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chapter 2: "play pretend"

A week after the barbecue party, you decided to go to the lake just outside of town with an old highschool friend. It was usually a peaceful scenery the rest of the year, but during the summer the banks of the lake were swarmed with families and young people just wanting to pass the time away from the suffocating summer heat. 

You packed a bag and got downstairs, your friend meeting you at your place and driving you both to the lake hangout. It was a particularly hot afternoon and you couldn’t wait to dip in the cool water.

“Hey sweetheart, going somewhere?”

“To the lake hangout with Dona.”

“You coming back in time for diner and movie night with Bucky and I?”

The mention of his name stopped you in your tracks, your insulated bottle half-way in your bag. You tried to not look phased, tried to look casual, like you were just looking for something in your bag.

“Hmm yeah I’ll try to be there on time, but don’t wait for me if i’m late.” You looked up to look at your dad and smile reassuringly.

You could see how happy he was to have his friend back in town after so many years apart. You had a feeling this movie night thing wouldn’t be an isolated case of trying to get Bucky more comfortable.

You remembered that after the barbecue party your dad had told you to make an effort with his friend. Explaining it was hard for veterans to come back to the boring endless cycle of mundane urban life. 

You weren’t stupid, of course you knew Bucky would need some time to get used to things. You even had a taste at his coping method a few nights ago, but you weren’t about to say it aloud in front of your dad. 

You had to admit, hooking up in a bar after a few drinks with a total stranger had to be a very imaginative way to reconnect with the town you grew up in.

Maybe that’s what he used to do before leaving. 

You shook your head and forced the thoughts to go away as you smiled at your dad again and waved while stepping out. The harsh sunlight reverberating on the concrete pavement forced you to blink to adjust for a moment before you saw your friend had arrived and was watching you.

“You look like you saw a ghost, girl.” Her tone was playful, but you felt exactly like what she described. Bucky was a figure from the past you hadn’t expected to see ever again, you’d even forgotten about him to the point of not recognising him and sleeping with him. 

It was, to say the least, a mess to explain to your friend, and truth be told you didn’t know if you wanted anyone to know. So for now you decided to keep it to yourself and try your best to be as friendly as possible without crossing any more lines with Bucky.

You ignored your friend’s remarks, slid on your sunglasses, gave her the excuse of having troubles sleeping as she drove away and cranked up the music coming from the car’s speakers.

At the lake you had hoped for some peace and quiet, to really have some relaxing time but you quickly realised you’d been a fool to even have this kind of hope.

The place was crowded with families, groups of teenagers, and couples scattered under the big trees casting shade on the bank of the lake. You even spotted someone installing a barbecue and a pic-pic table with cool bags filled to the brim with drinks.

A little bit further was a line of people waiting while cheering each other up as they got up on the rope hanging from a low branch and swung themselves into the lake. Every time someone did a backflip the cheering intensified for a second.

You find it cute, how people were able to distract themselves on days like these with simple things and it made you feel nostalgic for a time long passed. How things seemed to be much simpler back then, when phones weren’t the center of so many lives, when people used to actually go out and hang out. 

Then, hangout places started shutting down, laws changed and rules with them casting the teenagers in a dark era of not knowing what to do or who to be. And the feeling intensified when the internet developed into a giant soul-eating monster that left no survivor in its wake.

Ok, maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but that’s what you got for trying to relax and have some downtime. As soon as you had laid down on your towel in a patch of sunlight between the trees, your brain had assaulted you with so many thoughts that it was hard to process. 

You tried desperately to find something to distract you, to change your mind but every thought you had circled back to that handsome stranger in a crowded bar that ended up not being a stranger at all.

There aren’t a lot of things someone can do to stop the racing train of thoughts, so you picked up your book and tried to focus. Until a few hours past, the lake started to calm down as the shift in people coming and going happened. The families and couple left, retreating back to the safety of their dinner plans in town, while the other people, the party-goers and those who couldn’t stand missing out or being alone arrived. With music blaring through their car’s open windows, they were hard to miss.

Not having noticed the time passing by, you looked up to find your friend’s towel, well friendless. 

Putting your clothes back on you started to look around, craning your neck to try and spot her somewhere around. She was your ride back into town and you really didn’t want to have to walk all the way back. 

She finally appeared after a few minutes of you anxiously walking around and announced in a rush that she had to go. 

“Wait what? Girl, how am I getting back?” 

“I’m so sorry, I really have to go. Call my brother!” 

She replied without looking at you, pickling up her stuff in a daze of rushed movements and giddy smile on her lips.

You had the vague impression you knew what had happened and why she was ditching you, but still you found yourself alone, the sun setting on the lake and hurt. You were hurt and you weren’t afraid of saying it and maybe if she’d stayed long enough to actually look at you you would've been able to tell her.

But now she was gone and so was your ride back home.

Desperate to find a way back in town you walked slowly toward the groups of people arriving, hands full of drinks, speakers, lights and food. Scanning the faces you thought you recognised some old highschool classmates, but you easily could’ve been mistaken. 

After a moment you gave up, walked through the crowd of cars parked near the entrance to the hangout and looked at the empty road stretching ahead.

You had only one option now, calling her brother. You didn’t dislike him but you knew how he was and if he came to pick you up he would take it as you owing him a favour. Which would be fair if his favours were reasonable. But you knew his character, his life was more than hectic and you had once glimpsed at it involuntarily. That day you swore to yourself that you’ll keep away from any sort of drama.

The thought of calling your dad came to you but you dismissed it quickly, not wanting to ruin his evening with Bucky. They probably had already begun their dinner/movie night.

The sky changed colours, the sun setting behind the tree line casting the road in the shadows of the upcoming night. Inky blue painting the sky above now, you looked in your contacts for your friend’s brother’s number.

Hopefully you haven't deleted it ever since you and your friend parted ways after highschool to go to different universities.

****

Ten minutes later you stood straighter as you noticed a car approaching the makeshift parking of the hangout. Rolling the passenger’s window down, your friend’s brother looked up at you with a sly smile on his face.

“Look who the wind brought us back to town!” His voice was playful and you couldn’t help a smile from forming on your own lips.

“C’mon, get in! I actually have a life unlike you, and have to go somewhere after I drop you off.”

Not wanting to push your luck with him and already sensing that he would want to collect his owed favour this summer, you opened the door and hurried in the car.

When the car slowed down to park on the pavement in front of your house you were both already reminiscing old memories, laughing at cringe moments and pranks done with your friend and her brother. 

You had almost forgotten that before hanging out with the wrong crowd as your friend liked to say about her brother, he had actually enjoyed hanging out with you and his sister and you all had great memories.

After getting out of the car and waving goodbye with a smile on your lips from yet another memory resurfacing, you turned around toward your front door only to stop dead in your tracks.

Bucky was standing beside his car, parked in your driveway, pizzas boxes piled up in one hand while the other hand was on the driver’s door.

He looked at you with a strange expression on his face, dark shadows dancing on his features despite the night sky progressing above head.

His eyes followed the car that just dropped you off, tail lights getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely and his gaze landed back on you. You saw his chest puff in and out a heavy long breath as he closed the car door.

“Hey, I see I’m right on time.” Your voice sounded 

“Who was that?” His tone mimicked just his look, grumpy and sour. 

His question threw you off so much that you froze in your steps, your bag half sliding off your shoulder. His gaze slowly travels unabashedly lower, down your neck and stops on your chest. And suddenly you realised you hadn’t fastened your shirt, leaving your bikini top in view, the weather still too hot despite the night sky. 

You felt your cheek heat up  under his gaze, as if he hadn’t already seen you. 

“Had a good time?”

You tilted your head under his questioning tone and his dark gaze, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Why do you care?”

His eyes traveled back to your face so fast you thought you saw a flash of anger, or maybe frustration shifting across his features.

You let your gaze roam over his body just like he did yours. Observed his muscled arms, the skin exposed by the tight short sleeves, except for that same one arm that he had also kept hidden under a tight black sleeve the night you two hooked up. 

This time he was also wearing a black glove, or maybe you didn’t notice the first time around, too preoccupied with the way his voice sounded in the crook of your neck as he grunted.

He noticed your curious gaze and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, locking his truck and turning toward the house. His movement got you out of your staring trance and you cleared your throat.

“He’s just a friend, Bucky. Why do you ask?”

He huffed and let his free hand slide over his face in exasperation. Or frustration.

He didn’t reply, turning fully toward the house this time, giving you a nice view of his broad back. The grey t-shirt a tad too tight around his shoulders left nothing to your imagination as he walked, muscles moving.

You starred again, you couldn’t help it, the man was so eye-candy it was almost obscene. As Bucky reached the door and threw open, stepping into the house without so much as a glance in your direction, you regained your senses and followed suit.

****

The smell of the pizzas carried through the house and made your stomach growl as you quickly changed into more comfortable clothes to hang out with your dad. And his friend. Everytime your brain seemed to forget who Bucky was, and every time it felt like being jolted awake from a fever dream.

When you’d joined them in the living room, a movie was already starting on the tv and the two men took so much space on the single couch that you resorted to sitting on a pile of pillows and cushions on the floor near the low table situated in front of the couch.

You didn’t know if you liked having your back to your dad and Bucky as you were sitting on the side of the table but slightly in front of them, but it was also a sort of blessing. That way you couldn’t get distracted by anything and could actually watch the movie.

Until your thoughts kept going in circles, wondering why he’d been so grumpy only a moment earlier when he saw you getting out of a guy’s car. You couldn’t help but imagine him being jealous.

The rational part of your brain told you otherwise though. It was nonsense, why would he be jealous, you’re nothing to each other. He’s merely concerned about who you hang out with because he’s close friends with your dad and probably doesn’t want anything bad happening to you.

Or he just knows how men can get and wants to make sure you’re alright. Solely because you both have your dad in common. That’s it, that’s the only thing bringing you together. 

There’s no sense of jealousness or possessiveness. Why would Bucky care?

A gunshot echoed from the tv and thankfully brought you back to the real world. Dropping the last bit of now cold pizza crust, you got up and made your way to the kitchen.

By the time you’ve filled a glass with water, you hear soft footsteps coming closer. Knowing that your dad wouldn’t want to pause the movie or that he wouldn’t be that stealth, you immediately know that it’s Bucky standing in the kitchen a few steps away.

You keep your back to him, slowly drinking the icy cold water you had fetched from the fridge dispenser. 

Telling yourself to just play dumb and unsuspecting, that perhaps if you don’t turn around and look at him in those beautiful brown eyes he won’t question you again. Perhaps he’ll turn around and go back to the couch if you keep ignoring him.

That proved to be totally pointless as you heard him stepping closer before you felt his body heat. He really wasn’t far anymore, one more step and you’d end up flush against his chest.

You were trying to think about something else, anything else, when he low voice met your ears.

“How long are you gonna pretend your glass ain’t empty?”

Caught red handed. 

Alarms went off in your brain, what were you supposed to tell him? Why did he make you so panicky over nothing? You felt tension coiling around your insides, twisting your guts. That tension wasn’t only fear you recognised. There was a touch of need, or want. Everytime he used that low voice on you, it sent you back to that night and made you shiver.

You put the glass down in the sink in front of you with a little too much force and turned around. You really hoped you didn’t look too flustered. You needed to move on, to focus on someone else, to find a real potential boyfriend to date.

As if reading your thoughts, Bucky hooked his index under your chin and lifted your head so that you were looking at his brown eyes directly. 

The thought of wrenching yourself free from his grasp floated for a second in your head, but then you realised he would take it as submission. He’d take it as him intimidating you. And the last thing you needed was the cocky bastard having an even bigger ego than he already did.

So you kept your gaze on him, only you tried to make it almost defiant, like you didn’t give a damn about him anymore and he only pissed you off.

Your dad’s laughter echoed through the walls and your eyes quickly darted toward the kitchen door. 

That seemed to really amuse Bucky because he took a small step closer, making you snap your gaze back at him and taking a step backward. Only you couldn’t go far and your lower back collided with the edge of the sink.

You didn’t know if he could hear or feel on his fingers under your chin your heavy breathing, but he definitely noticed and a smirk splayed across his lips.

“You’re nervous,” he said, letting the last bit of his word hang in the air between you two. He was almost surprised to have noticed it.

“Am not.” The smirk on his lips intensified.

“Oh darlin’, you are nervous. About your dad finding out.” His voice dropped one or two octaves lower, goosebumps erupting on your arms.

“About what?” You decided to play dumb all the way, see how far you could push him. If he wants something then he should make it clear.

“About this. Us.” He closed the last bit of the distance, his chest pressed against yours, pinning your back painfully to the counter’s edge.

“There is no us, James.”

His breathing missed a bit at his name on your lips and his gaze lowered. He had told you his name was James that night in the bar and so that’s the name you’d call him all night long. Saying it again and again like a prayer thrown to whichever god was listening.

You didn’t know why he’d introduced himself as James and not Bucky since it felt more friendly and intimate. But maybe that was exactly why. He didn’t want any stranger he would never see again using his nickname carelessly. 

You saw his nostrils flare up just enough for you to notice. Had you not been standing so close to each other you wouldn’t have noticed.

Then his eyes darkened and he lowered his head, his mouth next to your ear.

“Say that again, darlin’. Say it like you mean it.” He turned his head just enough to graze your skin with his beard. His breathing hot on your skin. You could smell the beer he’d been drinking. 

You didn’t know how long had passed but surely your dad would start worrying no one was coming back from the kitchen. So you forced yourself to stand straighter and pushed back from the edge of the sink he had you pinned against. 

Your eyes now sharp as ever, brow furrowed slightly like you were focused on an important and delicate task, you put a hand flat against his chest and pushed him further so you could move. 

“There is no us, James. There’s nothing between us.”

His face didn’t falter, almost like he’d been expecting you to have some fight in you. And he almost smirked again, like he almost liked the way you’d pushed past him and made your way back to the living room.

He heard your voice saying goodnight to your dad, pretexting that the lake hangout had tired you out. 

1- unforeseen deception

Your memories of him had started to fade, so it was only normal that years later, now a twenty-something uni student coming home for summer break, you didn’t recognise him when you stepped out onto your back lawn. The summer sun already high in the sky assaulted your sleepy eyes, a hangover still clinging and hammering your head relentlessly.

The lawn too green, too vibrant, you shielded your eyes with one hand as you made your way to the dining table while your other hand balanced precariously a cup of tea and a plate with leftovers pizza. Aspirin bubbling and bobbing in the cup of tea.

You saw a man sitting at the table with your dad, sipping cold beers as they talked and laughed. From a distance they looked like old friends reminiscing about the past and their best moments together and your foggy brain almost backtracked inside the house, to safety. 

Not that you cared if anyone saw you nursing a hangover, but because it looked oddly intimate in the way friends can only be from past wounds nursed together. Closeness repairing souls. And also because even in your current state, or perhaps because of it, you had a gut feeling that something was off.

When you got closer your dad gestured for you to take a seat. “Sweetheart, you remember Bucky?” You tried your best to compose your face, grimacing from the sun as you were, you doubted your dad would notice your expression. Or if he did he said nothing.

You stood there, a hand balancing your breakfast  and resting on the backrest of the chair in front of you for support, a frozen look across your face as your eyes navigated between your dad to the dark haired man by his side. At your lack of reaction your dad cleared his throat and let out a laugh that came out more like a weird exhale.

“C’mon you must remember my friend James? Used to come by a lot back then. Even got you one of those karaoke thing for your birthday once.” he laughed to himself as if remembering the event.

Realisation didn’t hit you all at once, it was a slow process happening behind your eyes. Small fragments, pieces of memories about a birthday. Candles on a cake, balloons floating around on the ground. Blurry faces flying around your mind. Hot summer sun, kids in the pool. 

And then another type of memories flooding your mind, this one far more recent. A crowded dim-lit bar, bodies against bodies, sticky drinking glasses and music. A simple and playful flirt with a guy twice your age but so handsome you just couldn’t stop looking. And then white linen, rough hands against soft skin, so gentle in their wake, in their caresses. Such a stark contrast. Breath against lips, and beautiful beautiful brown eyes, heavy-lidded with need or want. Or both. Your name on his lips on repeat, like a prayer. 

Until the sun came up and you disappeared from the room while he slept tangled in the sheets. A part of you had been tempted to stay and see what would happen. No you clearly, definitely,  didn’t have a desperate crush on a guy you’d just met. Your insides twisted a little.

“Oh, of course, James! It’s been a while.” You smiled a little bit ashamed for not recognising him faster, the alcohol from the night prior still running in your system undoubtedly. Your chest lifted with a heavy inhale, realising just who you had in front of you and your lips formed a tight line. 

You also had to admit to yourself, the man had changed a lot from the few souvenirs floating around in your head. He seemed taller and broader from years using his body as his work tool. He’d let his beard grow a bit. And suddenly the feeling of it against your skin two nights ago took over your senses for a hot second. A few lines had appeared at the corner of his eyes when he offered you a small awkward smile. He remembered you too.

You were definitely not sober enough for this. Or drunk, depending on the perspective.

It was a too-polite smile, his lips pressed together in a line just like yours. Like he was uncomfortable in a civilian setting after so many years stuck in the desert or the jungle. Or at least that was what someone who didn’t know the full picture would think. 

To you that smile looked like a “eh so that’s awkward”. You ignored it, ignored him, dropped your breakfast on the table and took a bite out of the cold pizza slice, downed half the content of the cup in a big gulp, hoping for the aspirin to kick off soon and stop the hammer you felt knocking against your skull.

“A while indeed.” He nodded his head in rhythm with his words, eyes glued to yours even as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips and sipped. You froze at his tone, his choice of words and the way he was looking at you. The side of the slice of pizza drooping in your hand, the pop! of another beer bottle being opened caught your attention and you turned your head toward your dad, he caught your gaze. Interpreting it as judgmental when in reality you were the last person to judge someone for drinking beers in the middle of the day, even more so while you were yourself trying to sober up from yet another party. 

“Hey don’t look at me like that now, it’s already 2pm.” and he shrugged as if to say “not my fault you keep partying and sleeping in.” 

Your dad and his friend, the thought gave you shivers for some reason, resumed their talk about some barbecue your dad wanted to throw later that evening to celebrate the comeback of his long time friend.

You didn’t really pay attention to the details, your mind racing with scenes flashing before your eyes and sensations flooding your senses even now two days after the facts. Even now the man still haunted your thoughts and you couldn’t shake him off.

You slumped in your chair because now that you knew who he was, and how often you would most likely see him over the summer, it seemed even harder to forget about him and his voice murmuring things in your ear or his breath and his sounds, oh! the sounds he made! His head hiding in the crook of your neck with his beard trickling your skin. You had to mentally slap yourself and keep your thoughts in check.

***

The rest of the day was spent sobering up, secluded in your bedroom or on the couch with the fan blasting its cool breeze directly on you. You dozed off a couple of times, and woke up to noises coming from the kitchen and the garden. Your dad was visibly starting the preparations for the evening. 

You didn’t know if Bucky was still here and helping or not, and truth be told you really didn’t want to know. It felt weird to call him Bucky because that’s how your dad called him but it felt even weirder to call him James. Because that’s how he told you, whispered to you when your bodies were close, too close in that overcrowded bar, that he wanted you to call him.

“You can call me James, sweetheart.” You could practically see his smirk engraved behind your eyelids.

You hated yourself for not recognising the name, the face or even the voice. But it had been so many years, a little over a decade since you last saw him. The memories all uncertain, shaped differently by an ever growing teenager mind, almost blurry. Perhaps, had he introduced himself as Bucky you would have remembered. Wishful thinking.

***

When you finally finished getting ready and emerged from your room, the barbecue had started and the smell of cooking meat filled the evening hot air. Paper plates and cups had been placed on the outside dining table, a few neighbours milling about around the table, near the barbecue waiting for their burger or hot dog. Some were talking by the pool.

It wasn’t a big party, just some old friends, some neighbours, some friendly faces that your dad probably thought Bucky would recognise or care for. Difficult to imagine for a man who had spent so much of his life in foreign countries, dedicated to his job. Never visiting between missions.

Grabbing a paper cup you hesitated between a soda or a beer. You weren’t alcoholic by all means, you had just been to two parties back to back and the mere thought of drinking another drop of alcohol already made you sick, despite the known peaceful feeling it would probably bring you. So you reached for the bottle of soda when a gruff voice emerged from behind you and made you jump, “Good choice.”

You turned and threw the man a look. Of course it was Bucky. You had recognised his voice. It was the same sort of low voice he’d used the other night at the bar when you’d chatted, and later even lower, almost too deep and soft for a man that looked so rugged.

It suited him in a way, though. It was a completely different voice than the one he presented to your dad earlier.

“What are you doing? Spying on me?” 

He shook his head slightly with a grimace on his lips, “More like judging your hesitation.”

You stood there, and threw a disdainful look at the fact that this man had the audacity to tell you off for hesitating with a beer after he’d had a few already running in his system all day and he still had another bottle in hand. You disliked his patronising tone and cursed yourself for hooking up with him in the first place.

“You should know how you get when you’re drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk.” You shoot back, knowing what he was obviously talking about.

“You were tipsy.” he nodded like stating a simple fact and you hated it. You turned fully to face him.

“And tell me how I am when I am tipsy then?”

“Oh I think you know, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to reply but he didn’t give you time to formulate any sort of thought because in a few strides he stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against. Leaving barely a step between your two bodies, he started to talk again, his voice lower.

“Should I remind you? Really?”

You stepped back, your lower back colliding with a chair near the table. Your drink splashed in your hand a little and you looked at him with such incredulous expression he couldn’t refrain himself from smirking. The bastard.

But he was right, the other night at the bar you had flirted with him because it was harmless and playful, and he’d told you that he was single and you’d replied that you were too. The buzz of the few drinks you both had and the rhythm of the music spurring you on. You hadn’t hung out with a man in years, and let alone hooked up with anyone, so it was pure pleasure to let go and enjoy the moment.

Something snapped you back down on Earth, to the present moment. Something soft and rough at the same time; you realised his hand was on your forearm, preventing you from falling backward on the chair. 

He wasn’t holding on too hard, but the pressure of his hot skin against yours sent shivers up your arms, and by the way his eyes looked at his fingers on your skin, he definitely saw it. 

 Your head whipped in the direction where you last saw your dad, his back turned to you, mending the burger on the barbecue then back to Bucky.

He let his hand drop from your arm, eyes not leaving yours. He knew what, or rather who, you’d turned to look for. He could almost sense the nervousness emanating from your body. You were both silent for a beat before he nodded in your direction and asked, “Does it bother you?”

You looked back at him, into those beautiful brown eyes of his. You thought you could drown in them if he let you. Instead you shot him his own question back, “Does it bother you?” with a quirked eyebrow.

Before he could reply, commotion took you both out of the moment as your noisy neighbour had just appeared at the party. You were almost certain your dad hadn’t invited her and yet she was there, talking loudly while making her way to him on the other side of the lawn. Mrs Drew was one of the worst neighbors you had on your street. Probably the worst actually. 

She was noisy and always looked for drama and gossip which exasperated you. Every time you had the bad luck of crossing paths with her either in town or in the street, she was always prone to stop you with a hand on your shoulder that lingered there too long and a bright pink smile that looked too big and too fake. And a flourish of questions sometimes way too personal.

You couldn’t shake it, you simply disliked her. So you avoided her.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you slipped away from Bucky and his hypnotising brown eyes, his hand still in mid motion, hanging in the air between your bodies.

***

That night after the party, once everyone left and the plates were put in a trash bag, you slipped in your pajamas and laid in bed on top of the covers. Your eyes staring at the ceiling above, you finally, reluctantly, allowed the images of that night to come back at full speed. Flashing behind your eyes like a kaleidoscope of movies. Sensations and sounds coming back too, making you shiver. making your fingers itch.

The playful banter and flirting at the bar, the drinks you both downed. The buzz of the alcohol making you less shy and more forward but not loosening everything in you just yet. You stayed vigilant even though you felt more lightweight than you had in years, as if any sense of responsibility had been lifted from your shoulders. But you still observed carefully the giant wall of stones you’d built around yourself.

Still, you allowed him close enough to feel his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the nearest hotel for the night. He’d booked the room, his hand dropping from your back as you walked further into the hotel lobby, hypnotised by the illuminated fish tank while he talked to the reception desk.

Looking back at it now, you knew why you hadn’t caught on faster on who he was, because he never told you his full name. Simply introduced himself as James. Who would give their last name to a stranger met in a bar when they probably had no intention to see them again after?

You exhaled loudly, pressing the palms of your hands against your face. Letting the images run behind your closed eyelids.

The hotel room door closed with a soft clunk behind you, his hands taking yours, taking his time, giving you time. Ever so gentle for such a big man that looked like life had fucked him over more than once. 

But that night it almost felt like the rough edges smoothed, or so it seemed to be the case with each of his caresses, his gentle words and heavy breathing. 

You had never hooked up so you felt awkward but he made sure you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You felt it in the way he looked at you, half expecting you to pull back and run out the door. Giving you more time than another man would. So gentle and quite with his puppy eyes never leaving yours.

One of his hands gently pushed back a strand of your hair behind your ear, then settling on your neck. His thumb stroking the skin of your cheek, gliding over your lips. His eyes followed his own gesture as if making sure he was careful not to break you. Like you were made of glass. The heavy lidded look on his face almost made you melt instantly on the room’s dusty carpet.

You’d let your eyes roam his face, from his eyes to his mouth back to his eyes and he understood, almost like reading your mind, that you’d just given him permission. He’d understood what you wanted.

His warm and soft lips a striking contrast, making you melt, body relaxing like your instinct knew you were safe which was weird because you didn’t know him. But in that instant that stranger had made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before.

The way his hands dropped to your waist, your hips, squeezing there, bringing you closer to him. 

Your breathing tangled as the kiss went from tentative and sweet to hungry and needy. The occasional clash of teeth, hard breathing the only sound in the room as you both removed your clothes.

You let your hands come up to meet his arms, sliding your palms to his shoulders, up his neck, down his chest until they rested on his stomach.

Still laying in your bed, the covers under you, the night air cooling softly the the room. Your brain made a flashforward.

Flashes of white bedsheets, his strong big arms caging your head as he hovered on top. His head hidden in the crook of your neck, teeth nipping, tongue licking, lips kissing. One of your hands at the base of his neck, tangled in his brown short hair, the other raking his broad back, nails digging the soft flesh, eliciting more sounds from him.

no use of y/n or you. Reader is referred to as she/her.

word count: 2K

read on ao3

Reader is a figther for the IKFC but as BaekJeong realises how skilled she is he keep her on his team for more work and eventually fall for her.

This is a short drabble, i might write a second part later.

The first time Baek-Jeong saw her, she was fighting ten men in a locked cage similar to the one he uses for the IKFC. He stumbled across this particular illegal fight one summer night while out scouting for some underground fighters not yet discovered by the scene. 

He stayed for the fun because seeing a woman in an illegal fighting ring was a pretty rare thing to see, but then stayed because she won. She fought the ten men like it was a walk in the park.

His lips had turned real quick into that infamous devilish grin of his that always announced trouble. And Tae-Geom saw it, the way his boss’ eyes lit up and kept following her movements. Alan had therefore been tasked with finding out who she was, but had come back empty handed, and that intrigued Baek-Jeong even more.

He knew the smell of money in the duffle he presented her a few days later was what convinced her to follow him to Korea and do a few fights for him. But he’d be lying if he said he had to threaten her to stay by his side and do more fighting– bringing him more money because the viewers loved the novelty of a woman in a cage locked with someone twice her size.

She knew they were exploiting her, turning her into an animal in a zoo, a lamb caged with wolves, but she was paid, fed and housed in a pretty luxurious penthouse somewhere in Seoul. She wasn’t one to complain, she’d known harsher working conditions.

At least Baek-Jeong kept her under the radar, only broadcasting the live on the dark web, he had assured her no one could find them unless he decided so. And he didn’t know why but she had trusted him. She’d gotten close to Alan, playing video games together when there was nothing to do and the days were quiet. 

She also befriended Tae-Geom, with whom she liked to train sometimes. He seemed to be the only one so far in the whole organisation to be at her level. Even Baek-Jeong was a level below, but she knew better than to say anything. The man had an ego and she didn’t want to piss him off. So far she was making good and easy money, but she knew it could change at any point. Baek-Jeong could get into a mood and decide the viewers weren’t betting enough money anymore on her, and decide to get rid of her.

She’d seen how he did it with previous fighters, snapping their neck and walking away all brooding, even more angry than when he’d entered the ring. And she liked to keep her neck as it was. 

What she didn’t know, was that Baek-jeong had no intention of getting rid of her anytime soon. She was making him good money so far and he wanted to see how far she would go in this. And how far he could go, ever since he noticed she was not afraid of him. No matter what happened she never backed away from him, never lowered her eyes from him when he started getting angry, never cowered or shrunk in on herself like he saw so many men do in his presence.

He knew sometimes he was a loose canon and it made him impervisible to others, which  he liked. Surprising  your enemy was always a good thing, giving you an advantage.

But he felt like he could never really surprise her, never make her flinch, or scare her away. She always kept  her eyes on his, not a single emotion crossing her features. It made him a little scared of her even though he would never admit that to anyone. If anything it made him more attracted to her, but he wouldn’t even allow himself to feel it, denying himself what his body and mind obviously felt. 

It made her a little scary, sometimes, how she could keep her composure, remaining cool and collected even in stressful situations. He admired that quality a little. He thought maybe he would intimidate more people if he got his temper under control like her. 

But his emotions were strong and he needed an output or he’d go crazy, so he had found boxing. And then violence, pure raw unfiltered violence in his underground fights. She saw it like his very own playground where he got to do anything he wanted with nobody to tell him no.

One night after a particularly long and exhausting fight in the cage, he emerged from the penthouse’s sliding window onto the massive terrasse for some air. His sleep had always been pretty bad; short nights, nightmares, exhaustion. He preferred to avoid sleep entirely when he could, which didn’t really help with his short temper. 

That night, when he stepped out onto the terrace, he saw her on one of the outside chairs, a first aid kit laid on the table in front of her, squares of gauze and antiseptic soaked in blood laid out on the glass. She was laying back, her head tipped up toward the sky, a final gauze in one hand, but it seemed she’d gotten distracted.

The Seoul night air was significantly less hot at night, and he saw her rub her arms with her hands in an attempt to keep warm, her head still tilted back toward the ink black sky.

It’s like his body acted of his own, he realised, once he found himself a few paces away from where she sat. He noticed that she wasn’t looking at the sky as her eyes were closed now, her hair dancing around her face in the slow breeze.

“I can hear the gears in your head from here.” She’d spoken without moving from her position, head still tipped upward and eyes closed facing the stars. A small smile appeared on his lips as he heard her accent slip out under the exhaustion.

He huffed out a small laugh and shook his head while leaning against the railing of the terrace facing her, arms crossed and eyes on her.

“Are you staring at me?” She asked again with her eyes still closed. But at the lack of response from him she opened one to peer at him and then the other as  she turned her head to look at him. Of course he was already staring right back at her. She smiled in a way that was far too innocent for someone in this kind of life and fists of steel.

Silently he walked toward her, sitting on the empty space next to her on the outside couch, and she had to turn to her side to keep looking at him, one leg tucked under herself. Baek-Jeong had one arm thrown over the backrest of the couch, his body angled toward her own, and his devilish grin still adorning his lips. She recognised this last detail as trouble on their way but still decided to stay and see what the story might bring. 

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch in time and last longer, he just looked at her and the cuts and bruises covering the skin of her tattooed arms. A few cuts and bruises on her face as well. One of his hands came up to meet a strand of hair and push it back behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her cheekbone in the process. The contact felt nice, she hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in years. The only times someone had touched her it had been to hurt, punch or use her. 

But not him, not right now. His hand lingered in the air, his fingers still grazing her cheek and she leaned into the touch. Soft caress against rough skin. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the palm of his hand. The night around them silent like the world itself pressed the pause button to give them privacy. To make the moment last longer. 

The gesture soft and silent but surprising. He hadn’t expected her to lean into his touch so easily, not even after months of being side by side for the IKFC, not after they’d started to warm up to each other. Because everyday upon waking up he tried to convince himself she was just an employee, a pawn in his big underground fight plans. A pawn he couldn’t deny the need to keep close to him.

Everytime he tried to convince himself that it was nothing; her lingering stares he often caught, the way she stayed by his side no matter what when talking to investors or potential fighters, the way she was ready to fight for him. He tried to convince himself she was just behaving like a normal person, doing the job she was paid for.

But each passing day, his resolve crumbled a little more and he felt his body in a new way, his mind losing grip on reality. His vision filled with dreams of a future an old version of him would’ve perhaps dreamed of every night.

He hid behind violence and anger, frustration piling up behind his dark stormy eyes, brow creased with tension. Everyone noticed how the blows he inflicted to his opponents were stronger, more violent, like he had unleashed something within himself lately. Tae-Geom worried a little, because he knew his boss was a loose wire and if something frustrated him so much as to unravel his anger on others then he needed to find what it was and fix it.

Baek-Jeong kept his entire body still, his eyes fixated on her face in his hand, her breathing slow and intentional. She was enjoying the moment, the stillness of it and the warmth emanating from him. 

“You’re so warm.” was the only word that camee out of her, a little slurred from the exhaustion and it did something to his body, his breath itched, missing a beat and he had to force himself to keep his composure.

Without thinking Baek-Jeong shoved the threads of doubts and hesitation he felt lingering in his mind and shifted his hand so he could angle her face up toward his with his thumb on her chin, the rough skin of his hand so close to the soft flesh of her lips. 

The movement made her open her eyes, already going away from his hand so he moved his fingers to the back of her neck before she could go too far, holding her in place as he approached his face. Right before their lips touched he saw her eyes darting down his face, her breathing missing a beat and finally her eyes closed as their lips met.

It was awkward for a second, he didn’t move and then closed his eyes and let himself revel in the moment, in the feeling of her soft mouth against his. 

He moved and she followed, no question asked. The world tuned out around them, shivers erupted on her skin when the hand he had behind her neck squeezed a little there. Possessive in a nice way. 

She moved her hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, up his neck, tangling with the hair at the base despite it being up loosely tied. 

Their breathing intensified and he grabbed her hips to move her onto his lap, kissing her down her neck, biting down onto the soft skin there and kissing it again after. It didn’t feel like a first kiss, it felt like a reunion after a long time apart, it felt like a ritual lovers would have, hidden from the rest of the world on the rooftop of a hotel with no one around to disturb them.

When she woke up the next morning in his bed with one of his arms across her stomach she didn’t dare move, afraid everything would change right in front of her eyes as if it was just a dream. So she stayed very still next to him, his body heat radiating onto her and keeping her warm. 

It took some time for Alan and the others to warm up to the new member of Baek-jeong’s team. A woman more than capable of doing the job, never hesitating before diving into a fight or flinching when the opponent sliced her skin with a sashimi knife. She was fast and strong, a damn good fighter by Baek-jeong’s standards, as good as Tae-geom even. But Alan kept his distance because even though he worked for a dangerous man and lived a hidden life made of violence and hacking, he wasn’t a violent man. He knew how to fight, it had been a requirement from Baek-jeong, but he didn’t like it. He knew it looked like cowardice to the others around, when he’d stay in the backseat of the car, hiding behind his laptop while the others went out to fight. But he just didn’t like to use his fists, he preferred to type on his keyboard– that’s the kind of violence he knew best. Inflicting someone some pain from afar, even if it was not physical, was much more satisfying and entertaining to him than any fist fight. 

After awhile having to work and spend so much time with her, Alan finally warmed up to her a little bit. It was gradual, not intense and not a lot of words were exchanged but he noticed how she’d look at him sometimes and get so lost in thoughts that he would catch her staring a few seconds more before she realised and averted her gaze. He thought she hid it well under a look of indifference, but not nearly as good as she thought. He could see the very faint blush on her cheeks and her eyes staying longer on the piercing at his lower lip. He wasn’t indifferent to women, he liked them but he was just shy. Perhaps not confident enough in himself to totally understand why anyone would be even slightly interested in him. It wasn’t like he hated himself, but his lifestyle didn’t allow him lots of free time or freedom to meet new people, let alone women. 

He was an introverted nerd who preferred the company of his tech rather than other humans. He was more confident behind his screen than he’d ever been in realy life. Except when he had to talk business with potential investors for the IKFC– that’s when the passion for his job took over just like it took over when he was typing away on his laptop, forgetting the whole world around. Despite the violence and rules he had had to live by because of his boss, Alan didn’t hate his job, nor his life. Maybe he did feel a little lonely sometimes, and that’s when he caught his mind wandering in a dangerous direction; toward her. Wondering what she was up to, what her past had been like and if anyone was looking for her. 

Every time he’d try to shake the thought away, physically shaking his head like a dog after a bath, cracking his fingers and opening a new can of soda he willed his mind to come back to the present moment and the screens in front of him.

Baek-jeong had made him look her up but hardly anything had come up. A few child services files, a few police records when she was still a juvenile therefore avoiding any prison time. And then nothing, it was like she was dead to the rest of the world and there was not even a record of it. Like she disappeared from the surface of the Earth and no one went looking. He found it a bit tragic and sad, but also wonderful in a way. It gave her all the freedom she wanted. In a sense he was free too as he’d erased any trace of his previous life from the internet, he was a ghost like her. The simple fleeting thought made him smile, his tongue probing at the ring on his lower lip and immediately her face took over his mind again. 

The moment his mind betrayed him and showed him images of her, blurred and fleeting in his brain, he threw his arms in the air as if in a giving up motion, annoyed that she was distracting him so easily. He didn’t know why she affected him so much, but he would be lying if he said it bothered him so much. A part of him was annoyed of course, from not knowing why his mind was acting up. The other part of him liked it, that special feeling he got in his body, filling his stomach with something special like she’d poisoned him. 

Giving up on whatever he’d been doing on his screens all night, he got up and out of his room in search for something to drink in the not-so-mini fridge of the vast penthouse Baek-jeong has rented in a very luxurious hotel. Closing back the empty fridge he jumped from surprised when he turned around and noticed her standing on the other side of the counter. The last bottle in hand and a sort of innocent look on her face.

She finished swallowing her mouthful of water before throwing him a curious look and extending her arms, offering him the bottle. He took it hesitantly as a shy smile adorned her lips. 

They started talking a little, some back and forth easy banter, and he enjoyed it. How easy it was to be around her, and it surprised him he hadn’t noticed sooner.

At some point she ended up on his side of the counter, he didn’t remembered her walking over while they discussed in hushsed voices as to not wake up their boss and his right hand who were sleeping just a few doors down the whole of the penthouse. 

She watched him laugh at something she’d say, the way his smile radiated and was so communicative she couldn’t help her lips when they formed a smile too. Her eyes caught his lip piercing and the way his tongue poked out to wet his lower lip and the glint of the metal in the low kitchen light. Never in her life she’d imagined reacting so much to a simple piercing, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him very attractive. 

His hair seemed even crazier than during the day, streaks of blue and blond, and she surprised herself when she asked him what his natural color was. She wasn’t even more surprised when he answered. 

“I think i’d like to see you with your natural dark brown hair.”

That stunned him, shy as he was, couldn’t find a single thought in his big brain. So his body reacted on his own and he laughed a little awkwardly at it, because it was sort of a compliment half said. A truth hanging in there between them in the chill night air. The silence that enveloped them felt suddenly thick and Alan found a small pocket of courage in this tranquille atmosphere, because he stepped a few inches in her direction. The way she was she couldn’t run away easily, her back pressed to the counter, a wall on one side and his body on the other. 

She seemed so close and yet so far, as if he could reach out with one hand and touch her arms crossed over chest, but so far because he struggled to let go and do what he craved too. 

She kept looking him in the eye and threw him off balance a little, and sometimes her stare would slowly slide down to his piercing before going back up. He kept talking with that low deep voice of his she only hears when it’s pitch black outside and they’re both on a mission for Baek-jeong. She realised she liked it, the low deep tone leaving his throat as his adam apple bobbed. He seemed to catch up on it quickly.

It was instinctive, the way one of his arms slid around her waist, warm hand splayed at the small of her back. Her tank top was too thin to conceal his warm touch and goosebumps erupted on her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice. But he did and he loved it, revelled in the way she reacted to his touch. 

The distance between them disappeared gradually, and her arms uncrossed and palms splayed against his chest. He radiated warmth and it felt so good that she let her eyes flutter close for a second and her breathing slow down. 

When she opened her eyes again, they felt heavy with sleep but mostly with need, her pupils blown wide engulfing almost all the brown around. She’d been craving physical touch for the longest time, yearning to be held and here she found herself. Held by the man she possibly had a crush on no matter how hard she scolded herself for it. But a part of her reasoned that Alan and her had been exchanging glances for months now, his voice always so low and intentional whenever he’d talk to her.

She’d look up from his lips to his eyes, only to find them fixated on her own mouth, heavy lidded eyes staring right back at her, at something that looked way too soft for such a violent world. The moment seemed to stretch forever as he leaned toward her, their noses brushing and their breathing entangling. For a second it felt like the world stopped spinning entirely, and froze on its axis. 

He sneaked a hand to her waist and held her tight like he needed physical support, the other coming to brush under her jaw, hold it and swipe a thumb on her cheek. She could taste the last energy drink he drank on his lips, the metal ring on his lower one colder than she expected. The kiss deepened and he shuffled closer, their bodies flush against each other and her back pressed against the cold counter.

The hand at her waist slid under her thin tank top, the fabric so thin she felt every inch of him through his own t-shirt. His hand squeezed the soft flesh at her waist and she caressed the hair at the back of his neck while they got lost in the kiss. 

After that first move that night, every time he looked at her she could feel herself blushing and she hated herself for letting her feelings rule her. She was a professional, she needed to keep a cool head but Alan was everywhere, always nearby with his finger hovering above his keyboard.

Some night when she couldn’t sleep she would find her way to his room, hovering behind the door wondering if she was making a mistake until the need to see him took over and she stepped inside his room before anyone could spot her in the hallway.

Often time he wouldn’t hear her sneaking up onto him, his headphones blasting some heavy music, his hands busy on his computer and his eyes glued to his screens. But once he noticed her, he would completely leave whatever he was doing aside, get up from his chair with a wicked grin on his face. 

Everytime she’d see him look at her with that devilish grin and his tongue poking out on his lower lip near the ring, it felt like something was fluttering in her stomach. Something almost feral and instinctive. And he felt it too, when she’d look at him and get lost in thoughts so much she wouldn’t even notice that he caught her staring. He found it amusing but never told her, afraid she would stop doing it if she became self-conscious about it. 

So he kept his thoughts a little secret but made sure she knew that she didn’t leave him indifferent, he wanted to make sure she knew how he felt. And since he wasn’t good with words he let his body do the work. Letting his hands roam over her top and shorts, letting his mouth tell her unholy stories in the form of long passionate kisses.

His breathing hitching when he’d feel her hands at his neck, on his shoulders, down his stomach. Soft sounds leaving him when she’d slightly bite down on his lower lip, kissing his piercing. 

Making her walk backward he lowered them both on the mattress, her body beneath his and one hand caressing the skin on her thigh uncovered by her shorts. Clothes quickly discarded on the floor, messy tangle of limbs and breathing, his voice so deep and low she was certain he could send her over the edge just by talking to her like that.

She knew he kept his voice down for practical reasons, she knew they had to keep it low for now, but she’d be damned if she didn’t say it turned her on even more. The way he talked her through it, his grunt and breath against her skin, the metal of the lip piercing a stark contrast to his soft lips. 

When he spun them around and she found herself on top of him, he kept his hands on her hips squeezing the skin as they moved as if in sync. His eyes trailing over her naked form right in front of him, he thought he was seeing an angel, a few locks of her long hair falling over her shoulders. She moved and arched her back, eyes boring a hole in his soul as she completely lost herself. A rolled his hips to match her movements and the feeling was so much his back arched instinctively.

note: no use of y/n, the reader is referenced as she/her, in my head there's a slight age gap but it's not specified in the story, so you do whatever you want with this information :) )

the men in bloodhounds were just serving ahhhh ? little something because my thoughts were going crazy and i just had to get it out, so i wrote it down. Feedback is highly appreciated! idk if the fandom might be small and niche idk, i just really enjoyed the show! Who should i do next? What kind of fic do we want?? I've never written smut so if you want more explicit scene i could try but i won't do it unless someone ask xD

word wount: 2k, english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake!

She’d always been an outcast. Never fit in, always the odd one out, the weird one. It has always been like that, until she started working as a mercenary. Traveling around the world solo to execute contracts was more her thing. It didn’t require her to have social skills, just to be the best. And she was the best at what she did. And that’s how she found herself working for some Korean boss of an underground fighting ring. He was known in the whole world, at least for those who knew where to look. The dark web was the only place to find the IKFC, and he had his own hacker traveling with him, making it hard for anyone to track them. She liked Allen, he was always nice to her even if at the start he seemed a bit tense around her.

She liked that new job, it was a new kind of contract. She just had to stay by Baek-jeong’s side and do the dirty work he didn’t want to do sometimes. She was constantly around him and Alan and Tae-Geom, making it hard not to befriend them. Each had their own personality and she liked to hang out with them three, even if it was often work-related, they sometimes found themselves around a drink late at night to decompress. To her it was good company, and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. She knew her contract would come to an end at some point, and she didn’t know if it would be renewed or not.

Baek-jeong had first found it a bit hard to trust a newcomer, let alone a woman, on his team. But she eventually proved him that he could trust her, that she had what it took to live this kind of life– away from everyone, no social life, no family, no friends. She showed him she was loyal and would always do whatever he assigned her to, as long as he payed her and her contract wasn’t terminated but that part of course she kept to herself. He was hard to read, never showing his emotions except anger and violence. A lot of violence. 

Sometimes he liked to put on a show to remind her that he was the boss, pinning her against the wall and staring at her with those murderous eyes of his. A wicked grin would stretch his lips and he would look down at her mouth, his breathing fanning over her face. One time he was so close to her that she thought he was going to kiss her, force himself on her. But his phone rang and he looked down at the screen displaying Taegeon’s name. Baek-jeong was so dedicated he didn’t realise he’d missed an opportunity. He didn’t realise he’d put his work– or rather his angry determination, before his own feelings. He could’ve had her, she wouldn’t have said no if she was still single, but now was different.

And that’s when she noticed the difference with Tae-Geom. The way he wouldn’t even have heard the phone ringing because he would’ve been too focused on her, his body so close to hers, their breaths entangling between them, the silence that screamed yearning louder than any words. He always seemed enthralled by her presence, and the closer he got, the harder to resist it became. His fingers itched to touch her, to feel the soft skin of her own hands. He always wondered how she could be so soft when her job was so rough. He admired her for being so strong every day, on every single job, in every situation even though he never told her. He’d been distant with her at first, and slowly working together and spending so much time together helped building trust, and other feelings.

When it’s just the two of them, in a hotel room from a different hotel from where their boss stayed, it was like the world around them didn’t exist. It was rare moments they could share together away from everyone and everything, as they were always busy running around for their boss. But Tae-Geom always made sure that he didn’t have any unfinished business before seeing her, so he wouldn’t be disrupted by unwanted phone calls from Baek-jeong asking him where he was and to come to him right away. Baek-jeong was a loose cannon and Taegeon feared the moment his boss would discover his relationship with her. He was so afraid of what he would do that it made every secret rendez-vous even more important to him. He poured his whole heart and soul into it, making sure she knew he loved her more than his own life. 

As soon as she opened the door of the hotel room he was on her, hands at her face, thumb stroking her cheek, sliding on her lips, his eyes devouring her as passionately as his lips on her mouth. Pushing her backward against the door, cradling the back of her head and slowly sliding his hand to the back of her neck. She loved his quiet dominance, not brutal but absolute and certain. There was no space for doubt here, in their own bubble, he made sure of it. Switching to the front of her neck, holding her steady while they kissed, heavy breathing echoing against the walls like unholy sounds. He knew she liked that, the hand on her neck, not too tight but still holding her in place, putting him in charge. It gave her a chance to relax, to not be harsh and merciless in the face of the world, the opportunity to slip back into a normal person, a more soft version of herself, and let her body be consumed by the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

He let himself go entirely, head empty of anything that wasn’t her. A few more desperate and intense sloppy kisses before he pulled away just a few inches for air. She tried to move her head forward, to reach for his lips to capture him in another kiss, but he softly dodge by pulling away a little more just as her lips grazed his. Her eyes finally lifted from his mouth to his own, they both had heavy lidded stares lost in another world. A spark bloomed in her insides as if this little cat and mouse game just woke her up from a slumber. He smiled softly at the face she made, her small smile tugging at her lips. She tried again but this time he used the hand around her neck to stop her, squeezing a little, and coming close to her again his body flush against hers, he looked at her from above like she was unreal. 

She never told him she liked that little height difference and the way he just used it to his advantage in these situations. She hadn’t told him about the neck thing or the kiss-chase either but he was so tuned in to her that he noticed every little reaction. He noticed how her pupils reacted to his actions, he heard her breathing skip a beat and watched her chest rise and fall heavily when his other hand squeezed her waist and his nose nudged hers, his voice already repeating her name like a prayer, in a low raw tone, almost broken voice.

And in a beat they were back to it, her hands that had been fisted in his flannel now tugged at it down his arms, mumbling something about too much clothes in between them and needing him. They didn’t break the kiss as he walked them backward toward the bed, shaking their shoes off, she fumbled a bit with his belt and him with hers. He took his t-shirt and jeans off before his back could hit the mattress, slowly bringing her down with him as she did the same. He kept his hands tightly around her as she climbed on to straddle him. The sounds escaping them were already full of the heat of the moment, outright filthy, gasping in each other’s embrace, mouth devouring each others.

Taegeon liked when he could look at her while she was on top of him, he liked to see her face, her reactions, and how her body moved. The way her eyes progressively got more screwed shut as the pleasure consumed her, head thrown back and her mouth slightly open, sounds worthy of the greatest porno leaving her. If she was an actress and awards existed for these movies she’d get them all, he thought. He would give them all to her even without watching these kinds of movies. He didn’t need to when she was right here in his arms, when she was all he ever wanted, all he could ever dream of. She was perfect to him, even when she didn’t see it in herself, and he wanted to remind her of it everyday. He needed to make sure she never forgot how perfect she is. How much he loved her.

When he couldn’t take the distance anymore, when his body craved her skin, he finally sat up to meet her, encircling her waist with his strong arms, their bodies flush against each other, no distance possible. Sometimes they’d do it like that, hugging each other, soft and tender and peaceful in the way only skin to skin could bring to you. Other times he would turn them around, laying her down underneath him, their body never detaching from one another, his mouth trailing kisses from her stomach to her breasts and then neck where he buried his face. One arm under her shoulder holding her, the other down her side, kneading at the flesh, grabbing her thigh, he really couldn’t help it– he needed to have his hands on her, to feel her. 

He revelled in how she encircled his shoulders with her arms, nails digging in his back, the better he made her feel, the deeper the nails dug, making deep groans leave his throat. He didn’t care about the aftermath of it, the red marks trailing his skin, the stinging sensation when he moved and his clothes irritated it the next day. To him it was just a reminder of what they’d done, how good they’d both felt. When he started neebling on the soft skin on her neck, his head buried between her hair and the pillows, she instinctively moved one hand to the back of his head, as if trying to anchor him there, softly moaning in a way that made him see stars, his head so light and a soft fluttering sensation filling his stomach.

The only time they’d part was to shower afterward and clean up before coming back to bed and sleep the reminder of the night in each other’s embrace. Even in his sleep he would hold her close to him, too scared something could happen to her when he slept. He got that gut wrenching feeling during the day too, when she’d go on her own without backup to do something reckless for their boss again. He always worried about her but could never show it directly and he had to conceal his emotions everyday for risks of Baek-jeong finding out. 

While you’re dealing with the aftermath of your beach adventures, Paul is too. The difference was that he has the pack to look after him and help him understand what’s happening to him. And they all know two things for certain: one; you had the distinct scent they’d smell on the clothes found deep in the forest a few days ago, and two; Paul had imprinted on you.

And the two weren’t adding up. They didn’t understand how they could be another shifter in Forks and they hadn’t noticed. Some had suspicions ever since that day in the forest, but nothing had been confirmed. Though your sudden appearance had lifted some concerns at the reservation, and even sparked a meeting between the elders.

Sam wanted to meet you, make you come to the reservation and have a discussion. They couldn’t have another shifter outside of the reservation or it was war guaranteed with the coven of vampires that were the Cullens. They had rules they needed to respect. That’s what made the elders agitated mostly.

Paul’s imprinting was the lesser of their concerns. But to him though? It was a big deal. He couldn’t believe it happened to him. He didn’t know how to feel. When he had looked at you at first, it’s like gravity had suddenly shifted under his feet and his whole world was upside down. Or rather like it was finally making sense. Everything was a little smoother around the edges, a stark contrast to how he had seen life unfold around him for years; sharp and tough. Hurtful.

You were soothing him.

When he had looked into your eyes, it was like the final piece of the puzzle of his soul had finally been found and put at the right place. He didn’t know if all these feelings and emotions washing over him all of a sudden were good or bad. Maybe a little of both, he decided. He couldn’t make up his mind. A part of him was furious that another choice in his life had been taken from him. First he had shifted without even wanting it. And even now after some months, he still hates himself for it. Blaming himself, as if he had any say in all of that.

And now the imprint. It scared him. An imprint could be a lot of things, but in general people ended up getting together and irrevocably in love. It was almost endearing but also disgusting to witness Sam and Emily and their perfect love bubble.

You spent that day alone inside your house, trying to keep your mind busy from the beach events and the pain, but you barely managed to read a few pages of a book before your brain started wandering off. At least it seemed your brain was so focused on the recent events that it almost forgot the pain coursing through your body. 

Bella called you the next day, saying that Jacob had asked her to drive you down to the reservation. She said he didn’t tell her the reason, but maybe she knew and didn’t want to tell you in case it stopped you from following her there.

That’s when your mind snapped back to reality and doubled over, hands braced against your knees, trying to catch your breath. Your head was pounding and thankfully Bella drove in silence. No questions, no music, just the sound of the road underneath her truck and the cool breeze coming through the open passenger window.

You saw in the corner of your eye that Bella turned her head towards you a couple of times, probably checking if you weren’t dying on her passenger seat. She could probably see the beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

“You okay? You haven’t said much since the beach,” she let her voice drop low and quiet as if she wasn’t sure she should or could mention it. Like you would burst in an uncontrollable rage at the memory. You thought you must have scared her quite well if she was taking so many precautions to talk to you.

You blamed yourself and hated yourself for behaving a certain way sometimes, but there were days, moments, during which you could barely control yourself because you weren’t yourself.

When she parked beside Jake’s bike, you immediately noticed him standing straight, arms crossed over his chest. A few other boys hovered around him, some sported curiosity on their faces, others looked more worried than anything else.

As soon as Bella got out of the car it was like Jake forgot all his worries and the world around, as he ran to greet her with a big hug. You hesitated, hands on the door handle, finger’s fidgeting nervously. You could sense something in the air, but you didn’t know what it was. And it made you nervous.

What did Jacob want to talk to you about? Had you done something wrong the other day at the beach? Had you hurt or vexed anyone? You didn’t fully remember the day but you know you barely talked. You let Bella do the talking that day.

Taking a big gulp of air you pushed the door open. The very moment you put one foot on the ground and Jacob had you in his line of sight, it was like the stars in his eyes had been turned off. He didn’t look happy to see you, but again Bella hadn’t said anything so you weren’t sure.

He came up to you as you closed the door, fidgeting with your sleeves. “There’s some things we need to talk about.” Was all he said. He didn’t even greet you, so you guessed you had done something pretty bad for him to be so closed off and grumpy. He simply nodded at you to follow him down a muddy path toward a simple but cute house.

Hidden away underneath the shadows of the big trees in the forest, you could see silhouettes moving inside behind the windows, and you heard chatter and laughter.

Jacob entered first, followed by the guys that had been waiting with him and Bella. You were the last one to get inside, and as you closed the door behind you, every pair of eyes landed on you. What you didn’t notice though, was that some eyes traveled from you to Paul and from him to you again.

Looks were exchanged and finally when the silence became too loud and heavy, a man in his thirties and a woman about the same age came out of another room hand in hand. They stopped short when they noticed everybody inside the house, and finally their gaze landed on you. The woman was the first one to speak, greeting you warmly and introducing herself and the man by her side. Her name was Emily and he was Sam.

She immediately went to the oven, opened it and took out a tray of freshly baked cookies. Sam went up to you and introduced himself as well as the other boys and young men in the room. Meanwhile one of the youngest boys sitting down around the dining table got scolded by Emily who had just put a plate full of hot cookies. He was shaking his fingers and blowing on them, you guessed what he had tried to do and a soft smile brushed your lips.

You all but noticed the dark silhouette hovering at the far end of the room, like he was sulking after being punished like a child. His arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes remained on the ground.

Sam told you to take a seat and you obliged, not wanting to show how tired you were but also grateful he gave you the option.

You sat in silence observing the scene around you. The boys had started talking amongst themselves, the agitated chatter filling the kitchen and dining room. It looked like a mundane scene in the home of a loving family, you thought nostalgic.

Sam leaned back against the wall facing you, his hands in his jean’s pockets. You noticed he was barefoot, but you also noticed they were all shirtless and barefoot. Sam had a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he observed you. You didn’t know if you should feel nervous about it, or nervous about the way they all seemed to share a secret that the world would never know.

He took a deep inhale, then started talking again, ending the torture of waiting silently while happy chaos gently unfolded around you in the room.

“I know this seems strange,” and he gestured to the room around the both of you, “but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He then took a place on a chair in front of you, beside the table and started telling you a story about his tribe and the reservation. About some monsters named the Cold-ones and others beasts trying to protect their land. It was a story of life and death, survival and war and bloodlines.

You got chills when he talked about the violence and the fights. And somehow you felt the story resonating inside your bones. You weren’t sure you fully understood or grasped the whole point of his story, the whole gravity of it, but somewhere within yourself, you felt that this story was a part of the past and that it had really happened. At the end of his story his eyes were still on you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if you’d get the hint.

You saw some sort of currency in his brown eyes, but you didn’t know why. So you simply asked. You hadn’t noticed that everyone had quieted down and had been listening too despite knowing the stories by heart as it was custom for the tribe members.

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t these kind of stories ancient and sacred and like, I don’t know, private to the members of the tribe?”

Everybody was surprised that you knew how private the tribe was and how their past was important. You weren’t ignorant or insensitive, you just thought these kinds of stories were passed down from generation to generation. Never wrote down, always shared with their voices.

As the time passed and Sam was telling his story, you could feel your headache coming back. All your senses heightened once again, you could hear everyone breathing in the room, every scrapping of a chair on the wooden floor. Beads of sweat started to appear on your forehead and neck and Sam seemed to notice. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands, but your arms were hurting. Your shoulders were stiff and your head felt so heavy.

You could have fallen asleep right then and there so much the pain was tiring. Or more like your endless effort to tame the beast inside of you was taking your strength. And the beast was still clawing inside, howling silently in your mind. Like silently begging you to let go.

You had developed a pretty strong mental willpower– that or you were incredibly stubborn trying to fight off the symptoms of each shift.

The noises in the room were starting to overwhelm you, added with how hot you were feeling, like you had a fever. Emily walked over to you and reached out with one hand, but you flinched away and it startled her.

You stuttered a half apology, “Don’t.”

You got up fast from your chair, knocking it over in the process. All the eyes were on you. Paul had shifted from his spot to another closer to the table sometime during the storytelling.

And suddenly you heard a branch cracking outside the open window. Your head snapping in its direction. Eyes narrowing and breathing slowing down, you clenched your hands into fists and tried to ground yourself in your surroundings.

You couldn’t cause a scene here. Not now. Not in front of so many people. A part of you was scared and was seeking loneliness in times like these. The comfort of the forest, the silence of nature and the soft whisper of the trees in the wind. The darkness the tall trees and bushes provided gave you privacy during these tough moments where your entire body shifted. All the bones snapping into different places, claws growing out of your nails and your skin getting covered in fur.

It was a painful process, and you struggled a lot.

Sam got up too, pushing Emily behind him protectively. He kept one hand in the air in front of him like you would to a scared or wounded wild animal. A sign of peace. You knew he didn’t want to hurt you, but the thing trying to get out of your skin could easily hurt him. Or anyone in that kitchen for that matter.

You stumbled backward a few steps and looked up to see everyone looking at you with concern all over their faces. The youngest looked the most excited though, and you didn’t fully understand why. The eldest of the small crowd sported a look of worry and pity.

And it made you angry. Why would they be worried about you? Were they scared of you? Scared you could hurt them? Why did they look like they were pitying you too? Couldn’t they just look away and forget everything, down to your very own existence?

You inhaled sharply. The feeling of anger was much easier to trigger during this state of pre-shift struggle. And now that you felt this anger, this hatred at the world and at nothing in particular and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Shaking your head “no” slightly, your hand flew to your ears. Trying to drown out the noise and pain pulsing through your skull. You staggered out the door, down the few steps of the small wooden porch and onto the mud.

A soft rain had started to drizzle down from the grey clouds, and you closed your eyes as you looked up at the sky. Praying to whoever was listening to help you.

If anyone discovered your secret, knew who– what- you truly were, you’d had to move out again. And you hated this idea. Mainly because you liked it here. You had slowly adapted into a small routine and it wasn’t that bad. Despite the pain and loneliness. But also because something was holding you here and you didn't know what it was. It made you feel like you were going crazy some days.

You couldn’t help it, you let out a low grunt as your knees landed in the wet soil. A few gathered on the front porch and observed the scene. Sam walked forward, not too much as to scare you again. Paul was on his heels, curiosity and something else written on his face. You couldn’t quite tell what else, that you saw in his dark eyes.

But your stare lingered a moment until you doubled over, hands pressing hard against your skull and spine curving forward.

Your nose almost touched the ground as you rocked back and forth on your knees. Someone said something in a hushed tone and you couldn’t make out the words, but then you heard Sam’s voice nearer and you held onto that.

“It’s gonna be okay, don’t fight it.” You took a few ragged breaths and he continued, “Don’t fight it, it’ll only make it worse.”

You wanted to listen to him but you also wished you hadn’t changed into this beast. You were scared, and maybe he could feel it or maybe he saw it on your face as he crouched down and leaned to be closer to you. Trying to make you feel safe.

“Listen to me, it’ll be easier if you let it come, let the feelings wash over you, trust me I know.”

He knew the firsts transformations were supposed to hurt like hell, what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t technically your firsts shift. It had been six months since the incident and ever since that fateful night you couldn’t control the shift whenever they happened.

You wanted to tell him everything, tell him your story, tell him all the details, all the things that happened and that you had to go through alone. You had a feeling he would understand, maybe he had experienced that alone as well. You clung onto that single thought, like it was your only hope.

You heard a few birds taking up in the sky from some nearby trees and the noise only spurred you on– triggering the beastly instinct inside of you.

Suddenly you yelped from the pain coursing through your body and took a few steps forward, away from the house. Sam followed you close enough to help if anything happened, but not too close as to disturb you. He wasn’t sure if your shift would be the same as any of the others he had witnessed.

He knew what you were trying to do, walking slowly through your body’s convulsions toward the forest. Searching for privacy and the dark protective shadows of the ancient trees.

He understood the gesture, all the shifters from his pack had done the same during their first shift. Searching for a private place where they could suffer alone.

Without any watchful eyes, judging and full of unwanted emotions.

Paul took a few steps, staying behind Sam as he couldn’t overstep the Alpha of the pack. He watched you with a deep worry in his beautiful dark eyes. Jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. He wanted to help you, something inside of him ached for you, seeked to be close to you, to help you in any way. But he also knew shifting could be painful. He didn’t fully understand how he felt about all these emotions swarming his mind and body.

You screamed again, head thrown back from the pain, from the bones cracking and moving into place. A big cluster of clouds passed overhead, low and dark, full of rain. Thunder rolling and a few flashes of lightning illuminating the forest. It was like the sky was following you, the shade of the clouds staying above you as you became a big wolf with fur so dark it looked almost black in the shadows.

Paul’s jaw dropped slightly, unintentionally as he took in the giant wolf in front of him. You were big, probably as big as him and Sam. You could probably fight a full grown Alpha and win by yourself if you wanted to.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low, angry growl as you turned back to face him and Sam. Your eyes were dark and narrowed to slits, almost glowing with fury. Paul got chills running up his arms as he stared at your cold and predatory glare. You looked beautiful and fierce, lips curled back, showing ivory teeth sharp like knives. He observed attentively as you growled low, foam gathering at the corner of your lips, saliva stringing a little. Everything in you just showed anger and fury, relentless fury. It was savage, violent but also beautiful. He just knew you would be a hell of a fighter. He also knew you would give a hell of a hard time to Sam.

Everybody watched as Sam moved in front of you, blocking your view of Paul and the others. You wondered silently if he was trying to protect them from you. Were they scared?

The thought only made you even more angry and hurt, your head was pounding as you lowered your head and snarled at him. Your front paws were braced heavily against the muddy soil, the muscles in your shoulders moving. The others were impressed and not hiding it in the slightest.

Sam recognised this stance and didn’t waste a second more. A fighting stance. You were ready to bounce on your prey or on anything. He shifted into his wolf form, ready to help you or defend his family and friends if needed be. He had to keep in mind that you were still a stranger despite knowing Bella, and he couldn’t rely on his trust because he didn’t know you well enough.

So he braced himself ready and waited. He tried to tell you via his thoughts that he was here to help you but your mind was so messy and loud he could barely get a thought for himself. So he tried to look less intimidating, and more curious and cautious. Trying to make you understand he wasn’t here to hurt you.

Unfortunately in your frenzy you barely registered anything, and right now this other big wolf in front of you was a threat in your mind. As your thoughts swarmed inside your own head, flashes of various threats from your past, Sam saw a few of these glimpses in his own, and started to understand that you had been hurt before. He understood easily enough that gaining your trust wouldn’t be easy.

But he was ready to do his most to help a fellow shifter.

So when you launched yourself forward to attack him he only focused on defending himself. He didn’t try attacking you back, but rather trying to help you get all that frustration and hurt out of your system. Like playing with a dog to exhaust him the most to make sure he’ll be obedient afterwards.

The rain started in a soft drizzle, cold and fresh. You enjoyed it but were too focused on your task that you didn’t notice.

The others watched as the fight continued on for a long time. They witnessed Sam being thrown forcefully against trees and rocks. They watched as you obviously led the fight, again and again. You had a lot of strength, it was remarkable. But again Sam wasn’t giving you everything he had and it frustrated you even more each time you landed a blow or threw him hard enough to knock him off.

After a while they all grew restless just as the rain grew more heavy. Some went back inside to fetch a few cookies, as if they were only watching tv and enjoying it. Emily sat on the stairs and Paul could sense the tension radiating from her as she folded her arms against her chest. She fidgeted anxiously with her ring. He slowly got down on the front steps beside her, silently reassuring her one hand on her shoulder.

You could sense that Sam was getting tired of the fight dragging on, but you weren’t the least bit exhausted. You could’ve fought all day and night long. But you slowly started to feel less anger coursing through your mind. More frustration. Slowly becoming a little bit more empty, your feelings erased, leaving your mind fuzzy.

You were growing tired of this game, Sam wasn’t even attacking you back and you had quickly noticed. You turned your attention to the forest as Sam seemed exhausted besides you, breathing heavily.

Sensing something, Paul got up from his spot on the front porch stairs and walked closer slowly. You didn’t look at him once before leaping towards the forest. The sun had started his descent and the luminosity was getting lower by the hour, making the forest even darker than when the clouds arrived.

Paul called out your name for you to wait, Sam howled but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back. You continued to run forward. And then you heard it, two sets of breathing, more than one wolf coming after you.

The realisation only spurred you on even more and you ran faster, jumping and bouncing above the trunks of trees covered in moss and rockes. You reached the clearing at the same time as Paul, his wolf form right behind you. He was fast, matching your speed. You liked it. You blinked at him curiously as you took it in. His beautiful grey and brown fur, his eyes.

You were ready to fight again, your big black paws stomping on the pretty green grass. Paul walked with you, both of you walking in circles around each other, like you were sizing up your opponent. But when you looked directly into his big dark eyes, the brown almost swallowed by new moon blackness, you couldn’t see what you were looking for. You couldn’t see any trace of hate.

Your thoughts came to him in a big flash, too fast and intense for him to have time to grasp anything and really look into it.

And then you felt that sensation again– the one from the beach. Like the ground moved under you and the sky started spinning above. Suddenly it was like someone had popped the bubble that had surrounded you for so long, and you could hear the birds singing around you. You smelt the flowers from the clearing, something beautiful and colourful. The earth wet from the soft rain that was slowly stopping.

He was intently watching you, his stare locked onto yours. Face unmoving, mouths closed. He was silent, not a single sound coming from him. But if you really listened closely, you noticed his ragged breathing, matching yours.

You both stopped walking in circles, close enough that you could feel his breath on your own muzzle. He tentatively took a few steps closer and you sniffed the air around him. His scent washing over your senses, his heartbeat a melody in your ears.

He did the same, sniffing the air, closing in on the fur around your neck and taking big sniffs. He heard the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, it was like he felt it physically too. Like his heart was cut in half and you were the other half. He thought it was beautiful, like a song he could listen to forever. All animosity and rigid predator behaviour was gone now, replaced by something so tender and soft it was almost painful to witness. Like he was hurting from being so close and yet so far from you.

The soft bubble that had formed around you popped suddenly when Sam erupted into the flowery meadow. You only had time to notice that he was carrying something in his mouth before you ducked your head down in a sudden rush of pain. And in a flash of thunder you were human again, laying down on your side, naked in the wet tall grass. You curled up on yourself, eyes staring at the pretty flowers almost above you. You barely remember thinking how flowers could be so tall.

You heard a few noises behind you as Paul shifted back to human and put on the pair of denim shorts Sam had brought. The Alpha nodded to Paul and turned around, walking back to the house where everyone was waiting.

Paul gathered the clothes and walked slowly closer to you. He was facing your back and it stopped him in his tracks when he saw the scars there. Claws marks. Bite marks. On your lower back, your shoulder blades, and he saw a glimpse of your arms too.

He knelt and put the clothes on the ground. He didn’t know if it was safe enough to touch you but he didn’t really care. Something inside of him had been craving your closeness ever since the beach. Ever since he knew what had happened but was too scared to admit it or say it aloud. 

So he gently rested a warm hand on your arm. You startled, curling up even more on yourself like you were trying to disappear from the surface of the Earth. He felt how warm you were underneath his fingertips and he almost hummed from the sensation. Closing his eyes he just took a moment to savour it all. The way his mind was calmer than usual. It was like he could breathe more easily now that you were nearby.

Somehow, with gentle soothing words he convinced you to get dressed. He noticed the goosebumps running up your arm when he took his hand off, as if the contact of his skin alone had been keeping you warm against the soft breeze after the rain.

He smiled a little. Liking that reaction of your body and mind to his presence.

It meant a lot.

He gave you privacy as you slowly got dressed, silently waiting his back facing you. Then he offered you his hand to help you get up, not doubting how sore your muscles were after such a long fight.

Your fingers lingered longer than it should have in his hand, slowly slipping away from his palm as you both silently walked back to the others under the last drops of rain.

People were the reason why you had to move out in the first place. Something happened and it left you with no other choice than packing your things, loading your truck and driving as far as you could. Or until you found the perfect place.

You didn’t really know why you had decided to do a pit stop in Forks but one thing was certain, you were hungry and your tummy noises could compete with those of the thunder in the dark sky. So you stopped at a diner and ate so much all you wanted to do afterwards was take a nap. 

But you had to keep going. Keep driving until you can't anymore. But there was something about this place, Forks, it made you feel all funny inside. Made you want to stay a little longer. Like there was a thread pulling you and keeping you there.

You found a small house on the outskirts of the woods to rent. Cheap and small but it was largely enough for you. You just needed a fresh start. So you found a job, or two and began your new life. You befriended your neighbor, the chief of police. His name was Charlie, and his daughter Bella. You weren't that much older than her, so you became friends.

Some night you even went to their place when Charlie would invite you over to watch baseball on tv with his friend Billy and his son Jacob. So yeah some of your nights were as lonely as your day, some were better. Spent in good company, with genuine people. Pizza, popcorn, beer. Good evenings.

And the other nights? They were worse than the rest, lonelier and more brutal. It is during those torturous nights that you wish you could hold on to somebody. But your fear of getting close to people- either because you knew they could easily hurt you or you could easily hurt them- was holding you back from any real socialisation.

One night in particular was rougher. Thunder rolling low in the sky, rain falling slowly, the sound echoing on the roof of the house. The whole day had been excruciating, pain flaring up in your entire body, your skin felt too tight on you, you couldn’t breathe properly, every sound was louder than usual. Everything you touched felt wrong. You knew what it meant and yet your brain tried to deny it every waking second. Every cell in your body was fighting against one another.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, and you knew you’d shift at any given moment, you leaped out in the forest, thorny bushes grabbing at your skin and hair. But you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop. You kept on running as fast as you could and screamed when the shift happened. You could feel every bone in your body snapping into place, your skin moving with them.

Your senses already heightened where exacerbated even more and you fell loudly to the ground, your body convulsing in spasms. You tried to drown out the noises by covering your ears, grabbing at your head. You screamed again and again from the pain. Praying, begging it would stop. 

In your state you didn’t notice the dark silhouette watching you from a distance, half hidden behind a tree. He watched as you moved in pain, laying in the grass under the cover of the big trees. He watched as you shifted slowly, painfully. Listening to your cry of agony. He was hovering between walking away and waiting for you to reveal yourself to the rest of the pack, or staying in case you needed help. It was strange to see another struggle with their shifting. It made him feel less alone.

But suddenly you rose up on your feet, ears moving with every sound around you. And then your head ducked down again and he saw a flash of your human form covering your head with your hands. Just a flash, barely could see the colour of your flesh under the black and and dark brown fur. Then the wolf was back, the flash stopped and he heard a howl, low and painful. He could feel the pain in the tone of your voice. 

You dashed deeper in the forest, paws landing heavily on the wet ground. He watched you disappear in the dark, where the moon couldn’t touch the moss covered ground. Under his wolf form he took a few tentative steps, staying silent as he walked towards the place where your shift had occurred. 

Your clothes still on the ground, smelled strongly of you for his wolf senses. He heard you howling again and turned his head in your direction. Mentally telling Sam about what he had just witnessed.

The alpha arrived, cautiously sniffing your clothes. That way they could recognise you if they crossed your path one day. 

-

You spend the next day in pain, curled up on your bed. The pain had persisted even after you had shifted back and retrieved your clothes. The walk back to your house annoyingly painful but alas the cold rain drenching you allowed your mind to relax a little and to cool down.

During the next few days you only wanted to skip work and stay curled up in bed. Painkillers only worked for a few hours before the pain came back again, so you quite literally looked like a junky. But you had to go anyway, the rent of the house wouldn’t pay itself.

All day your colleagues would throw weird glances your way, and whisper amongst themselves, thinking they were being discreet. But you could hear them, they hushed tones as if they were speaking of some ancient secret. You didn’t really care, all you could think about was the pain taking over your body.

You could hide it most days, but sometimes it was too much and you looked so sick people started to throw worried glances at you. One day your boss sent you home early and told you to take the reminder of the week to get back on your feet. 

So you took his advice and tried to rest, but you knew there was nothing to be done. The pain would always be here. 

Your doorbell brought you back to the present, it was Bella. She hadn’t heard from you in a while and was worried when you showed up looking like a sick puppy at the front door. 

“Hey, what’s up? You look like you haven’t slept in days.” And you just shrugged softly. So she grabbed your hand and dragged you to her truck. you barely had time to grab a flannel jacket. She drove to the reservation, a place you only had heard of through her and Charlie and Jacob. She said it would be good to breathe some fresh air, would probably make you feel better. You doubted but indulged her.

“It’s high time you finally come visit this place and make some more friends. Besides, it's a bit lame to only hangout with single dads to watch baseball.” She said. “So you’re saying you’re lame?” You retorted, and she was happy to see that your humour was intact.

Once at the beach of La Push, she parked beside a black truck and you both walked on the sand. The silence was comfortable, and sometimes you both would talk about anything and everything. You liked Bella, it was easy to be around her even if it had been a bit awkward at first. 

There was something you couldn't quite shake tho, it was a strange smell, and you could swear it was coming from Bella. But it wasn’t strong enough for you to actually identify it so you decided to let the thought go. 

After some time, you both decided to sit down, using a log of wood to rest your back. You groaned while moving to sit down, Bella shooting you a weird look. You pretended not to notice her in the corner of your vision, but you could see her brow knitted together in worry.

“I know you’re a little bit older than me, but not that much,” She tried to land a joke and you only huffed a laugh, half smiling. “What’s up with you lately?” She asked still, but you could sense the hesitation in her voice.

Before you could answer you both turned your head toward voices coming your way. A group of young men and teenagers walking shirtless and barefoot and you thought it was strange, they should be cold.

But then you looked at yourself and the beads of sweat on your forehead. You would gladly take your jacket off, even though you had chosen to wear a light one, but you didn’t want to worry Bella anymore. The weather was cold for her, with a little wind picking up from the sea and the grey clouds blocking out the sun, you could see her shivering.

She stood up to greet one of the guys, Jacob and you did the same since you had been hanging out with him on occasions.

“Hey! wow,” he grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at you like you had something on your face. You stared back and smiled slowly. “Hey sorry, think i’m coming down with something.” You offered the only plausible answer you could muster. 

“Jake,” One of the other guys said beside him, a weird look on his face. Jacob looked at him and then back at you. Letting his hands fall from your shoulders you could feel something in the air had shifted. A gust of wind shook around you, your hair dancing in the cool breeze and you welcomed its fresh sensation on your hot skin.

And that’s when it hit you. A very specific scent, something of pine needles and wet dog. You sniffed the air a bit more loudly than you meant to, looking around for a dog walking on the beach or something. But upon seeing nothing around you, your gaze landed back on the group of young men in front of you. They were staring at you.

A part of you knew what you had just smelled, but another part of you wanted to deny it all together. You took a step back at the same time as one of the other guys. Suddenly he looked as sick as you, or more like he was going to faint. Jacob and the two other guys looked at his friend with concern. They all exchanged glances while you and Bella hovered on the side, watching it unfold.

“Paul? You okay?” Jacob puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder and when said Paul faltered backward, Jacob and another guy caught him by the arms. And your eyes met Paul’s.

And then you felt something else. A weird warmth spreads inside of you, wrapping its tendril around your ribcage. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt like you were suffocating suddenly, and you thought you were going to shift again, right then and there. Fear making its way to you, making you start to panic a little.

You couldn’t bear the sweat sticking on your skin anymore and took off your jacket in a swift movement, letting it fall to the ground. You didn’t care if it worried Bella, you needed to cool down. You were left in just your long sleeves. Bending down, hands on your knees to try and steady yourself while you try to breathe. And sure enough Bella gasped and almost forcefully put your jacket back on your shoulders but you shrugged it off. You took a few paces and passed your hands in your hair. You couldn’t focus on anything. All you could hear was Paul’s ragged breathing and all you could see was his eyes glued to you. 

And all of a sudden Paul turned on his heels and ran away, his friends right behind him. Jacob mustered a half apology before running after them. You were left alone on the beach with a shivering Bella. You told her you should both get back home and she hurriedly agreed.

At the next meeting Haymitch doesn’t let you go alone. He sticks to you, walks beside you, opens the door to the room for you, where a few patrons are already seated. All are sipping on some drinks, and as soon as the door closes behind Haymitch a waitress presents you both with a silver plate upon which rests glasses of champagne.

Haymitch doesn’t even look at it, he puts his hand in the small of your back and guide you with him toward the bar, where he pours himself a glass of the famous golden liquid that seems to never leave his hand.

He offers you a glass, but you decline politely. You watch him as he watches the room intently. The rich patrons are all busy talking with each other, eating delicacy from the overflowing buffet or dancing to the music. They might as well be talking about the weather or the latest death in the current Games, their facial expressions never shift more than necessary. Eveything so perfect.

Too self-centered to think too much, to let their thoughts be occupied with more than small talk. They’re used to this lifestyle and you find it revolting. But you know there is nothing you can do. At least not now. Maybe one day, maybe, you will be able to help resist this oppression and its tyrant and build a new world.

You don’t dare dream too big but you do indulge yourself from time to time. Letting your thoughts run wild and free, faraway into the future. A future that you will probably never live to see.

You focus your attention on Haymitch. It’s the only way you find to keep your composure and not run away right then and there. Somehow his presence grounds you, and at this moment you don’t question it. You let it be, you let the feeling wash over you.

Haymitch offers you his arm and you gladly accept it. Clutching to him like a kid too afraid of the world aroud her.

You walk like that slowly through the room. It’s not too pacted like would be an official party, but still the atmosphere is bustling all around. Like little bees buzzing around and never stopping.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?”

Your voice is low enough for only Haymitch to hear. He doesn’t look at you, but shrug slightly his shoulders. “They grew up like that. Just like we grew up in the districts, used to the dirt and the hunger. and the fear.”

His words are like a blow to your stomach. You swallow with difficulty as you witness two women drinking something from a small vial and heading hurryingly toward the restroom. 

You heard rumors about these people’s methods of… enjoyment. It makes you want to puke your empty stomach on the pretty carpeted floor.

Someone audibly gasps, probably louder than required, therefore drawing the attention of the people around. Murmurs echo under the music, faint but distincts. You hear them as clearly as if they were talked directly to your ear.

Haymitch turns his head toward you, leaning slightly to whisper, “Here we go,” Before a storm of voices suddenly replace the murmurs.

“District Twelve Victors!” Someone almost say louder than the music.

“Together!”

“Haymitch Abernathy.” A masculine voice rises higher than the other around you. Suddenly Haymitch’s face shape into something resembling a smile and you think it might truly be the first time you even see him smiling from ear to ear.

“They do form a ravishing duo! Do you think they’re together?”

"Do they think we're deaf or something, or are they really stupid?" you ask yourself in your head.

He let go of your arm to welcome a tall man with broad shoulders and dark skin.

“How is my old friend?” the man asks, and then looks at you. “And look who is a lucky man tonight!” The tall man lets out a loud laugh and you swear you can see Haymitch’s shoulders shake in a slight laughing motion.

You don’t have the time to say anything, Haymitch’s friend, as funny as that sounds, lunges towards you and trap you in a bear hug.

The wind is knocked out of your lungs by the sheer force of this man’s arms crushing.

And again you swear you can see Haymitch trying to hide a fit of laughter.

The night goes on without any incident, but you can’t help your nerves to be a wreck. You fidget a lot, trying to hide it with drinks and food. 

Your fidgeting only intensify when you momentarily lose Haymitch in the mass of extravagant dresses and costumes for a moment. You chug down a couple of drinks to try and calm yourself. It only results in your head becoming heavy and light at the same time. The room starts to spin.

You try to find your way out of this room, you’re suffocating. Your clothes feels too tight, the air doesn’t fill your lungs. You think you are going to collapse when a small circle of curious people glue themselves to you.

You hear their voices, muffled sounds, you try to answer their questions but your brain is lacking oxygen. You can’t think at all, the only thought going around in your mind at that moment is to get out of there.

A distinct feeling washes over you. A feeling you would rather not experience again. Taking you back to a certain arena a few years ago. The feeling of being trapped.

Suddenly a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the circle. Your head is too fuzzy from the alcohol and anxiety coursing through your veins.

You let the person pull you away, merely thinking it might be Haymitch coming to save you. Or maybe not. But you don’t pull away, you don’t react. You’re too out of it. You don't notice the costume is not Haymitch's. Nor the haircut.

And then you find yourself climbing a flight of stairs you don’t even remember seeing upon entering the room a couple of hours ago.

Your free hand trails over the railing, the wood cool under your fingertips until you feel another hand, warm and calloused closing on your wrist.

You’re as shocked at the other person pulling you up the stairs, stopping short on your feet. A bit wobbly.

Haymitch walks up a few more steps and grab you by your forearm this time. Throwing daggers with his eyes at whoever is pulling you in the other direction.

“Alright, show’s over.” He simply says and pull you toward him, his other hand coming to rest gently on your hips. then on your lower back, guiding you.

“It’s okay, I got you now,” you hear him whispering in your ear. His breath fanning over your skin. You don’t remember how you got to your bed. You’re afraid you embarrassed yourself.

You spend the next day in bed, nursing a bad headache. Both from crying and the alcohol. Again. You start to notice a pattern, and you are not really sure what to think of it.

Effie brings you food and water, but it stays untouched.

Eventually sometimes in the evening Haymitch comes to see you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, you feel the mattress dip a little and your feet sliding toward him.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

His voice is so soft you think you imagine it. “You gonna get up and come eat something.”

It sounds half way like an order and half way like an advice. Like he is concerned for your wellbeing. Which still surprises you, because you’re not used to this side of him.

You’re more used to his drinking habits and sarcastics comments, his smug smile and wink he sometimes throws your way as if flirting with death itself. You’re used to his clothes being wrinkled from falling asleep anywhere he can and his hair being a mess.

“Do you really want to make me do this, uh?”

Your eyes still half closed, you lift your head a little and peak over the duvet to stare at his face. Yours is blank from any expression.

But still you wonder what he mean.

“Okay then, guess it’ll be that way.” And he doesn’t even give you time to process his words and their meaning. Hi lean in and grab you over the blanket, get up and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You’re slightly insulted from being carried like that, but you also find it funny. If you had half your mind awake you would probably say something. 

Doors open and close behind you, your only view being Haymitch’s feet moving.

He drops you, dressed in your blanket burrito, in the dining room. The smell of warm food coming to your nose.

And your stomach betray you and let out a growl

You turn your head away from haymitch so he can’t see the grimace you make.

“Come on then,” Effie’s voice encourages you. She seats on a velvet covered chair, her makeup and hair done as always. You must make a stark contrast with your bed hair, bare face and pajamas.

“You need your strength. Can’t have you sent back to your District looking worse than when you embarked on the train weeks ago, can we?” Effie’s voice is too high pitched for your head, still slightly pounding.

It was a rhetorical question of course. But the sense of her sentence echoed in your ears. 

Effie was just doing her job, keeping the image of the Capitol shiny and untouched by the dirt and grime of the Districts.

A few days later you were back at a somewhat normal pace. The hours just blurring together, blending into days, just passing by one after the other.

You are back in you house in Victor Village, silence deafening after the lullaby of the train.

You find your way to your couch more often than your bed. You don’t know what you’re afraid of but being near the exit brings you more comfort– even tho still not enough– than being upstairs trapped.

That’s how you feel. Trapped. This entire life, these games, your win that isn’t really a win. Not yours anyway. It’s the Capitol’s win because now they control you even more.

You avoid going out as much as possible. Talking to no one and avoiding any eye contact when going to the market.

You barely eat anyway so you don’t need much. You end up reaching for the bottle more often than for real food. Finding solace– or so to speak– in the golden liquid you so often saw Haymitch drink.

You understand him now even more than after your win. You get why he folded in on himself, didn’t allow anyone to get too close, didn’t attach himself to his tributes for years. Didn’t fully invest in his role as a mentor. It’s taxing, too exhausting. You risk losing yourself in the process. And you fear it has already started.

So without really understanding it, you start loosing yourself at the bottom of the bottle.

Because when you look in the mirror, you don’t know what you’re looking at anymore. You don’t know who you are. Not that you ever cared and tried to put a label on yourself. Because even before the games you didn’t have your own identity. You were a ghost, floating around.

One day while you are staring relentlessly at an empty bottle, your head resting in your arms on your knees, you heard three knocks against your front door.

Getting up slowly from the ground, you didn’t really believe anyone would want to come visit you. It surely wasn’t your family.

You squinted against the sudden aggressive sunlight. Haymitch’s figure just a dark shadow in your vision. You blinked a few times  to accommodate.

He was standing there, a glass in one hand, and something that looked strangely like a pie in the other. You didn’t bother asking any question and stepped aside to let him in.

You closed the door behind him and turned to look at his back. He was studying the place like he didn’t have the exact same house across the small dirt path. Like he was trying to find clues on who you were and why you were here. Same buddy.

Eventually he turned around and faced you, “Rise and shine, sweetheart!”

He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You didn’t reply, your arms crossed over your chest, leaning against the door.

“Well well, is that how you welcome your neighbors?”

No response again. Your mouth was sealed shut from days of not using your voice.

He turned around and walked toward the kitchen, and you caught him say something like “Real ray of sunshine this one.”

He put the pie on the counter, obviously he wouldn’t put his drink down, would he.

Rummaged through your kitchen drawers looking for a knife and forks.

“Left drawer,” You said slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. He made a motion toward you and went to fetch the cutlery in the left drawer.

“At last, she speaks!” A pause.

“I don’t suppose you have plates?” He asked you, turning around and taking a swing of his drink.

You nodded toward the cabinet behind him. “You get it, my hands are full already,” he said as he picked up the pie and gestured with his glass.

You reluctantly grabbed two plates and the cutlery he had dumped on the counter. Following him toward the living room as he settled on the couch. You put the plates on the side table in front of him and sat on the carpet on the floor.

Staring at him while he cut the pie and put a slice in each plate.

“Bon appétit!”

You just stare at your slice, then back at him. Slowly you pick up the fork and start eating.

He watches you between sips of his drink and bites of the pie.

He can feel the gears turning inside your head as if they were making noises outside of your head.

“Spit out, sweetheart.” 

Your hand freeze mid-air at his words.

“Not the damn pie,” He let out a chuckle but you might as well have imagined it.

“What’s on your mind.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Somehow he knows there is something wrong.

You drop the fork and swallow your bite.

“What is this for?” you nod slightly toward the plates. The sweetness of the pie lingers on your tongue, sweetening your thoughts and maybe your words. You don’t want to make him your enemy by being unnecessary mean just because you’re not in the mood.

“Got it at the bakery.”

His answer shocks you as much as it shocks him. You didn’t portray him as the type of man leaving the comfort of his couch and bottles of alcohol to go fetch a pie and eat it with his only neighbour.

“You got out to the bakery?” Your words sound stunned. Because you are.

He looks at you like you just insulted him, mulling over a sarcastic reply undoubtedly. So you go ahead of him.

“I mean it’s still better than what I imagined.” Your tone slightly innocent, but still sarcastic. A small smile tugging at your lips.

His face doesn’t move, “Yeah? And what did you imagine?”

You fain innocence again, sweetening your voice a little. “Oh I don't know. Just you trying to cook a pie with a cute apron on and flour on your nose looked very cute in my mind.”

You take another bite from your plate.

He chuckled lightly, almost a phantom of a shuckle.

“So you saying I can’t cook?”

You look up from the plate and just shrug your shoulders.

“You’re insulting me, sweetheart.” He points his fork at you to get his point across and take a swing of his glass.

“i would never.” You smile nicely. Cockily.

“You could be a damn good actress, you know.”

You laugh at his remark and try to change the trajectory of the conversation. You do not want to sit there and mul over what ifs and stupid dreams.

“What’s the occasion, old man? Is it your birthday today? Is that it? Getting older?” You tease playfully. Somehow talking to someone helps a little with getting your mind off of whatever it had been ruminating all week.

“You wished. Went to the platform earlier, walked passed the bakery and saw this pie. It looked very lonely in that window.”

You hum around another bite and his eyes find your face.

“Couldn’t leave it all alone.” He shrugs.

You laugh. A shy but somewhat real laugh, because this is the lamest excuse you’ve ever heard and it sounds so silly you almost want to believe it. 

“You can say the truth you know.”

He rises an eyebrow at this, encouraging you to continue.

“That you just so desperately wanted to visit your favourite neighbor.” You offer him with a smile.

Haymitch doesn’t think he ever saw you smile that much ever since the day your name was drawn at Reaping day.

He clears his throat, as if suddenly a lump had taken hold of his voice. He averts his eyes, staring at the now empty plate.

“It’s your birthday.”

He just announces flat out, without warning. You freeze again. Not really knowing what to say or do. You know damn well what day it is, even tho you tried forgetting really hard. You even considered bashing your head against a wall.

“Read it in your file.” He just explain.

Your mouth feels dry like you swallowed a spoonful of ashes.

He notices how uncomfortable you look and he gets it. He hates his birthday too.

“And seeing how much of a creature of the night you’ve become.” He gestures to your house, “Living solely in your cave and never visiting anyone. And also how much you bloody radiate anxiety across the street, I thought…” I thought this would be nice to share.

“Did you take pity on me? After what happened back at the Capitol?” You ask him, a sharp reminder of an experience you would gladly erase from your memory forever.

He leans back in his seats on the couch, his hand fidgeting with the empty glass on his leg.

“You gotta understand that the Capitol is not a nice place, sweetheart and-”

“No kidding. I noticed a  long time ago, not thanks to your help by the way.”

It stings. The words hit like a hammer against your skull. You don’t know if you regret them or not. Maybe a bit of both. You drop your head.

“Sorry I didn’t mean.. I’m sorry.” Your voice dies on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I get it. I failed you from the moment your name was Reaped. But this,” He gestures between the two of you and then the whole room, “This, all of it, links us now. And what happens in the Capitol is both our concern.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say while he continues his monologue.

“D’you really think that once you become a victor of the Capitol you get to be left alone and live a nice sweet little life?” His tone has shifted, and you can taste bitterness building up in the air. You curse at yourself silently.

He raises his glass mi-air as if he was about to drink from it, then looks at it half-heartedly remembering it is now empty. His arm falls back onto the arm of the couch with a thud as he huffs in frustration.

The day had started on the wrong side, just like the way you went to bed the night prior. Your head was pounding, from crying all night and from drinking too much. Your throat felt dry and sharp, like you swallowed shards of glass in your sleep.

Reluctantly you drag your legs from under the covers, the floor too cool under your already freezing feet. You get in the shower, hoping the scalding hot water might wash away the remnant of the night, the taste of alcohol and the sting of tears.

It doesn’t. Your skin still red from the too hot water, clothes picked up randomly from the drawers you make your way to the breakfast table. Silently you sit down around the mahogany table, and wait a few seconds for your tea to infuse to colour the water in the mug.

Effie and Haymitch are already seated, eating toast and eggs and whatever else the table is filled with. it makes you sick, the opulence of the Capitol. The opulence of the people, their distaste for the other districts.

You just sit there, your hands curled around the teacup. It’s too hot, it hurts your skin but you don’t move, you let the pain ground you. It’s a minor pain really, you had worse, but in that moment it’s all you need to take your mind off of the real world and disappear far away.

Haymitch clears his throat, making Effie look up from whatever she was reading on her tablet. She eyes him, the you and him again. She exhales loudly and stands up, clearly reading the tension in the room and deciding it is none of her business. The room fell silent after her departure, her footsteps light on the marble floor.

Haymitch has his eyes on you, unmoving, unwavering. You don’t notice, too far gone in your daydream. Trying to escape the dull fate awaiting you in the real world, shackled to the Capitol like a puppet on a string.

He drops his coffee mug– undoubtedly filled with more than just coffee– loudly on the table, tearing your attention away from the clouds.

You turn your head slowly toward him, your eyes tired, slightly closed like you’re squinting at the too bright light in the room. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” he says, his tone half-sarcastic, half-concerned. He doesn’t really know why he cares even in the slightest, but he does.

You don’t answer, not immediately, your eyes scanning his face like he is some ancient statue in a museum you have to keep quiet around or else he’ll curse you forever. He swat a wild strand of hair from his face with his hand.

You inhale sharply, averting your gaze. You are not ready for this conversation.

And yet, Haymitch doesn't seem to want to back down either.

The urge to flip him off and storm out of the room corsses your mind, but apparently so does he.

“You can’t run away forever, sweetheart. We’re stuck on that train and here in this Capitol’s building for the rest of our miserable lives,” He almost spit the words out, then he takes a long gulp of his more-than-just-coffee.

“Might as well cooperate with your only ally here.”

You scoff, not loudly but enough for him to hear it. He crosses his arms over his chest and lean back in his chair. Asking again.

“What’s wrong, c’mon.”

You swallow hard, not looking at him.

“Our second tribute died yesterday. Skull crushed by a Career.”

You risk a glance at him, from the corner of your eye. He doesn’t flinch at the news, doesn’t look any more sad than he usually does. It stunts you, how easy he take the news. But then again you remind yourself he has been playing this mentor game for far longer than you.

You fear that you might become like him one day. Cold hearted, no more tears to cry. Only alcohol and pathetic jabs of sarcasm thrown around like a defense mechanism.

You don’t blame him, though. You understand. You survived the games too, and you still don’t know how to keep going on with the weight and the blood of the people you killed to make it out alive.

Sometimes when you wake up from a nightmare, you can see it, faintly painting your hands in a bright shiny red colour. It makes you want to scream.

“What else.” He simply ask.

Your gaze lands on the table once more. Your hands fidgeting with your cuticles and one of your legs starts to bounce from nerves. You think to yourself that you’re such a pathetic liar.

“It’s not important. What matters is that we lost tributes. Again.”

That last word is sharper, colder and slightly louder. You didn’t intend to, or maybe you did.

It doesn’t startle him. As if he was waiting for you to start yelling from the moment you walked into the room.

“Snow…” The words catch in your throat, dry like sandpaper.

A crease forms on Haymitch’s brow.  He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to continue at your pace.

“He… We talked yesterday.” You swallow hard again.

“You saw President Snow yesterday? When? Why?” The questions leaving his mouth faster than he intends to. 

You still don’t look at him. But Haymitch can feel it. The sentence, the words that you will say next. He heard them too once before. He remembers how it had made his blood boil from frustration and anger. 

“I have to meet some rich patrons soon.”

The sentence is pretty, the words nice and soft coming from you. But you can both taste the bitterness of what linger behind this revelation.

The sentence feels petty now. Like you shouldn’t have said it at all. Like the sky might fall on your head any moment now that it’s out in the open. 

You don’t know what to expect from Haymitch. It’s not like he cared about your safety when you first embarked on this train. And despite him giving you a fighting chance by finding you sponsors in the arena, it didn’t change the fact he let you down as soon as you came back to the Tributes center. 

Like he was ashamed of himself, ashamed of keeping you alive to witness the rest of your life in shiny Capitol’s shackles.

He ignored you for a year after you won the game. So you learnt the Capitol’s rules by yourself, Effie helped you as best she could. But the surviving part? That was Haymitch’s specialty.

He inhales, long and sharp. You see his hands curling around his mug, his knuckles becoming white. Maybe because he knows what I just announced really means.

“When?”

The question feels as sharp as your own words, but his tone is quiet, almost gentle. You can still hear an edge to his voice, like he is holding himself back. A part of you is not sure what that means.

“Last night. Tonight again.”

The answer hangs in the air like a bomb ready to explode at any given moment. You half expect him to storm out of the room or start yelling at you for speaking to Snow and meeting the Capitol’s most powerful people on your own. They’re dangerous people. But he does neither.

He huffs, slump even more in his chair and drinks his coffee like it’s definitely not coffee. A few seconds pass by in silence before he turns his head toward you.

You can’t look at him. You don’t want to look at him.

He can see it on your face, the way your brow kneet together in a pathetic attempt at keeping the tears behind your eyes. He only hopes nothing too bad happened. Because he knows there is no defying Snow. It’s a game you are certain to lose.

He knows he doesn’t really need to ask you, but does it anyway because he needs to hear it. He needs to hear you say it.

“Did anything happen?”

You bite your lower lip, a sob building up in your throat and Haymitch can feel it. But you shake your head no. You let it drop forward, your hair hiding your face like a curtain. Like it might shield you from whatever is out there.

Your hands are pressed together on the table, sticky from nervousness and anxiety.

“They tried…” The words dead in your mouth, tasting like ashes. “They tried to lead me to a room after the dinner.”

You pause as if to allow the words to evaporate in the air before continuing, like they might circle around you and strangle you if you say too much too fast.

“I didn’t drink from the cups they kept passing me.” Haymitch can hear you swallowing. He can’t, his throat is too dry to choke out a single word anyway.

A loud bang! precedes heavy footsteps and startles Haymitch who is nursing a glass of a golden ember liquid near the giant windows overlooking the Capitol. The view from the penthouse is breathtaking, overlooking the city. Yet he turns and watches as you walk in the room with a certainty to your steps that Haymitch has rarely seen before.

Your heels clicked loudly on the marble floor, not a single time you falter like you have a target in mind already and won’t back down. You aim directly for the polished silver tray on a side table, grab one of the glass bottles and pour yourself a drink. A generous drink, by Haymitch’s standards. And that’s saying something.

His gaze follows your every movement, as you put the bottle back down and swallow the liquid in one motion. You don’t even flinch. And he is kind of impressed because the bottle you randomly chose actually contains the good stuff, as he calls it.

And his eyes follow your movements again as you pour yourself another glass, down it again like it’s nothing more but water. You take an inhale, pour a third glass, put the lid back on the bottle a little too violently and with your glass in hand you turn around.

Not a single look in his direction. To be honest Haymitch doesn't think you knew he was there to begin with. He had stayed so still and silent in the corner of the room that in your angry state you probably didn’t notice him at all. He chuckles slightly, but his brow furrows in slight concern still.

You don’t know each other well. Your name had been reaped only three years ago. And yet it felt like an eternity had passed.

No one truly cried for you when Effie announced your name through the microphone. No one to come and say goodbyes before taking off in the train. A train you knew damn well you would never get off of if you ever survived the games. If, keyword darling.

What hurt you the most that day, was that despite having what people call a family, no one had shown up to give you a hug or tell you to be strong. You had stayed silent and alone in the room.

Shrugging it off, allowing the pain to transform, to morph into something deeper, somber. You allowed yourself to store that feeling, to keep it caged inside of you.

Not too close that it would slip out without a warning, but not too far either that you couldn’t reach for it and use it to fuel your body and mind to help you survive. Because sadness never helped anyone go far.

Because the only thing that has kept you alive all these twenty years has always been anger and spite. You stayed in spite of the world being against you, in spite of your mother treating you like shit. In spite of your need to disappear from the surface of this world. A recurring thought. A tragic one that kept coming again and again almost every night when everything was silent and dark.

Sadness, loneliness, despair. They couldn’t keep you alive like anger could. 

Haymitch hadn’t shown up in the train the first few days of the trip. You were left alone with your thoughts and the other tribute. Stuck with you in a train racing towards what was most likely to be your last day breathing. Eventually he had come on the last day, throwing advice like they were burning his tongue.

To you it felt like he had given up on you and the other tribute already, without even getting to know you and your abilities. The male tribute didn’t stand a chance according to you. He was too weak physically and kept avoiding your gaze at the table.

You had decided to keep to yourself then, but after a short while Effie had successfully clawed her way to your heart and you came to like her company. Begrudgingly. Despite her extravagant personality matching her outfit and character so well, she felt familiar somehow. It was an odd feeling. She taught you some things about the Capitol and the other Districts. And maybe in another lifetime, if she wasn’t escorting you to a certain death, you could be friends. Maybe.

When the cannon had echoed in the arena for the first time, you fought every instinct that told you to run far from the blood bath. Instead you forced your feet to run as fast as possible, dodging spears and knives, bodies falling and battling around you. Screams all around you.

You snatched everything you could find and carry and ran away without looking back once. You didn’t stop running until you couldn’t hear the battle raging, until your legs gave out beneath you and your throat and lungs burned from breathing.

Haymitch had been in the viewing room with everyone, as custom has it. A glass of something in hand, eyes half closed, like he was actually bored and didnt’ give a chance to his tributes. 

He remembers when he slowly went from a limp mass on a couch to a body of nervousness and tension watching his tribute fight for her life. He remembers the feeling of guilt stinging in his chest where his heart was when he watched as you sliced your opponent’s throat open with a cry so full of rage that the entire viewing room fell silent.

He remembers looking around at the faces, all turned toward the giant screen on the wall. Everybody watching the girl from twelve wipe the blood from her knife with her bare hand.

At that moment, he felt something strangely foreign but also familiar. It scared him, scared him a lot but he unconsciously pushed the feeling aside and set his goal on getting you sponsors.

He spent all his time divided between watching you and sweet talking to ever rich patrons of Panem, trying to sell them the dream of the girl from twelve. He wasn’t sure he was half-convincing, but he wanted to try. Because he knew that if he didn’t it would mean he had already given up on you.

And a part of him couldn’t give up now, when you still hadn’t. When you were still fighting in that damn arena, giving it your all and everything. He thought if you were to come back– if you were ever to win these games– that you would come back with a hole in you and it would be your soul missing. Taken from you with violence and blood and tears.

His work had paid off and he was able to send you food or water. The arena you were stuck in was bare of any source of food and water, so that’s what he focused on giving you. He told himself he was giving you a chance, giving you time to survive long enough and hide that you wouldn’t have to kill. But another voice in his head told him he was only evading the inevitable. You would surely die like all the others.

And yet, you didn’t hide away, you didn’t run anymore. You fought every tribute that stood in your way. Everyone that showed any aggressivity toward you, you fought them and killed them without second thoughts. You didn’t allow it to affect you. You told yourself you could let it consume you later once you made it out alive.

Haymitch saw the look in your eyes. A look so dark it scared even himself. The blood didn’t scare you though, you were covered in it, dirt and branches sticking to you like you were a wild animal.

Back in the Capitol Haymitch was submerged with work, day and night. Rich citizens betting on you, patrons pulling strings and giving more money for Haymitch to you sponsors. They were fascinated with the Wild girl from twelve. That was how they all called you. The Wild. The Savage.

It’s not like you were eating their corpses after killing them, you barely touched them, only searching them for items you could use. You were just trying to survive a sick game created to entertain and punish.

Haymitch couldn’t believe what was happening. Maybe he wouldn’t be the lone victor of District twelve anymore. This thought was strange, and he didn’t know what to do with the feeling. Because he knew all too well what fate awaited you if you came back.

He knew all too well what the Capitol did with its Victors. And he hated it with all his being, but he decided to bury these thoughts deep and focus on the present moment. On his work. For the first time of his life after winning his games, he felt a somewhat sense of duty. A goal giving sense and meaning to his bleak existence.

And now standing in the penthouse of the training center for tributes, his glass almost empty in hand, looking at the door you had just slammed shut on your way out.

He could hear your heels clicking on the floor and a door slamming shut again.

Effie walked in the room not long after, some papers in hands, humming to herself as if everything was normal in the most perfect world.

Haymitch moved back to the window, overlooking the Capitol and sank back into his thoughts. Wondering how his life had changed in barely a few years. 

He wasn’t the only victor from twelve now, the train ride to the Capitol less lonely. You were a pain in the ass at first, asking him questions. But you gave up, seeing as you couldn't get anything out of him after your win.

He still drank too much most of the days, passing out on any furniture he could find. But now the burden of being a mentor had fallen directly into your delicate and yet bloody hands and he was glad he could ditch this forced duty and stay in his room, drinking himself to death.

He wished he didn’t have to come all together though, but it had been made clear that the mentors were mandated to the Capitol. Whether or not they gave a damn about their tributes and tried to help them was entirely irrelevant.

Hours passed by and Haymitch stayed stuck inside his own mind, only shifting from the window to one of the couches. His drink still in hands, mostly empty. He was spiraling and couldn’t stop it.

The full moon was bright enough that night to illuminate in a pale glow the shining cars parked in the parking lot where y/n was standing, leaned back against the side of the Impala. Her arms crossed over her chest as goosebumps spread over her skin in the cool night breeze, she gazed at the stars barely twinkling above.

The faint thrum of the music surely blasting inside the bar where Sam and Dean were having drinks, echoed through the night air of the parking lot. They had finished a case a few hours ago and the brothers had decided to go celebrate, a little outing to release the tension and the thrill accumulated. The thrill, she never thought she would get used to hunting, fighting and killing monsters.

But she was. She didn’t know if she hated the fact, because maybe admitting it was making it feel a bit too real. Maybe she felt like killing monsters was slowly turning her into the very same monster she spent her time chasing. She inhaled slowly, closing her eyes, exasperated with her own thoughts. She exhaled as the music became louder for a second before disappearing again when someone opened and closed the door. 

“Here you are!” Dean’s voice cut through the river of thoughts in her mind, waking her up from her haze. She opened her eyes and met his. The deep green of his stare was more piercing than usual, the moonlight making it appear brighter somehow. She was so lost in contemplating him that she forgot how to talk and just kept staring. Her breath caught up somewhere in her throat. His gaze was hypnotising, even more when she was tired and she let her defense down slightly. He always managed to get through them anyway.

“You okay?” Dean asked with his usual head tilt, brows furrowed a little. It was a little thing she had noticed him doing. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder broke the trance and brought her back to reality again. She blinked a few times, looked away before he could see how flustered she was by their proximity. Her body was memorizing the feeling of his hand on her shoulder and the warmth coming from it and sipping through her clothes. Sniffing at the cold air she could also smell his scent, his unique cologne. He only heard her letting out a sigh, she couldn’t let her feelings for him slip from the confines of her mind.

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, alright?” Dean took a step closer, almost trapping her in between his body and the car, his hand moved from her shoulder to the roof of the car. Her shoulder felt colder now. She could feel his breath fanning slightly on her face, and that was way too much proximity her mind could take at once even more so when tired and lifeless from finishing a hunt just a couple of hours ago.

She allowed her gaze to fall back into his and slightly shrugged at his question.

“Something’s bothering you?” He wouldn’t let it go until she clearly answered him and somehow that showed her that he cared. For how she felt. For her safety. She never doubted it, but after the event of the last hunt she started to feel like she was a weight for Dean and Sam. A part of  her brain knew it wasn’t true but another part of her brain kept thinking that they would probably be better off without her. After all she got captured like a newbie hunter and they had to come save her. She would have never forgiven herself if something, anything, had happened to one of them.

“Just tired, that’s all.” She tried to answer honestly, keeping her tone neutral, but she was tired and her answer felt like an easy answer to Dean’s ears. It fell flat on her tongue and she thought anyone would interpret it as disappointment. She struggled to read his face, covered in shadows but still glowing in the pale light of the moon. She contemplated his freckles as she waited. He was studying her for a moment. He was waiting for her to say more. But her brain started overthinking without warning and she hated it.

It was not new, this overthinking thing but it got heavier when it was about him and her feelings that she desperately tried to conceal. She didn’t want to disappoint him in any ways, somehow she found herself seeking his attention and validation, but she knew that if she got too close he would probably pull away and she would regret ruining everything. And her thoughts were spiraling again.

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stepping even closer, if that was possible. He ran a hand on his face while releasing a long exhale. “I can see it on your face, you know?” His other hand still rested on top of the car’s roof.

“See what?” she asked perplexed, her eyebrows raising in question.

“The gears turning in your mind. So, tell me what’s in this pretty head of yours?”

His tone was surprisingly gentle but still firm, letting her know he wouldn’t let her be until she told him the truth. She didn’t suspect before this moment that her behaviour had changed after the incident, but maybe it had and she hadn't noticed because she had been too caught up inside her own head. 

“I.. I don’t know”, she let her sentence hang in the air between them, trying to find the right words to explain what was going on. Her gaze fell to the concrete under her boots. But not a single word came to her. She only had one impulse and she had to force her body not to act on it. Or maybe she should. What was the worst that could happen? Dean didn’t give her time to think, as he spoke again. His cologne overwhelmed her senses as a small gust of wind ruffled her hair.

“Don’t say that you don’t know, please. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting since the hunting incident. Something’s bothering you. So tell me.” His voice was gentler than usual and his brow furrowed in concern. He was standing so close to her, her senses assaulted with him and his scent and his eyes reflecting the moonlight– that’s when she let her body act before her brain could register it. With one small step she closed the gap and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Breathing in the smell of his cologne, her hands fisting his flannel in an attempt at keeping him right where he was standing. Grounding herself in the moment. She didn’t want him to move. Didn’t want him to leave.

He froze at first, not expecting this move. It took him a second to recover, but soon enough he wrapped his arms around her and propped his chin on top of her head. His eyes closed half-way, all his facial features relaxing at once. She felt his shoulders become less tense with every passing second they stayed like that. A part of her worried Sam might come look for them and disturb this moment of solace. As selfish as it sounds she wanted to stay like that forever, trapped in a bear hug, feeling safe and warm. She took a deep breath and allowed her shoulders to relax as well.

That’s when she noticed it– the noise inside her head had become a soft hum in the back of her mind and was slowly but surely going away. No more screaming voices echoing inside her mind. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she knew that if she pulled away, the noises would come back. She knew it was a strange thing and that if she tried to explain it she would probably fail. 

It was like the world had gone silent and only remained Dean and his arms wrapped tightly around her. His scent and the rhythm of his heart beneath her ears on his chest. She thought she could stay like that forever, with this warm feeling inside of her and finally some peace of mind that wasn’t the result of too much alcohol or a joint or any other shity coping mechanism she had developed.

She tightened her hold on him and he felt it. Rubbing circle with his thumb on her shoulder. She felt his lips on her hairline, leaving a kiss there, before his chin was back in its original spot. When she peered up at the sky she saw the stars blinking from above. Like silent witnesses to this secret moment. A moment that felt too soft for the kind of people they were, for the kind of lives they lived. 

The room was dimly lit with just a few rays of sun making their way through the window panel on the damp stone wall, planks of rotten wood barricading the hole. A single lightbulb hung from the decaying ceiling, casting dark shadows in every corner, making the whole room look scarier. As Dean made his way through the corridors of the old abandoned factory, his knife ready to slice every obstacle on his path, his gun at his hips in case he needs it. His steps are sure, motivated, doubtless and focused on one thing; rescuing his favourite hunter in the whole damn world.

He relentlessly slices and cuts through anything that dare stand before him, streaks of blood painting his face, droplets smudged on his shirt. The knife gets slippery in his hands from all the blood but he never falters. And then when he rounds a corner, he finds an empty room, dimly lit by the sun shining outside. And it takes him less than a fraction of second to see the figure standing there cast in shadows but he knows. Against an old pillar, wrists bound to it with ropes. His feet move before his brain can register it, his hand clutching hard on his knife, his jaw is set in determination.

A noise behind him and the enemy is down before he can even blink, Dean’s knife tucked neatly between his eyes. When Dean turns he doesn't waste another second and gets his second knife out of his belt, cutting through the rope. The silhouette drops against him as soon as her bounds get loose. Dean’s hands coming to support her at her waist as she leans in, the exhaustion taking over her body. He supports her as they make their way toward the exit. They can still hear fighting sounds, grunts, gunshots, yelp as Sam keeps fighting.

Back in the car Dean lets Sam drive in silence to the motel as he holds the third hunter on the backseat. Her frame shivers as he takes his jacket off and wraps it around her shoulders. He hears her whispering in her drowsy state, her eyes moving under her eyelids, he fidget with her hair, gently brushing it away from her face as she rests upon his leg. He knows her sleep won’t be a good one, she will feel as if she didn't sleep at all for days, and maybe it will be the case. Dean knows that feeling too much.

At the motel he helps her take off her shoes and clothes, gives her one of his t-shirts to wear as he puts her to bed with soothing words and caresses. She grasps at his hand with force when he starts, making a motion to stand up. He gets it, hell he himself doesn't want to leave her even for a second. So he takes off his boots and clothes as well, and slides under the covers with her. She holds onto him like he is her lifeline, the warmth of his body keeping her alive. The metallic scent of blood mixed with gunpowder and his aftershave. It's almost soothing. He holds her until she falls asleep, and even long after, stroking her back gently, running his thumb in circles on her cold soft skin. 

Blood still paints his features and he knows the more he waits to wash it off, the harder it will be but he cannot make his body let go of her. Now that he has her back and safely tucked in his arms he won’t let her go. His jaw clenches at the notion he almost lost the only woman he truly ever loved without even telling her of his feelings first. A part of him hopes that she knows, but another part of him wants to make sure, wants to look her in the eyes and tell her how much she means to him and that he’d rather die than lose her.

His eyelids droop lazily as his thoughts take him to a near perfect future where they are together, happy and never leaving each other’s side. He thinks back on all the moments, no matter how small, they had shared. A wink and cheeky smile at the bar, his eyes intensely trained on hers whenever he looked at her, making her cheeks blush, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, thei fingertips brushing against each other while exchanging a book when doing researches. He fell asleep like that, a small smile graces his lips despite the furrow of his brow. A stark contrast that shows the divide conflict of his joy of having her back and his fear of losing her. 

Sam chuckles lightly as he opens the door, food in one hand and drinks in the other, at the vision of his brother and the girl he hopes will soon be his brother’s girlfriend. And maybe more one day.

The city during the night turned out to be far more scarier than during the day. The street lights were off which made it difficult to navigate the labyrinth of streets. Dawn thought twice that if they’d got lost again she'd blow her own head off. Merle was walking beside her silently, only cursing when it seemed they’d lost their route. After what seemed to be an eternity, but truly only lasted a couple hours, they finally got out of the city and found their way back to the road leading to the quarry. Thankfully the moon was full that night, and allowed them to see the signs that indicated the right way.

Dawn didn't know how they did it, but they successfully dodged every crowded street and ran into only a few geeks, quickly and quietly taking care of them with a knife or other sort of improvised weapons.

The duo was now quietly walking on the dirt road leading to the campsite, Dawn gazed at the stars when she noticed the sun was about to rise. The horizon already turning from ink dark to a dark blue, then to a light orange. She quickly glanced at the man walking slightly before her. She wasn’t the most talkative person, preferring the calm at a meaningless conversation, and so over the years before the outbreak she learnt to be observant and to listen– even when she shouldn’t. She had to admit eavesdropping at a campsite was a lot easier than anywhere else, especially when everybody knows each other from the beginning of the apocalypse.

One day she heard the women talking while they were all doing laundry, they were talking about their love life before the outbreak when they suddenly started to whisper about the men of the camp. Dawn felt like fifteen again, in school listening to the other girls rating the boys and vice versa. It had seemed so weird at the time, but now, hearing those women doing it so freely, it almost made her smile. Obviously everyone had their own opinion, and they couldn’t stop laughing at one another when Andrea confessed she had eyed Shane quite a few times already. Of course she has. Since she arrived Dawn had felt weird when around Andrea, there was something about the blond woman that set her off but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. That woman’s energy felt a lot like someone Dawn had known, and it wasn’t someone she wanted to meet again. Toxic people…

Lori gave Andrea a nod and laughed with the others, Carol made an approving sound and Amy elbowed her sister playfully. Sometimes Dawn wished she could be like them, lovely and caring and not shy and awkward. She never had many friends, only one had lasted over the years, but then it had stopped. For a time the girl had asked herself why, but she didn’t do it anymore. It led nowhere to dwell that much on the past and on regrets. And yet that was what filled her nightmares somehow.

Watching her shoes kick up dust as they climbed the road slowly, Dawn exhaled loudly. Georgia's heat was already looming over their heads and she was more thirsty than she had been after eating the crackers. Maybe the peanut butter wasn’t a good idea after all.

During her little eavesdropping session while continuing to help silently with the laundry, she heard the women continue with their little ranking-rating. To stay on that subject that long they must’ve been really bored. But Dawn guessed she would be too, if she had spent a whole month with the same people at the same place non-stop. She couldn’t quite remember everything they had said, but she knew they went over every man present at camp.

In the grand scheme of things, speculating over who had a thing for who seemed meaningless and useless. Still, it was entertaining and it helped pass the time faster. And she’d bet the men didn’t restrain themselves either.

Soon the duo arrived near the camp and they could see someone on the RV’s roof keeping watch. According to the light reflection that caught her eye, Dawn knew they had been spotted and were now watched by the survivors. She called out to Merle, “Think we got fans.” He first turned around to look at her, and then turned his head to see what she was pointing out. Spotting the RV too, he hummed in agreement. The person on duty keeping watch must have called out the others, because when they arrived near the first tents, they were all huddled near the camper, Dale still on the roof with his binoculars.

Dawn dropped on the ground and lay there, out of breath and way too thirsty. Merle leaned against a nearby car and pulled a cloth over his forehead and neck to wipe the sweat.

Some people quickly gathered around them, passing them bottles of water. Dawn drank hers in one big swing.

“Hey, take it easy or you’ll be sick.” she heard Carol say to her. The woman had a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“Thank for the exercice, think ’ve dropped ‘few pounds.” Merle laughed, but it was nowhere near humoristic. Dawn could almost hear the frustration in his voice and she understood how he must feel. Because she was feeling the same way. She had been left out before, left behind, and it had hurt her more than she’d thought it would. Her self-confidence was fragile and she needed to restrain herself from crying when her brain started to drown in thoughts like these. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that the group wouldn’t have come back for them, leaving her and Merle to survive on their own. Well at least she wouldn’t have been alone, and that was somewhat comforting.

But then she remembered that Merle had a brother, a brother that certainly wouldn’t let him alone out there. He certainly would’ve come to rescue him. But she had no one. Not even before the outbreak, she had always been alone. Being by herself since she was a kid really weighted on her shoulders, she had grown up slower than other kids because her brain was in flight mode; trying to distract her from the harsh reality. She hadn’t wanted to grow up, to have responsibilities and all but it had happened and she had found a certain peace in her loneliness. A certain freedom. Until the dread of the reality of how lonely she was cripled in again and made her sink to the floor in a mess of tears and cries.

Dawn was stirred out of her spiraling thoughts when Daryl came out of the forest yelling at everyone. She lifted her head up from the ground and felt a single tear run down her left cheek. She quickly sniffled and glanced at the commotion happening before her. Daryl had his crossbow in one hand and was pacing, his feet kicking small clouds of dust. His jaw was tense and his eyes shooting daggers. He yelled about how irresponsible they all were to leave group members behind, how they would feel if it was them and not his brother and her, stuck in that city. Dawn couldn’t stop observing the scene, her eyes dry from not having slept much and maybe from dehydration too. Maybe her eyes were stinging because she was fighting not to let the stream of tears go past her eyelids. She straightened herself as she slowly rose to her feet, the empty bottle in one hand. She didn’t want to appear scared or hurt or even weak, so she straightened her shoulders back and put a mask on her face, not letting any emotion pass.

***

Merle glanced at the brunette on the ground, a few feet from him. She had collapsed on the dust as soon as they arrived, but was now on her knees, slowly rising to her feet. Her lips were sealed shut, crackled dry and pale in contrast to her slightly sunburnt nose and cheeks. Her scalp must have been a bit sunburnt too from walking under the growing heat of Georgia's sun without a cap. Her tattooed arms were hidden from the sun by her unbuttoned shirt. The white t-shirt she wore under it was dirty from perspiration and stained with dirt, and maybe even blood. He couldn’t read her face, and that set him on edge. He was usually good at reading people and telling if they were telling the truth or not. But she, she is a damn mystery.

Daryl was suddenly yelling at Rick and Shit-head Shane took a few steps forward, trying to keep him at bay. But it seemed like his presence only nourished Daryl’s anger. Dawn was watching too, her eyes passing from Daryl to the crowd of survivors around them. He could imagine what she was feeling. disappointment. anger. fear.

Shane’s voice broke through his chain of thought, and he turned his head to see what was happening. “Hey, you better calm down now!” The black haired cop had a shotgun in one hand and held the other toward Daryl, like he was a trainer trying to tame a wild animal. Ain’t no taming my brother. He would have laughed.

“Y’all left them in that damn city, with those motherfuckers and didn’t think ta tell me?”

“We were planning to go back.” Rick said calmly, like he had already dealt with that kind of angry reckless man and knew how to behave to make them at least less angry and more willing to discuss. And they thought it would work, but it was not knowing the young Dixon. “Withou’ me?” The angrier he became, the more his southern accent was kicking in and it almost made Merle chuckle. Really, everything about this was funny, but also it was not.

He wanted to say something too, to yell at the others for letting him behind, for letting her behind, like they were nobody. And as though Dawn had read his mind that’s exactly what she said.

“D’you realize you left two members of the group behind? Without even a word? Without a glance? What are we to y’all? Expendables?” She inhaled and exhaled, no one said a word. Her voice was calm but he felt the sting of anger and sadness piercing the air when she resumed, “Hell you didn’t even leave us a weapon! We only had a fucking knife. That’s not how a team’s supposed to survive.” She waved slightly a hand, as if swatting away a fly and walked right to Rick, not glancing at anyone else. Was she going to punch him? That’ll be fun.

Her pace was steady, not too slow but not fast either, and Merle was disappointed when she walked past the two cops and his brother and didn’t even stop. She just glared angrily at Rick and Shane and went straight to her tent– that Glenn had brought back to her from one of his supply runs in the city one day. Few moments later he saw her going down the slope to the lake of the quarry while all the others were discussing or resuming their chores for the day.

Merle didn’t know what to do now that he was back at camp. He felt restless. He was sitting by his tent near his brother’s and was fidgeting with a wooden stick, alone. He was used to it, the loneliness, the hatred from others. But this time it felt different. It felt like the people of the camp weren’t truly happy to see him back. And he couldn’t blame them. They’d left him alone, if not for Dawn he’d be dead probably. Or worse.

M’ sure them wished for my ass t’be bitten, bunch o’ assholes.

Kicking at the dirt with his foot, he stood up and started walking aimlessly, hands in his pockets, watching people as he passed by. Some threw him glances and others just simply ignored him, but overall the feeling was the same; people were unhappy with him being back. They certainly didn’t care much about Dawn, and probably were pissed she saved his ass, but he was grateful to her. And as much as he wouldn’t admit it even to himself, he owed her his life. He had a debt to her now. Who knows what would have happened if she had left with the others? He didn’t want to go down that way, thinking ‘what ifs’ always put him on edge. He didn’t like thinking about the past, considering his to be one the shittiest ever. 

As his thoughts circled back to the woman and why she had helped him, he came to a halt and looked around. It has been quite some time now that she disappeared down at the lake and he couldn’t find her anywhere, so he walked there slowly, not really knowing what he was doing. He was just tired. Tired and bored. And everything in between.

Approaching the lake down the slope he spotted some of the women doing the laundry but no Dawn. He kept walking, going around the big rocks and to the other side of the lake, where the water wasn’t all soapy and where the women’s chit-chat was no more than a whisper. And there he found her. Floating on her back a little farther in the water, her clothes discarded on a rock with a towel. He sat on one of the rocks, almost burning his hands doing so, and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. As if sensing the movement or maybe it was the smell from the cigarette’s smoke, Dawn looked up from her spot. Her hands shielding her eyes from the sun even though she was wearing sunglasses.

She didn’t wave or anything, just splashed some water to her face and approached the shore. “Didn’t find a swimsuit, huh?” he asked, puffing out some smoke in a chuckle. She was wearing denim shorts and a tank top. He could clearly see the tattoos on her arms and shoulders, and some black lines running on her neck. She hadn’t taken off the several rings she constantly wore. He had remarked that too. 

“In fact, nope.” She emphasized the last syllable and took the towel to dry her face and hair. “Guess they’re not real happy I saved your meat, huh?” She looked up at him while wrapping herself in the towel to hide as she started to get changed. He let out a snort of laugh before finishing his cigarette and crashing it on a rock, stomping on it with his feet. He looked toward the other women doing the laundry. “Ain’t no one to appreciate the ol’ Merle.” He said, throwing his arms in the air in a grand gesture, almost theatrical, and she chuckled. “Think they like me even less than before.” Her tone was flat and distant, but he could guess the outline of something. A bittersweet emotion. Even without looking at her he knew she had put that mask back on her face, the one he didn’t like because he couldn’t read her. He couldn’t see beyond and it unsettled him.

Silence fell on the lake, only the camp’s usual noises filling the air, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Just like when they sat on the brown leather couch in the apartment and feel asleep. It was a silence far from awkward, it was more like the peaceful silence of a late summer night, with only the cicadas singing restlessly, and the sun setting on the hill.

She finished changing, picking the wet clothes from the ground and putting on her socks and shoes, not bothering tying up the laces.

Walking past him, she said, “You shouldn’t smoke. S’not good for your health.”

“What do you care?” He answered, surprise in his voice.

“I don’t. Just stating facts.” She said blankly, not turning around.

He stayed on his rock, his head empty, watching her walk back up to the camp passing the other women who timidly waved at her. He was so tired he knew he could sleep through the next two whole days, if only he wanted. Just like when he used drugs. He knew that feeling, and it wasn’t really a pleasant one. He didn’t want to think about it for too long, or else he’d start second-guessing things and he hated how it led him to wishful thinking. Because then he couldn’t control his emotions and he hated it.

***

Being back at camp was weird enough for Dawn because she had joined them not so long ago, but now the people there certainly hated her for saving the redneck. He was not in a lot of people’s hearts and she could understand that, but still she couldn’t understand how they could leave members of the camp behind so easily. She wouldn’t forget any time soon that they had discarded her when she had just been trying to help. I just didn’t help the right person i guess.

Hanging the shorts and top to dry out in the sun, she turned around with a start as Lori put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey.” The brown haired woman was holding a basket of wet laundry against her hip with her other hand and she smiled at Dawn, “How are you feeling?”

Dawn hadn’t expected that, sure Lori was the nicest to her with Carol, but she didn’t think they'd be preoccupied with her wellbeing, certainly not after her outburst when she got back just a few hours earlier. “Just wanted to check up on you.” Dawn didn’t really know what to say, so she said the usual “I’m fine.” with a small smile that may or may not be convincing enough, but at last Lori nodded and didn’t push further with any more questions. “Just so you know, if you wanna talk, i’m here.”

Dawn nodded and quickly ducked back to her tent, avoiding talking or looking at people. She knew exactly what kind of looks they would give her, and she didn’t want any of them.

That night, she would’ve missed dinner if Rick hadn’t come check up on her, waking her from a long nap. He stood there in a crouch, in front of her unzipped tent and was looking at her with a sorry look. She didn't want to alienate the person who seemed to be running the camp with Shane, so she smiled at him and slowly nodded as he was explaining to her why and how they left in a hurry. She didn’t quite buy all his little story, but played along nonetheless.

Upon joining the others around the small campfire, she noticed Daryl and Merle were sitting on a log, chewing on a piece of meat. She took place beside a man named Jim with whom she had talked a few times already. She had learned how he had lost his family at the beginning of the outbreak and had found the man quite intriguing. He didn’t speak much, and when he did it was either a riddle or something he truly meant. Or both. Thankfully he didn’t look at her with pity, but instead really smiled at her. Lori was sitting across from her and gave the young woman a small smile, handing her a plate over the small campfire, “Here you go.” Although the days were hot as hell, the nights were cool and Dawn's back was instantly covered in goosebumps when she felt the comforting warmth from the slow burning logs.

Silence fell on the group as everyone was eating their share. Dawn took a moment while chewing to observe the people gathered in a circle. Andrea was slowly eating the crumbs in her plate, purposefully not looking up. Maybe she felt shame from leaving two members behind. Andrea’s sister, Amy, was lost in her thought, that much was obvious. Glenn was watching the embers glowing and nodded from time to time as Dale was talking to him quietly. T-Dog and Morales were silent, as was Jacqui.

The day after, Jim started to dig holes in the fresh dirt at the top of the hill, Rick and Shane stopped the man before he killed himself from dehydration or sun exposure. And soon after that, the camp was attacked by geeks, and the damages were severe. Several members got bitten and had to get shot in the head before they’d turn. Dawn was watching Andrea crying on her sister’s lifeless body from afar while cleaning her knife. It was only the morning and as usual the temperatures were already high, making sweat form on everyone’s forehead. From where she was Dawn could hear people talking about shooting Amy. Rick seemed really concerned and saddened by the events. Daryl was the one suggesting shooting the dead-woman-soon-to-be-not-so-dead in the head “nice and clean” he said. Lori disagreed, as did Dale.

Shane was clearly drowning, taking his cap off and running a hand in his dark curls every two minutes, and Dawn noticed how different from Rick he was. Rick was calm and collected, trying to be kind and gentle with everyone but also to get them to do what he wanted, or what was necessary. Shane, on the other hand, was more hot-headed, probably could shoot a man in cold-blood as well. He seemed all charming and smiling, but when the situation was out of his control he seemed like either a psychopath all over his own head, or a scared child. Probably both. 

Dawn froze when Amy started growling and gripping her sister’s shirt. Andrea was crying as she put her gun to he sister’s face, inhaled warily while closing her eyes and then pulled the trigger. Silence fell back on the quarry as the gunshot echoed in the air and Andrea’s sobs started again.

It was almost midday and they were done with burying the dead from the camp. Everyone was silent, either suffering from the heat and the exhaustion or from the sadness of losing people, friends. Andrea cried a lot, silently this time, exiling herself from the others. Jim had been bitten, and the remaining survivors all took a pity look on their faces. But he didn’t seem much concerned by the situation, he said “at least i’ll finally be with my family.” That was the saddest thing Dawn had witnessed in a while. Sure burying people was sad, but they weren’t suffering like Jim was.

***

On the road to the CDC, Jim had been left under a tree. People said their goodbyes and tears were shed again as they continued on the asphalt to try to find a new safe place. Merle was no fool, he knew the situation was desperate and that such a place wouldn’t exist, and if it did exist, well, it was going to be hard to find.

Driving at the end of the caravan of cars, Merle had no idea why they were stopping again, until people got out of their cars. They were there, they’ve arrived at the CDC. Dead bodies littered the ground and the smell was horrendous, forcing the survivors to put a hand to their nose or a cloth over their mouth. Everybody followed to the metallic gate, everyone was nervous. Merle had a sniper-rifle in hand, Daryl had his crossbow at the ready, watching their backs with Shane while Rick started to yell at a camera that apparently had moved. When Merle glanced around, he saw Dawn watching the camera and then turning to face the dead bodies. They could already hear the growling of some walkers in the distance. And suddenly the metallic door opened itself up and a harsh white light momentarily blinded the group.

A shadowy figure took a step forward, holding an assault rifle. Merle took in the white lab coat and the man. He didn’t like that, white blouses and medical stuff were not his things. And what’s a doc’s doin’ with a gun?

The scientist, some Dr Jenner, allowed them into the center but they had to submit to a blood test; it was the rule. Everybody got into the elevator and waited as it started its descent. Merle had his back against one of the walls, his brother by his side holding his crossbow so as not to hurt anyone. Dawn was crunched in a corner behind Andrea, her gaze lost in the void.

They were going underground. They were underground. This was not a pleasant thought, and not only Merle felt like it. Carol apparently had claustrophobia and some others looked pale.

***

They waited in line for the blood test, Dawn at the end of the queue. She hated needles. It was strange because she had no problem with them when it came to getting her tattoos done, but when it was related to the medical field it was almost impossible for her not to have a panic attack. And to make it worse, they were underground. At least Shane seemed to have forgotten about her entirely because he hadn’t spoken to her or glanced her way a single time since she came back with Merle. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was tired of keeping an eye on her since she didn’t attempt anything and it has already been a month that she was part of the group.

Still, she was uncomfortable with the situation, and would’ve preferred for Dr Jenner to say to them that they were not staying on the surface beforehand. Trying to regulate her breathing, Dawn kept her hands in tight fists, and she knew she’d have little marks on the inside of her palms.

Jenner was now smiling at the woman, waiting for her to take place on the chair before him. It seemed she had zoned out in the whirlwind of her thoughts because she didn’t notice the queue getting smaller and smaller. Warily, she sat on the chair and slowly showed her arms to the doctor so he could process.

Dawn didn’t know if it was her tensed face or her pale complexion due to the white light coming from the ceiling,  but Jenner seemed to sense her unease.”Not a fan of needles, uh?” Dawn only shook her head trying to keep her eyes on the scientist’s face. But when he moved his hands she couldn’t help and looked at the table for a second. Her breath got caught in her throat and she tensed even more. Jenner slightly taped her arm so she would unclench her fist. She hoped she wouldn’t pass out or vomit.

Turning her head as much as she could in the other direction, not wanting to look at the scientist again when he spoke to her, Dawn closed her eyes and waited. She felt the sting of the needle entering her skin and the flux of blood being pumped out. She was too sensitive, too aware of what was happening. She has always been. “Hey don’t hold your breath, okay? It’ll be over soon.” Jenner promised her. She was paralyzed and couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even swallow her saliva. She was a stone statue. Dawn felt it when Jenner removed the needle from her arm and her eyes squeezed shut again. She exhaled a long breath.

Dr Jenner stood up and took the samples with him, placing a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. Keeping her eyes on the ground she slowly rose to her feet and retrieved her backpack. When Dawn finally looked up, she saw only Carol looking at her, a small smile on her face. She motioned to her to come over, the others all busy talking among themselves. Somewhat Dawn was glad no one noticed the tension that had taken a hold on her whole body. She appreciated Carol so she let her put a hand on her arm and guide her toward the rest of the group as Jenner was leading them into another long corridor.

Now resting on the bed of a small foreign room, Dawn stared at the ceiling. There were no windows, the walls were bare and she had only turned on the bedside lamp, letting the room float in a semi-darkness somehow comforting. Her bag still laid on the floor, untouched, she still had her shoes on, her arms sprawled at her side, she softly kicked her legs hanging from the bed, barely an inch from the ground. She still felt a bit dizzy from the blood test so she decided it was for the better to isolate herself a moment, to regain her strength and composure.

It was not the most comfortable bed, it was low and she had sunk into it so easily she had let out a small “oh!”. It was weird to be in a bed, underground, in this foreign place with those foreign people. Just as it has been weird to move to Atlanta alone. It has been weird buying furniture for her apartment, the whole moving in process has been weird. She didn’t know how long it took her to process the whole thing and to adapt, but now she needed to adapt to the new world quickly if she wanted to survive.

In this new world she couldn’t hide in her room with music and books and all the other coping mechanisms she had developed over the years. Trying to relax her body and even her breathing she thought about all the things that wouldn’t exist anymore in this new world. She truly would miss movies and shows, and wondered if some celebrities had survived and how. Her brain really couldn’t stop thinking about everything and anything.

Noises rose from the corridor as people walked past her door while talking and laughing. Then a knock. “Hey! Dawn you coming?” It was Glenn’s voice. Dawn lifted herself off the bed and walked to the door.

“Hey!” the young man seemed happy, but for what reason, she didn’t know.

“Hey, where you going?”

How did i end up there? she thought while looking outside the dirty window to the crowded streets. Merle and Dawn were hiding in some apartment in town, after having to deal with some issues as the rest of the group had left without waiting for them. leaving us on that damn roof.

Everything started to go south when Glenn brought back that new guy, apparently a former cop. Also apparently looking for his wife and son. Dawn didn’t really register his name or where Glenn had found him, but all she knew was that because of him– and surely because of her morals, she was now stuck in a city full of geeks with no way of escaping. They would have to wait for a better moment, maybe during the night when they’d have less risks of being seen. Do those things see us anyway? Or is it just by the smell and sounds? The young woman had already asked herself those questions when she had found herself alone in the woods, but she had not dared put herself in danger in order to verify a theory.

She sighed, already bored by the situation. Maybe even angry at herself. She didn’t know why she had reacted the way she did, maybe it had something to do with the fact that people always abandoned her somehow, so she felt like she didn’t want to abandon people back, because she knew how much it hurt to be left behind. She didn’t want to become like the people she grew up with. She wanted to become better, to be a better person. So she’d stayed to help Merle get out of the handcuffs, because apparently even the one putting him in handcuffs didn’t seem too bothered by the thought of leaving him behind with nothing to defend himself. And T-dog dropping the key in the drain before fleeing was the cherry on top.

She was certain they didn’t even notice that she wasn’t in the truck with the rest of them. Did she care? She tried to pretend like she didn’t, but the truth was that even after all this time and all the things she went through, it still hurt her. Wrenching her heart as the thoughts flooded her mind.

After retrieving the small key and getting the handcuffs off the man, they saw the white truck leaving the area without them. But they didn’t have the time to yell for them, geeks were already crowded at the door. So they ran.

Behind her, Merle was sitting on the brown leather couch, head tilted backward and eyes closed. He was rubbing his sore wrist, the skin red from the heat and the constant struggle against his restraints. They had scanned the place before allowing themselves to lower their guard and rest a little, the only trace of life being specks of blood on the carpet of the small corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.

Pulling back the curtains, Dawn walked over to the little kitchen area and started rummaging through the cupboards in the hope of finding something edible. Finally she found some crackers and a peanut butter jar, and went to sit on the couch beside the man.

***

Upon hearing the bag of crackers being opened, Merle cracked open one eye and threw a glance in Dawn’s direction. He watched her as she then opened the peanut butter jar and dipped a cracker in it. He made a move to help himself and pick in the biscuits’ bag, but the woman pushed his hand away with a disapproving sound and hard stare.

He’d almost laugh if she wasn’t staring at him like that.

“Hey don’t play with me. We’re here because of your stupid ass, Merle.”

“Never asked ya to stay.”

“Oh please, you cried like a baby before I came back to free you.” She swallowed her mouthful and looked at him with a playful grin on her lips. “Was little Merle scared of being alone? Is little Merle scared of this big scary world? Uh?” She imitated a child’s voice and it pissed him off, how easily she could get under his skin so quickly. He didn’t even talk to her that much– this was admittedly their first real conversation.

After a moment of silence, he asked;

“That’s all you foun’ ?”

Dawn hummed in agreement and the man got up to scan the place himself.

“You don’t trust me?” She didn’t even lift her head to look at him, too busy eating, and Merle let out a small laugh. “Not really.”

Rummaging through the cupboards and the small pantry, he let out a tired sigh, turning on his heels, he sat back down on the couch. Nothing interesting in this damn apartment.

***

Being in the sweltering heat of the Georgia sun had exhausted Merle and Dawn, so after making sure no one could open the front door from outside they fell asleep quietly on the sofa. Merle slept soundly when Dawn woke up with a start. a nightmare, again… It has almost always been like that but some nights it seemed that she was allowed a proper rest, her sleep not disturbed by nightmares. It was rare though. Taking a shaky breath she got up from the couch and lightly drew back the curtain, taking a quick look out the window. It was so dark outside without the city’s street lights that Dawn couldn’t make out much of their surroundings. But the one constant was the growling, a sound that seemed to never fade, letting her know that there still were geeks in the streets.

She debated with herself whether or not she should wake up Merle. She wasn’t sure it was the best idea to go out in the dark in a city full of those things, but she thought it was safer at night, when no one could see them.

Finally she nudged the man’s leg with her foot, hands in her pockets, eyes on his face waiting for a reaction. He sleeps so damn deeply he wouldn’t even wake up if i screamed..

Finally he grunted and shook his leg as if trying to make a dog go away, but Dawn gave him a final hit.

“Oh, wake up.” her voice was hoarse, she was so thirty she’d kill for a bottle of water.

Merle jolted awake and then fell back into the couch, running his hands on his face, he let out a growl. “C’mon sleeping beauty, we should go.”

“What time is it? Why is it so damn dark in here?”

He then looked the woman in the eye, dead serious. “Why th’hell d’you woke me up in the middle of the night for?”

“Thought it’ll be safer if we moved at night. So no one can spot us.”

“Who d’you wanna hide from? Those bitches only smell and hear us. Ya shoulda known by now.” He sighed heavily.

“Didn’t have much opportunity to verify that theory in the woods.”

“Ya never walked on one of ‘em?” he asked, now curious as to know how she survived this long alone if she didn’t even know how to hide from the geeks. She turned from him and pulled back the curtain again, but it was still dark and she could only see the outline of some cars, shiny under the moon’s silvery light.

He let out another sigh and stood up.

“I ain’t riskin’ my ass out there in the dark. What if ya can’t spot one in time and it bites ya?”

Dawn was surprised at how serious he seemed. For once in weeks he didn’t have that playful tone in his voice. But she felt restless.

“You concerned ‘bout ma safety, now sleeping beauty?”

Merle gave her the finger and it was too dark to tell, but he could’ve sworn he saw her smile before she turned her back again, looking out the window once more.

“Ya got a flashlight?” he heard her say, flatly.

“Nope. But i got this.” Silence filled the room as he searched his pockets, and a metallic click later a small flame erupted from a lighter.

“It’ll do.”

Now he could see her at least her silhouette against the window. She put back the curtains and went to grab her crossover backpack.

“Where d’you think yere goin’?”

“Told you.” She only looked up at him for a brief second before heading toward the front door.

He caught her arm before she could take down the casseroles and empty can hanging from the handle.

“What now? You afraid of the dark?”

Merle’s jaw tensed and he didn’t know how but he contained his emotions, stopping himself before he’d even say anything or do anything stupid. Like bash your head through the fuckin’ door.

“Hey, let go of me, now. I don’t wanna spend more time than needed in this fucking city.”