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I guess the good thing about being an idiot and DELETING ALL YOUR FILES is that you're forced to go through your handwritten notebooks and rediscovering stuff you never fleshed out on the computer.
I love Mononoke, the art style is wonderful and the stories tickle me just right. I would've loved to write a casefic, but I just couldn't come up with a good mononoke, and also I'm terrible at writing action and mystique, so I never finished it - and now I think that even incomplete, it could work as a Missed Opportunity type of story. Just imagine the adventure Kayo could've had if she stayed!
--
Figured it would be raining on the one day she was able to check out Harajuku. She had been planning this trip for almost a year, and took it  well before rainy season for this exact reason! Now there were only a lousy few people on the streets, and barely any of them worth photographing! And with such shitty lighting the photos wouldâve turned out terrible anyways. Why had she even bothered leaving home? Sheâd seen the forecast...
Well, at least the trip wasnât a complete failure. Despite the bad weather, some scattered groups and inidividuals were still around, and let Kayo take pictures. The gothic lolitas had been largely unbothered by the rain under their black, lacy umbrellas and safe from the puddles with their high platform shoes. The small group of ganguros had tried not to look bothered, not very successfully though... With their shorts and miniskirts you could see the goosebumps from the cold right away. Kayo had even seen a few angura kei girls, smartly dressed in kimonos to shield them from the chill. The cafes also let her take photos inside, as long as she also bought something - she was starting to feel ill from all the tea she'd been forced to consume and the excorbitant prices those places charged for absolutely everything.
Who knew when sheâd be able to make a more successful trip? With her financial situation, it had been hard enough to scrounge up the funds and free time even for this one-day trip. In the morning, it would be back to work, back to scrolling through fashion blogs and online stores. Never contributing to those blogs or buying anything from those stores.
-o-
As midnight approached, Kayo finally decided it wasnât worth the effort to keep looking for more subjects - she only had a few hours before her early morning train back home, and she needed the sleep more than she wanted the photos. Sighing, she put away her camera - her most prized possession, a genuine professional-grade DSLR, bought used from a relative who ran a photography studio - and headed for the capsule hotel. Leaving behind the chic, neon-lit fashion highway felt like such an appropriate metaphor for Kayoâs life - ever the visitor in such splendid places, never allowed to stay for longer than a few hours. The dim side streets were much more her place, getting dingier and smellier the further she walked.
Only some hundreds of meters from the hotel, Kayo stopped. Ahead of her stood someone with a large wooden backpack, and a colorful haori. Perhaps she had found another subject, after all! Â Mustâve been making their way back home from Harajuku, like her, another sorely disappointed fashion fan. Not old-school, with such unorthodox patterns and garish color combos, but clearly taking inspiration from traditional garments. A paper umbrella and geta, paired with what might have been an exceptionally long heko obi, since the ends were long enough to dangle past the knees. Kayo didnât know that much about obi knots, not being all that into kimono herself, but she knew the backpack had to digging the knot uncomfortably into the personâs back. The only style she ever wore was karuta musubi because it was so easy and flat.
Digging out her camera again, she took one candid photo - only one, that she would ask permission to keep - because the composition of the figure standing in the middle, faintly haloed by the rain and streetlights, the street stretching out behind him, well... Â it was just too photogenic to pass up. The shot even turned out well despite the dismal lighting, and some color correction on photoshop would fix the values. She would send a printed copy to her subject, if they wanted.
âExcuse me!â she called out and started jogging up to her target. They mustâve been wearing earphones, not hearing her, since they didnât turn around. Well, at least they stayed still - a man, it turned out, and a beautiful one at that. But not wearing earphones, and talking to himself silently - so, a weirdo. But definitely a beautiful weirdo. A cosplayer, surely, from the markings on his face and the pointed ears. Very good quality prosthetics, looked completely real. The blond wig was just as good, a naturally plucked hairline and very fine mesh to hide the edges perfectly. This person had a lot of time and made good money. Also pale, flawless skin, and long, elegant fingers, and mesmerizing blue eyes. They didnât even look like colored contacts, the look in them wasnât uncomfortably staring at you with pinprick pupils. It might have even been his natural eye color. Half Japanese? If that was the case, then the hair might have been real, as well. His nose also suggested non-asian heritage, as long and pointy as his ears.
It felt like Kayo had been taking in the strangerâs appearance for minutes, him never acknowledging her until he finished his silent monologue. Only his eyes turned to look at her, a small, knowing smile on his already makeup-smiling lips.
âGood evening.â
His voice was pleasingly low and steady, his speech calm and slow. He kept looking at Kayo from the corner of his eye. The markings under his eye and on his nose intrigued Kayo, what was the story behind the characterâs design? And the lavender smile, not something Kayo remembered seeing on any other -
âAh - good evening!â
How rude, she had just kept staring! Â Even if he was dressed to be stared at! So embarrassing, getting caught up in her thoughts! Just because someone looked good and strange was no excuse for bad manners. Thankfully the man did not seem to mind, just kept smiling faintly, and slowly lowered his eyes to the camera Kayo was still holding tightly in her hands.
âYou are a photographer now?â he asked, not really making it sound like a question, and the now part bothering Kayo. She didnât think they had ever met before, she was sure she would remember eyes like his even if his appearance otherwise had changed completely.
âWell, yes, not professionally - I came to take photos, but the weather - could I take your picture? Fashion is a hobby of mine.â
 âThat never changes.â
Kayo was almost regretting talking to the guy, he might have been high. He was acting weirdly enough, and his halting speech wasnât exactly helping dispel the thought, either. It was oddly hypnotic though, with his quiet voice you had to stop and listen, and with the slow rhythm you had to keep listening, and with the weird pauses mixed in he sounded otherworldly.
âA photo in exchange for a favor, perhaps?â
He was still calm, the half-lidded gaze not threatening in the least, but no matter how unassuming a guy looked, Kayo was not stupid enough to agree without knowing the terms. She steeled her face, trying to appear as someone you couldnât bend.
âDepends on the favor. Iâm not desperate so donât even dream of anything pervy!â
The man chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. He finally turned to face Kayo directly.
âSome things do changeâ, he commented cryptically. Kayo decided not to question it, the guy was clearly either on drugs or having a psychosis. Why did he keep thinking he knew Kayo? Maybe she resembled someone he did know, or used to know?
He lifted a finger, pointing with itâs sharp claw to an alley. âCan you see anyone on that street?â
A quick look revealed the two of them were alone, everyone else having opted for the better-lit main streets, and Kayo was starting to feel more nervous. Not that the guy was looking or acting any more threatening, but being alone with a male junkie on a deserted street in the middle of the night  tends to make a girl jumpy.
âNo, seems empty to meâ, she said in a confident tone, like she wasnât even thinking of the possibility of being assaulted. A strong girl like her? No one would attack her!
The stranger made a non-committal noise, and his eyes turned more serious. He looked at the alley thoughtfully. âA most troublesome form, indeed. I wonder, why do some see it while others donât.â
âWas that the favor? Can I take that photo now?â
The amused smile came back.
âTake as many as you like. But I must keep working, do not disturb the scales.â And with a small gesture of his finger, a drawer in the backpack slid open and something flew out.
Okay, it was official - Kayo had gone nuts. First going on this trip even knowing it would fail, then talking to a total stranger in an empty street at night, then not walking away when it turned out the guy was on drugs. Now her madness had extended to seeing hallucinations.
At least the hallucination was polite - a metal thingamajig that looked like an art deco butterfly bowed to her before continuing on its way further down the abandoned alley. Its friends soon followed, a veritable swarm of metal butterflies - scales, the man had called them. Kayo couldnât possibly say what they measured, or how.
By the time she shook off her stupor, odd paper charms had also appeared on the walls out of nowhere. A staticky hum filled the hair, raising the hairs on Kayo. Some form of electricity, maybe.
âKayo-san, is it? You came here to take photos, and your time is limited.â
A cold wave washed over Kayo. She knew for a fact they had never met in their lives, and there was no way he could know her name. They had come across each other by pure accident... It just wasnât possible...
âDo you know me from somewhere?â she asked, stupefied, heart skipping beats here and there. This was so odd, scary, and yet she was not nearly as scared as she felt she should be.
âWe know each other from several places, but we have never met before.â
âHow does that even make sense! What the hell do you mean by that? Which one us has gone crazy here, I donât understand anything anymore...â
But even so, she lifted her camera and started taking pictures. Of the man, of the scales, of the empty alley. She didnât even care about angles, lighting, composition, she just pressed the shutter. She ended up with nearly a hundred photos, majority of them incomprehensible, before the man directed her to keep going on her way. She had obeyed without question - the atmosphere had gotten oppressive, the feeling of a storm encroaching.
-o-
All her life, Kayo often thought back to that night. It felt unreal, but the photos were undeniable evidence of the opposite. Sometimes she thought she really had experienced some sort of short-lived psychosis, but mostly she had no idea what to think of the event - of the one time something strange happened in her life, something intriguing. She only talked about it to someone twice on her life - once to her husband, and once to her daughter. She did eventually develop one of the photos into a print - the one she had taken first. The nameless man, standing alone on an empty street, rain streaking the lens. A beatiful picture, a strange memory, and a lifelong regret.
I started a version of this fic back before When Villains Rise was published, and never finished it. Now that the Webtoon has reached my favorite part, I got the inspiration to finish it - and scrapped everything but the basic premise of talking-about-sex. I'm a shipper at heart, but I also like the ambiguous relationship Nita and Kovit have at the end of the series, so I decided to embrace it. Cuddling and semi-platonic kissing ensued.
--
Sometimes, maybe after a particularly interesting lecture, or when she felt a strong surge of determination, or just when words werenât enough, Nita would kiss Kovit. Sometimes, perhaps when he was feeling particularly frustrated about having to play nice, or when memories of his childhood came to the surface, or just when he was having a good day, Kovit would kiss Nita.
They still had little practice interacting with other people, and couldnât say what exactly they felt towards each other -and that was fine with them. They suspected it wasnât quite friendship, but neither was it really romantic. They fit together naturally enough without a clear definition, and that was enough. Nita, for her part at least, could say for certain Kovit was the most important person in her life. The only one she looked forward to seeing every day, the only one she cared to touch. She could withstand other people touching her, briefly and by accident, but for her, there was only one person in the world she would want touching her.
Her classmates were two people she would never be able to understand.
âIt was just one time!â the man groaned. This was the third time, as far as Nita was aware, that it had been âjust one timeâ.
She seriously hoped the couple would stop airing out their grievances in public.
âAnd Claire?! Was she just one time also?! At least Derek and Ashley were actually just one time!â the woman shrieked.
And so the argument went on. Nita quietly packed up her things, genuinely baffled by the amount of people those two had slept with, and kept sleeping with, endangering the relationship they supposedly cared so much about. Or maybe the flashy engagement rings had just been an apology from one party to the other. Still, they did at least tolerate each other enough to have stayed together the whole year Nita had had the displeasure of knowing them. One other classmate, who had been involved in the drama, had snidely claimed it was purely because the sex was great.
What a strange thing sexual pleasure apparently was. Able to tie together two people who hated each otherâs guts. Made powerful men and women throw their careers in jeopardy, spend their fortunes for those fleeting moments, ruining their marriages for those precious âjust one timeâs that couldnât possibly live up to the hype.
Oh, Nita could admit being curious, and maybe willing to try it sometime, but she knew that the act merely released some chemicals that tricked the brain into wanting to continue the species. She knew all about those chemicals - she could, and even had, produced those very chemicals in her own body, and knew for a fact they would never be enough for her to risk being late to class, never mind threaten her whole education! Ridiculous. It couldnât even just be a human thing - just as many unnaturals had been involved in sex scandals as humans. Living beings were weird.
Sometimes, maybe after a particularly interesting lecture, or when she felt a strong surge of determination, or just when words werenât enough, Nita would kiss Kovit - this time she kissed him because she was tired after a long day, because she wanted to thank him, because she was curious about how it would feel.
Pleasant. Familiar. Unexciting. Very different from the few kisses they had shared before their ânew lifeâ. Didnât leave her yearning for another right after.
âWhatâs for dinner?â she asked, taking note of Kovitâs ashy skin and dull hair. He had gone without a proper meal for too long, but with the second trial still ongoing he didnât have many opportunities to go out and find one. Too many watchful eyes.
âHot pockets.â
âVery healthy.â
Kovit rolled his eyes. Nita agreed whole-heartedly - at least they were tasty, and with Nita being the only one able to earn an income and their busy schedules they couldnât exactly afford real food. Kovit lifted his knees to make space for Nita on the couch, and she leaned on them. Studying his face, while he studied his phone. She lowered her head to rest her jaw against the knees, circled her arms around his legs. He looked very tired. Dry lips, irritated eyes, dark bags.
âYou should go visit the emergency room.â
âI hate going to the emergency roomâ, Kovit grumbled.
âMore than you hate me nagging you about eating properly? Until you can stop acting like a good boy thatâs your best option. Iâll go with you, for company.â He couldnât wait for the day he himself would be sending people to the emergency room - or more often the morgue - and this was the only comfort she could offer in these trying times.
âTomorrow, maybeâ, he conceded, sighing and putting away his phone, picking up Nitaâs hand in its stead, playing with her fingers. âNeed help with schoolwork?â
âNah, I can handle it.â While college hadnât been the dreamland she had always pictured, she really liked it. She was doing well, even under the enormous pressure of school, Adairâs mentoring, work, constant surveillance, paparazzis, and witnessing in court. At least the black market attacks had died down, all those eyes on her making it very difficult to attack and stay under the radar of law enforcement. That, and the threat of cohabiting with a zannie - even one who publicly presented as safe.
She wouldâve liked to see Tony and Anna try to handle all that - or maybe she actually wouldâve, it might have put things into perspective for them. â What I canât handle is people. People are stupid.â
Kovit snickered and flashed an evil grin. âNeed to get rid of someone?â
It was testament to his good looks that even like this, tired to the bone and smirking like a cartoon villain he still managed to be hot.
âOnce you have free reign of the place, maybeâ, Nita smirked in response, not serious, and she knew Kovit could tell. âThey keep fighting about their relationship troubles in public. Itâs so annoying.â
âI feel youâ, Kovit said and rolled his eyes. âThe judge is going through a divorce and itâs totally clouding his judgement.â Nita already knew that, the lawyer Fabricio had hired for Kovit was working on getting a mistrial somehow on those grounds. He was a confident fellow, and still high on his success with getting Kovit out of a jail sentence in the previous trial, the one regarding his crimes in the States. Considering those had involved a decadeâs worth of murder and torture, his Canadian crimes should be a cakewalk.
He parted his legs to pull Nita down on his chest, twisting a strand of her hair between his fingers, pulling the curl tight and then letting it bounce back. She should get a trim, the ends were splitting something bad.
âThey both keep cheating on each other and screaming about it at schoolâ, Nita sighed, settling down comfortably. âIs sex really so good that you need to keep having it and then make a scene in public?â
Kovit shrugged, with some difficulty since Nitaâs head was resting on his shoulder. âFor some people, I guess.â
âI hope they never procreate, for the
sake of humanityâ, she groaned into Kovitâs neck.
The thought plagued Nitaâs mind the whole evening. Could sex really be that good? She had a hard time imagining it to be true, but maybe she shouldnât knock it âtil she tried it. A lot of movies seemed to think so, at least. And politicians, and celebrities, and Tony and Anna. It was easy to imagine fictional media blowing it out of proportion just for the sake of storytelling, but if real people kept doing it then maybe there was a grain of truth to it. After all, Nita had never known how amazing sesame candy was until she had it.
She didnât find it unpleasant to imagine herself having sex with Kovit. She didnât crave it or anything, but she thought it might be nice. Since she did like having him close, kissing him, and sleeping next to him. Maybe it would just be an escalation of those actions. Unless it was like cake, where the first slice is great and leaves you wanting more, but then after three slices you feel sick and swear off sugar for a week.
âDo you think you could ever have sex?â
âHuh?â
Nita didnât blame Kovit for his confusion, it had come out of nowhere and he was still half-asleep.
âYou said you never felt the urge, but would you try if I wanted it? With your fingers, maybe, if you canât get an erection?â
âUh... Do... do you want it? Pretty sudden, donât you think?â
There was no panic in his voice, but there was discomfort. Nita could also feel his pulse picking up, her ear against his chest. He stayed still, though, holding her in his embrace, like he did most nights.
âIâm not sure, honestly. Itâs just been on my mind today. Iâm ovulating, maybe thatâs why.â Ovulation had never had this effect on her before, so that was an unlikely explanation. But it was the only one she could think of. âI think youâre attractive, and I like being close with you. I might be curious. I know that I want to try it someday.â
âThanks for the complimentâ, Kovit said, and Nita heard the smirk in his voice, even if his pulse stayed elevated. He didnât continue, so Nita had to prompt him - well, maybe not had to, since this conversation wasnât an urgent one, but she wouldâve liked an answer. So she sat up and looked him in the eye.
âSo what do you think of me?â
Breasts in full display since it was too hot for pajamas. Perhaps not what youâd call big, but Nita thought they were nice enough. Working on her muscles had given her body definition, and she didnât have excess fat anywhere. She didnât look like an instagram model, but she knew that objectively speaking, she was attractive. Sexy, just like Kovit was.
âNita, youâre pretty and hot but - my body missed the memo, remember? I just never got it, the feeling. We could be - doing things and Iâd just be thinking about, I donât know. Pizza?â
âNo worries, Iâm not offended. If you canât, thereâs really nothing we can do about itâ, she shrugged, settling comfortably back in his arms, curiosity sated and mind ready to sleep.
Kovit didnât feel the same, evidently, as he broke the silence after a while.
âItâs not just thatâ, he said quietly. âItâs not - itâs not that Iâm physically unable to, I mean, I get morning wood sometimes. So clearly the parts work, just on their own schedule.â
âI knew that already. Weâve been sleeping next to each other for two years.â
âWha - Nita, are you saying youâve been looking?â
She stared at him like was dumb. She was sure he mustâve felt her being damp a few times, given how entangled they often got. It wouldâve been weirder if she had never felt his dick against her thigh.
âIâm saying weâre cuddlers. You have your hand on my boob more often than not.â
âReally? Sorry.â
âIt feels kind of nice, actually.â
âOh.â
A moment of silence, awkward from Kovitâs side. âAnyway, weâre getting off topic. Iâve heard - that it hurts the first time. For the woman.â
Ah, right. That would be breaking two of his rules at once. Heâd started reworking them before the trials started, and had been done with updating them by the time the first trial was done. Still, many of them had stayed untouched, among them the two related to the
discussion at hand - eating the pain of someone he knew, and eating sexual pain.
âThatâs mostly a myth, anyway. If sheâs properly aroused and lubricated, it wonât hurt. Usually itâs just that sheâs nervous, and the man doesnât care or know enough to prepare her.â
Nita didnât think she cared enough about social norms to get nervous about such things. If it was Kovit, she could trust everything to be fine. He wouldnât laugh at her, or use her as a glorified sex toy, or ditch her afterwards. He would care about her pleasure, and he wouldnât pretend to know better, so he would follow her instructions.
If only Nita knew what instructions to give. She wasnât exactly an expert in sexual arousal, herself - it just kind of happened sometimes, and after a few minutes it would fade on itâs own. She didnât know how to use her fingers to keep herself interested, and to be honest, learning how to wasnât high on her list of priorities. This felt much nicer - pressing herself to Kovitâs side, hearing his heartbeat, feeling his arm around her. She breathed deep, drawing in his scent, more comforting than the blankets.
It was only when Kovit started shifting uncomfortably, failing to subtly distance himself, that Nita understood he was reading the situation completely different from her.
âIâm not coming onto you, donât worry. Just trying to fall asleep.â
He breathed out a sigh of relief, and wrapped his arm around Nitaâs waist. Just the way they both liked it.
I've finally updated the status of the fic to ABANDONED, I was going to do that way earlier but I didn't want to admit defeat, and then I just kind of forgot... Time really starts flying by as you get older, it totally doesn't feel like 2 years passed by^^' I'm still writing scenes for later on in the fic, and I've had the general outline of the story planned for a long time, but I haven't been able to write complete chapters for any of my projects for over a year now, it's very annoying.
Anyway, this is the rest of chapter 9, not my best work but at least I like the part with Toris. He's noticed Ivan's small efforts of being nicer and wants to encourage them.
Thanks for everyone who read this story and sorry for not being able to bring it to conclusion for all of you who were invested!
-
Ivan sent Fredya home until Wednesday â claiming it was so he could concentrate on work, but he was sure Fredya could tell he was just fretting about the upcoming meeting. Ivan was terrified Katyushka would get carried away, and that was closer to certainty rather than possibility, and then Fredya would walk out of his life. He had known from the start that the time would come sooner or later, but he had much hoped it would fall on the later end of the spectrum. This was a wholly different case from that of his first girlfriend - the one he had been with all of three days before Katyusha started talking about weddings. She had left him the next day, not surprisingly, and he hadnât really cared one way or the other - she had been far too practical to occupy his thoughts when she wasnât in sight. But if Fredya left as suddenly, and he was certainly impulsive enough to do so on the spot, then... Obviously it still wouldnât be the end of the world,of course it wasnât the worst thing that could happen, losing a home for example would be far worse than losing a companion, it really wasnât that big of an issue when you thought about it â there was no reason to lose what little will to live Ivan had left over something that insignificant. No reason.
So Ivan would not worry about it â he slammed the door on the thought, and worked hard to put all his concentration on his notes. He had not yet studied Rogers enough, his files on the computer had sat abandoned for too long. Opening his folder, going over the routes again, verifying time codes, Ivan fell to a comfortable, familiar routine, cup of tea beside him growing cold. Rogers didnât have much of a routine, which made observing him a challenge and data collecting a thrill. At least this was an activity that Ivan could still lose himself in despite whatever non-turmoil was boiling in his gut. Comparing coordinates, discovering overlaps, identifying patterns, data was something Ivan was good at. Data had no emotions, so it was easy to handle. Data didnât mind his extracurriculars, didnât judge him for his jealousy, didnât snoop into his past.
Though it also didnât text him at 3 am to tell him about a silly dream it had. Even less it cared about whether he was coming home for the night or not. It not wanting to watch brainless, cliched superhero should have been a positive, but in the dark, the brain gets sentimental. Ivan suddenly wished he had a file on Fredya. Ivan certainly had enough data on him, though so far it was all in his brain and a few lines in his notebooks. One photo on his phone, a selfie Fredya had sent some weeks ago. It was taken with one of those filter things, Ivan wasnât familiar with the apps so he couldnât tell if it was instagram or snappychat or whatever others there were. Fredya had cartoon glasses on his nose, on top of his real-life glasses. He was doing a victory sign, and there was a badly drawn pink heart floating in the lower left corner, not anchored into anything.
The composition of the photo was bad. A large dead space occupied the top left, a pile of dirty clothes was poking into the frame from the bottom right. The lighting was scarcely better, the only diffuser was the dust inside the light fixture. Fredyaâs artistic ability was nil, though he did make for an attractive subject, harsh shadows and all. It would be nice to have proper photo of him, before he got out of reach. With a reference to guide him, it might be possible. Ivan quickly scanned his bedroom for inspiration.
Perhaps it was too much effort for 2 a.m., but Ivan rather liked the end result. The handful of stars drawn on the wall to form a suggestion of a halo â however wrong it looked on Ivan â and hands posed to form a heart on the chest, and some minor lighting adjustments on photoshop, he thought it near perfectly captured how Ivan saw Fredya. Bright, innocent, center of the universe, unashamed of his affections. Fredya wouldnât put as much effort in to it, even if he did take his own version of the photo as Ivan had requested, but that was also good. It wasnât in Fredyaâs nature to try too hard at something he didnât feel like understanding - such as art other than of the moving pictures variety. Together, the photos formed a piece â the fantasy and the reality. It was a commentary on expectations.
Fredya may or may not look at the photo when he inevitably got up to go the bathroom sometime soon, but he wouldnât take his own until afternoon if ever, so Ivan finally went to bed. He only had a few hours before his shift started.
-_-_-_-_-
Fredya had sent an emoji Ivan didnât understand the meaning as response to the photo, followed by hearts and something that seemed to be an abbreviation, Ivan didnât research the meaning. It likely wasnât important.
Ivan got coffees for everyone again, and Amanda gave him a incredulous look. It was getting suspicious, Ivan acting nice. He should dial down on the social interactions for the next few days.
It would be good practice for when Fredya left him, anyway.
âOh, thank you for going through the troubleâ, Toris commented smiling. Ivan studied the smile, trying to map out proportions and gauge timings, but again he failed to replicate the gesture. It kept coming out as sarcastic.
He would prefer if both would just shut up and their coffees without scrutinizing his intentions. Let a man act civil to fellow humans beings in peace.
âIf everyone is done sitting around, we need someone to go interview Fowlerâs parishioners.â
Predictably, Amanda volunteered for the task. That left Ivan and Toris at the office, reading through statements, comparing alibis and viewing security footage, the same draining and pointless sinkhole of never-ending choppy black-and-white footage that glared a print of the screen in your soul, so that in the end when you lost everything else to dementia and cataracts, you would still see that stinging bright rectangle staring you in the eye, smirking gleefully, taking pleasure in removing everything one used to take joy in, and replacing itself in place of loved ones.
That metaphor ran a little wild at the end, there. In all fairness, it could be intriguing work when results could reasonably be expected, but everyone and their mother knew the only thing learned from these particular ones would be just how much time were wasting on them. Even Toris, being his professional self, couldnât resist glancing at the clock every few minutes. He would of course try to make it inconspicuous, just letting his eyes dart to his wrist and back again, but it was noticeable enough when one was more concentrated on the coworker than the work. It came to Ivanâs mind that perhaps this was another aspect of Toris he should try to simulate, rather than keep studying, his work ethic was excellent. Surely that was something most people would approve of. And Fredya did often complain Ivan was rather lackadaisical about his work, he would appreciate the effort.
âHow do stay so focused?â he asked sincerely. It was admirable, really, how Toris could throw himself at something so tedious.
Toris blinked at him in confusion, probably surprised to see his colleague who was supposed to working beside him blatantly ignoring said work.
âIâve practiced it for years, thereâs really no easy trick for it.â
âAh. Shame.â
âI find that meditating regularly helps. And a good diet.â Well, that was already two things Ivan would not be trying out. âI could send you some articles  if youâd like.â
âYou should spend your free time on yourself. You work too much.â
Ivan went idly back to his files, not really feeling like working, but deciding to at least give it a shot, but feeling Torisâ curious eyes still fixed on him was too much of a distraction. After several seconds of silence he couldnât take it anymore.
âYes?â
âThank you. That was considerate of you.â
Ivan didnât know how to answer that. It had been such a banal thing to say. Not warranting any response, really. Just a stock phrase, however true of some people and situations - such as this particular specimen. Toris must have heard the exact same statement hundreds of times in his life, knowing that he had an actual social circle who cared for him. Ivan was outside that circle, and people rarely care for the things outsiders say in matters like these - surely Toris should feel nothing particular about anything Ivan said. There was no need for him to smile like that, it was just embarrassing for a grown man to get so giddy about faint praise.
Ivan scoffed and went back to his work.
-_-_-_-_-
U maek a habot of drawning on walls huh
Outside of his brief childhood, Ivan had only ever drawn on walls three times - once in a drunk, misguided bout of creative frenzy, once to write his number on an intriguing manâs wall to annoy him, and once in an attempt to save a relic of happier times for the future.
Mostly when you are involved, it seems. Perhaps you are my muse for wall-related artistry
It had been a while since Ivan had drawn a portrait, but now might be the time to dust off that skill set. Ivan considered himself more of a photographer, but there was also something appealing about creating from scratch. Although... he would need to keep the portrait hidden, it would raise questions and pity later on. Ivan wished he was better at abstraction, that way it wouldnât look like Fredya to anyone else, but his mind seemed to be too observational for it. It could only make sense of things that connected together in realistic ways, it couldnât create anything out of feelings alone. Perhaps he simply didnât have enough of them for that kind of art.
The dinner with Fredya and his sisters was a few hours away, but Ivan was already nervously ironing his clothes. He once again pleaded Katyusha to control her romantic impulses, and of course she promised, but Ivan knew that meant little. She had very bad self-control.
Tashaâs picking me up, weâll meet you there
Natasha was coming? Nataliya was coming?! Fuck - what was she - this was bad news - why hadnât she said - oh god, forget about Katyusha ruining everything if Nataliya Grigorova was coming!
She never mentioned wanting to come along
That sneaky little girl, she told me you said it was okay, haha
He would not survive this night sober.
He wanted to make a good impression. He did not want to be drunk when the only three people who mattered to him were all in the same room. He wanted to be fully conscious, to enjoy an outing with his family while being fully genuine, not just sedated into calmness.
But lord knew he would not survive the night sober.
-_-_-_-_-
Remembering the fit Fredya had thrown the last time Ivan had driven not-strictly-drunk-but-also-not-sober, he was glad that they had arranged beforehand for Fredya to pick him up. Because he was observant in the most inconvenient ways, Ivan had been sure Fredya would notice something was off, maybe a smell or the slow movements to counteract the unsteady hand-to-eye-coordination, but fortunately he was too stoked about meeting Ivanâs sisters again, officially, to notice Ivanâs oddly calm demeanor. He babbled excitedly the whole way there, and was halfway across the street before Ivan had even fully exited the car.
âCome on you snail! Theyâre gonna think we ditched them!â
âItâs only a few minutes away, you can afford to slow downâ, Ivan chuckled. Fredya was so adorably excited, he resembled a puppy on a walk. âBeing overeager is as bad as being late.â
âBeg to disagree! Pick up the pace slowpoke!â
Fredya sped up ahead, Ivan kept his leisurely pace. He missed the re-introductions, but it seemed like he hadnât been needed for those at all - Fredya and Katyushka already looked like old friends, while Tasha regarded him with a haughty look, but nary a nasty word. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan, as if saying really, you chose this clown over me?, and he simply smiled pleasantly at her.
As they waited for their food to arrive, Fredya and Katyushka were unsurprisingly the only ones to hold up conversation. They had found a common ground in Star Trek - in that Katyusha had heard a lot about it, but had never watched an episode and was interested, and Fredya was an expert in all the series and films and liked talking about them. They went through the pacifistic ideas on the original series and how it sometimes contradicted itself on it, analyzing the casting choices for the remakes, some more things that Ivan had no interest in. Â When their plates were brought, the were in the midst of trying to speak klingon - the attempts of both of them were saddeningly hilarious. Or perhaps they were both surprisingly accurate. Ivan had no way of knowing, the franchise being something he had never taken an interest in. Of course he liked space, but he was more fact-oriented than a fan of fanciful fiction.
âYou seem so young, itâs almost like youâre still in collegeâ, Katyusha giggled, and Ivan could not agree more. The youthful energy Fredya exuded was refreshing, at least most of the time.
âNever went to college, I went straight to work from high schoolâ, Fredya explained, crumbs flying. That was the one habit that Ivan never found charming in Fredya, it was just plain disgusting. Tasha made a small chortle of contempt that passed Fredya by.
âOur brother is a very intelligent manâ, Tasha commented sharply, and Ivan knew exactly what she was going for â he had come to the same conclusion, himself. And truthfully, neither of them had been wrong - Fredya really was stupid.
âOh, tell me about itâ, the insulted man chuckled, not understanding what was being implied. Ivan would have liked being able to defend Fredya, but the thing was that Fredya was not intelligent â intellectually or socially, and attempting to claim otherwise would have been pointless. He might have been considered smart in some useless areas, such as entertainment trivia, but faint praise is just as damning as admitting faults.
Trivia! There was the opening Fredya needed to impress Tasha!
âHe has a masterâs degree in movie trivia and celebrity gossip, if nothing else. Just give an actorâs name and he will tell you every movie they have ever been in.â
âAnd not just that! I can also tell which year each movie came out!â Fredya exclaimed proudly. Ivan started with an easy one - Tom Cruise. Tasha did look reluctantly impressed as the titles and dates kept on coming, but refused to admit defeat. She tried her favorite actor, someone much more obscure.
âKen Foree?â
âHmm⌠The midnight man, 2017⌠Rift, dark side of the moon 2016, Cut slash pri- no wait, I think he was in Divine tragedies, 2015, Cut slash print 2012 ââ
However, since
Tashaâs obsession with her brother refused to give way to respect for her perceived enemy, she realized that to claim victory she could simply ask about any non-American film star.
âAnastasia Zavorotnyuk.â
âAnastasia who?â Of course he pronounced the name the American way, but Ivan was still mildly impressed he could tell ĐнаŃŃаŃĐ¸Ń and Anastasia were the same name.
âZavorotnyuk.â Tasha allowed herself a malevolent smirk as Fredya racked his brain for the name in vain.
âA true expert wouldnât limit himself only to Hollywoodâ, Tasha hmphed in triumphant malice, believing to have proved her superiority over him once and for all, despite not showing an ability to counter his. It seemed the point had only been to prove Fredya was not omniscient. In Ivanâs eyes, it was enough to be merely well-versed.
âHe does hate subtitles to the point where I thought he might be illiterateâ, Ivan joked.
âHey, at least I speak the language of the country I live in!â
âVerily, my darling, thou speakest with the most biting of tongues. Shakespeare himself would envy your prowess.â
âThe guy lived like hundreds of years ago, who gives a shit? Ivan Drago was famous in the 80âs.â
âIvan can sound almost native when he triesâ, Katyusha said, trying to diffuse the argument, not knowing the workings of their relationship well enough to tell it was all said in jest.
âI havenât tried in years, I doubt I could anymoreâ, Ivan thought. He had tried training his accent away in high school, so he would sound less foreign in job interviews. Having a foreign name was bad enough in an application. He had never achieved a smooth, natural accent, he had to concentrate very hard which caused the words to come out very slowly and robotically, and still there was always a hint of foreign phonemes. Combined with his attempts to deepen his voice â an incredibly embarrassing failure on its own â had made him cringe, even back then. Tasha had encouraged him, of course, because in her mind anything and everything her dear brother did was the right decision.
Excluding taking romantic interest in someone other than her, of course.
The rest of the evening went by in much the same fashion. Fredya and Katyusha got along swimmingly, Tasha made snide remarks about Fredya, Ivan defended him in mean ways, Fredya played along. It was all very pleasant. Finally the staff started dropping hints that it was time to vacate the table, so they got up and parted ways. Katyusya was enchanted enough to not wait long enough to be out of earshot before starting to gush about her baby brotherâs relationship, which made for a perfect opening for eavesdropping.
âDonât you think Vanechka looks so much happier than usual?â Katyusya said, nearly clapping her hands in excitement.
âIdiocy might be contagiousâ, Tashenka grumbled in response.
âI never imagined heâd go for that type, but I guess it goes to show opposites really do attract!â Katyushka squeed.
âItâs only for the moment. That American moron will start getting on Vanyaâs nerves soonâ, Tashenka claimed, not sounding too confident herself. Ivan had expected that to happen as well, in the beginning.
âI hope he wonât, I think Alfred is good for Vanechka. Heâs come out of his shell.â
What did she mean by that? As far as Ivan was aware, he had never been shy around his sisters. Or other people, for that matter.
âWhatâre you frowning about?â Fredya asked.
âIâm eavesdropping. Katyusha likes you, and Natasha doesnât despise you.â
âWell thatâs good news isnât it?â Fredya smiled, and tried to hear the women. âMan, you got great hearing. I canât hear them at all.â
Yes, it did take some practice to achieve Ivanâs level of spying on other peopleâs conversations. And by then they had gotten far enough that Ivan couldnât hear then anymore either, actually.
âYour eardrums must be damaged from the all screeching you do.â
âYouâre walking home, asshole.â
-
Tasha + Katyushka = affectionate nicknames for Nataliya and Yekaterina. Tashenka + Katyusya = one level more intimate. Ivan is being drunk and sentimental so at the end of the evening, the way he feels about his sisters is something like most people do when seeing tiny kittens.
Thanks again for reading! Maybe in like 10 years so I'll add a final "chapter" describing the rest of the plot, but I know myself and won't make any promises. I have some more snippets on the masterpost if anyone wants to frustrate themselves with a story that will never be finished.
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So about a 100 years ago I was talking with my friend @freakyfeline about fairytale AUs and we were laughing about how Yue Lung would be just the bitchiest princess. I originally imagined a Donkeyskin story with a Banana Fish spin, but it ended up being a Donkeyskin-inspired Canon Divergence - Yue Lung runs from his family and ends up hiding with Singâs family, disguised as a girl.
This is the only finished scene I ever wrote for it, and I quite like it.
--
Yue Lung thought back to the cashierâs words. Everyoneâs heard by now. The prettiest hair Iâve ever seen. Boys will be fighting over you in a few years.
He toyed with a strand, deep in irritated thought. Staying this close to the clanâs area of influence was a lot riskier than he liked, but it was the best he could manage for now. Biting his lip, he cursed that he hadnât known how important identification documents were in the outside world. Who wouldâve thought he couldnât be a real person without some piece of paper?
Fussing with a strand of hair, he tried to weigh his options â ideally he would find a place on the other side of the country, even abroad. Canada, at least, but preferably Asia, maybe Mongolia â not Hong Kong, where the Lees were a considerable presence. But he had no money, and he could only get so far walking. And it was still cold enough to freeze to death in the night without even getting out of New York City first. Stealing would solve a part of that problem, but where could he find enough money? Pickpocketing might net him some loose change and maybe a few phones heâd need to sell for cheap, saving up that way would take too much time, and he was likely heâd get caught sooner rather than later anyway, since he had zero practice. The house was a no-go as well, Mrs. Sun didnât keep a lot of money in the house, partly because they didnât have much to save to begin with, and Yue Lung wasnât rotten enough to steal from his saviors anyway. Maybe if they were filthy rich, and their finances wouldnât be affected by a few thousand dollars going missing, but it still wouldnât leave a good taste in his mouth.There was always the option of finding work, but who would hire a 11-year-old, who apparently didnât exist because he had no ID? He could hardly ask Mrs. Sun money for helping around the house. He didnât know how to do anything, except grow plants. He could have maybe sold medicinal herbs and such, had he a place to grow them and the knowledge how to use them â his education hadnât yet included much but the most basic poisons. He also had a lot to learn about acupuncture, too.
What else was there? If he couldnât steal, and he couldnât work, what else was left? Twisting and twirling the strand, twitching his foot, gnawing his teeth, there had to be something he could do! Just anything to run, or keep hiding, think! Think! Considering how much Mrs. Sun was gossiping about her newest âdaughterâ it was safe to assume Yue Lungâs brothers would soon hear about this mysterious girl who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, running from an abusive family, who just so happened to bear the name of the former patriarchâs deceased concubine! Fuck, what a fucking idiot a person can be! Using his momâs name! Yue Lung might not have been able to do anything about Mrs. Sunâs benign airheadedness but he shouldâve known better than be self-sabotaging dumbass!
Okay, okay, whatâs done is done, what he needed now was damage control. So, to keep running Yue Lung needed money, and he couldnât get it yet. Which left hiding. Mrs. Sun was his saftest bet for now, and however talkative she might have been, Yue Lung was dependent on her goodwill and criticizing her would hardly endear Yue Lung to her. It had to be accepted that Dai Yu would be a known face around town, though it would be nice if it would attract less attention. Wasnât there something he could do about that? He couldnât change his face, apart from scarring it, and that would only make him more noticeable. It would take several years before he could grow a moustache or a beard, and with his genes it was likely to be a bust anyway. Unless he wanted to make a beard toupee out of his hair, and what would look more natural on a preteen than a hairbeard? One that was tangled to death from nervous fiddling. The strand around his fingers was getting knotted to the point of needing scissors to be solved. Wasnât there anything Yue Lung could do to stay hidden?
The strand twirled, frayed and split.
...The hair had to go. It was too noticeable. Having it shorter wouldnât stop anyone from recognizing him, but it would cut the number of looks thrown his way. That was the key â stay low, stay humble, stay dull. Under any circumstances, do not attract unnecessary attention. Have average looks, have average manners, have average intelligence, be an all-around average girl and soon enough no one would care if you live or die! Blend in well enough and you might as well not exist.
Mrs. Sun trimmed her own and her childrenâs hair, Yue Lung had seen the hair scissors in the bathroom. They were kept in a sleeve that looked homemade, and at least a decade old. One could only hope the scissors themselves were newer than that, or at least kept sharp â no such luck. Most things in the household were long past their glory days, full of holes or chips and dull as a cloudy day or a newbornâs teeth. The unsteady shhhk of the dull scissors trying to cut through a thin strand and Yue Lungâs frustrated grunts must have been what eventually caught Mrs. Sunâs curiosity.
âHeavens! Dear girl, what on Earth are you doing?â
Yue Lung thought the answer should have been clear as day, but he answered anyway. Mrs. Sun shook her head in disbelief and affectionate frustration. But, since the damage had been done, she demanded to even out the cut.
âAiya girl, you should have to come me in the first place!â she nagged as she snipped. âI would have cut it. I donât understand why you would want to, your hair is so beautiful, Dai Yu.â
Feeling that Mrs. Sun wouldnât quit until Yue Lung gave some excuse to his haircut, he decided to play on a bit of admiration. He had found that often a transparent flattery would fall flat and have the opposite effect desired, and it was better to be less direct about the approach. It tended to work best with a bashful admission.
âI wanted it to be like yoursâ, he mumbled quietly, affecting an embarrassed tone. It worked exactly how he had wished it to â Mrs. Sun cooed at him, calling him a silly girl but leaving it at that.
Once she was content with Yue Lungâs new haircut, she called her sons to take a look. Yue Lung twirled around, supposedly pleased and proud. Yen Tai just said it looked fine and left like the moody teenager he was, but Soo Ling stayed quiet and thoughtful. Yue Lung thought he might have caught the longing look he had thrown at the long strands abandoned on the floor. He was weirdly silent for a few seconds, before saying âDai Yu looks nicer with short hair.â
Some kind of dam broke inside Yue Lung. He looked at the arm-long strands strewn about, curling around each other in embraces soon to be broken to clean up the remains of a burial. Dignity shed, thrown aside to further the selfish ends of another. A once treasured possession turned to trash.
âHow could you say that?â said Yue Lung, throat constricting, and his voice wasnât any easier to mask than the tears falling to the floor. With a sharp inhale he tried to mask as anger, fully in vain, he broke down with a sorry mewl.
âAiya, itâs okay, itâs okay! It really looks nice on you!â Mrs. Sun tried to comfort. âDai Yu, itâs alright. You look so pretty with your new hair! It makes you look so much softer!â
Soo Ling ran to the kitchen and came back a little while later with a few almond cookies in hand. He offered them to Yue Lung, while Mrs. Sun still petted his back and muttered Aiya, poor girl, and I knew you would regret it.
âDai Yu, donât cry. Itâs just hair.â
Just hair?
Of course a boy would think it was just hair.
He jerked at the look Yue Lung threw at him, like it had physically stung him.
The Dai Yu he knew was distant and stiff, even cold, but always reserved, so he wasnât prepared for the concentrated vitriol pouring out of the girl. He hesitated little before wisely fleeing from the girl.
All this was hidden from Mrs. Sun, who unknowingly dried the tears of a beast and privately chided her son for being so rude to a crying girl.
âDai Yu, why donât we gather up this hair and braid it. You can keep it safe until your hair grows back.â
Silently, exhausted, Yue Lung nodded slowly.
âIâll do it myself. Iâm sure you had something else to do before I disturbed you.â
âOh, itâs no trouble. Go find some pretty ribbon in the ââ
âPlease let me do it alone.â
Mrs. Sun finally understood he needed a moment alone and left to find the ribbon herself. Yue Lung quietly, slowly, gathered the strands together. His neck itched. The short hairs from the last clean-ups had stuck to the skin. The ends of the dead tail of hair were uneven. It was an ugly thing, gathered up from the floor, not bundled together before being cut off. A dead keepsake, a far cry from the real thing, and the pain of it was more pressing than the dear memory.
He would give it a proper burial. This one thing would escape the legacy of Lee Hong Lung and gain back some of its dignity in death.
--
I couldnât find Singâs motherâs name, so I decided to call her Sun Ci-Hui. Also Iâm currently watching a k-drama called Rookie Historian Goo Hae-Ryung, and the prince is one of my favorite characters ever because heâs so sweet and innocent, and right after finishing an episode I go write calculating bitches like Yue Lung and Ivan:D What can I say, I like variety.
The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 9: ...And Happiness In Private Life
Masterpost    AO3
Chapter 1 Â Chapter 2 Â Chapter 3 Â Chapter 4 Â Chapter 5 Â Chapter 6 Â Chapter 7 Â Chapter 8 Â Chapter 9 Â Chapter 9(contâd)
This one is super super short(actually just the first few scenes of the complete chapter) because I just canât shake the writerâs block on this fic. Iâm putting this fic on HIATUS, canât say for how long, but I would like to finish it someday. Cowriters will always be extremely welcome!
--
It had been a major fuck-up to not press Vanya more about his family life last night. That had been the first time he had volunteered information, without any prodding from Al, and would have kept talking if only Al hadnât been such an idiot! Yeah, sure, heâd been exhausted and in no condition to analyze whatever wouldâve been told, but he couldâve done that later! Now Vanya had come back to his senses, and his lips were sealed tighter than Fort Knox! Uuuggghhh!!!
Al frowned into his coffee cup while staring at the wall where Vanya had scribbled his number that first time. Back then Al hadnât been surprised to get a number, but as time had went on, he came to realize that Vanya wasnât the type of person who went around sharing his number with just anyone. He was picky about the type of people he socialized with, and honestly, it still kind of baffled Al that he had been one of those Vanya accepted. They couldnât be more different â as charming as Al was, and he was very charming, he couldnât really get Vanya. Al simply could not understand why Vanya didnât want to talk about some things, or why he was content with being a silent participant in a conversation, how he could stand not having friends. His life seemed so profoundly lonely and boring, and he didnât seem content with it, but he wasnât willing to change it, either.
Maybe it was all just because of that mental illness he refused to acknowledge. Itâs never easy losing your parents, and it sounded like Vanya had been pretty young when it happened. He said they had moved to the States in 1996, so Ivan had been, what, around... Uhm, 2015 minus 1996... that made 19... and now Vanya was 32 so that minus 19... Uhhhhhhh around 12. Close enough, Al had never been good at math. Well, 12 wasnât that young, didnât sound to Al like a death in the family would be that traumatizing at that age. Al had been 10 when Artie moved back to England, and it hadnât fucked him up bad. So it wasnât the exact same thing, but it had been close. Five years of radio silence from someone who was practically his older brother. Thatâs basically a death.
So maybe it wasnât just a simple death, maybe thereâd been some weird, special circumstances. Could be that Vanya had been a huge mamaâs boy. Or maybe it had been an accident he was present at, like a car crash. If it had been that, Al sure was lucky Vanya had survived. Kids are so fragile, they can die from the dumbest things. If he hadnât survived, or if his mom had, Vanya wouldâve never moved to America, and then Al wouldâve never met him. Al hated thinking that it was a good thing Vanyaâs mom had died, but he couldnât help it â as infuriating and incomprehensible Vanya was, he really was The One for Al. Despite all their differences, despite all their problems, despite all their fights.
Al was again reminded of their first ever fight, the one with rape fetish accusation. Dubois had been killed that same night, and Vanya hadnât replied to Alâs texts until two days later. If Dubois had been found as quickly as the other bodies, within a couple days instead of ten, Vanya would have been too busy to ever be willing to fix his relationship with a guy he had only been dating a couple weeks, max. Funny how many hurdles they had passed without ever knowing they had existed. If Kyle had gotten to Al first, if Al had followed the street signs better, if Dubois had been found earlier⌠They were like Romeo and Juliet, destined to be together, star-crossed lovers. If that wouldnât convince Artie that Vanya was awesome, nothing would! He was into occult crap so he mustâve believed in fate, too.
Come to think of it, what if Vanya had met Dubois instead of Al that night? He did say they were very similar, he might have fallen in love with Dubois, as well. Al liked to think that he was a special case, that Dubois wouldnât have been as invested and smitten with Vanya as Al had been from the get-go, but whoâs to say he couldnât have held Vanyaâs interest just long enough for Al to pass by unnoticed? Or what if BK had chosen to kill Al instead of Dubois? If they really were that similar to an outside eye, it wouldnât have mattered which one died. Al was lucky he had been too pissed off to even think about going out that night, or it might have been him strangled and castrated. He wouldnât have put it past himself to pick up some random guy and agree to an alley fuck. Maybe Dubois had had a fight with his boyfriend, too. Maybe he hadnât been past having revenge sex. Maybe he had liked rough sex. Maybe he wouldnât have been scared by Vanyaâs violent fucking. Maybe Vanya would have run into him and pounded him into blissful goo. Maybe Vanya would have liked imagining he was beating Al.
Sliding doors, like Al had said about Kyle. In one continuity, Al was dating Vanya and Dubois was killed â in another, Al was killed and Dubois was dating Vanya â and in a third, Al had a one-night stand with Kyle, Vanya had no one to pull him out of depression, and Dubois was dead.
~¨:.:¨~
Ivan entered the office with three coffees in hand â two blacks and one with milk. This was the easiest Toris-like behavior to replicate, and would likely raise the least questions since it also benefited himself. He made sure to let Amanda see him set his own coffee down on the desk before giving hers, and she wasnât weirded out. That was a relief.
âGood morningâ, Ivan said, without smiling, because that would have been pushing it. Amanda nodded in acknowledgment and took a sip of her coffee, then said a simple âthanksâ before opening her computer. When Toris came in, she smiled to him and greeted him cheerfully. After she turned back to her computer, and wouldnât see Ivanâs face, he also smiled slightly as he nodded his greeting to Toris.
That day, Ivan concentrated on trying to replicate the smiles Toris often employed â the ones that didnât express happiness, but were rather meant to ease to atmosphere. He made it look easy â it came out naturally, at the right time, and did what it sought out to do. Ivan only knew how to do sarcastic smiles, and by the end of the day Amanda was almost angry enough at him to actually say something to his face instead of muttering quietly to herself.
Exhausted from the mental work, Ivan didnât even bother getting out of his coat before collapsing face first on the sofa.
âRough day, huh?â Fredya chuckled. Ivan made a grunt, and Fredya crouched down to see his face. âI know whatâll cheer you right up â some quality cuddles and a good movie!â
Ivan was too tired to correct him, and so let Fredya take off his boots and peel off his coat. He nearly refused the cuddles, but surprisingly found that he didnât mind them much, after all. He still would have preferred a nap alone in bed, without explosions and dramatic bass going off every five seconds and Fredyaâs elbow digging into his stomach. Somehow he still managed to fall asleep for a few minutes, not enough to feel rested, but much calmer than before. They heated up leftovers from yesterday, moved back to the sofa where Fredya picked out a new action movie without even finishing the first one, and Ivan took out his notebook to arrange his thoughts.
About an hour passed, with Fredya saying whatever came to his mind and Ivan replying with a short comment every now and then, peacefully, until Ivanâs phone rang. That was starting to happen abnormally often â before he had crossed paths with Fredya, the phone would ring once every couple months, mostly work related. Now Fredya called him every once in a while when he was feeling too lazy to type, and even Katyushka seemed to have been bitten by the call bug. Two calls from her in as many weeks? Ivan hoped she was only calling to borrow some more money.
âExcuse me for a moment.â
âWork?â Fredya asked, pausing the movie. He still thought Ivan was actually watching that garbage.
âNo, itâs Katyusha. Unpause that mindless drivel.â
Ivan got up from Fredyaâs lap, already stressing about what was pressing on Katyushkaâs mind. Donât get him wrong, he loved both his sisters more than anything in the world, but Katyushka barely ever called for anything other than pressing matters, so Ivan had learned to associate calls from her with crying and pressure.
âYes, Katyushka?â
âHey, Vanya. Is this a good time to talk?â Katyushka greeted cheerfully. A weight immediately lifted off Ivanâs shoulders.
âYes, Iâm at home. It sounds like something good happened, yes?â
âI think so!â she giggled gleefully, sounding like the careless teenager she had never gotten the chance to be. âI was talking with Tasha earlier today and she told me some interesting news!â she sang teasingly. How odd, Ivan had no clue what news from Tasha might warrant a call to Ivan. If it was related to Tasha herself, Katyushka would wait for Tasha to tell the news herself, and there were few other people in their lives to get excited about. Tasha was interested in celebrity gossip, but Katyushka did not share that interest, so it couldnât be a movie star getting married.
âOh? Pray tell.â
âDonât play coy with me!â Katyushka laughed. So it was news that Ivan should already be aware of. But then why would Katyushka be telling them to Ivan?
âIf youâre going to make me guess, weâll be here the rest of the dayâ, Ivan replied.
âYou have a boyfriend!â
His heart froze over in panic.
âWhat?! No - I mean â Tasha told you that?â
He was hardly intelligible, it felt like his tongue had thrown in the towel.
âUh-huh!â she squeed, for once oblivious to his terror, and Ivan could picture her jumping in joy. âShe was jealous because you havenât been spending time with her so she complained to me! Why didnât you ever tell me?â
âI â because â Tasha⌠Tasha gets jealous very easily, so I did not wish for her to knowâ, Ivan stuttered, panic setting in, before remembering that Tasha already knew about Fredya. He didnât need to stay a secret anymore. Ivan was just so used to hiding his relationships from Tasha he did without thinking.
âHey, you couldâve told me! I can keep a secret!â Not from Tasha she couldnât. Unintentionally or not. âOoh, Iâm so excited, itâs been a long time since you were with anyone! Is he nice? Good-looking? Does he also want kids? Gay or bi? Single or divorced?â Katyushka had always been the one most interested in romance, despite never having dated in her life. Since high school she had kept claiming that she didnât have the time needed for a solid relationship. While that was true, if only because she would not let herself have the time, Ivan was sure the actual reason was Katyushka being afraid of the apple not falling far from the tree. Her mother and sister sure had trouble picking good men.
âYou are not giving me any time to answerâ, Ivan said, both relieved and nervous. He didnât mind Katyushka knowing about Fredya, in fact they would get along nicely, but Ivan was worried about her putting ideas into Fredyaâs head. Ivan had only ever dated for fun, but each time his older sister had started planning weddings right away, and Ivan didnât want to scare Fredya away so soon.
âDonât be nervous! Iâm really happy for you! You know youâre not getting any younger and it doesnât help that youâre so shy, plus youâre picky, so all the time Iâm worried no one is good enough! So tell me about him!â Katyushka urged.
âWell, um, heâs â um, American, heâs a little younger than me. Heâs very lively. Please donât tell Tasha ââ Â Right, Tasha already knew, as they had established at the very beginning of the call. Talk about conditioned behavior. âHis name is Alfred. Do you remember the drunk man who paid our dinner in the Ladle? Thatâs the man.â
âI do!â Katuyshka squealed in exhilaration. âSo itâs thanks to me that you guys got together. You were so oblivious to his flirting that I had to give him some tipsâ, she giggled. âHe seemed like a fun guy.â
âHe isâ, Ivan agreed wholeheartedly. âHeâs the complete opposite of me. Heâs very social, for one.â
âI hope he doesnât drink as muchâ, Katyushka said, and although her tone wasnât accusatory at all, Ivan immediately felt guilty. She had known about his drinking problem almost from the start, but wasnât aware of how bad it had gotten in recent years.
âHe usually only takes a few beers every now and then. That night was a rare exceptionâ, Ivan assured her. The only other time Fredya had gotten shit-faced was when he had tried challenging Ivan â Fredya learned from his mistakes, even if he liked to pretend otherwise. He always gave off the air of not trying at all, but sometimes you could catch a glimpse of the truth - Fredya did nothing by half-measures, he always did his best because nothing else was good enough for him. Being his best self was so effortless to Fredya, watching him was a joy, no one else could have such spirit. There was a beauty to him â a sincerity. âHeâs â Katyushka, heâs amazing. Thank you.â
âVanechka⌠Oh my god, Iâve never heard you say that about anyone! Aww, thatâs so romantic! When are you bringing him to meet us?â
âUh â I donât think that would be a good idea. Tasha would get jealous.â
âCome on, you canât talk him up like that and then not let me talk to him! He still needs to get the familyâs approval! Ask him if heâs free this week, Iâll make time!â
She was so excited it would crush her if Ivan didnât comply. It was still a difficult decision to make - he knew Fredya liked him, but doubtfully to the extent of wanting to meet his family. It would heavily imply a wish for long-term attachment, and Fredya was not the type to settle down. He would run to the hills the second Ivan implied wanting to keep him for life. But Katyushka had asked â Ivan had to do it for her sake, Ivan owed her, and not only for being the catalyst for their relationship.
âAlrightâ, he finally said, and the answer was an overjoyed yippee that sounded wholly inappropriate from a 36-year old.
âLet me know when he can make it! Talk to you later!â
âWait, you donât need to hang up. Heâs here.â
With his heart thumping painfully, Ivan opened the bedroom door with shaking hands. Fredya was thankfully still concentrated on his idiotic movie so he didnât notice.
âUm, Fredya?â Ivan asked cautiously.
âYa?â he asked distractedly, popping a chip in his mouth, the crackle probably audible even through phone.
âKatyusha is on the phone. She has a request.â
âOh, should I leave?â
âNo, no, it actually has everything to do with you. She would like to meet you sometime this week.â
The reaction Fredya had to this invasion of intimacy was very far from the one Ivan had expected. Instead of being weirded out and declining outright, his face lit up in a smile wider than Ivan had ever seen on him.
âAre you serious! Of course Iâll meet her!â
He was so ecstatic that Ivan was sure he was not aware of the implications. He was afraid Fredya was running headfirst into something he thought was casual friendship. Even so, Ivan was afraid of stating clearly what meeting Katyushka was really about, because even suggesting meeting her implied Ivan wanted to tie Fredya down. He would not be opposed to it, if that was what Fredya wanted, but it would be very presumptuous of him to suggest it himself.
âShe seems to have a different idea of our relationship than we do, so please disregard whatever she might say about that.â
âChill, dude, I can handle girls. When?â
âVozlyublennaya sestra, pozhaluysta, ne govori nichego o svad'bakh ili detyakhâ, Ivan pleaded to the phone, and Katyushka promised she wouldnât. She had good intentions, but she wasnât very good at keeping herself in check, rest assured she would forget all about the promise when she saw Fredya in the flesh again.
Ivan put the phone on speaker so they could all weigh in. They eventually settled on Wednesday. Katyushka suggested gathering at Ivanâs house, but he was worried it would feel too domestic and final, and suggested a restaurant instead. He would of course pay for Katyushkaâs meal, he couldnât very well force her into paying herself when she was already behind on so many bills.
--
Vozlyublennaya sestra, pozhaluysta, ne govori nichego o svad'bakh ili detyakh.(ĐОСНŃĐąĐťĐľĐ˝Đ˝Đ°Ń ŃĐľŃŃŃа, пОМаНŃĐšŃŃа, но гОвОŃи ниŃогО Đž ŃвадŃĐąĐ°Ń Đ¸ĐťĐ¸ Đ´ĐľŃŃŃ .) : Beloved sister, please donât say anything about weddings or children.
Chapter name comes from ...ŃŃаŃŃŃŃ Đ˛ НиŃнОК МиСни by Alla Pugacheva.
Iâve been in the throes of a severe writerâs block for several weeks now, but before it started I watched Banana Fish and started this fanfic. The first chapter is mostly done, but I might have to turn this whole thing into a one-shot.
--
Yue Lung had hit his lowest point many times in his life.
The first time had been when he watched his mother be raped and murdered.
The second was when Ash Lynx pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The third was when Sing Soo Ling pointed a gun at him.
Yue Lung had meant what he had said at that moment â Soo Ling still had all the right to blow his brains out. He had betrayed the boy, blackmailed him, manipulated his brother, exploited his whole gang... Yue Lung wouldnât have been bitter about facing his end at Soo Lingâs hands that day. His life goal may not have been accomplished, with some members of the Lee clan still running loose in the world, but at that moment he had just been so tired, so exhausted, struggling to draw breath when the hatred for his brothers wasnât there to fuel him anymore. Alcohol had been just about the only thing that had kept him from staying comatose. As long as he had been drunk, he could at least get angry.
And being compared to Ash Lynx really had pissed him off, he wouldnât even have needed the champagne to get angry enough to slap Soo Ling. Insinuating that Ash Lynx had anything Yue Lung would ever be envious of was more of an affront than accusing a monarch of treason! He had been a vile snake, and if you asked anyone else but the three assholes who kissed his ass with glee, they would all say that bleeding out for hours hadnât been punishment enough for him! That slut had had no right being happy, and he dared to go out with a smile! The only justice would have been that thrice-damned jap dying instead! Ash Lynx should have hated himself for all eternity for failing to save him.
The way Yue Lung had hated himself. For being weak, for being cowardly, for being the exact thing he had vowed to exterminate from the world. For being the kind of person Soo Ling had to pity, for not being the kind of person he could look up to.
For not killing himself when the last of his half-brothers had been eradicated.
Yue Lung hadnât been grateful to Soo Ling for sparing his life, and still wasnât. He wasnât grateful for being forced to slave away until Chinatown returned to its normal state, but he didnât resent Soo Ling for that, either. It was simply a duty he eventually felt like he owed to Soo Ling. Now that everything was stable, that duty was fulfilled. Chinatown was safe. Soo Ling was doing well, heâd been accepted into business school with Yue Lungâs recommendation, and was looking to a future as the CEO of Yue Lungâs group. He no longer pitied Yue Lung, much less needed him. The emotional tangle inside Yue Lung had slowly disintegrated over these few years. Thanks to Soo Ling, he no longer felt like a mere vessel for vengeance, or indebted to anyone. For the first time in his life, Yue Lung felt calm. At peace.
His relationship with Soo Ling had evolved over the years to something resembling friendship. Soo Ling was forced to work with Yue Lung for an extended period of time, and as some sort of coping mechanism he came to think he actually liked Yue Lung, and started visiting outside of business. Yue Lung didnât mind it much, if nothing else then Soo Ling was pleasant company the majority of the time. Besides, once Yue Lung would no longer be there, he would soon forget everything. Why not enjoy it while it lasted? Soo Ling made him feel normal, like someone who hadnât been raised as glorified merchandise. They talked about their day, movies and economy, all sorts of mundane things instead of assassinations, poisons and shady business deals. Soo Ling had taken Yue Lung to a karaoke bar on his 18th birthday. They were both terrible singers. Yue Lung had returned the favor on Soo Lingâs own 18th birthday party, renting the whole bar so all his friends could come. They felt comfortable in each otherâs company. Soo Ling came over often, usually bringing take-out Chinese food with him or forcing him out to eat because he knew Yue Lung drank more than he ate. Sometimes he helped Yue Lung get to bed, on the nights he was too drunk to make the trip himself, and heâd stay the night so he could lecture Yue Lung about it, all the while having just as bad a hangover as Yue Lung. At first these small signs of concern had irritated him, but with time he had come to appreciate them. Soo Ling could be harsh and demanding, but that was only because he had a strong sense of honor and demanded others to live up to it as well. It was thanks to that demand that Yue Lung was able to feel redeemed to some degree. At least there was now one person in the world who didnât look at him with contempt. Just one person who would sit with him in the garden and gaze at the flowers.
It was quiet in the garden. Late spring afternoon, it was warm but not hot, sunny but not overly bright thanks to the thin sheet of clouds. Many of the flowers were yet to bloom, but the amaryllises and larkspurs were in full swing. The earliest risers had already been harvested, and if there was anyone left to take care of them, the seeds would be taken from the rest. The calla lilies and fox gloves would bloom much later. Come summer, and the garden would be bathed in pink and peach. Soo Ling had made fun of Yue Lung for choosing such girly colors, of course, saying he could have at least chosen purple. He didnât know that the monkshoods were purple this year, as they always were. The pink ones just werenât as pretty. On the off chance Yue Lungâs words would hold some weight after he was gone, he had instructed his staff to give a bouquet of every flower in this garden for Soo Ling once the oleanders flowered. He wouldnât appreciate it, but since it would be a gift, he would be obligated to accept it. A gigantic bouquet of nothing but pink flowers. With any luck heâd be stupid enough to touch them without gloves. Would serve him right for bullying Yue Lung about his femininity.
âSee those bleeding hearts? I planted them just for youâ, Yue Lung snickered around his wineglass. He had chosen gold heart specifically for the obnoxiously pink flowers, though he himself was partial to snowdrift. Unfortunately the gold heart was new, so it wouldnât be reaching it full size until a few years later. Provided someone looked after it, of course, and Yue Lung wasnât banking on that happening.
âItâs your garden, dude. Youâre the one whoâs gonna be looking at them every day, not me.â
âCome take a lookâ, Yue Lung said, standing up and walking to the flower. Soo Ling followed him with a smirk and a slight sway, thanks to the buzz from the booze. Despite his impressive size, he only needed to drink half as much as Yue Lung to get drunk.
Yue Lung pointed out the largest flower. âI named it Soo Ling, because itâs the biggest bleeding heart of them allâ, he chuckled.
âNot because itâs the same color as my Asian glow?â
âIts full name is Sing Canâthandlealcohol Soo Lingâ, Yue Lung giggled, because he rarely passed an opportunity to tease Soo Ling about his alcohol tolerance.
âOh, shut up already!â
âYou shut up, you know itâs true!â Yue Lung laughed. He went back to sit back down while Soo Ling lingered at the plant. Yue Lung almost asked him what was taking so long, but then Soo Ling returned to him, with his namesake in his hand. He held it against Yue Lungâs ear, and nodded approvingly.
âIt would look good on you as an earring.â
âCareful there, those are poisonous. You could get a rash.â
Soo Ling threw the flower away in a panic, and then whined about how nothing in Yue Lungâs garden was ever safe.
âDoesnât stop them from being prettyâ, Yue Lung mused. âBesides, I prefer cutting the middle man in my business, all my poisons come from here.â
âYou need a real hobby, dudeâ, Soo Ling muttered.
âNo time anymore. Iâm going to kill myself tonight.â
Yue Lung enjoyed watching the indecisive shock on Soo Lingâs face. He couldnât tell whether this was one of Yue Lungâs dramatic jokes or a serious statement. He was too much of a nice guy to keep joking for the fear of Yue Lung being serious â which he was â but also not keen on being laughed at.
â...why?â was what he finally managed to say out loud.
Yue Lung shrugged and told his reasoning nonchalantly. âI just feel like itâs the right time. Iâve paid my debt to you, and Iâm the only Lee left.â
â...I think youâve had too much wineâ, Soo Ling commented quietly, as if Yue Lung didnât habitually guzzle down twice the amount he had that day. He was barely even buzzed.
âThis is only my second glass. Iâm not drunk enough to think my debt hasnât been paid, you disagree?â
âItâs not that! I donât even remember borrowing money for you!â Soo Ling yelled, but worried. âAre you serious?â
âMoney? Now I have no idea what youâre talking about.â
âThat makes two of usâ, Soo Ling said, dropping his head into his hands. He was reacting oddly. Yue Lung had expected him to just acknowledge the plan and move on. Not knowing what to say to that, Yue Lung distracted himself with his ponytail â long and silky, his pride and joy. Soo Ling would claim otherwise, but he was jealous of Yue Lungâs hair â he was always looking at, even dared to touch it when they were both a little drunker than usual. Long hair might have suited him when he was younger, but it would have looked odd on him now, with his much more masculine looks. Sweet sixteen had hit him hard and heavy, and he seemed to turn into an adult nearly overnight. He was much taller and wider than Yue Lung, not that there was much to surpass. He had stayed delicate and dainty, and he was glad for that.
Yue Lung took another sip of his wine while Soo Ling gathered his thoughts.
âYouâve already proved youâre different from the other Lees! You donât need to kill yourself to atone for their sins!â
âWouldnât that be hypocritical of me, though? Deciding whoâs worthy and who isnât?â Yue Lung chuckled lightly despite his growing annoyance - in the past, it would have been Soo Ling pointing out the hypocrisy, and now the irony escaped him completely. âNot that I agree with your point. Iâve made up my mind, and Iâd appreciate it if you just shut up and let me enjoy my last day on Earth.â
âWhy does it have to be today?â
âWhy wouldnât it be today? Your friends arenât getting shot at every time they step outside their homes, and youâre doing well in school.â
âCouldnât you at least wait until my birthday? Itâs not that far away.â
Not that far away? It was almost two months to Soo Lingâs birthday! It wasnât even a special year, nothing changes when you turn 19! Yue Lung sighed in annoyance. He wouldnât have told Soo Ling if he knew he would make such a show about it.
âWhatâs the point? Your friends hate me, and you always forget about me when Eiji comes in anywayâ, Yue Lung pouted. Was that loser some kind of succubus? What was up with every man on the planet fawning over him like school girls over One Direction?
âWell maybe if you werenât such a bitch Iâd feel like remembering you!â
Yue Lung was this close to throwing his wine at Soo Lingâs face. It was bad enough that Soo Lingâs friends were either needlessly stiff or outright hostile with Yue Lung, the universe had also decided that Okumura Eiji had to be a sentimental little bitch and move to New York permanently so he could rub Yue Lungâs failures at his face. Seriously, what was so fucking special about that dweeb? Soo Ling practically kissed the ground at his feet, it was gross.
âIf youâre expecting to get in to my will with this stunt you can forget it!â
Yue Lung could rewrite his will after he kicked Soo Ling out. He didnât need to know that everything valuable was left to him in the current one.
âWho gives a shit about your will!â Soo Ling groan-shouted and slapped Yue Lung on the back of his head, almost sending the wine flying. âI thought you were done hating yourself! Youâve been doing so great lately!â
âShut up already! What would you know?!â
Soo Ling barely even flinched at the weak slap Yue Lung gave him. He just gave a frustrated sigh. the kind that meant he was debating just shaking Yue Lung âuntil the stupid fell out of his headâ, like he had a few times before.
Damnit, he hadnât invited Soo Ling for this. They werenât supposed to get angry at each other. Yue Lung didnât want to spend his last day alive disappointing the one person who had never exploited him. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and counted to ten.
Fine. If it was so damn important to Soo Ling, Yue Lung would come to his birthday party to be sneered at and ignored. But he would kill himself after that.
âWhatever. If it makes you happy, Iâll come to your stupid party. Iâll even get you anything you want as a present.â
âYou promise?â Soo Ling confirmed gravely, staring Yue Lung challengingly straight in the eye, ready to blow up if the answer was anything but right on the mark.
âYeah, yeah. Letâs just stop talking about this.â
âI wonât visit your grave if you donât keep your wordâ, Soo Ling threatened. It wasnât very effective, Yue Lung hadnât expected him to visit anyways.
âI said yeah, just shut up already you goddamn bleeding heart.â