#multifandom fic

He picked up smoking due to just stress… loves the way you stare at his lips so intensely as he smokes, taking you by your chin and blowing the smoke into your mouth as you breathe it in and kiss him, the rush of nicotine making him shiver against you as his tail wraps around your thigh again. He loves shotgunning with you, always such a thrill. You got real good at it over time, pretty cute.

Takes you behind the school building, his claws digging into your hips as he hisses at how fuckin’ tight you still are after all the time of fucking this hole, fuck he never gets tired of it. You’re just so perfect. Smirks as he pulls on your tail, making you yelp and tighten around him as he speeds up, he already came in you once, and just wants to fill his kitty to the brim, that’s how you like it. Loves the way his cum just drips down your thighs, such a filthy fuck aren’t you? He groans as he speeds up his thrusts and cums with you at the same time, pulling on your tail and pushing his cock until your hole swallows it to the base, filling you up good baby. Loves to just take you by your chin, digging his claws into your cheeks as he kisses you harshly, biting your lips, nipping them with his sharp teeth as he draws out a cute little mewl from you as your lip bleeds.

Loves making out with you anywhere, anytime. Hands go down to your sex as he gropes you, moaning when you grind onto his palm as you taste cigarettes and caramel candy on his tongue, the taste makes you whine as you suck on his tongue and your tail wraps around the hand on your crotch, “fuuck, that’s a good kitty… keep grinding baby.” He licks along your jaw as his hand disappears underneath your pants and underwear, his fingers making quick work of your sex as you cum with a quiet whine of his name in the middle of class, “such a cute whore you’ve become, all for me.” He kisses your cheek and helps you ride out your high as he glares at a bitch that dared to look at you in this state. You’re at the far back of the class, that whore should keep their eyes to themselves or he’ll poke them out raw with his claws and hand it to you on a silver platter.

You have no idea just how far his depravity goes. He wants to carve his name on your stomach as his cock is going in and out of you, your body shaking and shivering with pian and pleasure as he brands you. He’ll lick your blood to clean you up, moaning and his cock throbbing inside you as he does so, you can feel him purring as he’s licking the carving, and his tail sways in satisfaction. Fuck, he wants to scratch your thighs with his claws as he draws blood, jerking himself off with his blood covered claws. Hissing as he cums on your face, wants you to stick that cute little tongue out as he coats it with his cum and your own blood.

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Hello, I wonder where you are and what you’re doing as you read this letter

Right now I’m 15 and there are things worrying me that I can’t talk to anyone about

I thought that if I wrote a letter to my future selfI could tell you all the things that I’ve kept bottled up inside me

Right now I feel like I can’t win, like I want to cry, like I’ll just disappearWho am I supposed to trust to get me through this?I’ve only got one heart and it’s been broken apart so many timesI’m living in the painful presentI’m living in it now

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Freezing. It’s always freezing the longer a person stays out. 

But for some reason it felt exceptionally cold this time of year. Call it coincidence or bad timing— it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Because for him it meant…

“F-Fuck.” His icy lips chattered against the break of his jacket. He curled into himself in an attempt to savor any ounce of heat that he could get from his own body. 

He had found a remote corner, in a back alley that no one would go down, that had a small heating system next to it. It belonged to the business next door, Nashimura’s, who kicked their heating up for the brunt of the winter. The warmth from the hot steam that would emanate out and swirl around his body would help to keep him warm as he slept or ate whatever scraps of food he was able to salvage.

Yet today, on one of the harshest days all season, they had closed early and turned the heater off. As the flame slowly went out of it, he began to feel the direness of the situation that he was in. 

The chills surged up from his feet and fingertips, reaching the center of his body like pin needles. Every gust, even the smallest one, sent shocks of shivers down his spine, violent tremors filling his body, with blue toned lips to match. He tried to keep his iced fingers tucked under his armpits, praying to every god— none of which he believed in— that he would not lose them. 

He couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford anything.

And if he didn’t find another spot, anywhere that was warm, he would die. Surely he would. And the worst part, no one would find him.

His bones snapped and cracked into motion to push his body up from the ground. He didn’t dare to take his hands out from their warming spot, instead hurrying out of the alleyway.

Somewhere nice. Yes. Somewhere like his image of home.

The streets were decorated with strung lights, each bulb a different shade of the rainbow, one prettier than the rest. People giggled and gossiped on the streets, young girls standing close enough to their friends so they could hear each other's words, and drunken men watching them go by with small smiles changing their faces. 

It was joyful and happy, with champagne and cigarettes, loud music and shy glances. 

Mother would have loved to see all this. And if it were snowing, even better. 

Not a single person noticed him as he brushed past them. Except maybe the occasional one, who had more money in his pockets than to know what to do with, that spared him the unnerved look— as if he were a dog whose shit he had just stepped in. Disgusting.

“I didn’t know a person could smell like that..” The man mumbled under the cold wisp of his breath, his girlfriend shushing him with a small hit to the chest and a short giggle, ushering them along.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a stench this putrid of sewage. To scavenge for any bit of clothing you can put together to barely cover exposed body parts— even if it meant having to steal something soiled or dirty. He had to stay alive. 

When you’re at that point, you don’t care about how it gets on you. It needs to stay on and protect everything. And it was doing just that.

A rough knock brought a woman, hair up in different pins and rollers to the door. She gazed dejectedly over his shivering form, rolling her eyes lightly.

“There’s no room for ya. We’re all booked out, sweetie.” Her gum snapped back and forth.

“P-Please..I just n-need to w-warm my hands for a l-little bit. I-I don’t need a b-bed.” His eyes fell shut, another shock racking down his body.

“There’s a pot out back that Ibura put a fire in for the boys. Go back there.”

“N-No, I’m n-not good with them. L-Last time they t-took my shoes while I was s-sleeping and it took a whole f-f-fucking month for me to get another pair.” He voluntarily cut himself off, feeling a swirl of emotions surge. The woman let out a short sigh, pulling her faux coat closed around her midsection before stepping outside, shutting the warm air off.

“Look. I can give Matsumi a call and see if she has room, but it’s the holidays, honey. Most places are gonna be full no matter where ya go. People are all trying to be inside. And we just don’t have any more space.” She folded her arms across her chest, tucking them under the fur. He turned his gaze away as tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes.

“My mother did everything for you to keep this place open. She gave you every single dime.” The woman let out a harsh sigh from his words, shifting from one foot to the other. He moved a bit closer to her, hurt beyond belief. “If it wasn’t for everything she gave to you, you wouldn’t have this building or a job left.”

“Excuse me?” Her neck rolled, eyes narrowed at him. Her intimidation was more than his could ever be, backing him down one step as she leered over him with a scowl. 

“I’ll have you fucking know that I put in the damn work to make this place grow from where it used to be. That’s right, me. Not your lousy fucking mother. Me.” She stabbed his chest with the point of her nail with every punctuation of her words.

“She gave me every single dime? Is that what she told ya? Well, let me give you a news flash. Your mother didn’t have any damn money, at least not what she was fucking alluding to. She gave me whatever she could fucking spare off your no-good father, who could barely give her enough to feed you and herself, you ungrateful fucking brat.” She shoved him off the last two stairs flat on his ass, spitting as she spoke through flares of anger. 

“And I don’t owe her a damn thing nor do I owe you. I kept you off the streets for three whole months when we were way overbooked to have another person in here, just like she would have asked me to. And what did you do? You ran around doing god knows what, instead of getting the damn job like I asked ya to.” Roughly opening the door back, she lightly shook off her coat, fixing him with a hard stare, her words cutting through the already iced air roughly. “You’re cut off. And don’t ya dare come back here with nonsense. Understand?”

His body jolted from the rough slam of the door, all the air that he had been holding in slowly filtering out along with a short, choked sob. Tears trickled down his face as he looked towards the sky that was free of stars. 

No…there’s no way that can’t…

He shifted from foot to foot as he walked further down the sidewalk, lights and decorations long gone. It was empty and quiet, besides the small sounds of people talking amongst themselves outside or a TV radiating out a slightly cracked window. The longer he walked, the heavier his tears fell. 

What had his life become? How much did he hurt in his past life to have been born into one so degrading, so low in nature that he was meant to stray along like this? He had found his parents to be liars, a memory he wished to not have for the entirety of his life. That would mean that everything he had believed— their care for him, how much they were willing to give for others in an act of selflessness— was a false narrative, made to make him not know the reality of the life was born into.

One that really had no hope. Not even a small chance.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he missed the lifted edge of the sideway from the ground, stubbing the tip of his shoe against it and going flying forward. He braced his hands in front of him and yelled out in pain when it smashed against the brick wall of the side of a building. 

“G-God…S-Shit..” He cursed and shook, bringing his hands up into view once he collected himself from being on his stomach. Through bleary eyes, he saw blue and purple beginning to bloom and decorate his wrist to the base of his palm. Any sudden movement brought an immense amount of pain to it. The other hand was scratched up and bloody, with bits of debris and possibly ash covering some of the worst parts.

At least he still had one good hand. That was better than nothing, right?

One good hand. He felt his entire body go numb as he sat there staring into his hands. 

What would one hand be good for? With the cuts in it and all the crap inside of it, it would be like having one good foot to walk on with nothing to aid but bracing against a wall.

He didn’t bother to stop the tears that freely fell down his face as he found comfort in the fetal position on the ground.

In that moment, more than any other time in his life, he wished that this would be the end for him. Maybe his life could turn into one of those stories that his grandmother used to tell him— the reincarnated heroes who had been blessed to live another life that was more beautiful as a forgiveness from the world for their suffering.

As his body succumbed to the cold, his eyes flickered up to the sky where snow started to fall in small clumps onto the ground. 

He could have sworn, in the last moments of his consciousness, he saw a small ring in the sky, where the snow did not dare to pass, keeping his face relatively clean. The stars gleamed brighter than he had ever watched.

A stream of light— the brightest tail sparkling behind it.

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A short jingle, somewhere in the distance— it's a beautiful chime similar to the ones that would emanate from a children’s toy box— trickled its way into his ears. 

It was almost too faint to hear.

There was a soft gush of the wind, cold and fluid with its push through the strips of grass and leaves, curled over his body, through his hair to kiss lightly on his fingertips.

His fingers began to twitch under the bed of foliage.

Then the second chime came, only slightly longer than the last  but was certainly jarring.

He jolted upward, his fingers clutched to his chest, gasping for air.

What happened? Where was he?

Peering around the area, he noticed a familiar tree hanging down not more than a few feet from him. 

Each branch was decorated with small adornments of fruits, ones that looked like stars and mini tear drops, sparkling under the hazy light of the sun. In the middle of the bunch, he noticed a small Persimmon dangling, splotches of different shades of orange and red covering it.

It looked similar to the one that he had seen in his grandmother’s backyard, years ago when he was living in the Nara prefecture. 

The one that grew on her strange tree in the strange part of year, as all the surrounding neighbors would tell her. The longer it stayed on the tree, the bigger it grew inside and the more vibrant it became. 

It suddenly was the staple of her legacy . The Nara Persimmon Woman.

“I was hoping you would remember it.” 

The voice swirled through the wind, carrying leaves above his head. Before they reached too high, a blur of white cut through the curling breeze, spinning the foliage in every which direction whilst almost knocking Nakamoto off his feet.

His head looked toward the direction of where the figure went, only noticing the trees groaning and shifting from the sudden burst.

“R-Remember what?” He spoke hesitantly through a tense jaw, noticing the heavy silence that fell through the forest. A shiver ripped up to his shoulders as a loud crack was heard between the two trees from earlier that the beast launched through.

A burst of wind exploded high up into the sky, followed by a loud melodic roar and the rush of heavy wings pushing everything within its force away. He steadied himself against the base of a rock to keep from being blown away, using one hand to shade his eyes to look towards the sky.

Floating above the break in the trees, an ivory dragon laid its eyes on him. Emerald and hazelnut scales glimmered in the light in contrast to his mix matched eyes, though no evil laid within them. 

He was merely peering at him, perplexed and curious about his appearance in this world.

The boy cautiously stood from his feet, keeping his eyes locked onto the majestic beast. “Was it you who said that to me?”

“Of course not. That was me.”

The voice came directly behind him, nearly making him jump out of his skin had he not remembered the rock that was behind him. A woman with a seafoam blue kimono and lavender hair pieces adorning her hair stood in front of him, a gentle smile gracing her face.

“I take it that Riku is quite curious and fond of you.”

“The—You mean the dragon?”

“Yes. Although he’s not normally nice to those he isn’t familiar with.” Riku lowered himself to the ground, curling up like a big puppy at the base of the woman’s feet. She leaned herself against his shimmering body as a comfortable space to strum her fingers against her biwa. 

Music filled the space, each note making the flora blossom and shift their bodies to its melodic sound. He felt himself relax down onto the plush ground in front of her, listening intently up until the last note. The woman ran her fingers against Riku's mane.

“I sense pain inside of you. Why are you hurting so much?”

“Because I’ve been hurt a lot.” was the way he simply put it.

The overarching amount of pain that he has been through stretched back too far for him to remember, not that he would even want to. Asking something of that caliber was almost too much to say all at once.

He thought too deep and heavily towards specific moments subconsciously, not noticing the way that the sky grew darker and the beauty of the open forest had fallen sullen with him as teardrops began to fall from his eyes.

“What makes you cry and feel so terribly?” Her voice remained soft with hands clasped around one of his. The brunette lowered his head in shame.

“All of my life, I wanted to live a life in paradise like this. My whole family wanted peace. But instead we suffered at the hands of other people— hurting ourselves in the process to stay afloat.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes, a choked sob leaving him as she moved his hair out of his face.

“I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I want to live.”

“Even those that live feel pain. A life is not a life without pain and beauty. We must live through pain to find our way to the peaceful side.” She wiped the rest of his tears away, holding his face in her hands.

It hurt more that she was right then to feel the way that he felt right now.

Had the world cursed him to live such a life because he was just the person that seemed befitting of it? Was his past life so malevolent that he was being punished to suffer through years of pain for his crimes?

For whatever way the world saw fit of his existence on Earth, he wanted no part of it anymore.

“I want to stay here.” He pleaded, gripping her wrists.

“This place was made in memory of my life from when I was younger— a time where I felt happiness and nothing else. I want to have mercy, patience, love and joy again. I won’t get it back out there.”

The woman let go of his face, shifting to face him directly with his trembling fingers in between hers. With a painful tinge in her heart, she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, but it’s not time yet for you to go. You cannot stay here. You must go back.”

Before he could reel himself away and let his feelings swallow him, she squeezed his hands. 

“Your life is too precious, against what you may believe it to be. You have so much in your life ahead of you, beauty that is to come. I’m not meant to share this with you unless blessings are bestowed to me, but as one that doesn’t have much to give, I felt that this could be the exception.” The angelic woman brought them both to their feet, the colors of the world beginning to brighten and blur once more.

“Give it time. When the moment is right, you will know.” Opening his palm, she tucked a small pouch inside, closing his fingers around it with an endearing smile.

“Trust me.” As if on command, Riku rose and bowed his body for her to board, a small rumble leaving his throat. She ran her fingers through the charmed spots on his back, eyes falling back on the boy as he walked a bit closer. 

He felt, as his eyes lingered longer on her appearance and the ascents of her attire, there was something that was familiar to him. He felt like he had known her, or rather, she had been connected with him somehow throughout his life. He couldn’t explain it– something that his brain had seemingly blocked or kept from him. 

“Wait. How do I know you?” He inquired.

All that he received was a brighter smile, nodding in the direction behind him.

“Go back now.”

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“—I think he’s waking up now!”

Beeping monitors, feet quickly moving against something that sounded like tile— it probably was tile— and voices, both coming from women, entered his ears in a rush. 

“Let me see his vitals.”

“They’re still a bit lower than they need to be. Please go and deliver this to Mr. Choi.” 

At that moment, his eyes finally opened, although they were a bit blurry. They took a moment to focus and his brain to catch up to where the hell he was. 

Warm. I’m warm.

He shifted what he could of his head, noticing a doctor, looking peculiarly at his data chart with furrowed brows. The way her face scrunched up couldn’t help but bring a small chuckle and smile to his dazed face. 

His aunt used to make that face any time she had to read instructions, his mom hitting her and telling her to get her eyes checked because she can’t read anything with her piss poor sight. 

“I can fucking see! It’s just hard to read all of this, it’s complicated!”

Their bickering, always playful, made him laugh all the time.

“Ah! You’re finally awake.” The doctor’s voice brought his attention back, adjusting the glasses on the brim of her nose. She lowered some of the blankets that had been put around his neck down to his collarbone.

“I’m going to ask you some basic questions just to make sure your memory is still intact. Is that alright?”

He gave her a small nod. 

“Just answer as honestly as possible!” 

Her voice was more vibrant and bubbly than what he had expected of a doctor. 

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“Hospital.” He croaked out. She scribbled something onto the clipboard, rolling a chair over to sit directly next to his bed. 

“Good. And do you know what day it is?” She shut one eye while checking his with a light, a small hum leaving her lips.

“December 24th. Christmas Eve.” 

“And your name, date of birth?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. October 26th. Born in 95.”

“That’s great, thank you!” 

She stood up just as a nurse peaked their head through the door. Their voices sounded a bit echoed in his ears as he stared at the ceiling, trying not to succumb to sleep again.

Everything felt so cozy and warm. He could finally feel his feet after what felt like years. 

His body felt nice. Everything felt nice, like how he would have imagined.

His eyes had only been closed for a few minutes before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Opening them, the doctor and the nurse were smiling gently.

“I know you must be so exhausted, but I think a meal is in order now, no?” 

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What does it feel like to be starving for a long time? Not having what would be classified as a “decent meal”— or certainly one that was well balanced. Something they may not share with you after not having adequate meals for a significant amount of time is that your body will find what is being placed inside of it as foreign.

In other words, your body forgets how to act as a body. Digestion, extracting nutrients to fuel your body, all of the necessities to replenishing your body with all the essentials that it needs.

You have to train yourself again to regain what you have lost.

“What is this?” His brows furrowed at the platter in front of him.

Although his state had been distorted since he came here, he was almost entirely sure that this was not one of those moments.

“I know it’s not the most appealing or appetizing meal.” the nurse relayed sympathetically. “But it’s all that your body will be able to stomach, I’m afraid.”

A bowl of something that looked similar to oatmeal, but lacked any sort of color whatsoever was placed on a small tray table in front of him. He might have thought of it to be some kind of porridge— but even that would look more enticing than this.

“Try your best to eat as much as you can of it so that you will feel better and have more energy.” She moved around to change his IV bags that started to get a bit low. He took a small spoonful into his mouth, grimacing as he swallowed small bits at a time.

“How did I get here?” He questioned in between a few gnarly bites, drawing his eyes closed from the texture.

“Ah! I suppose we didn’t get around to telling you that!” She rubbed her neck sheepishly. Yuta raised an eyebrow as he chewed.

“It seems that a good samaritan found you on the side of the road. He was so concerned about your condition that he brought you straight here, on his back no less!”

A man saved me? Yuta’s eyebrows pulled together.

“It’s a good thing that he brought you here when he did. A second too late and you could have— well, let’s not be too grim!” 

As if everything about this hasn’t been. Yuta heaved out a huge sigh, eyes downcasted on his food.

He couldn’t help but think about the horror that the poor man must have felt seeing him in whatever condition he was in. 

Forget about the condition he was in..how on Earth was he going to pay for all of the treatment he received.

It wasn’t until now that he noticed the cast around his wrist alongside the luxuriousness of the hospital room that he was in. Everything looked so modern and completely out of a range of any price he could afford.

I can’t imagine what the bills were like for just one night here..

At that moment, the doctor returned through the partially opened door. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Nakamoto. But there is someone who wants to see you.”

A confused look crossed his face as a man walked through the door alongside the doctor. He certainly was not a part of his family or even close to a person he would have known through passing or past jobs.

No, this man was a lot cleaner cut than anyone he had ever met.

His clothes managed to look expensive despite the simplicity of them. It was difficult to tell if he was trying to be modest in this or did it from sheer attention seeking prerogatives.

Either way, he was certainly handsome to say the least.

“Mr. Nakamoto, this is Mr. Choi. He is the one who brought you into us after finding you in the alleyway.”

Out of everything that he could have prayed for, he would have wished that the person finding him nearly at the pearly gates would be someone of a lower class— like a dad taking his kids home from a holiday get together or maybe a restaurant owner who was heading home in the brunt of the cold and snow.

But, nope. With his piss perfect fucking luck, it was a rich man who had to bring him to the hospital— shit smell and all— whose water he probably wouldn’t be able to afford.

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Behind a closed door and hidden from the watchful eyes of hospital staff, Yuta expected Mr. Choi to exhibit the same demeanor as those of people he has worked under. Though, it was hard to say if his outward impression was all a facade or not.

He didn’t push Yuta to say anything, he kept his distance from him as he did in the beginning, and merely amused himself with the assortment of paintings around the room and out of the window at people walking down the street.

“You should have left me out there.” The boy didn’t care to correct his bluntness, trying to eat more of the food that the nurse gave him. Mr. Choi watched a particular couple that was walking with their arms linked together. Although they were attached to each other closely, they both didn’t have an ounce of happiness on their faces.

“I don’t believe in leaving people in dire situations out to fend for themselves. Especially if they are incapable of doing so.” He only looked a bit of his shoulder towards Yuta, noticing the way that the boy’s shoulders slumped, putting his spoon down.

“Well, I hate to be rude, but you’ve put me in a worse situation than before.” Yuta turned to him with sunken eyes.

“As you probably could already tell from the way that you found me, I don’t exactly have the money to be able to afford to pay for any sort of hospital bill. I don’t have insurance, savings or anything that could cover for even a fraction of this.”

“That’s no matter. The fee has already been waved.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know that you wouldn’t be able to afford it.” Mr. Choi drew his attention back towards him, perching his hands comfortably on the windowsill, head cocked to the side.

“What mattered most was getting you the treatment that you needed, not the cost of it. When the situation was that dire, monetaries shouldn’t matter.”

What a life that would be to not have to think about the money…

If he said something like that, he must have a lot of it.

“What do you want from me?” The rich man’s head fell to the other side at the question, raising an eyebrow.

“What do I want from you? Nothing.”

“Oh, come on.” Yuta exasperated, letting his spoon fall into the soup.

“You’re telling me that you did this whole heroic act of saving me from freezing my ass off outside, brought me here to this glorious hospital, paid for my entire hospital bill and you don’t want anything from me?”

He had been down this road before, learning all too quickly that kind hand outs were never truly kind gestures. Behind every nice thing that someone has ever done for him, they always wanted something in return.

Every single fucked up thing he ever did, karma always made its way back to him.

That’s the reason why he was here in the first place. And the last thing he needed was to be taken advantage of again. 

“Well,” Mr. Choi continued, “I would like to see that you aren’t on the streets again with nowhere to go. So, allow me to house you for the time being— a bed to sleep in, bathroom, refrigerator— all the amenities you would need to be comfortable. And if you’re uncomfortable with this sort of thing, there’s a coffee shop just down the road. Had a sign in the window looking for people to hire. You can take a job there and put that money towards the place.”

“Like hell that would be enough to accommodate a place like that.”

“It’s a start.” The man took a few steps closer to him, eyes trained on him carefully to monitor his movements of discomfort or fear. He was met with none, only the look of anger and annoyance from two tired-stricken eyes. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’re one of those guys that gets off to helping the poor people on the street— but I don’t need any of that. What I do with my life is not your problem and does not need any of your concern. Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it anymore.”

Neither offense nor anger crossed the man’s face, perplexed and intrigued seemed more befitting for the situation. 

It was almost as if Yuta had reacted in the way that Mr. Choi would have expected, falling into the palm of his hands so beautifully that it made him feel satisfaction in the way everything was playing out.

“Very well, then. I hope that your recovery will be quick and that you see yourself to not be on the streets again.” Mr. Choi curtly bowed, stalking over to the door with a level of eloquence not before fixing Yuta with one last look. 

“I truly hope it will go into your favor.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖✧˖°₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁

Not a month or two since he had been discharged from the hospital, did things somewhat change for him. 

He had been lucky enough to have been put back out on the streets at a time in which businesses were hiring, searching for people who needed something to fill their pockets over the holidays.

One in particular, encased in the delicately framed letters that one would see in a fairy tale book, read Silent Tea— a mirror to being somewhat close to the quiet and quaint feeling of a library combined with that of a cafe.

Yuta had found the atmosphere to be reminiscent of something from his past that he couldn’t pinpoint. Whatever it was drew him into the stores and next behind the counter to take orders and make drinks.

“Make sure you don’t forget to check your time, Nakamoto.” a flat tone rang from his left coming from his coworker Mina, swiping down every counter of ground beans and water to avoid being bitched at by their manager for the mess. 

She had been there for slightly a bit longer than he had, being somewhat of an assistant manager, who took over every ounce of duty that had to do with keeping the newbies from screwing up. 

The Nara boy had been pretty good with her, minus his time management and letting himself rest to eat lunch and relax.

“I’ll go after the line is cleared up.” He spoke, thanking the customer in front of him as he handed her change, one that she dropped into the tip jar on the counter, decorated with stickers and labels.

Everyone who came into the place seemed to be genuine and kind, something that he wasn’t entirely used to, but never not once let his guard down for. 

With customers satisfied, drinks in hand to leave out and start their days or sit down and enjoy inside, Yuta went to unravel his apron from around himself. A chime coming from the front door stopped his hands and, well his whole movement as a matter of fact.

A pair of feline eyes met him alongside that all too handsome face.

To say that he had almost forgotten the man existed was an understatement, if the heat creeping up his face and the swiftness of pulling off his apron had anything to do with it.

“Can I take your order?” Mina hesitantly inquired, noticing a weirdness between the man and her newbie. The question gave Yuta enough chance to hang his apron on his assigned hook and grab his small bag. 

How did he even know that he was working here? Was he really stalking him that hard? Or maybe he had some sort of private investigator that was on his every move, so he wouldn’t have to make it look like that was following him.

Why me? Why fucking me? Is all that Yuta’s mind could even question as he tried to B-line his way to the door and out of sight from his alleged stalker. And it surely would have been swift and easy for him, had it not been for a smooth hand ceremoniously grabbing his wrist on the way out the door.

“I was hoping you would have at least said hello before leaving out on your break.” The sweetest of his tone rang through Yuta’s ears, following a sigh that the boy had been holding in. He finally turned and met his eyes, the same curiosity and gentleness bleeding into his demeanor.

“Care to sit and talk with me for a moment?”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

That’s how he ended up here, sitting in the corner of his workplace, alone with his savior once more. He fiddled with the hem of his jagged edged shirt, seeing Mina watching him from his peripherals— looking damn near ready to pounce and call the police if Yuta gave her the signal.

Mr. Choi brought the cup of brewed coffee to his lips, not caring to blow away the steam as he took a light sip, humming in satisfaction at the taste. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better. You look healthier since the last time I saw you.” The mug made a small clang as he brought it down onto the table, crossing one leg over the other. 

“I guess you could say I feel at ease knowing that you are doing better than before.”

Was this confession supposed to make him feel thankful that somebody cared about him? 

In an attempt to clear out his racing thoughts, Yuta attempted to pick up his coffee to drink only to spill half of it over, across the round table and dripping onto the floor. He sputtered, reaching for the napkins when a pair of hands reached their first, ignoring the eyes of other patrons as he cleaned up the mess. 

God, if only the floor could swallow him whole or at least let him disappear so he wouldn’t have to feel so fucking embarrassed right now. 

“Is everything alright over here?” Mina kept her voice leveled with a mop in hand, keeping her eyes locked on Yuta as the boy hid half of his face inside of his shirt. 

“Yes, everything is fine.” The man looked up at her and flashed her a kind smile.

She wasn’t particularly concerned about hearing it from him though, waiting patiently with the wooden handle held tightly in her grasp. 

Yuta quietly collected himself and spoke softly, “It’s okay. I just spilled my coffee because it was a little hot.”

Not true, but would at least give Mina the memo to walk away now. 

Thankfully, she took the hint, mopping up the rest of the spill before being brought back to the counter upon hearing the squeaky panicked voice of another newbie, Hinata, fumbling with the coffee maker. 

With the area around them silent again, Yuta finally let himself be pressed back against the curved loveseat, letting out a long drawn out exhale from between his lips.

“Why are you here?” Was the only thing he could muster out, feeling tired more than anything from this entire situation.

“I really don’t trust, nor like, people— let alone strangers who follow me around.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. This is my first time seeing you in months.” Whether or not he was trying to keep a playful tone, Yuta wasn’t having any of it, as made apparent by the slightly ticked off look on his face, shaking his head to busy himself with stirring the liquid of what was left in his drink with a spoon.

“Are you coming to collect the money I owe you for the hospital bill?” 

“Heavens no. I told you that I wasn’t going to have you pay that back.” 

“Then what do you want?” 

No words came from the other side of the table for a moment, drawing Yuta’s attention up to find Mr. Choi looking out towards the window. 

He had spotted a child across the street, bouncing excitedly over the sidewalk lines with a small doll in her hand. Her parents trailed behind her with small chatter coming from the two, laughing lightly at their daughter as she nearly stumbled over her own two feet. Her father scooped her, spinning her around, up and onto his shoulders, a small silly pep to his step as they disappeared on the other side of the corner, the wife shaking her head and quickening her steps to catch up with them.

“I wonder what it is like for people to just be born into great lives, not having to worry about the bad or the dangerous things that have been planted into our world.” His voice was hushed, almost above a whisper, bringing his attention back to Yuta. “Don’t you?”

He wonders what it’s like? Doesn’t he already have that life? 

The boy raised an eyebrow at him, bringing the mug up to his lips. “I don’t really have time to think about things like that.”

“But if you did,” Mr. Choi continued, pushing his clasped hands further inward on the table, “would you take it? Take the chance, I mean.”

“I’m pretty sure anyone would.” 

“Not just anyone. I mean just you.”

A wash of confusion went across Yuta’s face. “Huh?”

“What would you do to have a new life, a new start— where you don’t have to care about anything else in the world?”

A new start.. 

As much as he liked working here at the coffee shop, it wasn’t home for him. He still had to use every last dime to pay for the run down place he had managed to get, thanks to his manager , and still barely had enough money to be able to buy the things he desperately needed— new shoes, clothes that weren’t so destroyed.

At least he didn’t smell like shit and piss, right?

But it wasn’t enough for him. 

Circling back to that night, whatever it was that he could remember from the visions he saw, came back to him in a sudden rush.

The heavenly atmosphere of the small forest in the woods. The fruit trees. The dragon and the mysterious woman.

He wasn’t one to believe in other worldly beings— none of them had ever brought him the luck that he desired so why would he ever do so— and yet there was something about her that stayed with him.

She felt like someone that was familiar to him, that he had known for a long time. Her presence didn’t make him feel fearful. He trusted her.

Was this what she was speaking about— the way that life was destined to fall for him? The one that he should see through if he had any intention of his life turning out better?

There’s no way that she could be wrong. 

This was his chance. 

Without thinking, Yuta reached forward to clasped Mr. Choi’s hands between his, much to the man’s surprise, with desperation. “I’ve wanted that for my entire life. Do you know someone who can help me?”

Mr. Choi held his hands gently, brushing the pad of his fingers over Yuta’s. “My family and I can help you.”

It was then that a document was moved into Yuta’s line of sight, followed by a pen and a small stamp. 

It looked official, not like some of the fake ones that he had been handed before in the past. This was the real deal.

“What is this?” Yuta retracted his hands, holding up the packet.

“This is your new start.” 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The world is an undoubtedly cruel place, where only those who have been blessed with the perfect life or born into riches can live peacefully and happily. Whereas those, who sacrifice so much in order to achieve their happiness, are left to struggle for years on end with no sense of relief.

What is seen as a beautiful utopia for someone is hell on Earth for others.

The world is fleeting, poisonous and dying. 

This type of life doesn’t deserve to be reborn.

We deserve to have a life clean of suffering, pain and sadness.

Everyone dreams of this world— recounted as heaven— where they can feel the peace of mind they have merely dreamt of.

What if that world was real? What if you could be a part of it?

We have seen you. We have heard you. We want you.

Be loved, embraced and cherished in the New World— one that, long after civilization as we know it has faded away, will be here to guide us, with patience, into the next phase of life.

Allow your talent and gifts to be used to make a better future for everyone. A chance at another life— only granted to the under appreciated who have been left in the dark.

You can help to build a better world— with everything you have ever dreamed of— and finally live.

Will you join us?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I know this may seem weird, especially with everything else that has been occurring, but I wanted to give you this opportunity.” Mr. Choi lowered the paper from in front of the Japanese man’s face, seeing tears fill his eyes.

“I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, against my better judgment. I didn’t want you to feel scared of me or pressured to live some sort of life because of my words.” His fingers brushed over the boy’s wrist, guilt littered on his face. Yuta put the document down, creating distance between them once more.

“Be honest with me now, then.”

For the first time, since the two of them had met, anxiousness came over the man— cupping his elbows for some level of comfort to himself. He kept his eyes trained on the table, teething at the inner layer of his lips.

“I’ve seen you for a while now, at least for half a year. When you will still be working on the other side of town at the laundromat. I watched you, day in and day out, working there and being out on the streets, trying to survive and—even when things were hell for you, losing your job and having to start over from square one— you still pushed on. You never gave in to the pain you were feeling, until that night when I found you in that alleyway.”

“I— admired that about you.” There was a bit of caution to his words, eyes finally meeting Yuta’s again.

“Despite everything, you still wanted to win. That’s why I want to make sure that you keep winning, keep succeeding with everything you dream of doing. That’s why..I wanted you to join us.”

…

Someone wanted him to win and live a life that he deserved.

Only one other person in his life wanted something like that for him. Praised and gave him everything he needed to be strong in a time where betrayal was almost expected.

“You have to be strong, my baby.” His grandmother smoothed the hair on the back of his head with trembling fingers, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. His smaller self hiccuped, tears bellowing down his face.

“You have always been, and I don’t want you to lose sight of that. There will be people that will try to break you down so they can laugh at you. But you don’t let them understand? Obahan will always be here to protect you and keep you safe. Do you believe me?” She cupped his face, brushing away teardrops from his cheeks with a pained smile. 

He always trusted her over everything. She had never lied to him, not once over anything. 

“I believe you.” He choked out, sobbing harder when she pulled him into her embrace, keeping him close and tight in her arms. 

════════════════════════════════════════════

“Please, just consider it.” 

The words echoed in his head from the moment he clocked out and finished his shift. He couldn’t peel it from his mind, no matter how hard he wanted to stop thinking about it.

Anybody who would hear about the opportunity to live a life full of peace and harmony would jump at the first chance to sign their life away. 

Especially if their lives were filled with hell, pain and loss.

A chance to have a clean slate and truly live for the first time, just in arms reach for them to take, beckoning them to come and bless the world with their knowledge, dedication and passion— coming out on the other side with overwhelming fulfillment. 

Praise for the work that you have given to the greater cause.

The first spark of falling in love.

Intimacy, family, another circle of people to love and cherish.

Dying knowing that you have lived life to the fullest potential. You survived and you won. 

He should have been the one to do that, no questions asked.

Yet, the paper sat on the small breakfast table in his quaint apartment, without a single marking made on it.

Leaving everything behind to go and live in an unknown world, with people whose language he doesn’t speak, who don’t know him and his past. Not having the cushion and safety of his home country to run back to if he became fearful and wanted to leave.

No, he would have to be secluded. He would have to give up.

But would it really be any different than the situation he was in right now? He’s been alone— on his own and having to fight for everything that he wants, he needs nobody else to hand it to him. If he wanted it, he had to assume the right to have it. 

This is no different. He’s fighting and, for the first time, someone saw him and wanted him to keep going.

Is it real? Is it true? Is he really a fighter?

The thought alone made his body wrack with fear.

Would it truly be the paradise that it says? What if he goes there and it’s all a lie? He wouldn’t be able to get himself out easily— they would know his name and everything. They would hunt him down and bring him back.

He would be even more trapped than he was before.

Don’t put yourself in that headspace. You know what happens when you go there.

Just have to keep calm. 

It’ll be okay. It’ll be-

“Yuta-chan!” The boy jolted in his seat on the couch, clutching a hand over his heart from the hands that were clapped in front of his face. As the thoughts slowly dispersed from his mind, his eyes floated around the room, cheeks burning.

Sana’s house. She invited him over to celebrate the one year anniversary of Silent Tea. 

Which also means he had another set of eyes that were in the room and currently glued onto his anxious form.

“I called your name so many times and you just sat there staring. Are you okay?” Sana’s brows furrowed, bringing herself down to eye level. Yuta shied from the action almost immediately as he saw Mina cock a brow at him.

“Y-Yeah of course! Sorry, I’m just a little out of it I guess. Long day at work.” He casually brushed it off, tucking his hands firmly under his legs to avoid exposing his sweaty palms. Sana’s bottom lip poked out, resting her folded hands on her co worker's knees.

“Are you sure?” Yuta’s face fell from the worry in her voice, sending her a tired smile.

“I’m sure.” But he could tell from his peripherals that Mina was not convinced, shifting her feet with her arms folded. It took only a moment for her to walk over and place a gentle hand on Sana’s shoulder.

“Nana, why don’t you go and help Hinata and Shotaro in the kitchen?” At that moment, the sound of pans clashing and liquid spilling echoed in from down the hall, immediately followed by the sounds of two bickering voices. 

“I..I think they might be making a mess.” Mina hesitated with her eyes glued to the door opening. Sana hastily rose to her feet with puffed cheeks, a rough exhale leaving her nose.

“I told you two not to destroy my kitchen!” Sana called out annoyedly down the hall, her little stomps following her until the room fell silently again, only occasionally hearing some muffled squawking or protests.

Yuta didn’t dare to look up and meet Mina’s eyes, knowing that she was for sure glaring daggers into him— similarly to how she would at work if he wasn’t following her directions or pushed himself too hard. 

“Look, really I’m fine-“ He silenced himself upon her hand raising in front of him. Knowing that nobody else but him would be able to see her right now, she softened her expression, moving to sit next to him with arms folded across her chest.

“I know this is about that man that came in yesterday.” Her eyes were fixated on the clock across the room, watching the handle move back and forth to avoid making Yuta uncomfortable. He adjusted himself on the cushion, stealing a short glance at her.

Had it really been that obvious or was she that good at guessing?

“I’m not going to push you to tell me anything. I just hope..” Mina paused, relaxing her body with closed eyes. “I hope that you aren’t in any danger, and if you are, then you would tell us.”

Yuta’s shoulders slumped, face fallen. It wasn’t their fault, really. They had been good to him, more than he could say for most people that had the “privilege”— we say that part lightly— to be in his presence. They had done more than just the bare minimum for him.

Yet, he felt like there was something, anything that made it not right for him to put too much trust and faith in them.

Who can say that they wouldn’t truly be like the others.

“Yeah, of course I would.” 

It felt a little too automatic in Mina’s mind. What you say to give the person in question the exact thing that they want to hear. Yet, she felt another call from the world to withhold any anger and frustration, trying to keep herself level headed, eyes still shut.

Maybe another route was in order.

“When I was younger,” Mina started, the beginning of the recount surging a median of stress up to the base of her shoulders. “My mother left me and my brother outside of my grandmother’s house— told us that she was going to run some errands and didn’t wanna leave us alone at home.”  

She let her eyes fall on the clock again, seeing Yuta shifting his body inward closer to her. 

“What turned into a simple couple of errands turned into her never coming back for us— continuously promising that she would but lying every single time. It wasn’t until years later that she apologized and started trying to make it up to us, in any little way that she could.”

Mina turned her head and met Yuta’s saddened eyes.

“I didn’t wanna believe anything that she said. But, I learned something the day that she came back into our lives for real.” Clasping his hands between hers, she spoke in a hushed tone.

“You can forgive the person but not the thing that they did, or do whatever it takes for you to come to terms with what happened. But, every day we meet new people. Some will be bad, some will be the best person you’ve met. Some will masquerade as kind when they are evil or vice versa.” A heavy exhale left her mouth as she squeezed his hands, lowering her head to hide her face. It almost pained her to listen to her own words, almost as if she was speaking them to herself rather than to Yuta.

“What I’m trying to say is— I get it. Feeling scared is valid. I just don’t want..you to feel like you have to keep everything to yourself.”

A part of him wanted to say that of course he knew that and he wasn’t dumb enough to not acknowledge that sort of thing.

Given the circumstances and what Mina just shared with him though, it probably wouldn’t be the smartest nor most truthful response for him to give.

Yuta’s fingers curled tighter around her own, sending back a more comforting squeeze to ease some of the tension out of his coworker and the conversation.

“I just didn’t want to involve you in my mess..” He admitted, leaning himself back on the edge of the couch. 

“I know you all have so many things going on in your lives and the last thing, above all else, that I would want to do is put you all in a stressful or uncomfortable situation.”

“Just because we have things going on in our lives doesn’t mean we can’t lean on each other when things get a little tough. We’re like a family— at least I hope you see us that way.” Her lips curled up into a light smile from his nod, brushing her thumb against his hand.

It took Yuta a minute to collect his barings and explain everything that was going on with him- starting from the moment he was desperately trying to find shelter and fainted on the street to the offer to now.

When he was done, Mina moved her hands away from him to rest her elbows on her knees. Her hands fell together, drumming against each other in a rhythmical pattern, deep in thought.

“What do you think..about everything?” Yuta inquired hesitantly.

“It..It sounds crazy, Yuta.” Her voice was cautious, seeing the way Yuta nodded slowly in agreement. Some part of him felt comfort in knowing that she was somewhat agreeing with what he was feeling. 

“But I think you should do it.” 

“Huh?” His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. 

“I mean–you really didn’t plan on staying here the rest of your life working with us, did you?” Mina thwacked his head, a small chuckle leaving her lips as Yuta recoiled. He rubbed his forehead with a small pout on his face which quickly melted into one of worry and concern. Mina immediately pushed him away, moving to stand up from the couch.

“You’re not gonna stay with us and you’d be an idiot to not take up that chance.” She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “You have a better shot than the rest of us.”

Without letting him spare another word to her, she disappeared down the hallway, a loud cackle echoing down after hearing some commotion and yelled comments from Shotaro.

Now left alone again with his thoughts, Yuta gazed over his phone resting face up on the coffee table in front of him. 

It could be beautiful, wonderful— everything that he could ever imagine it to be as a new home for him. 

The aspect of trust. 

Not everyone is out to get you. Someone could be trying to help you. You have let go a little to make it out. 

A new found, albeit small, percentage of excitement and eagerness lurched inside of him— for something truly amazing and scary that he would soon find out.

════════════════════════════════════════════

~One week later~

“I’m not gonna lie. I was genuinely surprised to have gotten a call from you.”

Birds chirped happily to each other over their heads, twirling against the baited breeze of the winter air. Yuta curled himself further into his jacket— a force of habit—- to keep the heat from escaping. 

“I originally had no intention to.” He admitted, keeping his eyes directed to the pond. 

“What changed your mind?” 

Yuta brought his cup of coffee to his lips, allowing the warm liquid to comfort him and reduce some of the shakiness in his hands.

“I’ve never had anyone besides my grandmother care so much about me— let alone have faith in me to revolutionize the world.” His finger danced around the styrofoam lid of the cup. “So you can imagine it sounded a bit bizarre to me.”

“But..?”

The two of them locked eyes when Yuta’s head turned, a gentle smile blossoming on the Japanese boy’s face— one that Mr. Choi hadn’t had the opportunity to see since he first met him.

“Wake from death and return to life.” Yuta leaned in a bit whilst speaking his native tongue, chuckling at the sight of confusion. He clicked his tongue with a playful shake of his head.

“It means to take a situation that is bad and make it into something that is good. I’ve followed that notion since the moment I was on my own and, despite every obstacle that came my way, I never gave up on it.”

Mr. Choi looked down at his lap, fighting back the smile that was threatening to come to his face. Yuta caught the slip from the corner of his eye, letting his eyes fall closed.

“I’m not saying that I trust you, let alone believe in any of the faith you have in me. But, I would be going against everything that I’ve been doing for myself for my whole life if I didn’t try.” His voice carried through the wind softly, being hushed by another sip of his coffee. Mr. Choi straightened himself on the bench, following suit with a sip of his tea.

A small beat of silence went between them before Yuta slid over the same document he had given him, now neatly sealed inside the safety of a conference folder, without a word. Mr. Choi checked through each page to have signatures on every spot that is needed.

“Just remember one thing.” The change in Yuta’s tone brought a chill down the man’s spine, alongside the unnerving way he smiled whilst creating this atmosphere around them.

“Evil cause, evil effect.”

The normally composed man’s eyes widened as the space between himself and Yuta closed to a near inch, the same expression lingering on the Nara man’s face with more threatening eyes.

“If you screw me over, lie, or hurt me in any way, it will only come back to you worse than what you did to me.”

A small tremble settled in the rich man’s eyes, a lump forcing its way down his throat as he felt the urge to nod at the statement. Yuta smiled with a level of satisfaction, his face returning to its normal and kind manner. With a small sigh, he stood up and brushed off his clothes, turning his attention over his shoulder at the stunned man. 

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you again then, Mr. Choi.” 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Day 1 of my new life

I couldn’t begin to think of anything else that could be more perfect than a new pair of shoes and pants. They weren’t as fancy as I would have imagined them to be, though the price tag was higher than anything I would have been able to imagine. I wonder why people bring it upon themselves to buy a nice pair of jeans for a price that would equate to almost twenty full course meals on a table. Just to be simplistic– like every other person. 

I guess Mr. Choi wanted me to feel comfortable, at least that’s what he said to me when he handed them over yesterday. 

“A new chapter should begin with a slightly different look. Don’t you think so?” 

I couldn’t lie and say that I didn’t like the things that he bought for me. I guess I would be crazy to complain over fresh, clean clothing that fit my body nicer than anything I could have thrifted from the store. 

My hair was cleaned up and cut for the first time in about seven years, freshly shaven and a clean face. And now a pair of jeans and a black blazer, one that I said would be too big for it falling past my waist line. But he said that it was perfect for me. 

It suited me. 

Was there even such a thing as being “suited” for something? 

Everything felt so unreal and foreign. I almost didn’t feel or look like myself. 

It was almost like for a second I felt a level of normalcy, but it scared me.

I realized when we got into his car for the last time, that it wasn’t nearly as hard to say goodbye to Japan. 

It had been my home and my hell at the same time. I felt as deeply connected as any person could to my home as I felt completely distant from life here. It was my comfort solely through language and seeing other people struggle with me. 

Maybe I really was some sort of masochist who liked the idea of being left with nothing and satisfied with others being in that same position. It meant that nobody was better than anyone, we were all in the same shit-fest together. 

But, now I’m here and they’re out there. 

My connection feels broken, in a way that it was supposed to for a long time. 

Now having to venture out on my own and put everything into a world I don’t know anything about yet– it feels safer than being outside in my comfort space that has let me down. 

I feel lost, but it doesn’t scare me as much anymore. 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The car pulled up to some sort of cabin cruiser, a boat that he had never heard of before, at the base of a dock, bobbing calmly to the flow of the ocean. Right at the edge of where the boat and the dock met, a woman stood with arms pulled neatly behind her back. She made no move as the two men exited the car, eyes trained onto Yuta. 

Something about her gaze made him relax his shoulders, holding his bag more comfortably under his arm. 

“Happy that you made it back safely.” She spoke smoothly, her voice as languid as her demeanor. Mr. Choi came up and embraced her, a small exchange of words moving between the two of them in a language that Yuta wasn’t aware of. 

The intimacy of their touches brought a small level of discomfort to him that he couldn’t describe, forcing a smile when they parted and cupped each other’s faces. She pressed the tiniest of pecks to his cheek, as to not let her rouge color rub off onto his face. Mr. Choi’s smile was the widest it had ever been, ushering her over to where Yuta was still standing. 

“This is Nakamoto Yuta, the boy I’ve been telling you about. Yuta, this is Ms. Lee Siyeon.” 

A color shifted in her eyes as she met him, lips curving up sweetly as she came closer to him– similarly watching for any sort of discomfort in her approach. She was pleasantly surprised when she met none, reaching to take his hand between her jewel-covered fingers. Yuta’s eyebrow twitched as he met her eyes, goosebumps rising up on his skin as he felt something– another presence– not around his body, but inside of him. Like another person was living amongst him in his own brain.

It wasn’t malevolent in any way, instead peering around at the space that was being made for them and inevitably comforting him, as if sensing the pain that he was feeling for so long and soothing him with a warm hand and a gentle, safe hug. 

Each collection of memories diving and swam through the blackened space, with some overstaying their welcome as much as others. It was like they were taunting him, whilst at the same time telling him, “This is who you are. This is the life that you have chosen. There is nothing you can do to change or get rid of it.”

The loan sharks that stole away his childhood. 

His mother’s abandonment of his younger self. 

His father’s absence at every birthday party.

His grandmother’s passing. 

Losing his home and safe space.

Being tricked and thrown out on the street with barely any clothes to his name. 

Untouched pain and sorrows, plus more, surrounded him with thorn pricked arms and fingers, trying to swallow his voice and what was left of him that was desperate to crawl out. A wide, horrific grin-faced monster– who he didn’t know was hiding behind him the whole time, with its being wrapped around him like a blanket to never let any happiness in and no sadness, hurt and anger out. 

I will take care of you. You don’t have to worry anymore. Put everything that you are feeling inside of me. I will make sure you don’t have to feel it anymore.

The words echoed through the open space of his mind, hearing the bellowing screech of the monster behind him. From what? He wasn’t entirely sure, for the kind spirit didn’t allow him to look or see what it was. As the darkness faded from around him–chains lifted off of his fragile and frail body– he felt a hand guide him to the ground, wrapping him in something warm and holding him close to its body.

There was nothing that he could form to say thank you, but the spirit merely kissed at the top of his head and rocked him back and forth in a gentle hum. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

On the outside, tears began to drip down his face from the sentiment, the woman’s eyes forming crescents as small droplets fell from hers as well. She gravitated him into her embrace, cupping the back of his head for him to comfortably bury his head into her neck, heaving out more tears as she held him. 

It felt similar to what he imagined a hug would feel like from a mother, trying to comfort her son during a difficult time. It felt warm and soothing in a way that Yuta couldn’t place. But, whatever it was that made her embrace feel so safe, expelled more and more pain and anguish from out of his body. 

“My poor child. You have been through so much.” Her voice was laced with pain and worry, though he didn’t understand what she was saying to him. At the moment though, nothing else mattered to him. 

Stay in her arms, it's safe here. She’s safe.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time exactly had passed, or even how he had ended up inside of the boat with his head on her lap, only noticing the orange glow that had covered over the inside of the boat and Mr. Choi’s eyes that had fallen on him. 

“Ah, you’re awake now.” 

Yuta straightened himself almost immediately, a flush of pink flooding his cheeks. “How long have I been asleep for?” 

Siyeon cupped his cheek in her hand, bringing his attention to hers. “What matters most is that you got the rest that you deserved. How are you feeling now?” 

He racked his head to find anything that was reminiscent of what he had experienced earlier, but found that nothing was left in its wake. His mind had felt almost completely clear, though there were some things that lingered in his mind about what happened, but he tried not to think about it for the time being. 

“I feel..relaxed. I don’t– how did you do that?” He questioned, unable to find the words he was looking for. Siyeon merely smiled in response, tucking small pieces of his hair back behind his ears before creating distance between them. 

“We’ll discuss that more later. For now, let’s get you into your room and settle in.” 

The boat docked at a small circular port, framed with dandelions, clovers and sage, dancing against the gusts of wind erupting from the sides of the vehicle. Mr. Choi took Yuta’s bags as Siyeon helped to guide him up the stairs and onto the platform. He looked around in amazement at the land before him with an endless sea of grassland. There seemed to be a nonexistence of any sort of insect or animal that could cause any sort of immediate danger to anyone. 

Among the field, there were small groups of people, decked in lavender and baby blue sundresses and hats decorated with the same flowers as those from the dock. They stopped their work to wave towards him, smiles shining bright over what was left of the late evening sun. 

They approached another white, clear staircase, venturing up them slowly– Mr. Choi and Siyeon respectively holding onto Yuta as support, lest his legs become weak out of how high up they were traveling. 

Everything in this world had seemed so dream-like, yet familiar to him in some way.

The elevator welcomed him with a warm glow and a plush seat for him to sit in while they began their descent. Siyeon kept a watchful eye on him as the ground became nothing more than a blur of green before turning completely white. From there, he saw nothing else but puffy white clouds. 

Coming to a slow and complete stop, the elevator doors pulled apart to a spotless tiled floor and a long open corridor. Other people were waiting for them outside, with their positions similar to the way that Siyeon’s was earlier. 

“Here, take this.” Mr. Choi placed a small piece of something that looked similar to gum in Yuta’s hand. “It’ll help with the pressure. But, chew it slowly so your eardrums don’t burst from the sudden flood of noise.” He exited the elevator first, handing off the bags to someone with a small smile on his face. A gentle hand connected with his back and ushered him out of the elevator and onto the floors.

Everyone seemed as friendly as the ones that he had seen downstairs, except more clean cut and professional. All of their expressions and words filled his heart with a level of joy he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

Should he be happy or scared by all the kindness being directed at him?

Welcome home, Yuta.

It came out not how Yuta had expected it to be. It felt like a reunion of long lost friends, who had been away from each other for so long. 

They knew nothing about him, at least not more than maybe what Mr. Choi had relayed to him, but they treated him like he was family. He was no more than another person within the group that they had shared common passings with. 

He felt like he knew them.

He was one of them, and he always had been in their eyes. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Day 7  of my new life

Mizu ni nagasu. 

The water flows. 

You must learn to live and move on from the bad things that have destroyed you, for they don’t make up every ounce of your being unless you let them. 

Ms. Lee has taught me so much about myself since I’ve been here– though it was hard for me to listen to any of it. 

I had been conditioned to believe, for so long, that I don’t deserve anything that I’ve gotten. I wasn’t as strong as I believed myself to be and that, because my life was so different from everyone else’s, that I wasn’t meant to live prosperously. 

My parents had done everything wrong with their lives and that meant that I had to be punished for being the closest thing to revenge as the world could seek now that they’re gone. 

But, that’s only if I believe for that to happen. If I give my power and energy to some flesh-eating monster to destroy me from the inside out, then it will happen that way. 

If I let it be, then it will follow exactly that. 

The truth is, I was never that person. I was born for so many different things in life that I never thought was possible. 

I know so much more now than I have my whole life. Regardless of how everything else turns out, I will be the truest version of myself that I can ever be. I will purge myself of the things that make me feel so much sorrow and let myself feel happy again on my own terms. 

I won’t let myself succumb to it again. 

I am me. I will be me. 

Unapologetically me. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Deep breath in and out. 

Yuta stared at his own reflection. It was still taking him some time to adjust to the person that looked back at him– glancing over every feature of his face and body for any lingering reminiscents of his past that would bring him back down to “reality”. 

She cautioned you not to do that. Be happy with where you are. Focus on the now. 

He adjusted his hair for what felt like the 19th time since he had gotten dressed. The suit had been specifically tailored to fit his frame in the most flattering manner than he could have expected. They had put a little bit of flush and makeup to his cheeks to make his appearance more radiant for the photos.

He resisted the urge to wipe the corner of his hands onto the expensive dress pants, afraid that he would cause it to wrinkle. 

Is this the type of thing that he has to worry about now?

Eyes still locked onto himself in the mirror, he relaxed his face muscles, moving them accordingly to what he believed would be the “most photogenic”, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He was sure that it would come to him naturally, as it did for other people around his age, yet every face that he made didn’t seem right. 

Smiling too much makes him look like those horror movie posters that were hung outside of movie theaters. 

Not smiling enough made him look like he was going to burn the whole world to the ground. 

Was he supposed to look this threatening or scary? 

No, there’s no way that could be right. 

He was startled from his thoughts by a sharp knock on the door to his dressing room. 

“Yuta, are you almost ready? I’d like to see you in the outfit before you take your photo.” 

He snagged as many tissues as he could to wipe off the sweat that had collected in the palms of his hands and forehead, tossing them into the nearest bin before pulling the door open. 

Mr. Choi stood there, dressed a bit more business casual than he was, with slightly widened, amazed eyes. 

You look..so handsome, more than I could ever think you could look. 

Those words never passed Mr. Choi’s lips, though he somehow must have communicated them through his eyes, making Yuta push him back lightly with his hand out of embarrassment. 

“Stop staring at me so hard. Does it look okay or not?” 

The man knew that Yuta didn’t mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did, smiling at his flustered appearance. 

He took his time moving around his body and checking over every inch of his outfit to make sure nothing was out of place or fitting strangely before he made his way back to Yuta’s front side. His hands came up, only coming in contact to fix his tie when he had received a silent nod of approval. He smoothed the fabric down, lifting his eyes to look at the still slightly flushed man through his lashes. 

“You look perfect.” 

There was something about the way that his words flowed that made Yuta turn slightly away from him, clearing his throat to bypass the oncoming embarrassment that was threatening to creep up his bones again. Or maybe it was the gentle, yet charming look in his eyes with an equally sweet smile that made him feel like he would melt into the floor if he looked at them a bit longer. 

Regardless of the way that he was feeling, the man never pushed or teased him about it. Taking two steps down the staircase leading to the room, he held out a waiting hand, noting the damn near precious look that the boy gave to him. 

“Do you really think I’ll look okay–I mean I’ve never taken a picture like this before. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing-” 

He let out a small yelp from being ceremoniously pulled closer to the man, eyes widened at the amount of space that was left between them. The second time they had been this close, that Mr. Choi had broken that space between them that he had created since the beginning. 

Instead speaking over his fears, the man led Yuta into the studio down the hall, where others had been waiting for him to arrive. He kept close to him, checking to make sure that he was comfortable with everything that was being said or changed in his appearance in front of the camera. Only once they were settled on the way that he was positioned did he finally move back behind the photographer.

“Just relax and be natural!” The photographer’s voice echoed in the small empty space of the white room. 

Feeling sweat collecting in his palms, Yuta clenched them in his pocket, hoping to god that none of it would begin to drip down his face as a bunch of eyes watched him pose on the standing block, shifting and adjusting his body by the photographer’s orders. 

Among all of the attention, his eyes connected with Mr. Choi, who merely looked back and smiled at him– the same genuine and undeniably sweet smile that he knew. 

He always seemingly knew everything that there was to make him feel some level of comfort– during times when he wished the world would disappear and take him with it. Or even in his moments of complete elation that were hard to navigate himself down from–the entire world was just too overwhelming to handle. 

He was there, even if Yuta didn’t know it. 

He believed in Yuta– with no real rhyme or reason– but trusting his gut told him that the homeless Nara boy, coming from nothing, would be the key to their success and the blossoming of a beautiful future.

Because of his belief and everything that he risked, Yuta stood in front of all those people, eyes locked onto him with upturned lips, presenting the most gorgeous smile that he could have ever thought he could muster. 

Ganbatte ne, Yuta-chan. 

Ganbatte ne!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Oh, don’t give up, don’t cry. When you feel like you’ll disappearListen to your own voice and keep moving forwardNo matter how old you are, you can’t get through life without some sadnessLet everyone see you smile and go on livingGo on living

Hello to the person reading this letterI wish you all the happiness in the world

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

This one felt unjust. 

This one hit you in your gut.

He had been really horribly wonderfully attractive. There was the slight problem that his chest and back were shattered. 

The face held up though. You imagined it did so only to taunt you with how very pretty it was. You found this guy unfairly handsome and it was a fucking tragedy he was here. You were feeling incredibly upset and conflicted about this guy being here.

            Marcus Pike died a hero. Some asshole walking and not paying attention had stepped off the curb and nearly been killed by a truck. Marcus had saved them, but was hit by the truck instead.

Marcus’ spirit almost immediately showed up by you. He was blinking, then looked at the truck, at himself, and realized what had happened.

He took it really well– “Well…shoot. Someone’s gonna have to call my mother.”

He checked on the pedestrian immediately, “Hey, you ok? You doing ok?” Not that they could respond.

It was a traumatic day but Marcus refused to be the first one cared for, “Hey you need a blanket. You’re going to go into shock.”

Of course he was like this.

            Your career here had shown you a lot of things. Some ghosts were mad. Some were said. Some were full of regret or insecurity and some were full of romance.

This guy?

He was full of love.

And it made you so goddamn mad that he died like that…

He was handsome. (Even thinking it made you want to rip out your eyeballs— it shouldn’t have been a thing that mattered but you found in this moment it totally mattered).

“Looks like your type, Aunty.” Sienna had said but it made you cry so she stopped teasing. Sienna had only come back from her long sabbatical last year and you’d be lying to say you weren’t relieved. You had absolutely loved getting her calls and packages and hearing all about everything. She went away away to school– she even did study abroad. She learned to drive a motorcycle. She got her heart broken. She visited haunted places on purpose to see if she could do any good.

“Did it?” You were curious, “Do any good?”

“Interesting…sometimes they really just want to stay.” She shrugged.

“Did that upset you?”

“No,” She chewed on her lip, “Sort of…relieved me? We don’t have to worry about helping every single one. That’s not the point. You can’t stop the flood, you’re just building a boat.”

“Ok Noah.” You laughed but now you weren’t in a laughing mood. 

“Think you can take this one, Si?” You offered her the kit and she actually seemed nervous.

“Um….I haven’t done one alone since I came back and–”

“You’re amazing, kiddo. You have done beautiful work and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were ready. Do you want to do him? You will need your tricks, car accidents are nasty.”

“Truck accident.” Sienna mused and poked at the wounds, “I’m going to need more putty.”

“I’ll go get it. From the store. Back later.” You could not have gotten out of that room fast enough. 

The fucking horror.

The horror.

It was like someone had knifed a Monet. Or…who did paintings?

“Rembrant.” A voice offered.

You screamed and nearly drove the car off the fucking road, “OH MY GOD!”

He tried to grab the wheel and steady you, but you shook him off and pulled over to collect yourself.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You screamed and then immediately started crying again, covering your mouth, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s ok!” Marcus Pike assured you, “I just…you were thinking about portraits? Rembrandt. I was in the art division. Really know my chiaroscuro.”

You were blubbering, “I’m sorry– I didn’t expect you. I just…how did you get in my car?”

Marcus smiled at you. He had been in the passenger seat out of fucking nowhere. His eyes softened when he looked at you, “I just wanted to make sure you were ok…you got out of there like hell was chasing you.”

Oh pull yourself together.

“I’m…I’m sorry. It’s…been a day. I just…I normally am a lot more composed. I’m sorry.”

You were so sorry.

You took a calming breath as Marcus just sort of waited there, quietly, with a look on his face like he’d wait as long as it took.

You tapped your fingers on the wheel, “Do I…can I help you with something?”

Marcus seemed nervous and pointed his thumb behind him, “Should I not come with you? I think I can figure how to move about, it seems like a…um. What’s it in the book….intention machine?”

“What’s in what book?”

“Oh it’s a good book, a series, actually, and it’s all about souls and good and evil and knives.” Marcus’ face crunched up, “Not knives in a weird way, it’s a cool like interdimensional knife. It’s mostly about a little girl and her weasel.”

You were completely and totally lost but nodded, “Sounds…nice.”

Nice like weird, he was not selling it.

Marcus shook his head, laughing at himself, “I’m not getting a side-gig writing book blurbs anytime soon. Anyway, should I go?”

“You…do what you want to do.” You didn’t know what to say to him.

“Then maybe I’ll just…be a fly on the wall with you. Never been shopping while dead, I’m sorta wondering if I can see the inside of the cash register. I always wanted to go in those little nooks. Like if I was Thumbelina, I’d buy one of those—” He then bit on his lip, “Sorry, overshare. Anyway…let me help?”

Let him help you? 

You didn’t see a way around it right now so you nodded, turned the car back on, and drove about 15 miles an hour the whole way into town.

_______________________________________________________________________

Marcus was a lingerer.

He was always just there. At the store, back in the car, trailing behind you as you gave Sienna the putty to reconstruct him.

“How’s he looking, aunty?” She asked when you came back and you gave the fastest look you could.

“He looks good.” 

Sienna saw how you avoided it but you left before she could open her mouth. She looked over at Marcus and he leaned close, “Hey, I don’t want to be a bother but do you think it would be cool if I, um…hung out?”

Sienna hummed a little, “I think you should ask my aunt if she’s ok with it.”

Marcus nodded, “Yeah, yeah, totally, but you’re good?”

“I’m good….and I wouldn’t chase her down? She looks like she needs some decompressing. I get if you don’t want to watch me do this, there’s a TV in the other room that will get you anything you want.”

“Casablanca?”

“I mean I haven’t seen it show implicit or explicit bias yet so probably.” Sienna smiled, “And um…welcome? Let me know if I can make your transition smoother?”

Marcus nodded at her, “Thank you.”

He might have thought that you had left this side of the house, but the opposite: you had made it just to the other side of the door and fucking collapsed.

You had never felt so connected, so attached, so fucking devastated about a death of anyone the way you did right now. You hadn’t felt so off balance since you lost your mom.

You listened to him sit in the couch and turn on Casablanca. You listened to him mutter the lines to himself until you hauled your ass up and got into your room and shut the door. 

__________________________________________________________________________

He was going to be one of the big funerals.

The Pike family was not exactly small and they were all flying in. He had four sisters. All married. Each with at least three kids. He had thirty nine cousins and you honestly stopped paying attention after that. 

The FBI had sent several sheets over.

You kept asking Sienna if she had seen how to get Marcus moved on.

She felt very in the middle.

“I think he’d like to talk to you, aunty.”

Of fucking course he did.

It was the night before the funeral and you were drinking a triple whiskey, something you rarely did.

Marcus quietly appeared, “Hey…what’s a dame like you doing in a place like this?”

You took a breath before you spoke, “What do you want?”

He seemed awkward, uncomfortable, then managed, “You ok if I…stick around a while?" 

You gave a pathetic laugh, “I mean…knock yourself out.”

You knocked back your drink and went to bed.

________________________________________________________________

You hid during the funeral. It was unfair to make it your niece's first solo funeral, especially as she’d only been home from her long absence for less than a year, but it was planned, it was doable, and you needed her to man the front of it. You did not want to be next to that casket. You didn’t want to be shaking hands, you wanted to be by the door pointing people towards the room. Marcus' family had flown in from Texas. The FBI were there. That should've been insane but it was a docile, respectful crowd and an outrageous number of cards. Marcus’ will had asked that in lieu of flowers people donate to children's hospitals in his memory and each time the hospital sent a card. Later you would hear from the news – on a piece supposed to be uplifting– that the good samaritan police officer who died had raised nearly twenty thousand dollars. When that news got picked up by the major stations that more than tripled. Marcus went minorly viral. 

You couldn’t open your phone without that shit:

Hero Cop Dies Good Samaritan, Continues Good Works From Beyond Grave

He looked over your shoulder at one, “I mean, I think they’re laying it on a little thick. But I like that St. Jude’s is getting donations.”

You dropped your phone when he did that and then just left it on the floor and walked out of the room. 

His mother sent a beautifully written thank you no for taking such good care of her son. It made you throw up in the office. You took the rest of the day off and didn't feel any better. 

_____________

He stayed there another three months.

It was your hell.

One night you just broke down, sat heavily on the couch and just felt you couldn’t move anymore.

The fucker sat next to you, all big eyes and sympathy.

“Hey, everything ok?”

It was now or never.

"I wish you would go." You admitted miserably.

"Why?" He gave you those earnest puppy dog eyes. 

You burst into tears because you couldn't find words and he stepped towards you without hesitation and hugged you, his head resting against yours, "Oh hey, hey now…shhh, it's ok. It's ok, it's alright." 

It made you cry harder.

Then he petted your back and sighed heavily and seemed to resign himself to something, "Do you really want me to leave?"

You wouldn't make him leave, you'd just have to live with it. 

"No." You whined and whined and whined. It was so self-pitying.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” Marcus offered, “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Something most definitely was.

Something was completely and totally bothering you.

You were bothered.

You were bewildered.

You were so fucking guilty.

You sucked in a breath and it was a scream and a cry, "Are you trying to punish me? Don't you— don’t you hate me?" 

Marcus cocked his head in real confusion.

"Why would I?" 

You cried and chugged the wine directly from the bottle. He would’ve tried to stop you but had learned his hands didn’t exactly respond the way he wanted anymore, “Because…it was me. Don’t you realize it was me? The whole time? It’s just been me. Me the dumb person who stepped off the curb and didn’t watch where she was–”

“Of course I knew it was you.”

You were stunned, “And you…don’t…hate me?”

"I'm an old fashioned romantic, me." He smirked, "I think it was love at first sight. I couldn’t let this gorgeous woman get hit by a truck, not before I got her number. I admit– the getting hit by the truck myself part was not in my plan. I was hoping to be a bit more Prince Charming but I turned into a pancake. Which,” He gave a self-derisive laugh, “does feel on brand for my dating life." 

You laughed and cried at the same time, “I mean– you cannot be serious.”

“Serious as the grave.” He beamed like he was clever, “And I mean, you already met my folks, so….or is this weird? Do you, uh…not want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get to know one another? Because if you have no interest I’ll just go. I just thought…I mean.” He smiled, “You were walking off the curb because you were eyeing me.”

It was so ridiculous that you burst out laughing. 

“I mean?” You were garbling on the words, choked with snot and anxiety, “I didn’t mean for any of those things to happen I just thought you were cute.”

Cute? Cute? 

Is he a puppy? You berated yourself. He was a handsome man. Not so young, not so old. Too young to die. Too old to care about some things anymore.

He just smiled at you, “Yeah I don’t usually buy this literally into so beautiful it kills me but here we are.”

“So the reason you’ve been staying isn’t to punish me?” It was dawning on you, “You…were hoping….?”

“I mean normally I go for dinner but that seems like a waste.” He indicated his partially translucent form, “But how do you like movies? I love old ones. And that tv you got? It’s a marvel! Even the obscure ones, like I really love Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and uh…Listen, I know it’s weird. I don’t know if it’s fully possible, but want to just get to know one another? Just to see? Just to give it a shot?”

It was the absolute strangest proposal you’d ever received and Dieter Bravo had once offered to have Ghost sex with you. And yet, it felt right. You were able to let go of the worry that you were going to be very haunted, and very justifiably, for a man you caused the death of. You were worried Marcus was your punishment.

It was so much different than that. 

Maybe after all of these years helping others, maybe, just maybe, Marcus was your reward.

____________________________________________________________________

Marcus Pike had been hanging out here for twenty years. He was a pleasant ghost. He assisted you with newcomers and was great with your niece, answering questions. 

There were times you forgot you wanted him to move on and many more times that you were so happy he stayed. 

He stayed for the death of your father. For Sienna’s appendectomy where you and your brother and Renee were rattled with how horrible and fast it came on. Marcus had come in the car with you, and was next to you in the hospital. You hated hospitals.

“Inundated?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You admitted. Hospitals were a supernatural superhighway – you were bumping into a dozen spirits en route to different places. Marcus became like a really polite bodyguard, directing ghosts to go down the hall, “She’s off duty, please.”

It couldn’t have been easy, and sometimes Marcus was able to help some of them through himself being that he was a naturally really sweet, empathetic person.

He couldn’t hold your hand, but he held your hand. You became incredibly used to the feeling of Marcus being there, the thing that was lingering that felt safe and secure even when the lights were out and your eyes were closed.

Marcus had died in his forties, and you two had been the same age then. As time went on you got grayer and you noticed that Marcus changed his appearance, on purpose (“I dig the older woman thing but it’s not very accurate, is it?”).

“You still here?” You’d greet him in the morning. He would curl up on the foot of your bed, or alongside you, or hover in the room but he was something you saw now, every day, the moment you opened your eyes.

“Still sticking around.” He confirmed, “If I’m not bothering you.”

“Not yet.” 

He couldn’t kiss you, not in the traditional sense. He was capable of doing things, over time. He’d bring you tea. Clean up the kitchen. Sweep the floors. 

He could be by you.

Well, how to describe it?

His presence was noticeable, it was often a little colder than the air but it warmed when he was mad or when he was horny. Nothing prepared you for the oddly erotic nature of having a relationship where touch was mostly off the table. You had to love the parts of him that endured beyond the grave. 

And you did.

You loved this man…or, what remained. 

Today it was cold outside and you were by a blanket and Marcus came into the room, “New guy is settled.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, “Dementia is a bitch, you would think the grand design would remove it here but I think they only lose it when they cross.”

“That just seems like a design flaw.” Marcus agreed, “Anyway, he found some really dusty tools that he knew what they were and he was tinkering? He seemed happy. Happy is better than before.”

Half the house had been shaken damn near down by a dementia-induced meltdown of a recently arrived. Marcus let himself drop on top of you, a fun thing without gravity and mass playing a role, and you giggled as you laid down on the couch. He put his forehead against yours and you could feel the warmth. Warmth meant a good mood.

“What has you so chipper?”

“I’m just happy.” He pressed his mouth to your neck and it felt tingly, warm, “It might have taken dying to do it…but I found you.”

You didn’t need him touching you to make you feel warm all over.

__________________________________________________________________________

There were many other stories about your years, and Sienna’s, as the Undertaker. There was Sienna’s wedding to a painter who sometimes had a creepy way of predicting who she would receive (Raul was lovely, though, just lovely). Her twins being born, both with a touch of the gift even though they were still too little to really know. 

There were high times, and low times.

You finally understood what a true partner was though– Marcus was always there. When it was hard–he was there. When you screamed that you were so mad he was dead– he was there. When you were sobbing– he was there. He had off days too. He would sometimes beg you to go find someone alive before it was too late.

“Too late for what?” You asked with such genuine confusion that he hugged you as tight as he could.

Every morning you woke up and he was there. 

Every night you went to sleep and he was there.

Marcus knew what your life was and it was the first time, the only time, you got to be yourself without putting on a face. A mask. A lie.

When you felt like yourself without an asterisks time moved differently. Sure, things happened. It wasn’t what happened, it was how you felt. You were buoyant. Moving above the noise and faster than you’d liked.

You and Marcus were on the couch watching Casablanca. Sienna had updated the couch (“Aunty, please, this other one is in tatters. Let me do this!”) and gotten a new TV but the mystical powers extended to Netflix and AppleTV. There was a button on it that appeared blank, just a blacked out app, and once inside it gave you anything you wanted, but only worked when you or someone dead used it.

Frankly, watching the twins summon Rainbow Ruby had been your first major hint that they were just like you.

Marcus got up and stretched as if he had a bad back to loosen and then he turned and his smile at you changed, deepened, “Well, well…about time.”

“What? It's only midnight.” You snorted and prepared to stand and loosen your real and actual bad back. Despite you bracing for it getting up was smooth.

“No, honey, it’s not that. It’s ok. You’ll see.” He held out his arm, “You ready?”

You looked down and realized you were looking down at yourself. You couldn't help but give a half-crazed laugh. It had finally found you, when you were half-convinced it wouldn't and were wearing your worst ratty pair of slippers. 

You smiled through the tears and took Marcus' arm, "Do you know where you're going?" 

"Why don't you lead the way?" 

There was only one way to know what came next, and nobody who knew could say, but the twins woke their mommy up in the night to say that aunty and uncle had left today.

___________________________________________________

A/N: And just like that, the end.

Not Beta Read!

And I do think some of you may want to know what happens to some of the other men, and you are welcome to ask. I don't think many of the boys will qualify for "unfinished business". I have a feeling I'll want to bookmark Silva for this but the timelines are wonky. Some of you want to see Will's end, feel free to ask!

Thanks for being here for the weird ride!

to undertaker

         There were many ways you saw ghosts and sure, sometimes you had repeat customers from the same family or the same incident. You never believed you could predict who would come but in a world where you'd have tried to you'd have never guessed a guy with a wife and kids who loved him would end up here. Frankie Morales didn't look to be the unfinished business sort. 

He had very politely knocked on your bedroom door and was looking around, “This place…I guess it makes sense now. Wondered why Benny and Santi of all people wound up all the way here. But…I get it, um. Ma’am.”

He took his battered baseball cap off his head and nodded at you as if he was unsure if he should bow and you waved it off, “Please, don’t stand on ceremony. It’s not like that.”

“Thank you. I was wondering, uh, you know. Where to wait? I assume I gotta wait? I don’t wanna be in your way, seems like you got a lot going on.” He looked over your shoulder and down the hall.

A lot was right.

There was some muffled and distant yelling, “Ah yes, that’s just…family stuff, sorry. Let me show you where you can wait while I make sure they’re all ok. If that’s ok?”

“Sure, absolutely.” He agreed.

Sienna was fighting with her dad.

Renee was pretending she was unaware just because she couldn’t hear, but she winked at you to show she was fully in the know.

She signed He’s talking to her about the wedding.

“Ah,” You nodded and shrugged, trying to sign but being a lot less smooth than even Sienna was (you were convinced she was doing it poorly on purpose), She will … You didn’t know how to say figure it out so you bonked your head with your hand and mimed shaking into place, shaking it out. 

Then you mimed Jealous.

Renee sighed and nodded, then adjusted her hearing aid and signed, trying to talk through the signs for you to better follow along, “It makes sense but it makes him sad.”

You nodded again for lack of feeling you were a good conversationalist with her, so you smirked, “More Shins tickets?” You tapped your shins for effect and Renee laughed. Renee loved concerts with their motion and beat and general atmosphere, and your brother was a music junkie so there was something ironic that he was marrying someone who couldn’t hear how off-key he went when he belted out his favorite songs. Renee’s way of understanding that you couldn’t fight through hard times, you had to go with them, was a particularly excellent brand of personality for this family but Sienna was at an age.

She was about to go into college and you could tell Renee wasn’t the only issue– as long as Renee was the girlfriend Sienna had been a big fan of hers but now that there was an emerald on her hand there was something else happening.

But also you just knew in your stomach that something else was eating at your girl. Every college in the country seemed to know she was out of high school and had been dabbling at community college. She actually had been enrolled in the local community college while still in high school and had relished in going part time during the day, pretending she was oh so much more mature than the other kids at school. 

But that was last year, and this was this year. She’d had a whole semester of being a full-time community college kid. Between high school and now she was nearly at the end of her time there and for some reason she looked mad as hell and every university flier from the mail wound up in the trash. 

Sienna stormed away from her dad and wound up in the prep room looking at Frankie’s body, snapping at you, “I wanna do it.”

“You…ok to do that?”

“I’m fine.” 

You held up two hands and said, “Calm down then– his body doesn’t deserve your anger or whatever else is going on. Prepping them is like church, or something, you gotta be respectful.”

She looked like she was about to cry and then slammed both hands down, “Don’t fucking patronize me!”

“Woah!” You felt your volume raise, “Nobody’s patronizing you! I’m your mentor, remember? I get to tell you what to do– also check yourself. You’re upset about your dad and you brought it down here and you need to hear that.” 

“Whatever. I don’t need this.” 

Sienna stormed out and you were left with whiplash: What just happened?

Frankie popped his head in from around a dividing curtain, “Am I…should I vacate? I didn’t want to make it awkward….”

“Oh no you’re fine I just…I’m sorry about her. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Frankie nodded, “Growing pains.”

You cocked your head, “I mean she’s full grown…”

“No like–” Frankie smiled, “Forgive me, I’ve got two, bigger than her now but when they were about that age- -WHEW!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah well it’s the hard part,” He shrugged, “They aren’t kids anymore and it’s the first time they realize that, they can feel really babied by people because they have no experience, no network, no coping mechanisms, no money and yet– BOOM. You’re an adult now. She’s probably trying to figure it all out for real because she’d always sorta been playing with house money. Trust me. She needs you but she’s also in a weird place and it’ll all work out fine in the end.”

You laughed darkly, “Trust you, hmm?”

“Got through it twice.” 

“Well that’s something.” You nodded, “Now, can we talk about your facial hair for your showing? Your wife sent notes–”

He laughed outright, “I always told her she could take the beard over my cold dead body….I guess she’s calling that in.”

_________________________________________________________________

Sienna was sitting outside the metal door the next morning and she looked like she didn’t get much sleep.

“I’m sorry, Aunty.” 

You offered her a hand and helped her up, “Do you wanna talk about it? Maybe over breakfast?”

“Don’t we have to finish Mr. Morales?”

He popped up, “Oh please, go enjoy food. I won’t run off.”

She actually smiled when he said that.

You and Sienna went upstairs– the only two who were awake at the crack of dawn today because the first showing for Frankie was at 11am, but you’d finished a lot yesterday and it was mostly touch-ups today. 

“So…” You said as you cracked eggs into a pan and set bread into a toaster, “What’s going on?”

“I just…” She let her head go to the table, “I’m never leaving here.”

You paused and turned to look at her, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I always knew I’d work here, don’t get me wrong. I know you always said I didn’t have to but I wanted to and that was fine. But my friends are all going to school and then I thought like college! I’ll be some hot shit! It’ll be great and it just sorta hit me– college is far. I can’t go far. I’d be leaving just to circle back here. It’s just…I hadn’t realized it. I hadn’t really seen that yet. I don’t know why I thought….it’s just that nothing stays.” She huffed and looked like she might cry, “You know when mom left it was because of me, but Renee is here because of dad and she and dad do all these things without me and like I’m happy for him but I’m going to be stuck here and they’re going to be off in Belize or something–”

“Belize?”

“Aunty! I mean like they’re going to go off and do their own thing and I won’t. It’s too….much. I’m just really—” She did start crying, “I feel like my life’s over and I’m so young and everyone else is getting started and I’m ending.” 

You sat down next to her, “Si…look at me.”

You waited for her to pick her head up before you continued, “You can absolutely go to school.”

“But–”

“Stop. Listen. You can go to school. You can get another job. You can move out. You can absolutely decide you’re doing that. I will never stop you, I will never think less of you, and you can do those things. Your happiness is the thing I want, I can handle all the rest of this alone. I can handle this while you grow up because you aren’t some crusty old lady yet. You wanna go? Sweetheart go. And if you wanna come back this’ll be here. That’s the thing about this business– it’s never going out of style.”

For a moment Sienna tried to argue with you and then you shook you head and told her she wasn’t allowed to talk back just now. You made breakfast and served her, and while she poked at it you opened your phone and scrolled. You knew a lot about her– what sort of weather she liked. What interested her. You started pulling up websites, tabs, things and made a list. You started texting her the links.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

“Aunty, what’s this?”

“Pick some to go visit and I’ll pay for the travel. Food you’re on your own for, I know better than to give you a blank check to eat with.”

She looked stunned, “Aunty….but won’t you need me? Won’t you need help?”

“Save it for when I’m even older and maybe even infirm. Save it. You don’t have to sacrifice your youth for me to not be lonely here, it’s fine. And I’m not actually lonely.”

That was a lie.

You were lonely, but that wasn’t her fight, it wasn’t her battle, she didn’t have to solve that for you, she was just a kid and she needed your love.

You hated it when ghosts were right.

Sienna launched herself over the table to hug you and cried, “Oh my…what can I do to thank you?”

“Three things: go talk it out with your dad, do not come back here until your feet are less itchy, and before you go I do actually need you to pick up the flower arrangement from Monty’s as his truck broke down.”

She laughed a little, “OK…I can do that.”

Back in the basement prep room Frankie smiled at you, “What did I tell you?”

“Yeah yeah,” You smiled, “Let’s see if she actually does it.”

“She will. They always leave…but a lot of times they come back on their own if you give them a chance to.”

“You really did get through this, huh?”

“Twice.” He patted at his pants, “Where’s my wallet? Wait, go take my wallet. My girls are in my wallet, let me tell you all about my girls.”

And you listened– it was easy as he clearly adored his two girls and was happy to talk about them until the cows come home. He was easily prompted to widen the discussion to include their mom and he was so excited to tell you, “Love of my life, lucky she put up with me–”

He wove you a lifetime– barbeques, road trips to visit family, taking them flying–

“I was a pilot! Did you know that? I don’t remember if I mentioned that–”

“I think I knew.” You didn’t want to bring up his military stuff. 

“Well I took them up. Can you believe this? My wife and my oldest get motion sick, it’s a travesty.” He was laughing, “But the girls, they’re so fucking smart and they started this like collection, then they invested in something I don’t understand– at any rate, my girls raised me twenty thousand dollars when I retired. Gave it to me in this Snoopy cookie jar, where he’s the Red Baron. I always showed them that as they were growing up. Told me it was a down payment on wings.”

“Was it?”

“It was…I’m blessed I never lost my eyesight, I was able to keep my wings, and I even rented a very fancy plane and took them over the Grand Canyon. Then I divided the rest and told them to keep it for their weddings.” He was looking at the wall as thought it held the memories and he was watching it play back in real time, “And the oldest one I think practically bought her own ring after that. But he’s a good guy, the guy she found. She had her own problems before that, bad luck in love, and this guy practically runs into her going to the food store. But he treats her like gold…I guess I’ll be missing bits.”

“You ok with that?”

“I mean, I have a pretty solid idea how it’ll all end.” He smiled, “I can tell it’s got a happy ending. Just because they’ll be sad right now doesn’t mean they won’t find the horizon and even out. I mean–they did that for me. Found me in my darkest moments and gave me a hand to hold until I got my feet under me again. My wife is the ultimate co-pilot, she found me at my lowest and reminded me how to breathe. She knew when to tell me to sleep. She knew when it was time for me to get busy. She knew so much about me I’d forgotten about myself. I didn’t think until…” He looked at you, “She will be fine without me, she’ll be able to plan a funeral and pay the bills, but I have absolutely no idea how I’d have done it if she went first. That’s when you know that having the right partner is not only about you, but about what they make you, how they make you better. I’m going to miss my girls– but I’m nothing without that woman.” You rubbed the space on your finger that had never held a ring.

You wondered if it ever would.

You didn’t know if someone would ever talk this way about you, but you ached– knowing it existed was half the battle. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Frankie’s funeral was a homey one– as funerals go. It was all family– and a lot of family, extended family, friends of the daughters and wife, buddies from work.

            There was not another rep from The Group. You didn't want to ask what that meant about Will Miller and chose to believe he was on a deep sea trip and not able to get back to land on time, but the truth was likely that Will Miller was not the sort to allow anything unfinished to linger. You’d never know if or when he went. It was a very solid possibility that Frankie Morales was the last man standing of a group of elite military fighters and for some reason you wanted that to be on a banner.

This man has seen some SHIT and now NOBODY ELSE KNOWS.

The kinds of things Frankie knew were the kind people took to the grave. You had pictures mailed in from N.A.S. Ca and they were all of five men in fatigues, looking at the camera, not smiling. 

They were all gone now– gone or not coming back to your little shop anytime soon.

You wondered if that was The Thing but it didn’t feel like the answer. You could sorta feel the answer a lot of times, like how you imagined a cat’s whiskers felt the edges of things in total darkness. 

“You wanna talk about the other guys?”

“I mean…did they talk about me?” He gave a dark laugh, he was uncomfortable with the conversation, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice. Um, no. I–” He cleared his throat, “-- took therapy and NA but I am at peace with the boys and our times and our shit. You know, at some point I had to look at it and decide if the baggage was worth my family. Tom lost his family. Will and Santi never got over whatever invisible wall they felt was there. Benny enjoyed getting beat up because he never dropped the guilt or knew if it was all the right call…and I just had to get to a place where I accepted that those things brought me to my family. I could hold onto the family or the things, but I was only going to be able to hold onto one of them with both hands. I chose my girls.”

You smiled at him, “You seem like a good dad.”

“There were some very solid good dad moments. And some shitty ones. Nobody bats a thousand.” He shrugged, “But I’m proud of them. Even today– it’s a shit day and they’re helping their mom. The one, her fiance is a good guy. They’re going to be good. I’m sorry I won’t get to see more but I mean…natural causes, right? So it’s not like I ate too much cholesterol or whatever. Just…my time.”

He sighed deeply, “Although I gotta admit, that does seem like a crap thing from this end. My time. Makes it feel organized somehow.” 

“I can only assume it is.”

He reached out and touched your shoulder, “Can I ask…are you ok? You seem…something. Off a bit.”

           Truth was you were getting confused why he was here. 

The man apparently had nothing holding him back. He’d had therapy and closure and was content.

           "Im just getting worried." You admitted. 

            "About what?" 

            "Your Thing?" You cocked your head, "The Thing that's keeping you here." 

Frankie looked embarrassed then he swallowed it and bucked up, "Well there is something I was wondering about…." 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I wait for my wife to come?" 

You didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever asked for that– some, like Pero, just took a long time to confront their Thing but never just a voluntary wait. 

Did he get it? What he was asking for?

He didn’t want to see what came next as long as she was still here, he’d rather be a shadow in the world of the living if she was still among them than a fully formed jewel in a universe without her. He truly meant it– he didn’t know what to do without her, and he was completely willing to wait. 

You looked at his face and saw what the problem was– you expected the people here to be missing something, but he wasn’t missing something. He was missing someone.

You’d never seen anything quite like it. 

"I mean….sure? Your afterlife." 

Frankie did, indeed, hang around. He made friends with a couple of the people who came in and out, he occupied Sienna’s empty room to keep out of people’s way, and he helped you hang up all the knick-knacks she sent home. The walls were full of postcards and posters and little odds and ends. 

Sienna was having fun and hadn’t been home. Actually, Frankie’s presence helped you not miss her as acutely, he would constantly remind you: she would come back if you didn’t smother her. You tried to listen.

He quietly hung around, mostly in the garage. The sad part was not that he waited…but that he only waited two years. You were lucky you actually saw the scene, which happened mid-afternoon on a Tuesday. 

"Baby–" he chastised when he saw her, "I was fine to wait–" 

"But I wasn't." She hurled across the room so fast she took pictures off the wall, “I wasn’t– I wasn’t, it wasn’t the same without you. Something was–”

“Missing.” He agreed, tucking his forehead against hers like a weight had been lifted from him. 

They wrapped their arms around one another fiercely, and disappeared almost the same moment they touched into a glowing ball of light. You didn’t see their girls again, but you checked on Instagram– their oldest daughter had twins later that year, and named them Francesca and Alma. The birth announcement on Instagram was just two babies, wrapped in blankets, with the tag: Para Mis Padres. 

________________________

A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER

Special note: i dont see his wife as committing suicide but dying from broken heart syndrome. Several people were confused and suicide was the one method I never used in the story (and wont).

Not Beta Read