Amaze, Amaze, Amaze!

You hum softly to yourself while twirling a red pen between your fingers. It’s been an eventful semester at this new school. This is your first year at Grover Cleveland Middle and it has been wonderful being the new Language Arts teacher. So many precious moments filled with eager students, fun lessons, and more. 

Not to mention that adorable science teacher across the hall with the big blue eyes and the adorable messy blonde hair. Ahem... Must keep it professional. 

Of course, you refer to your colleague, Mr. Grace who is an excellent teacher. He does keep telling you to call him Ryland, but saying his name aloud makes you... think certain things.

And those certain things just do not help your brain.

Like how good Ryland looks in those casual suits he wears or how precious it is that he bikes to work every morning. Not for the exercise, but because it’s better for the environment. It also allows him a better view of the fog that rolls in from the bay and covers the area like a blanket.

You remember the first time you saw Ryland. 

It was your first day and you were a bundle of nerves. Until you got out of your car and promptly watched him lose control of his bike and crash into the entire rack. He fell dramatically off his bike, a clumsy mess in his yellow rain coat and helmet. 

Every student had started laughing or recording whilst you ran over to help him. 

The sweet silly man was a mess. Ryland had simply looked up at you, dazed and confused. He wasn't really injured, just a little frazzled and yet undeniably dreamy still. 

Ryland then said to you with a bashful smile, 'Oh, you’re the new language arts teacher, right? I teach science! This is quite a first impression to make, but in my defense I'm known to be a bit clumsy.'

The science teacher didn't seem bothered by the audience watching either. Ryland simply offered you a breathtaking smile as you helped him up. He had you hook, line, and sinker from that moment. 

The entirety of the rest of the school year has been nothing but helpless one-sided pining. Every time you see Ryland in the faculty breakroom or around the school you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him. Especially, since you're right across the hall from each other and you see the dirty-blonde teacher multiple times throughout the day.

Those little moments where you get to chat before the next bell rings give you butterflies. Particularly the way Ryland always smiles and gives you a small wave. You’ll miss them when summer starts.

You’ll miss Ryland.

No falling in the classrooms, Please

Your eyes flick up to the open door of your classroom. Ryland still hasn't left for the day either as you can tell by the various noises coming from his room. It sounds like Ryland is shuffling boxes around or something. You've definitely heard him say ‘fudge’ and ‘holy molly' quite a few times. 

At one point, you saw maintenance bring him a precariously tall red ladder too.

Maybe you should go see if your colleague needs any help. That is the neighborly thing to do, right? He would do the same for you. Putting your papers to the side, you get up and slowly walk out of your classroom and peek down the hallway. It is pretty deserted, so you and Ryland have a rare modicum of privacy. You tell your brain not to think about that.

Slowly, you step towards Ryland’s room and are greeted by a sight that is quite concerning. Actually, super concerning and has your eyes widening.

Ryland is standing on the step of a ladder, holding several plastic planets in one hand. With the other he attempts to put them back into place on his brightly colored solar system display. 

It doesn't really seem to be working and as Ryland’s legs wobble and he lets out a soft ‘sweet mother in heaven’. You rush into action. As a middle school teacher, there's been a few times you must stop students from doing foolish things. Not usually your co-workers though. 

'Excuse me, Dr. Grace! I really hate to intrude, but this does not seem safe. Like at all.' You call out, hands slightly raised as you cringe. 

Please do not fall. 

Ryland’s sense of gravity shifts at your voice and a few of the planets fall out of his unsteady grip. Still, a smile spreads across Ryland’s face. He angles his body towards you as if not even on the ladder. 

'Oh! Hello, it's so good to see you! But why are you still here? I mean not that I don't want you here...' Ryland lets out a nervous squeak. 'Well, you work here, so it is obligatory, but quite late. I mean to say, I'm glad you’re here and work here… I mean... Did you say something?' 

Your concern only grows as Ryland rambles and you quickly step closer to the ladder. You hesitantly hold your hands out as if to brace for his inevitable fall. If you need to catch him, maybe you can. Ryland is much taller than you and quite broad shouldered, but there are worse things than a handsome man falling on you, right? 

You will have to take one for the team as they say.

'Yes, I said this isn’t a good idea. I am very concerned you could fall. Please get down, okay?'

'Oh, I'm perfectly fine,' Ryland says, trying to reassure you and failing. 'I did this last time all by myself and I can do it again... It seems like last time it was easier, but I also had a few cups of coffee.'

'How many exactly?’

'... Five. I'm a bit of an addict.'

You sigh and try once more. 

'How about I help you? Maybe I could hand you things rather than whatever…’ You trail off as you flick a hand towards the ladder. ‘Multitasking disaster this is.'

Ryland’s dirty-blonde eyebrows furrow and you think he may protest more, but eventually he lets out a huff.

'Well, alright, if you insist…I'm coming.' 

‘Great, please take it slow on your way down.’ You say with a smile, your eyes glued to his form.

Thankfully, despite shaky legs and nearly drooping the rest of his planets, Ryland makes it down in one piece. He releases all of the items in his hands with a clatter atop his wooden desk and lets out a sigh of relief.

Ryland seems to mumble something to himself. It sounds vaguely like, ‘well, you’ve certainly embarrassed yourself....again.’

Finally, he turns back to you and gives you a sheepish grin. You wonder if maybe he’s a bit nervous over your presence. That could be a good sign. 

Meanwhile, all you can think is that Ryland looks so handsome today. His dirty blonde hair is freshly short yet a few strands still fall across his forehead in a slightly unkept way. His beard is well trimmed and clean around his plush, pink lips that you find so annoyingly kissable.

Those ocean blue eyes seem to gaze right into your heart as he appraises you behind his glasses.

Ryland is dressed casually, yet impeccable as always. He wears a soft gray blazer with a blue pinstripe button-up that suits him well. Ryland finishes it with some washed out blue jeans and loafers, an easy going style that makes him all that more endearing.

And you’ve really got to stop lowkey checking him out because surely your heart rate is elevated right now. 

The two of you haven’t really been alone like this, so you feel equally nervous now that you’re not concerned about his immediate health. You also can’t help but wonder if somehow he knows how you feel?

Ryland breaks you out of your mind by coughing lightly into his hand and speaking up.

'I’m sorry for the trouble... I'm trying to touch up my solar system setup. I typically get around to the end of every school year or uhh try to.’ 

‘No problem at all. I completely understand, it’s clearly very well taken care of.’ You assure with a smile. ‘I’d be delighted to help if you’ll allow it.’

‘That would be wonderful. I had hoped maintenance might assist, but they seemed to be quite put off. It could possibly be because last time they helped me, I bumped into the ladder and may have caused a small accident...'

Your ears perk up at that. 'Really? Was anyone seriously injured?'

He scratches the side of his head and squints.

'How do you define seriously injured?’

You can’t help but shake your head as you suppress a laugh. 

'Oh, yeah, they totally hate you.'

Ryland sighs and hangs his dirty-blonde head a bit. 'It happens. Let’s just hope nothing goes wrong this time.'

'Everything will be fine.' You say. 'You’re going to get on that ladder and I’m going to hand you these planets, one at a time, okay?'

Ryland does seem to cheer up at the confidence in your voice and gives a shy smile.

'Okay. I appreciate that.’

'We got this.' You assure him as you step towards the desk and start arranging everything.

Ryland opens his mouth as if to say something before seemingly thinking better of it. Instead, he begins arranging the mess with you.

'R-Right, let's get to work!'

My Venus

After a good hour or so of working diligently, the set up is pretty much finished. It probably could have gone quicker, but the two of you stopped to chat often. It's been so fun and whatever tension seemed to be in the room has dissipated in the wake of easy conversation. 

Ryland told you about how well the school year went for him and how excited he is to do summer school. Apparently, he does it every year rather than traveling or taking time off which you find admirable and sweet.

You couldn’t help but to stare each time he laughed and spoke fondly of his students. It made warm flutters happen all through you.

In turn, you shared how relaxed the school makes you feel and that you plan to return again. You won't be doing summer school since you're taking the time to focus on your novel, but you wish him well. He does mention possibly keeping in contact over the summer and that sticks in your mind.

Perhaps, a summer romance with Ryland Grace could be on the horizon. He did give you his number awhile back, saying, ‘colleagues should stay in contact’, but you’ve never had the nerve to text him.

Now, Ryland is currently back on the ladder finishing up. No longer struggling as anytime he needs something, you carefully pass it over. He’s been able to take it easy and go slow so you are confident the safety vibe check has been passed.

After a second, Ryland frowns and inspects the display. 'Oh, sorry, I forgot to get the label for Venus. It should be somewhere on my desk amongst the general mess.’

You nod and head back over to his desk to find it. Unfortunately, general mess actually means chaos and so you have to move around multicolored stacks of papers. 

There's several labels for the planets printed as if Ryland has been trying out new styles. Along with that is a rough diagram of how the set up should look that you glance at.

Next to that is a letter that says 'To my Venus…' at the top. It also says your name in the top writer corner of the page.

Huh. Curiosity sparks in your mind and before you can stop it, you pick the paper and skim it quickly. It's been written in gray pencil and there's numerous eraser markings. Like Ryland has been rewriting it over and over as if searching for just the right words.

.

.

.

To my Venus, 

To me, like the planet, you represent love, longing, and beauty... 

I've been searching for ways to tell you how I feel. I'm scared you won't feel the same. In fact, I’m sure you do not. We haven't talked much outside of work and yet these little interactions everyday mean so much to me as of late.

I enjoy hearing your lesson plans or seeing how gentle you are with the students. I think of how excited you seem to welcome them into your classroom. The way you always ask me how I am. I wonder if you notice how my heart races when you simply tell me good morning. I imagine how it would feel to have you address me softly as Ryland. 

You sound sweet when you say Mr. Grace, but I selfishly long to be more informal with you. You're on my mind like an equation I just can't solve. I want to though. Because I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful or warm. 

I have to tell you. I must and yet.... I'm afraid. Perhaps we are destined to only orbit one another.

Sincerely, 

Ryland 

Well... Isn’t that Something?

You've gone completely still as if frozen like a statue as you read. It appears as if your brain is buffering and you can't believe your own eyes. The heartbeat racing in your ears seems to be louder than a stampede and your knees are weak.

'Ryland… is this a…love—’ You can't even finish the sentence you're so shocked. Your entire body is trembling and a part of you wonders if this is all a dream.

This.... this is a piece of paper in which confesses Ryland’s feelings for you.

'Hmm? What do you mean?' Ryland asks, turning just enough to look at you after finishing hanging up Earth. He squints at the strange expression on your face and then his eyes land on the handwritten letter.

Ryland has written it so many times he recognizes it and his own handwriting instantly.

Embarrassment flares through every part of him and he visibly buffers. His face flushes and the tips of his ears turn bright red. 'Oh god, no, please don’t tell me you just saw that letter!'

Meanwhile, you’re still in shock and still stare at it blankly.

'No. No. Please, do not read it anymore!' Rylands shouts, incredibly frazzled.

Ryland’s words reach you suddenly and you inhale sharply. As if the paper burns, you let it drop to the floor and gulp. Horror crosses you. It wasn’t your intention to betray his privacy, you just… 

After all this time pining for him endlessly on your own… These words feel like a life line, a prayer answered.

However, the damage is done and Ryland is shocked at having his private feelings revealed. He can’t fathom what to do. So, Ryland tries to hurry and get down. He needs to run. Get out of this room, change school districts, and never come back.

Instead, Ryland misses a step half way down, trips and falls off the ladder with a loud thud. 

You watch in horror as if the entire scene is playing out in slow motion. Ryland wasn’t that far off the ground, but you absolutely heard his head hit the hard flooring in a way that did not sound right.

'Mr. Grace!' You shout and hurry over to his side, dropping down to your knees.

Your hands shake and your eyes rove over his entire form. Ryland doesn’t seem to be bleeding, only visibly wrecked, which is ironic for a man who just got his heart's intention revealed.

The science teacher groans in response as he lays sprawled out on the ground. Ryland’s dirty-blonde hair lays in every which way, his clothes a disheveled mess. He brings a hand up to touch his head and lets out the softest curse.

Which surprises you because the man has a strict ‘no cursing or you shall be thoroughly lectured’ policy. You’ve seen him get on to students, faculty, and parents.

'Ouch, that didn’t feel great.’ He mumbles after a moment. ‘What a way to go, Ryland.... Very smooth.’

He also waves a hand in front of his face and squints. You both realize his silver rimmed glasses are gone. Oh no. 'Not to be a bother, but have you seen my glasses? Can’t really see much without them.'

'Oh my god, are you okay? How do you feel?’ You ask frantically, your stomach still flipping in worry. 'I haven’t seen your glasses, but we will find them.'

'Perfectly fine. I didn't fall from that high… oh...’ Ryland presses his hand into his head again and brings it up to his face. His eyes widen. ‘Fiddlesticks, is that blood or did I possibly fall on a ketchup packet again?’

You suppress the urge to say ‘again?’ and instead pull out the phone nuzzled in your back pocket.

'This is so not how this was supposed to go,' you whisper, internally insulting yourself for not noticing his injury. It doesn’t appear to be much blood, but you are no medical professional. 

Ryland needs help.

'I'm calling 911 this instant. You probably need to be seen at the hospital.' Your tone leaves no room for argument as you punch in the numbers.

'If you feel you must.’ He says, giving a resigned sigh as he visibly trembles. ‘Um, tell them you’re calling on behalf of Ryland Grace… They know me well.

Our First Date Is In A Hospital Room... That’s OK

Several hours later you are sitting in a white walled hospital room with your hands wrung together. It is now quite late at night and you're exhausted. After much fuss and lots of tests, Ryland had been diagnosed with a mild concussion. The poor man. 

Ryland sits on the navy hospital bed, his head hung and shoulders slumped. They made him change into one of those thin light blue hospital gowns. You don't look when he walks since it shows his bare butt if he doesn’t hold it just right.

The small cut on his head has been cleaned and his glasses are somewhat askew across his face. They had broken during the fall, but could still be worn lopsided at least.

In all the chaos the two of you still haven't talked about the inadvertent confession. Ryland and you couldn’t talk much throughout all the fuss. Clearly it isn't exactly ideal timing.

Now, Ryland is about to be discharged and the nurse on his case, Robin, is talking gently to him. You watch as they assure him the symptoms will be mild, but over the next few weeks he should keep an eye out. 

Apparently, he could experience headaches, nausea, brain fog, fatigue. The potential health issues may arise anytime over the next few weeks, but after he should be fine. 

Ryland is also to take a few days off to recover and come in for a follow up soon. He was not pleased by this and had protested quite heavily about that.

Ultimately, the doctor won by fixing him with a firm authoritative glare. 'Sir, I actually went to medical school so please listen to my words.'

Ryland looked surprised by that at the time, but understanding. 

Now, Ryland nods attentively as the nurse speaks to him and does not disagree.

'Good. You stay here and I'll go grab your discharge papers. It may take me a while though. Oh and to be clear,' Robin pauses and glances at you curiously, 'is your.... partner driving you home?'

You and Ryland exchange panicked glances.

'Oh, actually they are—'

'Yes, I am. I came in the ambulance, but another co-worker dropped off my car. I'll make sure he gets home safely.' You quickly interject with a small smile.

‘Perfect. He should not drive tonight or tomorrow.' Robin says as she returns your smile before leaving the room.

And for the first time since the accident you are now fully alone with Ryland. No more doctors or nurses coming in and out for a while.

To your surprise, Ryland takes the chance to speak up.

'Thank you for that. I appreciate you being here to support me.' Ryland says. 'It's very nice of you and it only cements in my head how kind you are.’

You beam at his compliment.

'Of course, I wouldn't have let you come alone. I hate going to hospitals all by myself and so I get it.’

'Because you're a good person. I-I suppose that’s why I’ve been wanting to tell you… Well, you know.’ 

You look up at that to see Ryland give you a shy smile before looking away again. The little gesture from him reassures you and pokes at your heart. You’re not sure what to say to him though and he doesn’t speak again.

What might he be thinking about you? After all, you did technically cause the accident, right? What were you thinking, reading a letter off a desk that did not belong to you.

Maybe you should help him call a friend or family member here instead. Ryland technically never asked you to stay.... You just hopped in the ambulance without thinking. 

Yet, you notice the way one of his hands grips the edge of the metal hospital bed nervously. It breaks your heart. You’ll leave if he asks you to, but for now you think it’s okay.

 Besides, you cannot help but feel you must at least clear one thing up.

Ryland’s letter posited that his feelings could not possibly be returned by you. He deserves to know that is far from accurate.

Confess ya Fools

The silence seems to stretch on and you can just tell Ryland is not going to be the one to break it. Which you figure is fair, the man is having a rough day. You inhale slowly and lean forward in your chair, angling your body towards him.

'Mr. Grace, are you okay?' You feel a bit awkward still using his real name, especially in light of what you know now.

He shifts in response to your question and flicks his blue eyes in your direction before averting them once again.

'Not really. You found out I have feelings for you and that once again, I’m a public hazard all in one afternoon.’ Ryland says glumly. ‘I can’t even fathom what you must be thinking of me.’

‘No, no, I don’t think any less of you at all.’ You rush out, the urge to reassure him filling you. ‘In fact, I blame myself for this entire predicament. I am at fault.’

He shakes his head.

'You hardly are. I'm the fool that forgot the contents on my own desk and that you must move carefully on a ladder. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

'You're not stupid, please don't say that. You were focused on finishing a lovely display for your class. You're sweet.' 

'Sweet?’ Ryland mumbles. ‘Well, I apologize for all the chaos and you do not have to worry. We never have to discuss the letter. Just pretend you didn't see it, will you do me that kindness?’

His voice breaks near the end of his plea and with it so do the words you've been holding back. 

You stand at that, your face mingling with concern and surprise. 

'Ryland,’ you huff, ‘Do you truly not realize the truth? I feel the same way, you silly man.’

He simply blinks. ‘Sorry, I don’t follow. The same way as in… you also want to pretend like this never happened? Also, d-did you just call me Ryland?’

You blink for a second. Yes, you did call him Ryland for the first time and it actually felt amazing, but that is besides the point.

Focus. You put your hands on your hips and stare the man down.

‘Listen, I like you romantically, Ryland. I only went to your classroom because I can't stop thinking about you and wanted to be helpful. I find you a bit intimidating at times, but you're such a kind man....' You ramble off, desperate to make him properly understand.

Ryland looks at you like you’re speaking another language.

'Me? Intimidating? You like.... me?! Wait.... Sorry my brain.’ Ryland whispers, bringing a hand up to his wounded head.

'Yes, I do like you and I want to discuss it, but I don’t want to stress you out. Maybe we should stop talking about it for now?’

“No, hold on. I’m fine.... so just to confirm you like me even…after today? Because I warn you, hospital visits may be a regular occurrence around me.' He jokes, tossing you a signature crooked grin. 

You smile right back and step towards Ryland till you're directly in front of him. 

'Yes, even after today. More so, maybe.’

'I see.’ Ryland starts thoughtfully. ‘This might be one of the best days of my life rather than one of the worst.'

'You've been to the hospital after a big fall, I doubt it's in the top ten, silly.’

Ryland disagrees and pouts. ‘The person I've been pining after confessed to me too. It's up there forever.’

‘Alright, that’s fair. It’s been one of my favorites too, if I’m being honest. I genuinely had no idea about your feelings for me.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

'Well, this is amazing news indeed. I suppose I should begin courting you properly now.’ Ryland says with a nod.

'Ummm. Court me?’ You say, tilting your head skeptically. 

'Perhaps an outdated term. I just mean I would like the chance to make you mine. If you're okay with that, of course.'

The man genuinely seems to have no idea that his words are causing your heart to ping pong in your chest.

'Right. What if you just took me for a date instead? Popcorn? Movies?’

'Ah yes.... very twenty-first century. We might try mini golfing too though I'm terrible at it.’

'You say the most adorable things.' You giggle.

Ryland visibly flushes at your compliment. 'I suppose you must think so if you like me. What a lucky man I am for that.’ 

You both laugh and you move even closer so that you're now standing between Ryland’s legs. Hestitantly, he brings his hands up to rest at your hips and presses his forehead against yours. His touch is so soft and gentle that it makes you weak in the knees.

The small acts of intimacy bring so much joy, hearts fluttering in tune at finally getting what you've both been pining for. 

'I know this has hardly been the most ideal way of finding out each other's feelings, but may I kiss you?’ Ryland whispers after a moment of basking in the closeness.

'Yes, please. I've wanted you to do that since I first spoke to you. Remember? You had just fallen off the bike and you were sprawled across the ground?'

The memory is ingrained in your heart. Yep, you’ve been gone for Ryland Grace since then.

He chuckles in response and his grip on you tightens slightly.

'Yeah, I’d rather not think about that presently… There are much sweeter things on my mind.’

His voice is low and your arms wrap around his neck. You inhale the scent of him; musky amber and vanilla. You try hard not to look at his lips as heat flares beneath your skin and you bring a hand up to cup Ryland’s cheek.

With everything now in the open, after an entire semester of pure desire for the other, your lips meet finally. Warmth simmers in your chest and you have to resist the urge to smile. The kiss is gentle. Your lips barely brushing at first before naturally deepening.

When you eventually pull away, you’re both panting a bit and excitement is thick in the air. Neither of you move further apart, but rather stay close to give each other little experimental smooches.

That goes on for quite a few minutes, the kisses alternating between heated and sweet. The occasional sweet nothing of affection being said by Ryland.

Your head clears momentarily and you realize that soon the two of you must part for the night. The nurse will surely be done with discharge any moment. 

The thought pains you more than you care to admit, but you're also worried for Ryland.

Dropping your hand away from his face, you step back enough to properly look him in the eye and try to voice those concerns.

'Ryland, you uhhh have a mild concussion and you shouldn't be alone tonight. Right?’

'Oh, no, the nurse mentioned I'm perfectly fine to be alone tonight. She said it when you stepped out to the bathroom. I just can't drive myself home.’ Ryland assures politely.

‘Ahh. It may still be good to not be alone though at least until the morning. Do you have anyone I should call to be with you? I mean I've got nowhere to be tonight.’

You try to keep your tone casual, but your hand moves to fiddle with the hem of his shirt.

‘This may sound terribly pathetic, but not really. My parents live abroad and my only close friend, Marisa, is out of town. Sure, it would be nice to have someone come over. But I'm used to taking care of myself.'

Ryland seems oblivious to your hint and his innocent, lonely confession saddens you. Best to play it straight with him.  

'Okay. Do you want me to go back to your place?’

'Wait.... umm.... my dwelling with you.... inside of it? Actively?’ 

You stifle a laugh at the way he seems to be struggling at the mere idea. 

'Yes. I would love to actively go back to your place and just make sure you're alright for a while. If that's okay with you?’

Ryland opens his mouth and closes it a few times before finally finding the words. There's a faint blush across his face that first appeared when your lips were busy earlier.

'Yeah that… I mean it should be fine. Would you need to gather things for yourself first or?’

You ponder it over. It would be a drag to stop by your place first since it's rather out of the way. 

'I should be mostly fine. As long as you have some pajamas I could wear and maybe an extra toothbrush? Of course, I’ll crash on the couch too.’

'Yes, absolutely you can wear anything of mine, I’d be honored to have all my clothes on your body. While you're on my couch and using my extra toothbrush. Errr, well, I mean you know.’ Ryland rambles, his eyes twinkling as he regards you. 

You give him the biggest grin at that and mentally high five yourself. A cute confession, potential relationship, and you get to help take care of Ryland?

This is like a dream manifested from the fanfiction world. 

'Cool, perfect. So just let me go see how your discharge paperwork is going and we'll head out soon.’ 

With that, you place one last kiss on his cheek and head over towards the door. Hopefully Robin doesn't mind you asking her.

Just as you're about to exit, Ryland speaks up. 

'I'm really glad you came over to help me today and that I fell off the ladder.' He rushes out, his eyes suddenly simmering with emotions. 

You turn and regard him with softness. ‘Me too. I'll be right back, Ryland, okay?’

'Okay.'

Ryland watches as you open the brown door and disappear behind it, before immediately collapsing onto the hospital bed. A smile lingers on his face as he mutters to himself.

‘Well, all in all I would say being sa public hazard may be working to my advantage.’ 

Additional A/N: My writing is prone to genuine mistakes (grammar, forgetting a tag, and other random ass errors). and if there is ever a concern please message me privately to let me know. I apologize in advance.

&; Thank you so much to all my lovely readers!

loves to watch you try to step out of your comfort zone though!

you're asking for directions on your own despite your shaky voice? he's right behind you, squeezing your hand in encouragement. you're teaching his apprentice something even if you have no experience in teaching? he's smiling so proudly, patting your head after and telling you that you did great.

loves your reserved characteristics. he likes the thought of being the only one to know what really goes on in your mind. it's like you're inner self is a secret he can keep for himself. he's very selfish when it comes to your attention. he loves knowing that he's the only one who really knows the real you.

qifrey knows you don't like mingling too much, so he's very observant of your comfort in the presence of a crowd. he knows the look in your eyes when you're internally asking him to get you out of a situation, which he gladly does.

also finds it so endearing when you turn shy on him.

a kiss on the cheek and you're already shying away from him? oh no, he's tugging you in his arms, there's no escape when qifrey gets in affectionate.

he knows you so well already, that even if you try to hide, he can tell what you feel deep inside and reassures you that there's nothing wrong with the way you act.

love, love, loooves to fluster you!

“am i doing this right, master?”

“huh? oh- um- ye yes!”

qifrey breathes out a quiet laugh at the stammering of your voice, watching with so much fondness how you gently guide coco's hand to draw in the right angle even with your own shaky hands.

you've never outwardly said that you'd join him as a teacher in his atelier when he first started, feeling pressured when they listen to you speak. also, the title of ‘master' is a heavy role, one you claim to be unworthy of. (qifrey begs to differ) but when the girls had asked you to teach them a certain wind magic you made, your poor heart can't possibly say no to their pouty lips and starry eyes.

“your theory on wind magic and pressure is much easier to understand than master qifrey's.” tettia hums, placing her own drawing in front of you for you to inspect.

qifrey pretends not to hear what she just said, in favor of watching you with an adoring eye.

“well… i think everyone perceives magic in a number of ways unique to themselves.” your voice was small, so is the gentle smile on your face, but it seems your words meant so much to the girls. they all seem to absorb your words deeply, even agott seems to look at you with immense focus.

you shrink from their looks, intimidated by the amount of attention these small girls can give. yet, you still try to satiate their curiosity regardless of your anxieties.

pride occupies his heart so much he feels it would overflow into his actions.

a little later after your impromptu lessons, you busy yourself with tidying up the common room. you were sitting on the floor organizing the unused papers scattered across the coffee table when he suddenly wrapped his arms from behind you.

“qifrey!”

he chuckled against the side of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair with each breath he takes. he could sit here for hours, his body flushed against every crevice of yours, fitting like a glove. he'd hold you like this forever if he could.

“you did great with the girls today.”

“you think so?” you're face showed doubt, hands playing with the elongated ribbon from your hat. “i… i hope i didn't disappoint them.”

oh heavens, have mercy on qifrey's heart for it is ready to surrender into your palms in a pile of sweetly goo.

taking one of your hands in his, his lips kissed your knuckle with such tenderness, a playful and sincere twinkle in his eye when your quiet gasp reached his ears. he can feel the way your fingers slightly tighten its grasp.

“my love, you did fantastic. you've been pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone lately and i think you've done a great job! there's no need to fret, even if it all went wrong, i will be sure to be by your side no matter the results.”

two peas in a pond! the two of you are both shy in your own ways! it's ok though, you can be both awkward together and it'd still look adorable.

he's the “they asked for no pickles” meme.

ould fight anyone that would make you feel uncomfortable in any circumstance!

overprotective! watches all the people around you with great caution and suspicion, he takes your comfort really seriously and will stand between you and whoever's bothering you.

imagine someone tryna talk to you and he's just standing right behind you with a pensive face and all too scary dirty look staring into the poor fellow’s soul.

also loves your shy and reserved demeanor!

there's a fluffy feeling in his chest at the thought that you'd only ask him for help and it's him that you always go to, a feeling so special he wants to cocoon you in his arms and a blanket. it makes him feel warm whenever you turn to him with pursed lips, quietly asking for his help.

the man will stammer through his words but he will go through it for you!!

he doesn't always coodle you though. he encourages you to do your thing, giving you a little push whenever the girls have questions for you, asking you for your opinion out loud in a conversation just so the others turn to you to listen. he accompanies you when you have to purchase something instead of doing it for you, standing beside you like an anchor.

“at this point, we're not going to this picnic at all.”

qifrey sighs, watching the girls bicker back and forth, choices upon choices of foods to bring for the picnic flowing from their mouths like a river. they just won't get along when it comes to which food to bring and qifrey would not want to have too many to bring. it would be a mess to carry all that and clean afterwards.

olruggio, cranky and grumpy from the lack of sleep and too much noise, turns to rest a hand on your waist.

you haven't said a single word amidst the war between the girls, but he can see the way your eyes flutter to the carton of eggs on the other side of the kitchen counter. if his memory serves him right, you were craving some egg sandwich a few days ago.

olruggio rubs his thumb on the curve of your waist, before clearing his throat garnering the attention of the girls.

“hey, i think our resident wallflower would like to make us something for the picnic.”

“huh?” startled, you turn to him with widened eyes. “i… do?”

“really!?” as if on cue, the girls turn to you with sparkling eyes, food choices out of their minds as they wonder what you'd make.

“um… i could make us some egg sandwich, if that's alright?” you turn bashful at the six pair of eyes looking at you, one of them with so much sweetness it makes you feel so light headed. you desperate hope you don't faint sooner from olruggio's stare. “and fruit salad too… i guess.”

“can we have cheese in both!?” tettia ask with a beaming smile.

“o-of course!”

“we can help too!” coco, ever so considerate, scurries with the rest of the girls to the kitchen. you follow behind quickly, worried that they might be too energetic and make a mess of the kitchen.

olruggio slouched in relief, a contented smile on his face while watching you and the girls go about making food, with you helping then around with their task despite your nervousness.

Your manager fired you just moments ago. No warning and no explanation, leaving you stranded on the curb as you sobbed into your phone. It was stupid to call Driver. You knew he had an insanely important stunt scheduled for today, one that would pay your rent for the next 3 months. 

But what else were you supposed to do? 

It took 3 tries for him to answer, and guilt creeped up your spine at his panicked voice filtering through the phone. You should've just waited for him to show up normally. 

But that was 3 hours away.

“What's wrong?” 

Despite his voice being so soft and calm, you can practically hear the anxiety radiating off of him through the phone. 

“I'm s-sorry….,” a hiccup escapes your throat, “I shouldn't have called. It's fine.. I'll tal-” 

“No. You called, what's wrong?” 

“I, uh, they fired me….. can you come pick me up?...... please?” 

“I'll be there in 20.” 

You can feel eyes on you the entire wait, pitying you with false niceties. One of them even came out to apologize, even if you didn't want it. They were all horrible coworkers anyway, they're not the ones you truly mourn. It was the stability, the schedule, and obviously the nice cushion of income. 

Which is all gone now. 

His car pulls up next to you exactly 20 minutes later, gleaming perfectly in the bright, blazing sun. It only took seconds for him to step out and walk up to you, kneeling in front of your shaking body. The both of you are silent for a moment as he stares at you, an unreadable expression lining his face. 

Without saying anything he places a hand on your elbow, pulling you up to your feet with delicacy. He's always so soft with you. Especially in moments like these. 

“I'm sorry.. I k-know today was super important and I-” 

“Stop,” he's gentle, but firm, “it's not your fault. We were just finishing up anyway.” 

“Still..  you probably had other plans.” 

He just chuckles and smirks softly before shaking his head. The idea of him having plans outside of work and you- ludicrous. And you know it, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from seeping in. But he just continues smiling as he guides you to the car, opening the door and buckling you in with loving hands. He doesn’t even let you buckle your own seatbelt, leaning over and strapping it in before placing his lips against yours. 

It’s intoxicating how attentive he is. And his lips move against yours with so much passion that it makes your chest ache with adoration and love. He lingers for a second, breathing into your mouth before smirking and placing a soft peck against your lips and closing the door, rushing over to his side. Without another word, he starts the car and begins the journey hum, his hand finding a home on your thigh. The entire ride home his thumb kneads your covered skin, grounding you with just a simple touch. 

The parking garage is nearly empty when he parks. He jogs over to your side, opening the door and assisting you out of the car, not removing his hands from you for a single second.They linger, caressing and kneading your hands and arms as he guides you into the elevator and to your front door. 

The door clicks closed behind you softly and you break off immediately, heading towards the bathroom as the emotions come crashing over you, cascading your body like a tidal wave. Unshed tears linger in your bloodshot eyes as you look at yourself in the mirror, the blinding white light of the bathroom burning them. Driver lingers behind you, unspeaking as he watches your every move. 

“I’m tired.” 

He nods and turns around, walking towards the bathroom and disappearing from your sight. For some reason pain spikes through your chest as your heart clenches and the tears begin to fall. They’re silent as they cascade down your face, dripping onto the floor with quiet drips. 

He returns only a moment later, a pile of your clothes grasped tightly in his hands. A sigh escapes his lips as he walks in, setting them down on the counter before moving to turn the bath on, filling the room with rushing water and steam. Fingers grasp at your wrist, pulling you towards him as his other hand fingers the edge of your shirt, silently asking for permission. 

It’s not sexual when he undresses you. It’s only reverent and gentle and he worships you with every stroke of his thumb and every kiss to your body. A moment later he guides you to the tub, holding your hands as you lower into the steaming water. It’s the perfect temperature and you sigh as you sit down, tucking your legs into your chest as the tears subside. 

“Better?’

“Much….. Thank you.”

He grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before resting it against his face. The two of you sit like that for a long time, your skin turning red and wrinkling in the scalding hot water as his fingers wash the day off your skin. Every once and awhile he presses a kiss to your lips or skin, whispering how much he loves you or how perfect you are. 

“It’s cold now.” 

Immediately he stands, helping you out and toweling off your body before handing your clothes, guiding them onto your body. A soft hand trails up your side and chills tingle up your body, forcing a giggle out of your lips. He pauses and you lock eyes, frowning at the smirk that overtakes his face. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

They press harder against your side and his fingers trail your skin, tickling you with unrestrained ferocity. Your giggle and squirm, trying to pull away from him as he laughs at your despair. He falters for a second and you pull free, sprinting to the bedroom and slamming the door shut before throwing yourself onto the bed like a starfish. 

It opens a moment later and he strides in and kneels onto the bed next to you, fingers threading into your hair and stroking the strands. He lays down next to you, tucking your head into his neck as his hands skim your body, kneading and massaging the skin with every movement. The notions force your body to relax into him, and exhaustion quickly seeps into your bones, your eyes drooping closed as your breathing deepens. 

“I’m sorry this happened.” 

“Mmmm it’s okay. I have you…… and that’s enough.” The cheesy line forces smiles onto both of your faces, “we are going to be insanely poor though.” 

“When aren’t we.”

“You aren’t going to be able to drive me anymore.” 

Suddenly he grabs you, wrapping his arms around you as he playfully pulls your body on top of him with strong arms.

“That won't ever stop.” 

“It better not.” 

“Incorrect. What is two plus two?” The voice speaks in the same cadence as before, lacking emotion, and making me wonder who was talking to me. They didn’t sound very human, in fact, they truly sounded like a robot. Is a computer talking to me?

I try to open my eyes again, succeeding only barely before I’m blinded by bright, white light. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on the question again.

“Ffffrrrr.” 

Damn, I really thought I had it that time.

“Incorrect. What is two plus two?”

I huff, starting to get annoyed. Would it kill the computer to give me a bit of patience? 

“Ffffffourrr.” A few droplets of spit splattering on my lips from the effort of forming the word, but I don’t care. Please let that be enough.

“Correct.”

Oh thank goodness. 

Feeling brave, I take another stab at opening my eyes. It’s a little easier this time, but the light is still blinding and making it hard to see details. Tilting my head to the side, everything appears blurry and in various shades of white.

“What is the cube root of eight?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Two.”

“Correct.”

Good, maybe now the thing will leave me alone. I try to sit up, but my body barely moves aside from my arms twitching. Why is this so hard? I try again, managing to lift my head and arms a bit, but that’s it. 

Grumbling, I steal what little energy I have and put it all into throwing myself into a sitting position, and it works! I’m left panting and my head feels a little dizzy, but I did it! Despite how my body sways involuntarily, I manage not to fall back onto the oval-shaped bed, but only because of the iron-tight grip I have on the sides of the bed.

“Movement detected. Remain still.”

Blinking a few times, my vision finally starts to come into focus, and what I see makes me pause. 

In front of me are two metal arms that hang from the ceiling, each “hand” equipped with various intimidating tools. That answered my question of what was talking to me, but I didn’t have time to feel comforted by having my question answered because the creepy metal arms began to reach towards me.

I try to dodge the hands, but my fatigued body prevents me from getting very far. My muscles tense as the hands begin removing the plethora of tubes sticking out of me, twitching at the feeling. It feels like having a bunch of worms being pulled out of my skin. And just as quickly as they had approached, the metal arms pull away, leaving just an IV in my right arm, a tube up my butt, and a catheter. The IV doesn’t bother me, but the latter two are a smidge uncomfortable, now that I am aware of them. 

Another thing that I am now aware of is the fact that I am completely naked. 

Under normal circumstances that would make me uncomfortable, but the cluster of nasty-looking scars wrapping around my right knee stole all of my attention. My eyebrows pinch together, and I reach out to touch the scars–

*****

The screech of breaks…shattering glass…screaming and white and pain, pain, PAIN–

*****

A gasp rips from my throat at the onslaught of mental images. They are jumbled and fly by faster than I can process, but I am able to hang onto a few. 

The backseat of a car, broken glass and metal everywhere, two people slumped over in the front seat…they look familiar…

“Emotional distress detected.” 

The taste of salt on my tongue brings me back a little, and it’s then that I notice how wet my eyes are and how tight my chest is. I try to suck air into my lungs, but it’s not enough, and a choked noise falls from my lips. 

Who were those people in my…memories? I can only assume they are memories. They look familiar, but something in my mind is preventing me from recognizing them. The more I try, the more my hands shake. The images flashing in my head won’t stop, and the bed I’m sitting on feels too small as my vision starts to blur.

I pull myself closer to the edge of the bed to…what? Get up, or maybe puke? I’m unsure what I was attempting to do, but neither of those things end up happening due to the sudden wave of fatigue that washes over me.

Glancing over, I see the hazy form of the metal arms fiddling with the IV tube still stuck in my arm. I have just enough awareness to realize the robot sedated me before darkness takes hold.

*****

I was starting to worry that my knee might just implode. 

It’s not that I wasn’t used to spending long hours at my desk; I spent far more time at my desk than not, and at that point I might as well live there. Rather, it was the combination of spending the entire work day hunched over my computer and the humidity that had rolled in with the rainy day.

Working in a lab as a documentation specialist required long hours spent writing, reviewing, and managing the various documents that came my way, so I was familiar with the aches and stiffness that came with sitting down all day–especially with my bad knee. Stretch breaks and brief walks around the office were a part of my work routine.

But those only got me so far on a good day, and when humidity was added to the mix? Hell on earth as far as my knee was concerned. No matter how protected the lab was from the outside weather, the humidity always seemed to creep in, making my knee ache something fierce.

My cane clacked on the concrete of the parking garage as I hobbled my way to my car. I had taken my cane today, along with my soft knee brace rather than my hinged brace, the breathable material had been a blessing with how muggy it was. 

However, it was a small comfort compared to the ache pulsing in my knee. Every few steps made me wince, and I could hear the ibuprofen bottle in the glove box of my car calling my name. It wouldn’t get rid of the aching, but it would lessen it, and I would take whatever I could get at the moment.

It was only as I got closer that I realized there was someone standing next to my car.

The woman wore a crisp suit and was carrying a small briefcase. Her hair was long and neatly kept, its red color contrasting with her dark suit. She seemed to be in her mid forties and of average height, but her straight posture made her seem taller. 

“Eddie Moon?” The woman asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“My name is Eva Stratt, I’m with the Petrova Taskforce.” She had an accent of some kind–German, or maybe Dutch?

“And that is…?” 

“I assume you are aware of the Petrova line and the ArcLight probe.” Stratt barely waited for me to nod before she continued. “The Petrova Taskforce is an international body created to deal with the Petrova-line situation. I’ve been tasked with finding a solution, and have been given a certain amount of authority to get things done.”

I eyed her warily. “Given a certain amount of authority? By whom?”

“Every member of the UN.”

My jaw dropped, and she must have seen the question in my expression because she supplied, “Unanimous secret vote–it’s complicated. I am here because of your occupation. You are a documentation specialist, yes?”

Her question once again seemed more like a statement. Why is she asking if she apparently already knows the answer?

“What about it?” My knee pulsed, and I leaned more on my cane to take some of the weight off my right leg. “And if we could make this brief, it would be greatly appreciated.” I tried to keep my tone polite, but knee pains were always a sure-fire way to shorten my patience.

“This will be brief if you cooperate.” 

Totally not an ominous thing to say…

“Then what’s this about?”

“You are going to be one of the Petrova Taskforce’s documentation specialists.”

I was grateful that I had already been leaning into my cane, otherwise I might have stumbled.

“What?”

“A documentation specialist for the Petrova Taskforce. You start today.”

This time I did reel back. “Wait, hold on. I don’t think you have that level of authority.”

“Actually, I do.” Stratt’s casualness was beginning to annoy me.

“You can’t just pull me from my job out of the blue! The transfer process isn’t that simple, and I didn’t even agree to–”

“The sun is dying, and the Petrova line has something to do with it. There’s no time for legal or official processes, and my authority outranks anything held by your lab. I need documentation specialists present in the Taskforce, and your experience makes you more than qualified.” She spoke as if discussing simple facts, as if this wouldn’t completely upend my life.

“Surely there are plenty of people out there more qualified than me. I have a life here! I have rent to pay for, and–” 

Stratt cut me off again, and I had the urge to hit her with my cane. “What life, Mr. Moon? Your whole life, you have never remained in one area for more than a few years. You just moved last year, you have no immediate family, no partner, and no pet.”

“…I have a snake,” I frowned, slightly hunching in on myself as I realized that Stratt knew more about me than I was comfortable with.

“Mr. Moon,” she remarked, ignoring my comment. “You have traded one lab for another since you graduated, working the same expendable positions. Your skills would actually be meaningful with the Petrova Taskforce.”

Her dismissive tone made my hackles raise instinctively…because she was right. I hadn’t had a stable home since I was 12, always on the move from home to home, from lab to lab. I was good at what I did, it brought me fulfillment, and it was easy to integrate into a new area until I blended into the background, making friendly acquaintances, but never friends. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the places I moved to, but nothing ever felt right. 

Always good, but never great. 

“…I don’t have a choice, do I?” I sighed, deflating.

“You do. You can choose to be brought in willingly, or by force. Either way, there is a car waiting for you at your apartment. You have three hours to pack your belongings.”

“Wait, pack my belongings? Where is the Petrova Taskforce centered?”

“You will find out soon enough. Just be ready in three hours.” 

With that, Stratt turned and walked away, leaving me with a torrent of emotions and racing thoughts. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, trying to wrap my head around it all, but I eventually stumbled over to my car and collapsed into the driver’s seat. I inhaled slowly, then exhaled…inhaled, exhaled…inhaled…

A shaky sign escaped me as I dropped my head onto the steering wheel.

What the hell did I get myself into?

*****

This time when I wake up, it’s not nearly as disorienting as the first time. 

The robotic arms are just as freaky though, and I flinch at the sight of them hanging above me.

“Conciousness detected. What is your name?”

A detail of my dream–no, memory–floats to the surface of my mind and I mumble out, “Eddie Moon.”

“Correct. Documentation Specialist Eddie Moon was placed in a medically-induced coma during the expedition as a safety precaution. Patient has been woken up early to begin documentation.” 

Documentation…?

That has to be referencing my job–a documentation specialist. I used to work in a lab, though what kind of lab is still unknown, until I was recruited by a woman named Eva Stratt. Well, recruited is a generous term, more like I was kidnapped. But the reasoning behind my “recruitment” is still beyond my memory currently. 

A few terms from my memory stand out as I ease myself into a sitting position. The Petrova line, the Taskforce, and ArcLight probe…they feel just familiar enough to know that I should know what they mean, but that’s it. It’s as if looking through a gauzy curtain; it’s thin enough to get a rough idea of what’s behind it while still obscuring any real details.

In my memory, Stratt had also mentioned that the sun was dying, which is…an unsettling thought, to put it lightly. The thought alone, along with whatever the Petrova line is, is enough for my anxiety to spike, even if I can’t remember the details of either of them.

My thoughts slam to a halt as the rest of the robot’s words catch up to me. It mentioned an expedition, which doesn’t ring any bells, so where the hell am I? 

I spot a lander across the room, which gives me an idea. My memories might be hazy and unable to give me anything concrete, but maybe the answers to my questions lie beyond the hatch at the top of the ladder.

Swinging my legs off the edge of the bed, I am reminded of two issues. One, I am still very naked, and two, my right knee is still mangled. The sight of it doesn’t send me into a panic like it did before, which is appreciated, but it still poses a problem. Will I be able to climb the ladder with my bad knee?

Thankfully, solutions to both of my problems present themselves. Secured to the side of my bed in netting are a few items. At the top are two braces, one rigid and bulky, and one soft and lightweight. Laying beneath them is a sleek wooden cane, its color a deep brown, almost red, and embedded at the top was a faded gold handle, decorated with the faint carvings of two, twisting snakes. 

I glance down at my body, noticing the snake tattoo that wraps around my left bicep. I must like snakes, especially since I recall owning one in my memory.

I turn my attention to the ladder once more before deciding on the rigid brace. It slips on with ease, as if it were second nature, which at this point, it probably is. 

Once that issue is resolved, I gather one of the sheets on my bed. As I tie it around my waist, my thoughts drift back to my questions from before. Where am I, and how did I get here? The room I am in has no windows, just the robot, me, my bed, and three other beds housing three other people–who are probably unconscious. Part of me wants to see who they are, maybe try to rouse them and see if they know anything more that could help me, but my curiosity of the area beyond the hatch in the ceiling wins out in the end. 

The robot said expedition specifically, which implies that we’re traveling somewhere. Were we in a submarine? That would explain the no windows, but it was only a theory. The only other details I had were the few given to me in my memory. Stratt talked about something called the Petrova line, and how it was likely causing the sun to die. She also mentioned the ArcLight probe…

Wait… 

A probe, the sun was–is?–dying, this windowless room I am in, I was in a medically-induced coma…

My heart skips a beat and an idea washes over me like ice water, chilling me to the core. My leisurely pace to the ladder turns into a scramble, my knee is stiff from who knows how long of inactivity, but it’s suddenly the least of my concerns. 

Once I reach the top, I grab the circular handle and twist until I hear a click, then throw the hatch open. I am met with darkness, but as I continue to pull myself up the ladder, lights flick on. Still no window in sight, so I keep climbing, my movements frantic and sloppy, and the fact that I just recently woke up from a coma isn’t helping. My poorly restrained panic also isn’t helping, but I try not to let it get the best of me.

A few grunts escape me as my knee protests the sudden exertion, and I’m grateful when I reach a landing that leads off into a short hallway. I’m panting by the time I haul myself up, but I only allow myself a few seconds to catch my breath before I'm back on my feet. There’s a small port at the end of the hall, and within a few strides I reach the window, my heart dropping before I can even make sense of what I’m seeing.

Beyond the window lay a vast expanse of inky black littered with stars.