attention. Might help some of you from ending up on the bottom of the rankings.”

You nod at Four. “First thing we’ve got planned today are some rounds of fights. Find a partner and get to the rings. If you want to get better, you need to put in the practice.”

You hear some muted grumbling from the back of the room and raise an eyebrow at Four. Sure, it’s early in the morning, but initiation has always been about hard work, no matter the time.

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? Get to work, or we’re going to stay here through the lunch break.”

Four chuckles to himself as the initiates quickly scatter to the nearest fighting rings. “I think this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. I haven’t seen these guys move so fast in weeks.”

You smirk. “Maybe you’re not being intimidating.”

Four arches a brow. “Is that so? I seem to remember from your training that you found me plenty intimidating.”

You just grin. “That’s different. I liked the intimidating part of you.”

You glance back towards the rest of the training room, pleased to see that the initiates have started their fights as promised. One thing that does catch your attention is a surly looking boy, the tallest and biggest around by far, who’s practically dragging a smaller boy to the ring. Evidently he’s in this for an easy fight, and once he wins in a matter of seconds, he’ll sit around and watch everyone struggle.

You gesture at the boy with your chin. “Have you had problems with that guy before?”

Four groans. “Shawn? He’s a nightmare. Thinks he’s the best thing to happen to this faction since the invention of the gun. I can’t stand him.”

You nod, unable to hide a cold smile. “I think he needs a bit more of a test.”

Four looks back at you, intrigued. “I like where this is going. Don’t worry about beating him up too badly, the medical wing has open beds.”

You laugh. “Perfect.”

You walk briskly down the training room towards Shawn’s ring, holding up a hand to stop the fight before it starts. “You know what, initiate, I think you need a better challenge.”

Shawn squints down at you. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “Stop punching below your weight. I’m going to fight you instead.”

Shawn looks irritated at this, but the smaller boy ducks away happily before you can change your mind. You jump up into the fighting ring easily, taking a stance opposite Shawn.

He looks nervous, but tries to shrug it off. “Whatever. I’m great at fighting, you should be careful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll try.”

Shawn lunges forward, a beginner’s mistake. You dodge his attack easily, throwing him to the ground in one swift movement. Shawn, angry now, picks himself up and keeps going. At least he’s vaguely resilient. Still, he isn’t resilient enough a few rounds later, when his nose is dripping blood and he’s been thoroughly humiliated in front of the rest of the initiates. Four couldn’t look happier.

You nod once at Shawn before leaving him. “The next time you try and slack off by picking someone you know you can beat, I won’t go so easy on you.”

You’re used to Shawn’s type of boy: mean, cruel, finds great joy in causing other people discomfort. You assumed that he would avoid you for the rest of the class, especially since you just thoroughly kicked his ass in front of everybody, yet he seeks you out during the water break.

Shawn leers at you through a bruise already forming under his left eye. “You know, you weren’t bad out there.”

You give him a look. “I should hope not.”

Shawn seems unwilling or perhaps unable to read the room, and keeps going. “I wouldn’t mind some more help, you know. Maybe we could do some, uh, private lessons.”

The stress on the last few words makes it obvious that Shawn isn’t just interested in how to form a punch. Plus, he moves closer as he says it, letting his hand rest on your arm. Your eyes narrow, but before you can shove him off of you, someone steps in. It’s Four, looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

Four’s voice comes in a low hiss. “You can stop touching my girl now.”

You and Shawn turn to look at Four, both of your eyes equally wide. Shawn looks terrified of what is about to happen to him, and you’re stunned that Four would refer to you as his girl, thus cementing the belief that you’re together.

Shawn backs away slowly. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.”

Four’s face is cold. “I bet you didn’t. I won’t mean anything by it when I send you to the medical wing right now. How do you think it would feel if I broke every single bone in your hand? I kind of want to find out.”

Shawn’s face is pale, mouth practically hanging open in fear. “We don’t have to find out, I promise. I’m going.”

Four watches Shawn run away, arms folded across his chest. You walk up to him, standing side by side.

“Your girl. I like the sound of that.”

The corners of Four’s mouth just start to turn up in a smile, although he’s too angry for the expression to fully form. “He shouldn’t have touched you. He’s nowhere near your level.”

You laugh quietly. “I don’t think he’ll be trying it anytime soon. He looks like he just saw death itself.”

Four smirks. “He might have, if he does it again.”

He glances back at you now. “And I’d tell the entire faction we were dating if I had to. I’m not ashamed of you, or scared of people knowing. Not in the slightest. I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

You smile for real now. “I am happy, Four. As long as I have you.”

Perhaps she heard about what happened through word of mouth. Most new Dauntless come from Dauntless with the exception of a wayward Candor or two that decide the truth is beneath them. You were an exception, then. When Beatrice heard about the sharp-eyed Erudite girl who dashed her blood into Dauntless’ vessel, do you think she thought about it later that night when no one else was watching? Do you think she heard about what you did and realized that she could do it too?

No one will know for sure, none but Tris herself. After what happened, you doubt she would ever be so candid as to let you know. You can guess, though. You can take your time and wonder about what might have gone down in a grayed out faction where a girl heard for the first time that she might be able to have a life outside of endless sacrifice. 

There is one story that she most certainly did not hear at the time, however, and this one would hit a little closer to home. At the very moment that Beatrice Prior was wondering what would become of this year’s round of transfers, another boy was making waves by switching to Dauntless. He was Abnegation too, and at the moment that he let his blood plummet into Dauntless’ bowl, he was as good as dead. 

Later, Tris will wonder how she didn’t connect Four to the boy she had met before, Tobias Eaton. In truth, it’s because every step was taken to ensure that nobody else would. Marcus Eaton’s son died the moment he got the chance to leave his old life behind. Tobias Eaton was buried in a shallow grave under the cover of night, left to the mercy of scavengers like time and poor memory to make up his legacy. Abnegation did not want its followers to think that escape was an option, so he was covered up.

Perhaps, then, the only one Beatrice heard about was you. Tobias was simply one in the crowd at that point, nameless and utterly without character. Every single facet of him had disappeared the second he chose to step away from Dauntless. The boy standing by your side in the Dauntless section of the Choosing Ceremony was staring at his bleeding palm and wondering whose history he could end next. He was no one, not until he remade himself again upon entering Dauntless.

Regardless of what Beatrice did or did not think of the two of you at that moment, your future was set in stone. You bid Erudite goodbye and ran out of the city center with the rest of the assembled Dauntless once the Choosing Ceremony was over. You had analyzed your decision over and over in the preceding months, so you had no regrets at the moment. All there was to do was run free and wild in the sun, and let your body think that it could do whatever you asked of it. 

Like Tris, you also had to leap from the roof and deal with the aftermath of what you found when you fell. Like Tris, your first encounter with the boy who was once called Tobias Eaton and would later be whispered of as Four was life-changing. You were one of the first jumpers, he was one of the second. It was the two of you in an empty hall, lingering by the edge of the net and watching the graduated Dauntless pace back and forth at the edges of the room. The horizons seemed to shift where the black-suited faction lingered to watch, and in the middle of all of it, you found one point of stability. 

Four.

You don’t remember what name he gave when he first jumped down, if he even gave a name at all. He didn’t seem to use one until he progressed into the fear landscapes and was able to be rewarded with his famous nickname. Perhaps he had gone by Tobias all that time before then, but if he had, it had never seemed real. Tobias was a prop to be discarded at a moment’s notice. It suited Four no more than the gray cloth still clinging to his back.

In the time to come, you would watch with the same awe as the rest of the faction as Four quickly rose up through the ranks of initiates. Obviously, no Abnegation would ever have a chance to learn how to fight, but that didn’t excuse Four from being uncannily good at it. He knew how to throw a punch from the moment he arrived, although that could have just been from watching someone else do it. Sometimes lessons are learned from watching the imprints of your own bruises flower on your skin.

Dauntless forgave Four of his Abnegation heritage quickly. You doubt most people even remember he once wore gray instead of black. To suggest that cold, deadly Four could ever have been giving or merciful is laughable. Dauntless’ Four is the pride of their faction. He makes no mistakes and he tells no secrets. No one could ask for anything more.

Why, then, would you? Why would you seek him out after that first meeting? Was the fall from the roof not enough of a rush for you, that you had to track down the one person capable of making your head spin? In the end, you suppose you’ll never really know why you chose Four, only that you did and it is the best thing you could have ever done for yourself. 

Choosing Four was choosing survival. You were Divergent and so was he. Maybe that’s why everything went so south so quickly. You were never meant to live past discovery. You should have woken up to a gun pointed at your head the moment someone found out that the dots weren’t connecting for why you were here and not in your home faction.

You always thought that the first person to figure you out would have been someone back from Erudite. They were always too damned clever, every single one of you. They delighted in figuring out people’s past mistakes, every single loophole they’d ever tripped. Death knows what they would have done to you had they known.

The only thing that might have saved you also damned you. See, Erudite was as sickly brilliant as a smoking gun, but so in turn were you. You knew the perfect answer to say to every question. You knew what to do in the aptitude test so no one would question you. To any onlooker, every bone of yours seemed to be laid bare, when in reality you hadn’t given a thing away.

It was the only thing you could do, but it was exactly what revealed you. Four knew you were as sharp as a blade, both in violence and in mind, and he knew that no one like you would have ever left Erudite if you didn’t have something to hide. What is the only thing in this world that would ever make you fear discovery? Why, the same thing that made him flee to Dauntless’ shadows as opposed to any other place to hide. Divergence.

He had to be the first one to say it aloud. You would never expose a weakness in yourself unless you had a choice. That was the initial moment in which you finally laid down at least part of your armor. In the weeks to come, you would shed more and more of it, until at last the young woman that you became could be the first one to say ‘I love you’ instead of having it be the other way around. You are not the Y/N that came into Dauntless, and you don’t know that you could ever be her again.

That is the wonderful thing about this faction, what it can do to change you. Beatrice learned this as well, you know. You were there to see it start to happen for the first time. She was just the right sort of ember to fanned into a flame around here, and you let it happen.

You should have known from the moment you saw Beatrice Prior become Tris that she would be a threat to you. Instead, you saw a girl not unlike yourself and you welcomed her with a smile. You had been trying to be more forgiving. That is Four’s worst curse on you.

Perhaps it’s because Tris reminds you of your sister. They’re the same age, they both jumped around the same time. In some better world, perhaps Tris would have turned to your sister for a source of friendship instead of looking to your boyfriend for some sort of comfort. That way, far less troubles would be raised, and perhaps you and Tris could see each other as hesitant friends instead of whatever has become of the two of you now.

The worst part is that you could almost see it happening. You and Tris are damned near identical. Both first jumpers, both Divergent, both fleeing a home that could never be truly yours, and worst of all, both in love with Four. How is Tris any better than you? How are you any worse? She made the exact same choices you did, but because you got there first, you get everything and she gets nothing. It is relentlessly unfair, but that is Dauntless; that is life. Nothing in this world will be yours unless you take it. In her defense, that is exactly what Tris tried to do.

Four told you the first time he suspected she had feelings. You and Four are nothing if not honest with each other. He wanted to let you know that something may happen, partially as a warning and partially also in the hopes of using you as a tool to stave off Tris’ crush. You’re a training instructor alongside Four and Eric, so it wouldn’t be difficult for Four to let you handle Tris instead of trying to teach her himself to encourage some distance. 

That’s what you did the first few weeks, at least, but Tris got clever. She really is like you, isn’t she? You can’t possibly hold that against her, but it’s not like you have any other choice. Tris tried too hard to have what she could not. There was no way the two of you could be anything other than enemies. That is what becomes of our doubles, cruel universe; you see yourself in another body and you cannot do anything but despise it.

Four dropped by your place late one night, later than usual. He had a haunted look in his eyes, the sort of guilt you only see on him when he wakes up with a nightmare, muttering the name of a boy long since dead. It wasn’t his fault, he says. He didn’t know what she was trying to do until it was already done.

Here is how it went down, from what Four tells you and what you can pick up from his social cues alone:  Tris had been in trouble. Four has always been a savior, he was certainly yours enough times for it to stick in your head. When Four had come across the scene, he would be able to do nothing if not help. Tris had been grateful, both for the rescue and what she took as a final confirmation of Four’s feelings. She had tried to kiss him. He had moved so she only kissed his cheek. Still, it was a touch that was not yours.

What can you do about that? Tris is not going to go away. Even after initiation ends, she will be a strong member of your faction. Obviously, Four doesn’t want this, but how does he put a stop to it? Eventually, the two of you brainstorm a solution, and go to sleep with no more guilt curled up on the inside of each other’s throats.

You’re helping in the medical wing the next day. Tris is there as a check up to make sure that she was alright after last night’s incident. You don’t treat her, as there are enough patients to fill up anyone’s schedule, but Tris is still there to see what happens when Four drops by. In a perfectly orchestrated move, he gives you his jacket the second you shiver and presses a kiss to your lips. It is a neon sign in the dark, she cannot miss it.

And she doesn’t. You can see Tris’ face crumble across the room, and she quickly turns away to hide her surprise and anguish. You had thought that everyone in Dauntless knew about you and  Four, but it turns out that is only true now. Tris might have been the last to know, but she’s learned her lesson now. You don’t have the heart to hold it against her.

At the end of the day, how could you? Dauntless trains its soldiers to fight for what they want. It is not Tris’ fault that you already did. She will go about her days with a sinking feeling in her stomach, a bit of blood spilled where her heart had previously been healed, but eventually she will be able to act as if nothing ever happened. Soon enough, it will almost be true. Tris will find a new meaning to fill her days.

How do you know this with such certainty? It is exactly what you would have done. 

requested by @sakuraazharuno, i hope you enjoy!

Maybe it’s because he is only ever looking at you like this. Yes, that must be it. Four is an instructor, he has the responsibility to watch everyone here to keep them from harming themselves or others, but something is different when he’s around you. Instead of passively observing, he’s well and truly looking at you, like he likes what he sees and wants to see more, too. 

You try to put it out of your mind. Four is not your concern here, or not so anything more than the fact that he’s one of your initiation instructors and you’re trying not to get dropped before you enter the faction properly. It’s not Four’s fault if you get distracted by his attention. It’s not Four’s fault if it only ever leaves you wanting something more. 

As time goes on, though, and that something more never comes, you start to chafe against the constant pressure of his attention even more than before. He treats you differently than the other initiates, but only slightly, only ever enough to make you dream of the possibility of something changing down the line. He’ll never give you more than the time of day, but from the way he won’t ever stop his constant affiliation with you, you can’t escape the idea that maybe, just maybe, he wants that something more just as much as you do. 

The end of Phase One of Dauntless initiation draws ever closer, and Four fails to act on anything he may or may not be feeling. You could be wrong, of course, he could mean nothing by his ever present attention, but you’re not willing to take the risk of letting a small something fade away and be forgotten once initiation is over. 

If Four will not do something, well, then, the burden of acting on these impulses falls to you. Tricking an initiation leader into revealing his hand won’t be the easiest task in the world, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. Four should know that, seeing as he’s so inclined to marking your every action. He should know that you would provoke him like this, and he should have seen it coming from quite far off indeed. 

You need one more person in your scheme to get under Four’s skin. You find your target with ease— Thomas, a dark haired boy also in your initiation class,  close enough to your rank that you won’t have to worry about keeping him close but just enough below that you’ll be able to drop him without needing to fear retaliation. Thomas is fast, smart, strong, all the things that would perhaps give someone like Four cause for concern. In short, he is perfect, and so the plan is laid. 

Next morning, you ask Thomas if he wants to spar together the next morning, just to practice. He nods readily; you’re one of the best people here, it’s why you thought Four started paying attention to you in the first place, up until the point when he stayed there in your corner even when you made mistakes. The two of you head to a fighting ring near the side of the training hall, and if you specifically chose the one right in Four’s line of vision, well, no one needs to notice that but the two of you.

You jump up and down, trying to get some blood back into your muscles. Across the ring, Thomas does the same. He grins at you, evidently proud that you’ve chosen him of all the other eligible fighters. “Hope you aren’t looking for a victory, Y/N, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

He’s grinning, though, so you smile back. “You wish. When we’re done, you’ll have more broken bones than everyone in the med wing combined.”

“Promise?” Thomas asks, laughing, and lunges for you. You roll just in time, hitting the ground right before him. 

Usually, this is the part where you get right back up again, ready to take him down for good. However, your primary motive for this little endeavor isn’t necessarily to win, just to get someone’s eyes on you. So, you stay down, grappling with Thomas so he has no choice but to pin you, up until the point where you escape out from under him and do the same.

Thomas raises a brow suggestively. “You know, I may have lost that round, but I’m kind of happy anyway.”

You grin. “Does that mean you’re fine with losing again? I’m sure my ranking and I won’t have any problems with that.”

Thomas opens his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by the sound of an irritable shout. It’s Four, arms folded so tightly across his chest that he looks a few seconds away from breaking a rib. “Focus, initiates! You’re not here to talk.”

When you glance over at him, you can’t help but smirk at how furious he looks. Everything is going according to plan, then, he’s jealous, just as expected. He may be in charge of everyone here today, but damn if you can’t play him like any other. Looks like all that talk about so few fears and so much bravery doesn’t stand in the face of plain old envy.

In a great show of reluctance, you get off of Thomas, extending your hand to help him up. He takes it, knuckles lingering over yours for a few moments longer than necessary. You can just make out Four’s silhouette over Thomas’ shoulder, how every fiber in his body seems to radiate with barely controlled anger.

You can only push a ruse so far before it becomes too obvious, though, so you drop Thomas’ hand and get back into a fighting position. This time, you try a little harder to win, exchanging punches and kicks for a good period of time before ‘accidentally’ dropping your guard and letting Thomas tackle you around the middle. He’s obviously in the mood to play around too, and takes his time spinning you in the air before placing you carefully on the ground.

“You better watch yourself,” he says, breath uneven from the exertion of the fight, “I think I’m catching up to you.”

You look up at him, eyes half-lidded. Thomas’ dark hair falls around his face, given the impression of a halo by the light right behind his head. All of a sudden, though, he’s ripped away, and the blinding light falls onto your face to reveal a newcomer. You didn’t hear Four climb up onto the platform of the fighting ring, nor did you detect him coming so close until he pushed Thomas away from you.

Four’s face is a dark slate, devoid of any emotion except a sharp, cold fury. His voice is clipped when he speaks, and when he tells you to meet him outside, now, Thomas actually jumps out of his way. Thomas flashes you an apologetic look as you go, but you can’t find it within you to return it. After all, this isn’t a punishment, not for you. 

In fact, this is exactly what you wanted. A scene, a public show, some sign that Four would be willing to transgress his perfect picture of leadership to make his feelings known to you. You may have forced his hand more than a little, sure, but all’s well that ends well.

The door slams shut behind you, abandoning both you and Four to the dark emptiness of the hall outside the training room. All the other initiates are somewhere inside that cavernous chamber, running laps or practicing their form, and the other Dauntless are at their jobs. No one would see the two of you, then. No one would see what transpired here at all save you and him and the beating tension between the two of you.

Four’s face doesn’t lose its chill even when Thomas is out of sight. “Do you want to tell me what that was?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I was sparring with a friend. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, really?” Four asks, “A friend? That’s what you call whatever that little display was?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him. It’s far more fun to play the innocence card as long as you can, it certainly doesn’t help Four’s temper.

Four scoffs. “Of course you do. You think I didn’t see how often you were looking at me? That whole time you were with him, purposefully going easy so he could keep his hands on you. You think I wanted to see that?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat, “You haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise. All you do is stand there and watch. Maybe one of us had to do something.”

“So that’s what this was?” Four asks, brows raised, “You wanted to do something? I’ll show you something.”

You’re expecting the kiss, you have been all morning, but that doesn’t stop the breath from leaving your lungs in one rapid rush when it finally happens. His hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you there, with him, in that moment. It feels like drowning, but the thought of living after this is such an inconceivable notion that you’d rather just let the waters claim you whole.

He breaks away eventually, unfortunately, and even in the shadows of the corridor with his face only bare millimeters away from yours you can still tell that he’s proud of himself, corners of his lips twisted up in victory. “Was it worth it?” He asks slowly.

You let out a half-laugh, a needy breath taking over the rest. “It was,” you decide.

“Good,” he tells you, and kisses you again, just so you can be sure. Perhaps jealousy has its merits after all.

it was a cold winter day when you had another argument with katsuki. you were aware of his hot temper and notorious attitude caused by his anger issues and his difficult job as a pro hero all along, so that wasn’t news to you. but because things used to be perfect at the beginning of your relationship, you thought that it wouldn’t really be a problem. since you accepted katsuki the way he was, you thought you could handle it.

except that as time passed by and things progressed, the cracks in the relationship began to show. and his anger issues worsened more and more. until it had reached a point where he would constantly yell at you over the smallest things, and you were just fed up. you couldn’t take it anymore.

“katsuki… i can’t take it anymore, i’m done.” you blurted out. shocking not only your boyfriend, but yourself as well. you never thought a day would come when you would utter such words to katsuki, he was the one man whom you loved more than anyone else in the world, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him by your side.

or so you thought.

you didn’t even realize that you had been trying to convince yourself that everything was fine and nothing was wrong for the longest time when in fact, things between you and him were completely far from being fine.

meanwhile, it was just then when katsuki realized that he had messed up big time. he was just then aware of the pressure and stress he had put you through until you couldn’t endure it anymore. he didn’t even remember when was the last time he didn’t have to yell.

that moment was an eye opener for the two of you to come to the conclusion that it was too late to go back to the way you once were, and that it was probably the end.

silence loomed over the shared bedroom, turning it from the most comfortable and safest place you once thought you could ever be in to an unfamiliar, scary place you wanted to run away from. but you were anxiously fidgeting with your fingers and your feet were glued to the floor, as if there was something weighing you down. making you unable to move.

your eyes were fixated on your feet, not daring to look up. although you did wonder what expression was on katsuki’s face back then.

after what seemed like years of awkward silence, katsuki finally spoke up.

“i put ya through so fucking much, didn’t i?” surprisingly, his voice was calm and soft spoken. it was said in the same voice that you had missed so much.

“look, i’m really sorry. i’ve been nothing but shitty to you this whole time we have been together, and you deserve someone better, so i’m lettin’ ya go.” you felt a twinge in your heart, as if you were being stabbed by a sharp knife.

your heart throbbed painfully, you weren’t ready to hear what he had just said. you didn’t want him to let you go, you wanted to hear him say that he’d stay and try his best with you to make it work out.

“we were never meant to be together.” you finally looked up, eyes wide open as they met his red ones for the first time in a while.

had you and katsuki really never been a good match and you had been blind to it all along?

it just hit you that your once perfect world had crashed intensely, breaking into pieces.

everything really was over. and it happened in the worst way you could ever imagine.

you didn’t even know what to say back to all that. as if words completely flew away from your head. you just found yourself running towards katsuki, body acting on its own as you wrapped your arms around him so tightly and began sobbing uncontrollably. the tears that welled in your eyes for long began to overflow and fall down your red cheeks, finally letting go of the anguish that was paining you.

you felt his strong arms holding you back, pulling you close to him and feeling you against his body one last time.

after some time you two broke away, eyes staring as you engraved each other’s faces in your heads. he cupped your cheeks in his calloused hands and the two of you shared your final kiss, your first and final goodbye. it tasted so bitter and so salty due to your tears, you hated it but you didn’t want it to end. because after that you would no longer feel those lips against yours.

but unfortunately, it had to come to an end.

nothing else was said after that, katsuki just packed his bags and moved out. the sight of his back facing you back then had been living in your memory to this day. despite that happening two years ago.

and for these past two years you hadn’t seen katsuki once, not even in your dreams. the only times you'd see him were when he was on tv having his heroic actions celebrated. he started off as a stranger to you who became your first ever love only to go back to being a stranger you knew nothing about.

you had hated winters. not only because you weren't a big fan of cold weather and gray, cloudy skies, but also because they always reminded you of your first love who ended up making you go through your first breakup and your biggest heartbreak.

Hanahaki disease. It originated in Japan, apparently, and was rare, but real. Keigo skipped past all the useless information to find what he really needed. He found it’s a disease where someone coughs up flowers due to unrequited feelings for somebody. And he knew, the minute he read those words, that his unrequited feelings were for you.

Keigo had never loved anyone in his life. Not his parents, for obvious reasons, and his training at the Hero commission had meant that he had no time for it anywhere else. Not that there was anybody in there to love, anyway. And now, as a Pro hero with his own agency, he didn’t want love. It complicated things, and he was in no position for a relationship anyway. He barely had time for himself, so how could he deal with a relationship? So Keigo filled the empty parts of himself with meaningless sex with whoever he found. At parties, at award evenings. It was just the physicality of it, skin on his own. He craved it and got it where he could. It pissed his publicist to no end, but they usually kept quiet, and scandals always did good for the agency. 

And then he met you.

His assistant had quit. Something about better opportunities, work closer to home. He had flashed her his best smile, sent flowers to her home, and waited dutifully in his office for you to walk in the next day. And you did, perfectly pressed shirt and black skirt, smiling so sweetly at him and introducing yourself, and he knew it was over. 

It’s not his fault. What couldn’t he love about you? You were funny, you were kind. You brought him breakfast every morning and started leaving a pillow and a blanket in his office when you knew he’d come off a night shift. You actually spoke to him like he was a person, not Hawks, not the Number two hero. It didn’t take long for the feelings to start but he thought he was pushing them down well enough.

These flowers tell him he’s not. 

He flirts with you, and the two of you joke around, but nothing ever comes of it because he knows you don’t like him back. And even if you did, Keigo would never do you the horrible favour of burdening you with loving somebody like him.

Keigo sighs, pushing himself gingerly to his feet. He clears his throat and it stings from the acidity of throwing up. He moves on autopilot, shrugging on his coat and typing the laces on his boots. His mind races with thoughts of you, of how long he has left. The final stages are apparently whole flowers and he ignores the voice in the back of his mind that says judging by what he just coughed up, he’s getting dangerously close to the end.

The weather outside is cold and bitter. Keigo hates winter, hates how he has to bundle to avoid the sharp, piercing wind whenever he flies. It’s harder to patrol in the dark and you’re less likely to leave the agency for your lunch break, so it also means he can’t use it as an excuse to take you out. He steps out on his balcony, sliding the door behind him, and he shuts his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks in another life, he’d tell you. In another life maybe he was just an assistant like you, someone normal, someone you deserved. That after his shift he’d get to come home and you’d have cooked dinner or he’d bring home takeout. He craves normalcy, to have a home with someone, and he can’t help but dream it’s with you.

He slips his goggles on and pulls up the gaiter around his neck. He steps forward and with one strong flap of his wings he’s in the air. 

The flight to the agency doesn’t take long. Nothing really does, to be honest. He’s not patrolling today but he still keeps an eye on the ground, the sky still dark as the world wakes up around him. He lands deftly in his own office, and the wide windows being pushed open already lets him know you’re in the building too. He runs a hand through his hair, quickly checking his reflection to make sure he looks good. He does, obviously, but he can’t help but worry. There’s a familiar knock on his door, and you don’t wait for him to let you in before you enter.

Today, you’re wearing a long pair of trousers that hug your legs, the white blouse you have on buttoned up apart from the top two, a small sliver of skin exposed to show a small gold necklace he got for you at a Christmas party, holding two coffees.

His heart pounds and he coughs into his sleeve. Your eyebrows furrow and you step forward, empty hand reaching out.

“Are you okay, Hawks?” You ask, and he nods.

He clears his throat, swallowing away the feeling prickling it. He nods, flashing you a toothy grin. “Yeah, now that you’re here.”

You roll your eyes but he doesn’t miss the small smile on your face as you set his drink down on the table. He takes a long drink of it and you wince.

“God, I don’t know how you drink that. It’s more sugar than coffee.” You scrunch your nose and he shrugs.

“I need the energy, babe, you know that. All that flying around burns calories quickly.”

One of his feathers shuts the window, another two hanging up his coat. Your eyes follow quickly. He might be trying to impress you a little, but it’s been a long enough time of you watching this show that he’s sure it doesn’t do much. The skin tight thermal might, though. He may or may not be flexing a little when he stretches, but he doesn’t see any harm in that. 

You nod, pulling out your phone, eyes quickly averting away from him. “Okay, so. Luckily for you, today is just paperwork. No energy necessary.” You sigh, sitting down heavily. “I hate paperwork days.”

He knows exactly why. The long, tired hours of writing and reading. Anyone would hate it, but Keigo? Keigo loves paperwork days. A whole day with the two of you in a room? What couldn’t he love about that?

He sits down across from you. It feels a little weird, too formal, with you across his desk. He doesn’t use it much. His office is pretty empty. There's no decorations, no plants, nothing. It's empty because Keigo doesn’t care. He doesn’t like this office. The only thing he likes about it is that it’s the place he spends the most time with you. He wishes you were closer.

He coughs. There's a familiar feeling itching in his lungs and he begs to a God he doesn’t know that he won’t throw up flowers in front of you.

“Aw, come on. Paper days are fine. And I’ll order food for us later.”

You perk up at that. “Really? Let’s get yakitori.”

“And this is why I love you.” He coughs again and you peer at him.

“Are you okay? You keep coughing today.”

He nods. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’m good.”

You keep looking at him. “If you’re sick, go home.”

“No, I’m fine. The number two hero doesn’t get sick.”

You don’t look convinced but you hold up the first set of papers. His fingers brush against yours as he grabs them. The two of you sit in silence for all of five minutes before Keigo groans. You look up, amused.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “Me too. But as your assistant I have to tell you to keep going.”

Keigo pouts. You tap the pen in your hand against the desk.

“No way to get out of this?” He says. “Nope.”

“No work parties I can look forward to?”

You shake your head. Then you sit up suddenly. “Wait. Oh my god.”

Keigo sits up too, immediately mirroring your panic. His wings curl out behind him. You cover your face with your hands.

“What? You’re freaking me out, Y/N.”

“There is a work party! Tonight. That I’m supposed to be planning. And I completely forgot!” You groan.

Oh. That’s easier to deal with. “It’s fine, don’’t worry. We’ll sort it.” You shake your head and it ruffles your hair, and he wishes he could reach forward and brush it behind your ear. “No, I don't know what to do. It’s for Kaylee’s birthday! Everyone loves Kaylee, I love Kaylee, that’s why I offered to plan this for her.” You ramble.

Keigo catches most of your babble. He quickly moves off from behind his desk to stand in front of you, his hands coming to rest at your shoulders. “Breathe, girl.”

You do, chest moving up and down slowly. Like this, with you still seated and him standing, he towers over you. He thinks for a moment.

“Let’s just go now.”

“What?”

“We’ll just go get the stuff you need right now. Shouldn't be too much, right?”

Your eyes glance at the paperwork on the desk. “What about all that?”

He hums, and you look up at him again. This close, Keigo can see you so much clearer, so much brighter. Another cough rumbles in his chest and he ignores it. “We can do it another day. Blame it on me.”

You bite at your bottom lip, considering his offer. You stand up and nod, determined.

“Okay. Okay, let me get my coat. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

And then you’re out before he can say another word.

—----------

Keigo thinks this is torture. Real, honest to God torture.

You’d refused his offer to fly to the marketplace, so now the two of you were just walking down the street. He’d left his feathers at work, and changed into the most civilian outfit in the agency. It always felt weird without them on his back, the heavy weight something he’d been used to since he was born. But for you, Keigo thinks he might set them all on fire. 

What makes everything worse is that you’re walking with your arm linked in his. You had been since you’d walked out the agency, animatedly talking and pointing at the things around you. It was hard to focus on much when your fingers squeezed his bicep every time you saw something you liked. 

“Okay, so. I need a cake, and decorations. And like, snack food.”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am. Can we squeeze lunch in there?”

“There’s always time for lunch, Hawks.” 

The first stop the two of you end up at is a supermarket. You pass him a coin to grab a shopping cart and he immediately starts running around with it, and you tut.

“Hawks, enough. People are looking.”

Your words should sound annoyed, but there’s a soft fondness behind them that has his head reeling. You take the cart from his hands and he lets you walk ahead, because the feeling that he’s started to dread builds in his torso, and he grabs the tissue out of his pocket and he coughs.

It’s loud and grating and it scratches the back of his throat. He’s lucky that there’s nobody around to see him gag into his hand, the petals tickling as he spits, blood splattering against it. He breathes heavily, once, twice, and tears prick at his eyes. He curses, eyes screwed shut. Not today, not like this. Not when he finally has a day alone with you. He throws the tissue in the trash outside the shop, and goes in to find you.

He finds that grocery shopping is fun. He’s never actually been before. His groceries are kindly delivered by the Commission straight to his front door, so he’s never actually done this before. It’s exciting. He likes the little line you get between your eyebrows whenever you get annoyed at him for putting random things in the basket.

“Hawks, enough! We don’t need six loaves of bread!”

“We do! We can make those little hors d’oeuvres with like, pesto on them.”

You mumble some choice words under your breath, putting them all back. “Hawks, this isn’t some Hero commission party. We’re getting a bag of Doritos and dip and calling it a day.”

Keigo pouts and you drag him over to the basket. “Here, you push this.”

You take him to the produce aisle and he boos as your throw in a few vegetables sticks. Keigo gags again, holding up the celery sticks. You snatch them out his hand and toss them back in the car.

“Stop. We need something healthy so we can eat a carrot stick and feel good about the cake I’m going to buy.” You tap your head knowingly and he grins.

“I don’t look healthy enough as is?” He stretches out his arm and the windblower you’d found for him in the agency billows around his arms.

You snort, patting him on the chest. “Oh, yeah. You look great.” 

It leaves him winded, just for a second, and then he’s back.

The cake aisle is his favourite one. You steer him clearly away from the children’s cakes, because he’s sure you saw the light in his eyes when he noticed the Marvel cake. 

“Can we get chocolate?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I don’t know. You know what Kaylee likes?” You step a bit closer to the shelves, peering at the different boxes.

Keigo hums, tapping the corner of his chin. He walks around the cart until he’s right next to you. “How about that? Red velvet. And it looks cute.” He points to the one near you, arm reaching over and brushing against yours.

“Hm. Yes. That’s- Yes. Red velvet.” You nod.

Keigo glances at you and he finds the two of you are closer than he realised. He thinks if he leans in just slightly you’ll be kissing. He smiles, soft and sweet. 

“You look pretty this close.”

“So I look ugly from afar?” You joke, but you sound nervous.

Keigo's eyes dart to your lips. It’s so quick but he sees the way your cheeks flush. “You never look ugly. Don’t I compliment you enough?”

You shove him away softly, reaching for the red velvet cake.

“Enough out of you. Go grab candles.”

And Keigo does, in the next aisle over, and hopes you can’t hear him coughing up another handful of petals. 

———

The two of you finish up quickly, despite Keigo’s efforts to long out the day as much as he can. The coughing only gets worse, and he’s surprised you haven’t noticed the amount of times he disappears to hack up his lungs around the nearest corner.

But it’s fine, he tells himself. This is about you, about helping you. He can deal with this problem later. 

You, who are sitting across from him in the tiniest table known to man at his favourite yakitori place. Part of him is a little annoyed about the whole ‘civilian disguise’, because whenever the owner sees it’s him he always gets a few extra sticks. But he can’t complain. Your legs are touching his, seeing as you’d shoved the both of you in the farthest corner of the shop possible. Which also happens to be the smallest in the shop.

“Okay, so, when we get back I’ll set up everything and we’re done!” You speak around a mouthful of food, chicken almost falling onto the table.

He nods, mouth also full. “Perfect. And you’re sure you don’t need help setting up?”

You shake your head. “I should be good, there’s not that much to do.”

You place the now empty stick on the table, dusting your hands. “Thanks for this, Hawks. Really.” 

He just smiles. “Don't mention it. Anything for my favourite assistant.”

“Aren’t I your only assistant?”

“So? You’d still be my favourite if I had more.” 

You snort, picking up another stick. “Sure, sure.”

The grocery bags crinkle beneath the table. And like this, without his wings and without any eyes on him Keigo can be selfish and pretend like this is real. 

You glance around the restaurant. “I like this place. Why haven’t we come here before?”

Keigo shrugs, polishing off another two sticks. “It’s usually busy around our lunch time. We should come more though.”

You nod. “Definitely. There’s this ramen place too, we should go there. It’s by that supermarket we went to.”

It’s so casual, so calm, and his heart is racing. 

“Oh! I found this song. I think you’ll like it.”

You dig in your purse and pull out the same ratty wired earphones he makes fun of you for everyday. He rolls his eyes and you glare at him.

“No. Shut up.”

“Just let me buy you a nice pair of AirPods, babe. Seriously, these are dying.” He flicks the wire that’s covered in tape and you tut, pushing his hands away.

“Never. I'm a wired earphone supporter till I die. Come here.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, but they don’t really reach. “Fuck. Okay, wait.”

You stand up, dragging your chair so it’s right up next to his. You sit down, and your hand comes up to brush his hair out of the way so you can press the earphone in his ear. And if you see his breath hitch you don’t say anything. Just hit play, your own earphone in.

And the pure bliss of having you this close, close enough that he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, lasts about a minute before he starts coughing.

He reels it back as much as he can, wincing as he swallows the petals that try to crawl their way out his throat. He drinks water, washing away the taste of metal from his mouth and he barely even registers your hand on his shoulder.

“Hawks? Are you alright?” There’s panic clear as day on your face, and he nods.

“Y-Yes. Don’t worry, I think I just swallowed a piece of chicken wrong.”

You’re not convinced as easily as before. “That didn’t sound normal, Hawks. Should we take you to the doctor?”

“No, it’s fine, babe. I promise.” 

He holds up his pinkie. You just stare at him for a moment, eyes searching for a lie. But you seem to believe him, because your hand comes up and your finger curls around his.

——-

The party is going well, he thinks.

Kaylee looks happy. You did well with the decorations, as best as you could do with an office room and an hour. There’s pink balloons and streamers that Keigo wants to scream that he bought with you. But that’s stupid and desperate, so he doesn’t. 

You’d all sang and cheered as she blew out her candles. She looked nice but Keigo couldn’t keep his eyes off you, grinning so hard it was like your face was about to split in half. People were milling about now. Keigo likes to think he knows all his employees but he’d be lying if he said he recognised every face that had come to greet him.

There is one face he could recognise anywhere.

“Birdbrain! What are you doing here?”

Rumi’s voice is loud and full of energy, and he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face the second she claps him on the back.

“It’s almost like this is my agency.” He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“Kaylee and I know each other from ages ago. She used to intern when I was working with Best Jeanist.”

Keigo nods. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a guy approaching you. One of the office workers he can’t name. His wings are back on his body and he wishes he could send one over to listen to what you’re talking about.

“But- Are you even listening to me?” Rumi says.

“Yes. I am.”

“No. You’re not.” 

Rumi follows his eyeline, to where you’re handing out slices of cake. She nods, understandingly. “I see. Have you asked her out?”

“What? No. Why would I- She’s my assistant.” Keigo splutters.

Rumi laughs, clapping him on the shoulder once more. “Oh, Hawks. Has positions of power ever stopped you before?”

Keigo frowns. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to just hook up with her.”

“Oh.” Rumi looks at you again. “You actually like her?”

“Yes. No. It’s- It’s complicated.”

Rumi hums thoughtfully. The two of them were quite blatantly staring at you now, and Keigo is sure you’d be quite weirded out if you caught them. But he doesn’t need to worry about that, because your attention is stolen away by some guy. Keigo doesn’t even know his name because he’s some irrelevant worker that doesn’t even matter.

But he seems to matter to you. Because you are smiling and laughing, and you nudge his shoulder when he says something Keigo itches to hear.

“Well. Maybe try telling her. She won’t wait around forever.” Rumi nods towards you and he shakes his head.

“That’s… I don’t- Just leave it.” Keigo’s voice sounds bitter in a way he’s not used to, and Rumi peers at him.

“Birdbrain? You doing okay there?”

He’s not. How could Keigo be doing okay, when Rumi is annoyingly right? You won’t wait forever. Keigo doesn’t even have forever. He has a few weeks left if his research is correct. And for some dumb reason Keigo didn’t seem to think about the fact that he might live to see you with someone else.

You move slightly closer to him, and Keigo’s fist clenches. 

He doesn’t even know the guy, but can he be surprised? You’re perfect, you’re you. It makes sense that he’s not the only one in love with you. Keigo sees the hand this guy places on your elbow, the way he smiles at you whenever you laugh. He knows that look because it’s how he looks at you everyday. 

And then it starts. Slow and slight. It stirs in his lungs, just a tickle, but he knows, he knows what comes next.

Rumi notices the way his face pales, and she shakes his arm. “Hawks? You’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

And he tries to answer, but all that comes out is a choking noise he can’t even recognise as a sound his own body made. And the feeling builds up all too quickly, and Keigo thinks he might be dying. He’s rushing out the room to try and make it to the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it further than out the door, because the pain in his chest is splitting, like somebody is trying to push their way out of his skin. He drops to the knees and he clutches at his stomach, and he coughs and coughs and there’s blood, and there’s flowers now, fully grown flowers-

And then everything goes dark.

——————

Keigo opens his eyes to the bright white ceiling of a hospital room. It’s not something he hasn’t seen before, and the slow blink back to life and the few seconds of peace before the pain kicks in are always the worst. He blinks harshly before slowly, slowly sitting up, arms almost buckling from his weight. 

He hates the weakness that comes with injury, the embarrassment. If he was still training at the commission they would’ve sent him back on the field before he’d even gotten up. But, he doubts he’d have gotten a disease quite like this over there.

It’s only after he’s pushed himself into a sitting position that he sees you. 

Arms crossed as your head leans back against the wall behind you, asleep. He has no idea how long it’s been, but judging by the fact you’re still wearing the clothes you were wearing in the office, he assumes it’s the same day. He glances out the window and its pitch black.

And you look beautiful. Even with the mascara smudged beneath your eyes, the worry on your face even visible in your sleep. Keigo looks away, but not before you wake up and catch him staring. You blink like you might be dreaming, before you bring your chair closer to him.

“Hawks. You’re- You’re awake.” You whisper the words like if you say them too loudly they might not be true.

He smiles as best as he can. “Hey, pretty. The party still going on without me?” He tries for a joke but your eyes prick with tears. 

“Don’t. Don’t joke right now. Nothing about this is funny.” You sound serious in a way he’s never heard before, and some sick, twisted part of himself is giddy that it’s all for him.

“You promised you were fine.”

Keigo wants to turn away because the hurt on your face is his fault.

“I’m sorry. I just-“ He sighs. “Did you see?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone else see?”

“No. Rumi stopped them from coming out into the hall.”

He nods. You shake your head, hand coming up to rub at your eyes. 

“How long has it been?” He asks.

You check your watch. “It’s one in the morning so. About six hours.”

Keigo falters. “Wait- You’ve been here for six hours?”

You frown. “Well obviously. I- They said I’m your emergency contact. And someone had to be here to tell you what the doctor said.”

He knows already. From the sharp pain in his chest he knows.

“I’m assuming you know it’s Hanahaki?”

He nods. You nod.

“You-“ You curse. It takes a few moments for you to get the words out.

“He said you don’t have long. The petals, he said they’re starting to look like flowers. Fully grown ones. And that means you’re in the final stages.” Your voice cracks and Keigo thinks he might throw up again.

“Okay.”

You pause. “Okay? Is that all you have to say? Okay?”

Keigo frowns. “Y/N, I-“

“Do you not get it, Hawks? You’re going to die. He says you’re going to die if you don’t either tell the person or- get the surgery done.”

Keigo shakes his head immediately. “I’m not doing the surgery.”

Your lip quivers and you pull yourself even closer. Your hand grabs his and it’s cold where his is warm, and you squeeze. 

“You have to, Hawks. The world can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.” You whisper.

And your words sound so raw, so vulnerable, and it tears at his inside more than the roses growing inside them.

“Just try. Try, okay? Tell them how you feel and see. It- It might be reciprocated. It definitely will be. I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?” You laugh wetly, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

But there’s something else behind them.

Jealousy.

And there’s a small flicker of hope that grows beneath his bones. And he looks at you then, at the tears that gather on the bottom of those fluttering eyelashes. And he reaches up, brushes the curve of your cheek.

And your breath hitches. He feels the heat on your face from how close he is, and he thinks he might cry.

“It’s not fair.” His voice sounds so weak, so awfully weak and he wants to scream. 

“What is? What’s not fair?” You ask.

“I can’t tell her. I don’t deserve her.”

You look so confused. Like he’s said the dumbest thing in the world. “What?”

“I’m not- I work almost everyday, and when I am off I’m too tired to do anything. My place is more of a prison cell than an apartment. I- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. Never even thought about it. I can’t- I’m not allowed, Y/N.”

And now his voice cracks and your hand squeezes tighter. And his voice sounds unfamiliar. This desperation, the frantic panic that fights against his words is so unlike him. Keigo has never been vulnerable with anybody in his life, but that look in your eyes makes him feel like he can tell you everything. All the dirty horrible secrets he keeps locked inside himself.

“It’s not fair. I don’t know if I can even be there for someone. It’s why I never said anything, I didn’t want to mess up a relationship that’s so important for me for one I can’t even commit to. It’s not fair on you, Y/N. You deserve better.”

He feels like there’s a weight that’s left his shoulder when he finishes speaking, rambled words he can barely remember. He’s out of breath when he’s done. Waiting anxiously for you to say something. Maybe this real version of Keigo is too much for you. He has half a mind to tell you it was just a joke, he didn’t mean it if it means you’ll stop looking so shocked. Keigo just needs you to say something.

“I deserve better?”

He doesn’t expect that. “What?” He says, confused.

You swallow roughly and he watches the sharp lines of your throat as you do so. “You said ‘you deserve better’. You as in, me. As in… I’m the one you have feelings for?”

Shit.

“I- Did I say that? I think it’s the medicine, it’s making me all-“

“Are you in love with me, Hawks?”

The room isn’t silent. The machines he’s hooked up to all make a low humming noise, and he can hear people and nurses walking and talking outside. But when you say those words it feels like the world has stopped. 

He could lie. But Keigo won’t get the surgery, so he figures he might as well let you know how he feels before he dies.

“Yes.”

You freeze for a moment. Then your hands come up to cover your face and he immediately misses the contact. And then your shoulders start shaking and he thinks you're crying.

Keigo sighs. “It’s not that awful of a thing. No reason to cry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m laughing.”

When you look back up at him there are in fact tears running down your face, but you look happy. And hope claws its way out of him.

“This funny to you?”

“No. Your stupidity is, though.” 

Keigo is quiet for a moment, confused. “Do you mind elaborating on that?”

“Hawks, do you think it’s normal that I do all your paperwork with you? Or that we get lunch together almost everyday? Do you think any other assistant in all of Japan would stay as late as their boss, especially when he’s a top ten Pro hero who rarely finishes before ten in the evening?”

“I-“

“Do you think it’s normal that I wear this necklace you bought me everyday?” And you reach into your shirt and pull it out, the gold catching against the light.

“Hawks, I spend every waking second I’m in that agency with you if I can help it. I’ve had job offers a million times better than what I do for you, and I’ve rejected every single one because I wanted to be with you.”

Keigo doesn’t say anything. You grab his hand again, but it feels a little more threatening this time.

“You don’t get to decide if I deserve you or not, I do. It’s- I can’t believe you. I don’t care about all that. We’ll figure it out together.”

And Keigo just closes his eyes, because this can’t be real. He must be dreaming, because Keigo doesn’t get things like this. Love. Nothing like that look on your face that’s all for him.

“You sure you're not just saying this because I’m dying?”

And you laugh, and let your tears fall freely, and Keigo can finally breathe clearly for the first time in months.

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

this is for lysa if ur anyone else stop reading...?

JKKKKK guys i love hawks so much i can't explain... he was my lover for so long i miss him

also i loved writing this i literally did it in ONE NIGHT?? plz give me more ideas pookas

Because of that cold cup of tea, you’ve been screaming for two, going onto three hours, with no end in sight.

But, it’s not about the cold tea. It’s about the fact that the urgency in your love is gone, the quickness and determination to be with each other has dissolved into nothing but sugar melting in a mug of tea. Your time together has been awkward, it’s been minimal, and in your search to do something nice for him, like a warm cup of tea, he allowed it to get cold, and… what happened next?

There’s boundaries being crossed, lines of truce being broken as you cast vicious words against each other, the use of insecurities to make the other crumble and conjure a look of hurt, only to morph to disgust and yell back something even more heinous.

And yet…

“What did I even marry you for?” He snarls, throwing his arms out. “I’m certain it wasn’t for this! So why are we wasting our time right now?”

Your world stops.

In an instant, all words die on your tongue. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as all you can think about are his words. They repeat in your head, almost in slow motion, as your heart sinks in your chest.

“What…?” you croak. Your throat is dry, mouth cottony, and you silently pray to anything, holy and not, merciful and malicious, that you didn’t hear him right. Your mind is lying, so tired of fighting you’re seeing the worst in him as a defense mechanism.

“You heard me,” he barks. “Your life is so miserable? You hate it here so much? GO.”

You heard him right.

You wished you hadn’t.

Your arms come up to cradle yourself in comfort, the fire swirling in your chest now extinguished, the once lively fight now being reduced to a ringing in your ear.

You’d… when did he…

“You don’t get to sit here, call me a cheater, a loser, a liar, all for your own good mind. Not when I’ve put my whole LIFE into you. I gave you my WHOLE. LIFE.”

“Why…”

“What?” He snarls.

You sniffle. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you blink a line of scalding tears out; you’re surprised they don’t sizzle your flesh from being so hot with frustration.

“Why… are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” He snaps. “Mean, you’ve called me some of the cruelest shit I’ve ever heard in your vocabulary, but I’m being mean? Do you even hear yourself, IM THE MEAN ONE?”

“Do you really wonder why you married me…?”

Your voice is so quiet, you wonder if he heard you.

He opens his mouth to spew his venom, only to stop dead in his tracks. His brows soften as his eyes widen, jaw slacking subtly. For the first time tonight, the room is quiet; still thick enough to cut the tension with a blade, but it’s quiet enough where you both can gather your thoughts.

You wipe your nose with your arm, “do you really think I want to stay here and fight with you? Is that how you think I want to spend my night with you?” You sob softly, “because it’s not. I don’t want to fight with you over cold tea… I don’t want to…”

You can practically see the lightbulb over his head light up. That’s right, you think to yourself. This is about tea.

“I…”

“I don’t question why I married you,” you whimper. “I know exactly why- because I love you. But the man I know would never, and I mean never, verbally assault and question his love for me over a cold. Cup. Of. Tea.”

“I don’t…” he shakes softly. “How did we get here…?”

“You started this war,” you hiss. “I didn’t.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you fucking baby me,” you snap. “No. You don’t get to do that as a way to weasel out of this. You’re not going to guilt me with pet names to forgive you.”

“No, no, baby- damn, no, I mean-“

“You know what?” You pull your lips down into a frown and throw your hands out in defeat. “You want me gone so bad? I’m gone.”

“No, no, wait,” he begs, reaching out for one of your hands. You whip them back like he’s made of fire, and he reels away, as if keeping you safe, “no, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t question my love for you, I’d rather die than ever have you wonder if I love you-“

“Then you’d better have a goddamned good explanation for this,” you hiss. “Because right now? We’re done.”

“No!”

“I’m…” your strength is gone. Your lip quivers and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you wail as you make a dash out of the room, darting for the bedroom. You lock the door and slam your fist against the wood, screaming, howling in agony at the heartbreak of potentially losing your husband over a cold cup of tea.

Things spiraled so far out of control, that he questioned his love for you. How are you to come back from that? Angry words are truth shrouded in cruelty, and you are not going to let him berate you in such a manner as to wonder if this marriage was a good choice. You deserve far more, far better, than that.

On the other side of the door, you hear a soft poomf, then a thump. You stop crying to try and figure out the noises and their purpose.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, a far different tone from how he was speaking to you not three minutes ago. “I won’t try to come in. I won’t make you talk to me. But I’m here… and I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Bite me,” you choke.

You hear him sigh through his nose, “I… I know why I married you,” he whispers. You don’t say anything. He continues regardless, “because you’re you. And on our first date, you were late because you hated the outfit you had planned, but you looked so fucking good, I couldn’t handle it. And it was that day, I decided I wanted to wait for you, forever. You are more than worth waiting for. And…” you hear him clear his throat, but there’s an emotional block in his voice, “I’ll keep waiting for you. Right here, on this floor. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat, I’ll piss I’ll die here, I don’t care, I’m right here. And I’ll stay here to prove that you’re worth waiting for.” He shudders.

“I’m happy to wait for you.”

———

haikyuu: daichi, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, yaku, iwaizumi, mattsun, hanamakki, oikawa, kyotani, ushijima (different font), kita (also different font), atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa, meian

bnha: bakugou, dabi, hawks

jjk: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu

‘Hey, Y/L/N-san.’

You were in the process of packing your things into your school bag. The classes were finally over, and you couldn’t wait to ditch the stuffy classroom once and for all and dive into a nice peaceful weekend.

You didn’t recognize the boy in front of you, but unfortunately, you knew what he wanted even before he started to talk.

‘You’re friends with Sano-san, right?’ he asked smiling with a glow of confidence in his eyes probably thinking he came up with a pretty decent plan when he chose to approach you.

Sadly, for him, this wasn’t unusual. Despite her unfortunate reputation and the scary rumors that circled around her persona. Your best friend, Sano Emma, was a cute and attractive-looking girl who often caught the attention of boys around your schools and guys passing on the streets. Whether on purpose or not being subtle enough, it was very easy to overhear or notice some of the peaking or openly staring at her. At times you compare them to animals in the zoo watching their caretakers bring them their scheduled food. Sometimes, they were merely excited or happy. Other times, they were drooling and looking like they would run to snatch it before they were ever even allowed to.

‘Yes, what about it?’ you asked. If you were a snarkier person, you would probably tell him flat out to back off because it was pointless to even try anything on Emma, but being yourself, conflict was usually your last resort. If it didn’t happen so often it started to really annoy you, you would even appreciate those guys for having the guts to try something on their crush in the first place.

‘Say, do you know if she’s seeing someone?’

Mentally, you took a deep breath and sighed, but, on the outside, you merely politely said, ‘No, but she likes someone else.’

You thought that was all that needed to be said and returned to packing your stuff. You really wanted to go already. Emma had to head to the teacher’s office to discuss her dropping grades.

She’ll probably ask me to help her study later, you thought to yourself.

Personally, if you approached someone because you were crushing on their friend and found out they liked someone else, you would thank them and never mention it ever again, but apparently, this guy was wired differently.

‘Huh, really?’

You shot your back and turned to leave but the boy sort of cut into your path, ‘Do you think I could take him? What’s he like?’

Take him? You wondered mentally. As in a fight?!

You imagined this guy going against 185 cm tall Ryuguji Ken.

You imagined this guy going against Toman’s vice president, Draken.

You imagined this guy going against the boy you once saw taking down ten Toman members with three punches without breaking a sweat because they were being disrespectful.

You chuckled. It was rude. You would be the first to admit, it was really rude, but you just couldn’t help it because imagining anyone let alone this guy going against Draken was seriously funny.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked. Obviously, he didn’t appreciate your reaction, and honestly, you didn’t blame him for that.

You cleared your throat, ‘Sorry. Uh,’ despite knowing a great deal about Emma’s brother’s not-so-little gang, Toman, you were around when it was founded and all, you still didn’t feel too comfortable to talk about it so openly with strangers. In school, nevertheless.

‘Her crush is friends with her brother,’ you said purposely underlining friends and brother, so he and anyone with a good pair of eyes and brain would understand. Everyone and their mother knew that Sano Manjiro was in a gang. Skipping school only to ride a bike wearing his black gang jacket was a dead giveaway. Seeing other members around the city getting into fights, vandalism and other forms of delinquency would convince anyone.

-or so you thought.

‘So? What? It’s not like she has to date her brother’s friends, is it? If so, who is he? I can be his friend or whatever,’ he said, and you openly stared at him like he was insane. You couldn’t help but wonder. If he didn’t even know Emma’s brother, Mikey, was the leader of Toman, what did he even know about her? Or was it really only because of her looks?

You sighed out loud now. You were already in a faulty mood looking forward to leaving the school premises only for this guy to constantly stall you. You were trying to be polite. Really, you weren’t a mean person. It wasn’t your style to flat-out be rude to someone upon meeting them. And you did your absolute best to make it quick with this boy but apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the toolbox to figure it out.

‘Look, Emma likes someone else, and her brother isn’t someone to mess with. Trust me, if you don’t want problems just let it go, alright?’ Maybe you should have worded it better or maybe you should have told him to just go ask Emma herself if he wanted to so much. If you really thought about it, was this even your problem to begin with?

The boy frowned, ‘Seriously? Why would you say that? What’s wrong with you?’

Your eyes widened while you stood there puzzled wondering what the heck was this guy talking about. You were perfectly clear. Did he seriously want you to spell it out for him that her brother would crack his skull with a single kick and tell his gang to harass him until his dying days?

‘You know jealousy only makes you look uglier,’ he said and turned around stomping away pretty much like a child that apparently, he was.

You were left standing at your spot motionless for a few moments trying to get over the shock of the situation before you breathed out, ‘Whoa.’

It wasn’t like the words didn’t hurt.

They did.

A lot.

So much.

What an asshole!

But you always did your very best not to cry in school or because of some jerk who you didn’t even know.

After three deep breaths just to make sure you wouldn’t start sobbing, you started to walk out of the classroom. You knew that guy was just an upset jerk which was why he was lashing out like that, but it still stung a little. No one wanted to be called ugly or accused of being jealous of their friend. What should you be jealous of anyway? A guy like that coming to you trying to win you over only to be an ass to your friends? No, thank you!

You walked down the stairs only to find Emma waiting for you with a sour look on her face, ‘I need to get my grades up or they’ll tell gramps about it.’

You figured as much and patted her shoulder, ‘I’ll help you study tomorrow.’

‘Really?’ she beamed looking brighter than a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, ‘Yup, let’s go.’

On the walk home, you only partly listened to Emma’s ramble about how unfair the teacher was. Untrue, but you didn’t have the energy to argue with her. Not to mention, your mind kept on drifting to the boy from the classroom.

Uglier

Uglier~

Uglieeeeer~

‘You’re the ugly one, you ass,’ you mumbled to yourself quietly.

‘Hm?’

‘Nothing,’ you quickly dismissed her interest and glanced around. It was Friday with many people on their way home from work or on a break before they had to return to their offices. Some didn’t even spare you two a single look, but others were openly staring at Emma.

It happened a lot. You weren’t certain when it started, but one day you noticed she was getting a lot of attention from men and boys passing by. Some were flat-out creepy while others looked rather cute. Some tried to strike up a conversation, but Emma was usually too much in her own world to notice or too into Draken to care.

‘Hey, do you want to go join me for karaoke? We’re missing a girl.’

‘I’m with my friend. Bye.’

‘Pretty girl, would you like to go to dinner.’

‘Beat it, old man!’

‘You’re so cute. Want me to buy you something sweet in that coffee house?’

She didn’t even acknowledge the existence of that last boy. Being her best friend came with the privilege of knowing she already had her heart set on someone else.

Honestly, from creeps who tried to follow her and you on the streets to boys who thought they were cute when they couldn’t even shutter out their names, you came to the conclusion that there was really nothing to envy your friend and often offered her your sympathy or changed the subject to ease her annoyance.

Jealousy

It wasn't like it was true. Why would you be jealous of the attention Emma got?

Maybe.

Sometimes.

A little.

You glanced at her hair, ever so perfectly blowing in the wind as you walked. It wasn't like she asked for all that attention. To be frank, most of the time she didn't even notice, or she found it annoying. Besides her were eyes set on Draken for as long as you knew her.

Still, yeah, maybe sometimes you were a little jealous of that attention. If only because compared to her you felt so damn invisible, you might as well not be there at all when those guys approached her. It was rude really. You didn’t want them to hit on you or anything, but straight out being pushed aside so they could get close to Emma without them so much as looking at you if you didn’t end up in traffic thanks to them seemed rude.

You would surely hate it if you were in Emma’s shoes, but you couldn’t say it was all that better to be in your own. Constantly being overlooked and ignored really sucked too.

Passing nearby windshields you caught your reflection. Maybe you should do something about the way you look. Nothing too radical just something to make you stand out a bit? Look cuter?

‘I can’t believe sensei’s being so unfair-’

‘Do you think I should change my hairstyle or do something about makeup?’ (A.N: adding or changing depending on you).

Your eyes moved to your school uniform. It couldn’t be helped on the weekday but maybe during the weekend and after school? ‘Maybe I could do something about my clothing,’ you said to yourself, ‘Maybe I would catch someone’s attention better that way-’

‘But you’re perfect!’ cut in Emma before you could think about that guy from class and pray not to catch the attention of someone like him.

You smiled at your friend, Yeah, yeah.’

‘No really!’ Assured you Emma and taking her best friend’s responsibilities seriously like they were life or death began to praise everything from your hair to your face and body gaining unwanted attention from people passing by. Definitely, not what you meant.

A little bit self-conscious and embarrassed, you tried to calm her down when you and she heard the familiar sounds of two bikes approaching. It wasn’t like you were an expert, but being around Toman so often, CB250T’s roar was definitely imprinted into your brain forever. You were pretty decent in recognizing all the captain’s bikes, even if you didn’t always guess the right one, but their leader’s bike you managed to get right every time. Not something you needed to brag about, but you still took pride in it.

You turned around and waved just as Emma raised her hand and called for her brother only to discover he was followed by Draken too. It wasn’t all that unusual, but your friend still snatched your arm looking at you like it was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

‘Follow my lead, Y/N!’

Emma greeted her brother and crush, while you waited beside her hoping whatever she had planned wouldn’t backfire too much. You were always there to pick up the pieces after all. Sure, Draken would never deliberately hurt Emma, but he was known to be harsh and speak his truth not realizing Emma was trying to flirt with him or get him to go on a date with her.

‘Hey, do you guys think Y/N should change something about herself?’ she asked suddenly cutting through your thoughts. You froze on the spot before shooting her a wide-eyed look. No way! Stop! You thought desperately as you listened to her make out some half-baked story about how you wanted to appear more interesting to someone.

Falling into traffic doesn’t sound so bad right about now, you thought to yourself and put a hand over your friends. You knew both Mikey and Draken were asking themselves why the hell was Emma asking them about this.

‘Men don’t care about that stuff,’ said Draken, and you uncovered your face only to ask, ‘Can we talk about something else please?’

‘Mitsuya-kun does,’ cut in Mikey, and you were tempted to die on the spot. The two started to discuss the captain of the Second Division and his keen eye for fashion before Draken admitted, That might work. So, if you want, go ask him.’

You couldn’t bear to look either of them in the eye for a moment.

‘Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,’ you said and mentally sent Emma a message never to do that to you again. The message must not have reached her though because, in the next moment, she rushed to Draken’s side and said, ‘Hey, can you guys give us a ride? Y/N twisted her ankle in the gym and it’s really far from her house.’

Seriously?! You thought looking at Emma and it had to show, but when they all looked at you, you sighed and without any emotion whatsoever said, ‘Yes, I twisted my ankle. In gym. Can you give me a ride home? Please?’

Draken looked at you bizarrely while Mikey lowered his face and cleared his throat into his fist. He knew what Emma was doing. Despite being a little bit childish at times and in general acting like he was carefree and oblivious, he knew about Emma’s feelings for his friend, and given how often he let Emma, and you come along, he must have approved of them too.

‘No problem,’ he finally said grinning widely at you before waving you over like a dog, ‘Come on, Y/N-chan. I’ll take you home. Poor baby with a twisted ankle,’ he mocked you as you walked toward him. You knew it was in good nature. Mikey was never purposely mean to you. 

You refused to limp, but you at least had the decency to walk slowly not to completely out Emma’s lie. Seriously, you were beginning to question just how good this friendship was to you.

You sighed and got behind the blond as he passed you his spare helmet. It wasn’t the first time you rode with him. After all, Emma took every opportunity she could get to be close to Draken, and because you so often tagged along you had to get somehow home too. Still, to say you were used to the feeling would be a total lie. You still felt nervous and knew everyone with a pair of eyes could see it.

‘Ah, my bad, I should have picked you up, huh?’ he turned around and grinned at you, clearly enjoying this too much, so you repaid him by putting your arms around his middle and squeezing, hard.

He let out a small, startled noise, but you knew that was mostly for your benefit. No way, you actually hurt the invincible Mikey after all. At times it was easy to deal with Mikey. You knew him for as long as Emma, and since he often went on board with Emma’s little attempts to get closer to Draken, you had something like an understanding between you two. Also, his bratty personality helped you forget you were about to once again ride on his beloved death trap.

‘Hey, wouldn’t it make more sense if Y/L/N went with me? Aren’t you heading home, Mikey?’ asked Draken suddenly causing the rest of you to freeze because, after all, he wasn’t wrong. It made very little sense for Mikey to drive you and then go home afterward.

‘Uhmm, but I’m…cooking for Mikey-kun,’ you said quickly surprising everyone including you because cooking?!

‘Right, you still owe me for beating up that punk who made you cry,’ he said sounding quite delighted while you were left puzzled about what he meant. You didn’t really think anyone made you cry recently. Distantly, you recalled he punched someone for your benefit like four years ago, but the details were hazy.

However, the answer seemed to satisfy Draken, who didn’t say anything else just wished his leader and you farewell.  

Mentally, you rolled your eyes at how excited Emma looked while holding onto him, but you still offered her a smile and a wave.

‘Yare yare,’ said Mikey and shook his head while starting this bike, ‘Could she be any more desperate?’

Taking your role as Emma’s best friend seriously, you pinched his arm, ‘Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about.’

He made a little distressed noise which again had to only be for your benefit, but you still appreciated it. The ride was mostly silent and fast, but not dangerously so. Maybe you were getting used to it though because unlike other times when you were holding onto the blond for dear life, now you were falling into your thoughts thinking about what happened after class and in general about how invisible you felt at times.

It wasn’t even that you lacked strangers noticing you really. It was that you lacked that one person who would.

Even if Emma didn’t care for the attention, Draken seemed to be playing hard to get. You knew the tall blond liked her. It was painfully obvious; they would be one of those couples who would marry soon after her graduation and first among their friends to have kids.

However, when you tried to picture yourself in the future you couldn’t imagine ever having someone to come home to, spend time with, or have a family. You wanted to, but you couldn’t really see it happening. Guys didn’t really pay attention to you whether you were with Emma or not. You couldn’t really tell why it was, but it always felt like you had to try hard and put yourself really out there to even be noticed, and even then, it felt like more often than not people didn’t even care about what you had to say. Apart from Emma, you always felt like you said the wrong thing or annoyed people when you spoke. You couldn’t explain it, but it just felt like that.

Your thoughts came to a halt as Mikey stopped at a red light. You were too busy daydreaming or maybe he finally took your complaints to heart and drove slower, but the ride felt strangely nice and relaxing. Almost like you were sightseeing or on a nice ride around town to kill time.

While you waited for the light to go green, you noticed a few high school girls looking in your direction.

It made you feel self-conscious and try to shrink into yourself before you realized they couldn’t see you looking at them with the helmet on. Were they staring at Mikey? It wouldn’t be anything new since whenever someone noticed he was wearing his gang uniform they stared a lot. But the Toman’s kanji on his back was hidden by your body while you were holding him. Sure, even if you could never admit it out loud, Mikey was a really handsome guy, so it made sense if they were eyeing him, but he was wearing a helmet too, so they couldn’t see his face.

It’s not like they're romanticizing us and think we’re a cute couple on a ride through town, right?You asked yourself. Surely, not. Why would they even think that?

You glanced ahead. You were pressed against Mikey’s back quite a lot, and you were holding him really tightly, but that was only because it was safer that way.

You felt your face heat up even if you told yourself you were being silly for making up stuff like that. 

Ridiculous. 

Anyone thinking you and Mikey were a couple was being ridiculous.

Still, having the day you had and facing the insecurities that haunted you for so long it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to know someone could think you would be worthy of someone like Mikey. Of anyone really.

Finally, the light turned green, and the bike came to life again and moved away from those girls. Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape your thoughts. You felt stupidly proud at the idea someone might envy you even if there really wasn’t anything to envy in the first place. You and Mikey weren’t dating. You were barely friends. You were mostly friendly because of Emma and maybe mutual respect?

‘Hey,’ you heard him call out when he slowed down a bit, ‘Any tighter and I’ll think you like me.’

You let out a startled noise from the back of your throat and immediately eased up on your hold. Seriously, you didn’t even really start to hold him so tight.

You felt him pat your palm though and laugh, It’s fine. Relax.’ Easy for him to say.

By the time, he got you home, you did your best to chase all the unnecessary thoughts out of your mind. You were already struggling thinking you were destined to be alone, gaining an unrequited crush on your best friend’s brother would do you absolutely no good.

You got off the bike stumbling a bit because of course you did, but Mikey easily snatched your elbow somewhat helping you find your balance, ‘Thanks!’

He nodded and let you go also getting off the bike, ‘So will you make me some taiyaki?’

You weren’t surprised he actually wanted food. If there was one thing you knew about the blond apart from how protective he was of his sister and how he could take down anyone who challenged him then it was that he was always hungry. Most of the time for taiyaki.

You sighed. You didn’t want to bring him down, but you knew better than to promise something that you couldn’t really deliver on. You had never made taiyaki before, and overall you weren’t the best cook around.

‘I’ve never made it before. But I can make dinner if you like. Nothing extra!' you hurried to add, 'Just something quick?’

‘Man,’ his shoulders and face fell a bit, and his face twisted with a light pout, ‘Mean. And to think I drove you all the way here.’

You were about to tell him off when he started walking toward your home not waiting for your remarks. 

When he was by your door he turned back looking at you with that same bored and calm expression he often had but with the addition of his lazy smile, 'You coming?'

Although his visit was unexpected and new, you still did your best to be a polite host. You kinda thought he would stick around the living room and watch TV or go play something on your computer, but instead, he followed you into the kitchen and glued to a chair facing your back, he watched you work. It was a bit strange and unnerving, but you did your best to ignore it.

When he came to stand beside you, you couldn’t help but think something was on his mind. After all, Manjiro Sano was known to doze off during gang meetings or act like he owned the place wherever he went so sticking to your side seemed oddly too polite from him.

‘Do you really want to change your hair and style?’ he asked after a moment eyeing you.

You glanced at him. His usually cheerful or bored dark eyes carried a more sober almost serious look behind them. It almost made you feel like you were in trouble.

‘Oh, that? That’s just something Emma and I talked about before,’ you said embarrassed at the idea that Mikey or anyone would know about what was bothering you. It sounded stupid, and weird to say it out loud, and you were sure you would get looked at weirdly if anyone knew just like you often did when you said something that felt like the wrong thing to say in the first place.

However, even when you return to cooking, you feel the blond’s eyes on you, ‘Are you…,’ his voice dropped a bit further adding to his oddly and atypically serious appearance, ‘trying to get someone’s attention?’

Your eyes glanced at Mikey, and you were surprised to find him looking at you so dangerously. You couldn’t really explain it any other way. It wasn’t like he was planning to fight you or anything like that, but it was like he was weighing your words and debating on their importance for some reason.

‘Uhm, just in general,’ you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. Once again you felt hot embarrassment settle across your face in the form of a blush, ‘I’m a pretty invisible person most of the time. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind to be noticed, you know?’ You cringed at how pathetic that sounded and seriously wondered what was wrong with you to talk with Mikey about this. He was more than a little dense. Not by being stupid just too carefree and not fixated on stuff like you to were.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw his back pressed against your counter and he looked ahead, in the opposite direction from you, ‘Well, don’t.’

You properly looked at him again and found him still looking ahead but this time he crossed his arms and pouted again the way he sometimes did which made him look really young, ‘Don’t try to gain anyone else’s attention. I won’t like that if too many people stare at you.’

You blinked and then you blinked again and again as you painfully slowly took his words in, ‘W-what?!’

‘You’re burning the food,’ he said casually and nodded toward the stove in front of you where you really were burning your dinner. You quickly tried to save it somehow by doing a half-decent job although you were still tempted to call it a day and go buy something.

Still, you had more pressing matters at hand. Surely, you didn’t hear him right or you misunderstood him completely. Yet mistake or not your heart was beating far too quickly, and your voice shook when you asked, ‘Mikey-kun,’ you started to whisper, ‘what did you mean by that?’

He took a plate without asking and gave it to you so you could put the food on it, ‘Hm? Oh, that?’

You waited.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, and you were left staring at him and his empty plate. Mechanically, you took it after a moment and put the food on it all the while glancing at the blond boy wondering if he was pulling your leg or something.

He started to eat without you, ‘It’s not the best.’

You forgot about your previous conversation as your face grew hotter from embarrassment again, ‘Then don’t eat it. I’ll get us something else.’

You tried to walk toward him and grab the plate, but he blocked you, ‘Nope, this is fine.’

You frowned a bit feeling even more humiliated, ‘No, it’s not. You just said so yourself.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said and continued to eat. You wanted to be touched, and you were, but a part of you was seriously horrified that you made something bad and had someone, a guest, eat it.

You sat down opposite of Mikey and dug in. It really wasn’t the best. It wasn’t the worst, it just wasn’t overly delicious either, ‘Come on! Drop that face. It’s fine.’

You shook your head, ‘It’s not, but thanks for trying. I haven’t really had much practice, but I’ll do my best to get better and make it up to you next time.’

Mikey’s face inexplicably softened and a cute smile came across it reminding you that all in all, he was a very handsome guy, ‘Really, next time, Y/N-chan? So, it’ll be a weekly date?’

That question knocked the wind out of your lungs and made you choke on your bite a little although that might have been the food itself. It took you a hot minute to actually manage to speak again, ‘D-date?’

Mikey grinned at you like he knew something you didn’t before he continued to eat as if he didn’t say anything at all. You wanted to ask what he meant, but you weren’t sure how, and felt that if you did as he refused to answer, you would feel ridiculous. You started to small talk at least, but not the way strangers were but how two future friends would. It wasn’t as intimate and quick as a heartbeat like it was with Emma, but it was still a nice and cozy chat, so you couldn’t complain.

By the time he finished and prepared to leave you had to tell yourself it was a very strange day. Although maybe not the worst.

You walked Mikey to his bike. It felt like the least you could do. After all, he drove you home, you had no taiyaki for him, and you cooked him mediocre food at best. Although he brushed it off, what he said, didn’t leave your mind throughout the whole time you were together.

‘Thanks for the food, I’ll be holding you up on your promise to get better,’ he said with a semi-pretend serious look that made you chuckle, ‘Yeah, just don’t get your hopes up. It might take a while.’

He turned toward his bike, and you felt a little bit disappointed in yourself. If you were a different more confident person, you would surely ask him about what happened back there.

Suddenly, just as you glanced back at your house you felt Mikey’s hand rest on your waist.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back only to find him in front of you again so close you might as well be hugging, ‘Huh?’

His palm on your waist was warm, but not uncomfortable. He wasn’t being forceful, just present enough that you knew with every thought and cell inside your body that he was touching you there. It sounded silly. You touched him plenty when you held onto him while you rode and yet now it felt different. In those times, it was a necessity to touch each other, now it was a desire.

You couldn’t see his face when he leaned forward but his voice sounded quiet and serious again, ‘It’s fine if you really want to change, Y/N-chan,’ your heart speeded up and your breathing grew louder than his words yet you still heard the rest of what he had to say, ‘Just know that I always pay attention to you. Even as you are now.’

Something soft and damp pressed against your temple, but when your shy self finally gained the courage to look, Mikey was already letting go of you and getting on his bike.

His cheeks were dusted with the lightest shades of pink, but you still noticed it, while he grinned at you, ‘Maybe just your cooking.’

You were still taking it all in so it took you a moment to realize what he meant. Your own face was burning hot as you tried to process what happened, your emotions and make up a good comeback only to stutter, ‘Y-yeah, like…like you can d-do better?’

The blond looked as carefree as ever, ‘Come tomorrow and find out. I’ll ask Emma for pointers.’

‘That’s cheating,’ you replied but still found yourself grinning as well. You couldn’t help it. It seemed that the corners of your mouth had lives of their own.

‘Bye, Y/N-chan,’ he said smiling, so you wished him goodbye as well as a safe trip home and remained standing there for a little longer after the sound of his bike could no longer be heard in the distance.

As you walked home, your hands covered your face, and you couldn’t stop smiling and wondering what the hell just happened all the while your heart was beating with a newfound rhythm of knowing there was someone whose attention belonged to you after all.

Koniec

Lee's life had never been easy, but for the first time in years, he felt a semblance of normalcy. He had Y/N, a bright light in his otherwise dark existence, and for her, he tried to be the man she believed him to be. They had found a small, rundown house on the outskirts of a sleepy town, a place where they could hide from the world and from his past.

Every morning, Lee would wake up to find Y/N beside him, her hair a tangled mess and her face peaceful in sleep. He treasured these moments, these fleeting glimpses of a life he thought was forever out of his reach. They would spend their days exploring the town, cooking meals together, and laughing at the little things that made life bearable. For the first time, Lee allowed himself to hope.

But hope was a dangerous thing for someone like him. The hunger was always there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the monster he was. He fought it with everything he had, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it would break free. He had told Y/N about his condition, about the darkness that threatened to consume him, but she had refused to leave him, her love unwavering.

One night, after a day spent picnicking by a nearby lake, they lay in bed, tangled in each other's arms. Y/N rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Lee stroked her hair, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He loved her more than he had ever thought possible, but the fear of losing control haunted him.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice a soft caress against his skin.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice heavy with emotion.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. "We'll get through this, Lee. Together."

He nodded, though doubt gnawed at his insides. "I know. I just... I worry. About what I might do. About losing you."

She pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing his fears with her touch. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

…

But promises were fragile things, easily broken by the harsh reality of life. That night, as Lee drifted off to sleep with Y/N in his arms, he was unaware of the storm brewing inside her. She had seen the darkness in him, felt the cold edge of fear that came with loving someone who battled such demons. She loved him, but the fear was becoming too much to bear.

Y/N lay awake, listening to the steady rhythm of Lee's breathing. She had seen the signs, the struggle in his eyes, the way he would sometimes pull away from her, afraid of what he might do. She wanted to believe that love was enough, that they could conquer anything together, but doubt had taken root in her heart.

As the hours passed, Y/N made a decision that broke her heart. She couldn't stay. She couldn't risk waking up one day to find the man she loved had become a monster. With tears streaming down her face, she carefully disentangled herself from Lee's embrace, trying not to wake him.

She packed a small bag, taking only what she needed. She wrote a note, her hands shaking as she tried to find the words to explain why she had to leave. But how could she explain the fear, the helplessness? In the end, she kept it simple.

*Lee, Please forgive me.*

She placed the note on the pillow beside him, pressing a kiss to his forehead one last time. Then, with a heavy heart, she slipped out the door and into the night.

…

Lee woke up to the cold emptiness of the bed beside him. At first, he thought Y/N had just gotten up early, but as he stretched out his hand, he found the note. His heart pounded in his chest as he read the words, his mind struggling to process the reality of her absence.

"No," he whispered, the word barely escaping his lips. He jumped out of bed, frantically searching the house for any sign of her. But she was gone. The silence of the house was deafening, a stark contrast to the laughter and warmth that had filled it just the day before.

Panic set in as he ran outside, calling her name. The only response was the echo of his own voice. He raced to the edge of the property, looking for any sign of where she might have gone, but there was nothing. She had vanished, leaving behind only the aching void in his heart.

"Y/N!" he screamed, his voice breaking with desperation. "No no no no.."

The night swallowed his cries, offering no solace. He fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he clutched the note. The pain of her absence was a physical thing, tearing at his insides, threatening to consume him.

…

Lee spent the next few days in a haze of despair and determination. He couldn't accept that she was gone. He drove through the town, asking anyone he came across if they had seen her. He checked every bus station, every motel, every place he thought she might go. But there was no trace of her.

He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. The hunger he had fought so hard to control was now a dull roar in the back of his mind, overshadowed by the agony of losing Y/N. Every night he returned to their empty house, hoping against hope that she would be there, waiting for him. But each night he was met with the same crushing silence.

The days turned into weeks, and still, he searched. His once-pristine truck was now covered in dust and grime, a testament to the miles he had traveled to find her. He grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, a shadow of the man he had been with Y/N by his side

You made a sound as if to ask what is it, keeping your eyes on the road. Already, though, Lee’s full-body reaction to whatever he read tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Babe, check this out.” He turned the newspaper to you and you spared a brief glance, just enough to catch the bolded headline in the bottom right corner.

Haunted House – Scare Actors Needed

No way, indeed.

“How delightful,” you said in a teasing tone. “What do you want us to do about that?”

“What do I want to do about that?” Lee repeated your question back to you incredulously. “What do I not want to do about that – this is exactly the kind of gig for us!”

Though neither of you shied away from thieving, both from warm and cold bodies, you had been attempting to pick up on odd jobs here and there. For the thrill of it you would joke to Lee, and despite his eyerolls at your antics, you both knew it did you good to get in some regular labour. Feel human. Anything from dogsitting to festival workers was underneath your belt buckles by now, and you kept going for weirder and weirder things the further into the US you drove.

This had to be the weirdest though. Not to mention, ironic.

“Are you in a spooky mood, Lee?” You didn’t look at him, but could feel his lovesick gaze on you as his body was – dangerously, as per usual – angled fully towards you in his seat.

“Oh, you know I am.” He laughed that too-pitchy silly laughter of his that always brought a smile to your lips. “Imagine it, you and I, two young cannibals, all dressed up as ghosts and scaring the living daylights out of a bunch of snotty kids.”

“I’m imagining it,” you laughed. “Where is it?”

He tells you, pointing it out on the map you always had between you. It was close and lined up perfectly with the general direction you two were going in at the moment – not that you were incredibly picky about that these days.

“That honestly would work out well,” you say, with a you win tone, even though you were never really opposed to it anyway. “So if you want–”

“Fuck yes,” Lee mutters to himself before giving a small cheer. “We are so going to make some shithead piss himself, I’m telling you right now.”

“We don’t even have the job yet, Lee. Better yet, we haven’t even applied.”

“Oh, that’s not gonna be an issue,” he says matter-of-factly, before pulling up the newspaper to read from the notice. “They say please twice, very thrice and use a bunch of exclamation marks. It’s in this kind of intersection between a bunch of small towns. They’re practically desperate for someone like us.”

“Someone who has no other commitments or passions, you mean?” You tease, odd emotional twinge in your heart at how that sentiment is now something that frees you instead of shackles you. Something that makes you smile, makes you love.

“Precisely.” Lee’s grin is huge as you glance at him sideways. “So hit the gas pedal, princess, we’re going to the town of Halloween.”

By the time you arrive in the designated town, the sun is a fat, orange pumpkin hanging low in the sky. Like any worn down area not worth its money, you find ample places to park your truck for overnight stays. Technically you read about a motel just a few blocks over, but you had grown too comfortable sleeping in seats and pickup truck beds with Lee.

You feel Lee’s foot tapping on the dashboard as you pull up and shut the engine.

“I think they’re gonna love us, baby,” he says, and you almost think his excitement is a bit just because of how giddy he was. 

“I think we’re gonna make ‘em regret those exclamation marks.”

Lee laughs heartily at that, pulling you over the console between you and into his lap, now that you no longer have your driver responsibilities. He circles his arms around your waist and breathes you in sweetly, until his tune changes on a dime and he attacks your neck with kisses, pretending to bite you. You squirm in his arms as it tickles, fighting for your dignity by holding back the squeals that bubble in your throat.

“Lee! Quit practising your scare tactics on me!” you exclaim, trying to catch his lips with yours to disarm him.

“This scare you, pretty girl?” His words would almost be seductive, if it wasn’t for his chin digging into your shoulder.

You finally get a hand around his jaw, bringing his face up for a kiss. You kiss him much harder than necessary, just to make sure you’ve got him locked in a safe position. He just laughs against your lips.

“Rude,” you murmur against him, making him only laugh harder. “Don’t do this in front of the haunted house people.”

“No?” There is a teasing lift of his brow as he pulls away from you. “You don’t think that would secure us the position?”

“I don’t think even they are that desperate.”

The Haunted House itself was something straight out of a local horror legend. A crumbling, Gothic-inspired mansion with peeling paint and slanted walls. Creeping vines clung to the stone, as though even the plants themselves wanted to pull it back into the ground. You and Lee parked out front, taking in the scene with a kind of bemused wonder, both of you grinning at each other as if you had just found a buried treasure. The whole setup was covered in plastic cobwebs and had one too many cheap fog machines wheezing out mist in cloudy bursts.

“Welcome to the House of Horrors,” Lee read aloud from a bloody sign out front. “We’ve got the right place, at least.”

“Think so?”

Lee turned with a gleam in his eye to quip back at you when a man exited the building right before your eyes. He had a clip board in his hands, frazzled hair and looked like he wanted to be a thousand places at once.

Probably the right guy to ask for a job.

Before you could open your mouth to introduce yourselves, he caught eye of the two of you. He didn’t give you more than a one-second look over before asking, “Are you guys here for the scare actor positions?”

“That obvious, huh?” Lee snickered, drawing an embarrassed chuckle from the man, before extending his hand and introducing himself politely. 

You did the same and learned that this was Derek, an undergraduate student with a lot on his plate right now you guys who was currently also managing the haunted house during the season.

To no one’s surprise, it didn’t take long before he agreed to let you guys on the team and brought you inside.

“So Yusra will go over the program with you two, and then you’ll just try it out for the night, and if it’s a match you’re on board until the end of October, that good?” Derek spoke a mile a minute, but it was somehow easy for you to stay on. Lee would either say one word an hour or a thousand per second, so you had grown used to it.

You and Lee both nodded, letting him take you through the different systems quickly before showing you to a costume section, where he let you “go crazy” while he ran off to do other managing tasks, probably.

"How do you think we’ll look?" Lee asked, slipping on a particularly lopsided werewolf mask over his head. His voice is muffled, his eyes wide and hopeful through the eye holes.

"Like roadkill with a complex,” you answer sweetly, and he laughs, tossing the mask down and leaning over to smear a line of fake blood across your cheek.

“C’mon, keep up. You’re the one who wanted odd jobs.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a pretty nice odd job for October.”

You hold up your hands as if in surrender, but then fake out by smearing a gob of goopy red – that you found sitting open and half-dried on a table – down his nose in revenge. He wrinkles it, but his eyes stay fixed on you with that glint of mischief.

"Think we should get in character?" you ask, as you walk away from him, further down from the costume section to the get-ready stations connected to it by a dimly lit hallway. 

"What do y'mean, I’ve been in character since we got here.” Lee waggles his fingers with a dramatic flair that has you stifling a snort.

Derek and Yusra gets you situated for the night, and you spend many beautifully horrific hours listening to high schoolers shriek. The two of you spend the first half of the night lurking and leaping out at the packs of screaming kids and too-cool teens that wander through. Lee's got his wild-eyed grin on – which alone is scary enough for most of the visitors, and it doesn’t take long before he’s practically out there taking bows after each jump-scare he nails.

You're breathless and happy when you finally go on break.

“If you don't calm down, people are going to think you’re an actual monster,” you say through a grin.

“People should be so lucky,” Lee drawls, leaning closer until his nose bumps against yours, eyes flickering as his voice drops to a whisper. "You think I’d make a good monster?"

"Oh, I don’t know,” you hum. "I think you’re a little soft for it.”

And before he can toss anything back at you, you grab the front of his shirt and give him a kiss, just a brush of your lips to his, like a secret held between the two of you. You feel his breath hitch before he melts into it, one hand resting on the small of your back as if to hold you steady in the dark.