Hear those bells ring deep in the soul

The best part about all of this is that he’s dragging a ridiculously elevated body count into a grave dug by none other than himself. A grave miles deep where neither up nor down knows what’s down or up, where the sky looks as pitch black as the soil he’s drowning in, where all his mistakes are shoved into the earth surrounding its captives, staring back at them with the cynical glee of someone’s ‘I told you so’, with the bone-deep teeth-shattering grip of a hand around their throat shoving their face as deep into all the crevices he’s broken into his surroundings, demanding he choke on the soil there, demanding he finally acknowledge what it tastes like to cut people open and watch them bleed just because he doesn’t know how to say ‘I’m overwhelmed’.

The best part about this is the cynical misplaced sense of humour he picked up from the brother currently chattering about the day no one asked them to retell, some story or the other about how lucky Nathan was that the flight landed at this hour, because Chulsoo the housecat barely steps outside unless the sun is high enough to warm them a little, but that’s something Nathan should know anyway, he adds with a knowing laughter, because the sun is high to warm anybody else up, while Chulsoo shrinks further into the cryogenic hell he’s shaped his insides into becoming and doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to find in the back of Nathan’s head, but stares through it as opening up a hole there might give him all the answers to the questions he wouldn’t even dare think.

Such as, what is he supposed to do and how can he apologise and what should he apologise for and is he even sorry? That’s another problem, Chulsoo doesn’t know how sorry they are, there’s a fine line between messing up and being aware and messing up and being aware of it intimately enough that the mind knee-jerks into not being aware at all. An admission of guilt, of fault, and Chulsoo has to watch the rest of his guilts pour of his throat.

A pool of vomit painted in their own blood, and the ink of the letters glaring back at them from the screen after they’d hit send. Everything had been way too bright, a few black letters on a white screen, the white of semi-familiar hospital walls, the white of the noise inside their mind, broken up by the distinct sound of twigs breaking under bare feet or the cry of a fox in the midst of a forest, all those sounds he tries to break up envisioning what it might feel like to swallow his phone hole.

He’d regretted it the instant he’d hit send. There’s phantom hands there where Nathan had held him the kindest, the roughness of his palm against his own, soft from lack of use, nothing in contrast to everything that had cut across Nathan’s skin, all the scars he’d mapped out with slow fingers and nothing else to offer, because his tongue wasn’t good at delivering compassion, because he hadn’t dared to ask, because if they did, wouldn’t that have brought them closer?

What if Nathan had described all the shadowy silhouettes that made up the bags under his eyes whenever they’d show or that particular nuance in his gait? What would Chulsoo had done then? What was there to do? What can’t he wrap his head around?

His gaze drops, descends slowly like a connoisseur down a freshly discovered statue, as Kiwoo leads them out the building and turns to Nathan. Kiwoo was always so good at imitating the sun, far too bright and blaring in contrast to the ice of the oldest Kang and Chulsoo’s own mist.

When they’d stared at the scars running down Nathan’s back and found nothing at all in their throat that would make sense to be uttered, when they’d taken to Nathan as a part of their life that was just there and felt nice, but he couldn’t dip his toes any farther because what the fuck was there at the deepest depths of the ocean and Chulsoo was always the poorest swimmer whenever they’d visit a public pool.

His fingers twitch.

Should they hold hands?

Kiwoo continues to be deaf to Chulsoo’s silent screams and pats the closing trunk of his car cheekily after Nathan’s luggage disappears within it.

Are they supposed to sit next to each other?

He pats Nathan’s shoulder too, because Kiwoo wants to be nice, and he’s always been touchy. Because Kiwoo doesn’t give a shit about what other people think – or so he claims – because Hoon would have asked them to not kiss, not hold hands, to not even look at one another for longer than necessary, what if someone saw? Because Kiwoo looks at Nathan as if he’s grateful he’s there, as if there’s no reason in this world good enough to ask Nathan to not be where he is.

Kiwoo doesn’t know anything about Nathan.

Sure, what Chulsoo knows would probably not deter him anyway.

Looks good in a waiter’s suit, what the fuck is he supposed to say?

He used to claim Nathan’s hands as his own, wrap them around himself with his back to his chest, kiss his knuckles and pretend it wasn’t because of the scars there, when it was dark enough and they had had half a hope Nathan had long since fallen asleep.

Why does he keep thinking about his scars?

Has he gained any new ones lately? What if Nathan collects scars on the daily, and doesn’t just wear those from a past Chulsoo knows nearly nothing about. What if there’s a laceration wound on his chest, what if his insides are out for everyone to see, what if Chulsoo had taken a knife to it and cut him up from the inside out, what if Nathan wore no new scars at all, because he’d been glad, in the end?

Kiwoo gives him an odd look. Well, it’s not so much odd, as it is the look he wears when he feels like asking him if he’s alright, but knows the reaction he’ll get, which always prompts him to decide against any further questioning. Instead he opens one of the car doors leading to the backseat and motions them to get in, all with the glint of a teasing sibling, and the stare-down of someone who is smarter than he pretends to be.

Chulsoo should, perhaps, just maybe, potentially, considering climbing into a turbine engine of a plane and wait for it to start.

He steps forward, stops near the door, his sleeve brushes against Nathan’s and he recoils, feigning an itch in his forearm that was never there, and most likely won’t be, considering how numb the skin there feels, and motions towards the inside of the car.

Kiwoo walks to the other side.

Chulsoo sighs and looks at Nathan as if he wouldn’t rather gauge his own eyes out than do so.

“You can sit in the front,” it’s not quite a whisper, but it’s not a shout either, it’s something easily drowned out by unwanted listeners, and it’s punctuated as if text written on a paper with neither beginning nor end, letters thrown together by a cold machine. He doesn’t know how to portray anxieties, he doesn’t know how to feign delight, you’d think a voice actor would know better.

And he does.

“Sight-seeing, better view,” they supply, an excuse to use if Kiwoo wondered. Kiwoo knows why Chulsoo would probably never take the front seat again. But he wouldn’t know why they wouldn’t just share the backseat.

Or why Nathan wouldn’t know about the first detail.

“Getting to know the city. The roads. Something like that.”

Kiwoo pokes his head out of the driver’s seat and gives them a questioning look.

“Uh… Do you guys need a moment or… can we go?”

The way Kiwoo looks at Nathan makes Nathan want to vomit. It’s like Kiwoo’s seeing a different man entirely, some business man who’s all white smiles and big pockets, and not actually Nathan, who smells like cheap cologne and looks like he’s some dude they picked up off the streets out of pity. It makes Nathan sick to lie like this, especially to someone like Kiwoo who seems so genuinely happy to see Nathan, when he knows he’s just some badly dressed imposter, playing out a role because he’s never been able to say no. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan can see that his hair reflected in the car window; it seems all that time spend sleeking it back in the airport bathroom was in vain because stray hairs are already rebelling against the product. In all fairness, it looks like how Nathan feels: a barely held together mess. All it would take is one ill-intentioned gust of wind to blow away any semblance of dignity Nathan seems to have and that would be that. He’d be revealed as the charlatan he is. 

But Nathan just smiles at Kiwoo, like Nathan’s not a complete and utter fraud, like this isn’t some bullshit scam thrown together that Nathan’s playing along with because he’s a fucking idiot. 

Then Nathan’s left with Chulsoo again. Like turning a dial on a radio, Nathan’s tuned in to only Chulsoo, everything narrowing down to the space Chulsoo fills, the unsure feeling in Nathan’s stomach that only adds to the turmoil already there. He’s still torn between being anger and yearning, settling somewhere in limbo where he just stares.   

Nathan’s so hyperfocused on Chulsoo’s every move that he couldn’t have missed Chulsoo’s suggestion even if a bomb exploded right next to him. It’s a tempting offer. They’re both lanky people, their limbs will invariably brush if they both sit in the backseat, and that’s a level of touch Nathan’s not sure he’s prepared enough for yet. Even through two layers of denim, the warmth of Chulsoo’s skin will seep through to Nathan and it’ll remind Nathan of all the times he spent pressed up against Chulsoo, his forehead against Chulsoo’s shoulder to avoid watching whatever horror movie they’d put on for the night. It’s a hard fall to go from disgustingly sweet domesticities to this. Nathan’s jaw clenches at the memories, the pain of them, and his teeth ache from the pressure.

 But, sitting in the front means he’ll constantly be in Kiwoo’s peripheral view and Kiwoo will want to talk because he seems like the nice guy who tries to keep up conversation, and well, Nathan’s not so sure how long he can keep up this happy to be here attitude before something in him cracks. Nathan can maybe handle Chulsoo and whatever stress that brings. That, he’s familiar with, but Kiwoo’s so kind and hospitable that Nathan’s not quite sure he knows how to deal with him. Regardless of what verbal path they’ll take, Nathan will slip up, he’s sure of it. Kiwoo will ask some innocent question or make a harmless comment and Nathan will make some face that’ll reveal the whole plot, there’s no way around it. He’s not ready to be caught. Not yet at least. So, he’ll take whatever pain and/or hell that comes with Chulsoo constantly being in his peripheral. If Nathan can make it months with Chulsoo’s ghost haunting him, he can deal with the actual man for a few minutes. 

“I think I’d like to sit with you.” Nathan's words are equally soft but more nervous, like it’s a question and not a statement. He doesn’t know how Chulsoo will react and to be honest, he’s not sure he’s prepared for whatever comes, which seems to be a running theme for him currently. In fact, it might just be the theme of the whole trip if this awkward and stilted atmosphere stays between him and Chulsoo.

“We’re good.” Nathan calls to Kiwoo without turning to look at him because Nathan’s pretty sure if he turns, Kiwoo will see right through the phony little happiness Nathan’s clinging to for dear life. After a quick breath in, Nathan gets into the car, purposefully not looking at Chulsoo as he enters. There’ll be time to deal with his reaction later. Right now, Nathan just has to resist the urge to run for the hills. 

Once in, he turns to look straight out the window, eyes following random people just so he can look curious, like he’s simply overwhelmed by being in another country, and not like he’s purposefully avoiding any and all eye contact. It can’t last, not when he has a part to play, but he just wants to soak up as much time as he can to steel himself. He arranges his limbs carefully, each purposefully placed to look as if he’s just tired when he leans to one side. In all fairness, it’s not entirely a lie, Nathan is quite exhausted from the flight and the sleepless night before that, but it’s also the only excuse Nathan has for why he’s not touching Chulsoo. They should be holding hands, Nathan rubbing the back of Chulsoo’s knuckles with his thumb while they sneaking glances and smiles at each other, but then again, they should be doing a lot of things. In fact, all Nathan can do is think about the things they should be doing. 

“What emergency exits? We’re in a literal shithou— Argh!” Vilhelm quickly shields his eyes from Nathan’s vengeance with his forearm. He isn’t quick enough to conceal something that should not happen in humans — red eye shine reflecting back at his assailant.

Glow Eyes Big Jesse in the back notices the uncomfortable similarity between them that could be explained in several equally uncomfortable ways. He prefers not to focus on that for now. Instead, he pulls out his phone for an extra source of light. He’s supposed to pretend he cannot see in the dark, after all.

Vilhelm is unconcerned with anatomic anomalies, his own and the werewolf’s alike. He throws a dismissive, entirely non-hostile ‘Be careful’ Nathan’s way and suddenly rises from his knees, his hands propped up on Delilah’s thighs. His and the woman’s foreheads meet half-way with an audible knock as she nearly falls forward.

“Be careful, you idiot!” Deli hisses through his teeth, slapping at his hands but its her own legs her palms land on. “Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Not down the shitter like Harry Potter over there, that’s for sure.”

“We could try the window.” Jesse turns his phone towards a pathetic rectangle of blurry glass right below the ceiling. He keeps standing in the doorway incidentally blocking Vilhelm’s escape. Although, given the wolf’s awareness of his size, this may be not as incidental as it seems.

The footsteps outside grow louder before fading into nothing. Either nobody needed a bathroom break, or they didn’t feel comfortable contributing to the impromptu sausage fest taking place in the women’s toilet. Alas, this is far from over, if occasional screams and other sounds of the overall unfun commotion anything to go by.

“We can’t. Some of us are too big to fit through,” Delilah argues.

“I can make it through. I’m not that big,” Jesse reassures her.

“My ass is!” she exclaims.

“She’s right, you know,” Vilhelm notes matter-of-factly, “no way her ass is fitting through that. Now get yours out of my way.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree when girls say that,” Jesse mumbles, but it’s barely a whisper as he shuffles aside. “..At least she has an ass.”

“Stop talking about my ass! Perverts.”

Hooking her arm around Nathan’s elbow, Delilah pulls him towards the door. Seeing that Nathan still has the other arm available, the werewolf follows suit. This time he manages not to touch anything he shouldn’t. Now Nathan is not unlike an overgrown child trapped between his parents on a walk. This complicates the logistics of getting through the doorway as neither thinks to unlink their arms. At least, until a couple of gunshots ring through the air and startled Jesse pushes them all through.

“Oh, c’mooon,” Vilhelm drawls, almost inaudible over the series of fresh screams. He was smart enough to vacate before his companions reenacted the cork-in-a-bottle scenario. Reaching into the depths of his disgustingly well-tailored suit, he pulls out a gun.

“Oh my god! Is that a gun?” Delilah blurts out. This is actually very fortunate. This could work in their favor. In her opinion, which she is too polite to voice, Vilhelm doesn’t amount to much unarmed. Now, Nathan and Jesse, that’s a whole another story, but it’s beneficial to have a long-ranged weapon that’s not Jesse’s long arms.

“What else could it be?” Vilhelm replies, utterly baffled. “An octopus?”

Deli huffs offendedly in the dark. Jesse sighs heavily.

Rather than follow the glow of emergency signs, Vilhelm takes a turn for the main area of the club.

“Nathan, what do you think?” Delilah is pulling on his sleeve. She knows Nathan is street savvy and has experience dealing with some shit. Also, he is the only person here she actually knows.

Nathan does in fact feel very akin to an overgrown child. Sure, he’s no strangers to shoot outs but the only time he was ever this close to one, he was young with much better knees and no cares in the world. Now, he’s got a lot of cares, like not getting shot and bleeding out in Deli’s arms. 

In fact, he’s elected to pretend to not notice a flash of red eyes because god, it makes his skin crawl. Maybe it’s just he’s already unnerved by the gunshots, maybe he’s accidentally second hand snorted some coke somehow. Regardless, they’ve got more pressing matter than what is hopefully just some special contacts that Nathan magically didn’t notice until now. And yes, Nathan thinks he’ll stick with that explanation, that’s a good one, it’d hold up in court, he likes that one. 

This train of thought keeps him distracted as he’s essentially manhandled out of the bathroom (which he’s not complaining about, not a chance he wants to take risks and try to squeeze Deli out the bathroom window). Now that they’re outside the bathroom, it looks like they might have a clear shot to the exit and that calms Nathan’s nerves. Maybe he can just put this whole incident behind them if they can just get out without anyone getting hurt. Then, they can get some food, pretend this night was a disaster, and Nathan could maybe, hopefully, make plans to see Jesse in a nice, normal, not-prone-to-shootouts place. Yeah, Nathan thinks he can start to relax. 

But then Vilhelm pulls out a gun and that definitely makes Nathan uneasy. Can’t easily explain that one away, now can he? Great, no, this is great, really, no, this means Nathan has a solid excuse to not like Vilhelm outside of ‘I caught him snorting coke off my best friend’s thigh in the woman’s bathroom’ because anyone who wears tailored suits and carries around a gun like this is something he does every Friday night isn’t anyone Nathan would like to get comfy with. 

“We gotta get the fuck out of here!’ Nathan cries out. He doesn’t want to spend another second in this building; Vilhelm can go catch all the bullets he wants, Nathan’s getting him and his friends to safety. 

“Vamanos, vamanos!” Nathan ushers Deli and Jessi down the hallway the emergency signs point down, wanting to stick to the back so he can make sure neither of them get accidentally left behind. He’s seen too many people die in his life and he’s not about to add to that. Hallways like this usually lead to the back alleyway and from there, they can just sprint to anywhere that’s not here. Over the din of gunshots, sirens can be heard. It doesn’t make Nathan feel any better (he’s never been cozy with the law) but it means it’ll distract any persons with guns on them. 

Thankfully, the hallway only takes one turn before they manage to shove through some doors leading to an alleyway. Police lights illuminate them as police pull up, and something about this experience feels a little too reminiscent of Nathan’s teenage years. God, if a doctor could take his blood pressure, he’d probably set some kind of record. 

“Everyone okay? Everyone alright? No injuries?” Nathan asks, breathing harder than he should. The lights from the street means that the usually dark alley is lit up, and Nathan would rather take his chances going down some shady, bright alley than go near whatever mess has to be unfolding at the front of the bar. 

It’s Kiwoo who answers because Chulsoo has stopped breathing.

Because Kiwoo has his back turned to them, because Kiwoo thinks everything is alright, because Kiwoo takes the silence and thinks the question had been directed at him, because Kiwoo has quickly adapted the habit of speaking for Chulsoo, because Kiwoo doesn’t have a single care in the world other than being a good host to the person he thinks a loved one is seeing, because Kiwoo has no idea that Chulsoo needs to sit down again right about now before gravity makes the choice for him, because Kiwoo has no idea that Chulsoo forgot where he was the moment Nathan actually spoke to him, forgot what it is he was supposed to be, who it is he ever was, before all of this, before Nathan, or right in the middle of it, right in that space surrounding Nathan’s body they’re now locked out of forever because he smashed the lock and hasn’t stopped choking on the key ever since then.

“What do you mean,” he chuckles, “in Chulsoo’s room obviously. We don’t have a guest room, anyways.”

Because Kiwoo doesn’t have a single goddamn clue that the face Nathan is making, the cough into his arm, are making the wheels of the car they’d driven to get here seem as appealing of a touch upon his face as Chulsoo would perhaps desire Nathan to just reach out and punch him solid in the fucking jaw.

He doesn’t know why that’s the reaction his mind is settling on, after minutes of the dizziness of existence and not existing at all. The aggressive longing that Nathan just vocalises all he would find absolutely in his right to do, that he just lurches for him, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and shakes him until he starts bleeding out of his ears, that he does actually take him and throw him under the nearest moving vehicle.

Because somehow, all of that, would be infinitely better than this. Proximity that is a farse, the knowledge of being a fraud, the confusing typhoon in their heart as they try to process, still and ever since he’d first agreed, that Nathan is really here, that for some fucking reason he agreed to all this, to being humiliated in front of their entire family because how else is a person even supposed to feel, having to pretend being in love with the person who gave you hell for no apparent reason?

Not that Chulsoo is brave enough to assume just how much he actually hurt Nathan.

But there’s so much going on on Nathan’s features that he wonders how much of an idiot he could have been at assuming he hadn’t hurt him at all.

Because he must have, right? In some… Sort of… Shape or form. Somehow. If he didn’t break his heart, then he sure shattered his dignity. Could that even count as breaking up? Or would it be more accurate to recognise it as Chulsoo shooting Nathan directly in the face because he was scared of actually pulling the trigger?

Hitting the target before you do, because you don’t really want to?

How does that make any fucking sense?

He can’t breathe.

He didn’t give a shit about his flight. Or better, he did, he cared a lot. But he… He was shameless. Stupid and longing, apparently. He wanted to receive an explanation that sounded like Nathan the way they remember him. Wanted to hear him speak as he keeps doing in the memories he replays more often than he’s willing to admit. He didn’t want small talk.

They don’t look like a couple at all.

They should have touched at least once by now.

Discreet? Okay, no kissing then, but they won’t even hug. Chulsoo can’t even bring himself to lift his arms and… Why does he still look like Nathan?

He can’t explain that question. He looks so much like Nathan. He hates that, he hates that he’s real, he hates that he resembles his memories, but also doesn’t. He hates that he recognises his cheekbones but can’t remember what they look like, he hates that he could probably recognise it, if Nathan still used the same shampoo. He hates it how much he liked to rest his hands on Nathan’s shoulders and hope every time he did that they’d been sturdier, less bony, than the last time.

The familiarity of his chest and how he’d unlearned how to sleep on a pillow at one point.

“Besides, who am I to separate two lovers?”

Wait, what was he doing?

Has he blinked at all? Or taken in some air? Kiwoo hasn’t asked anything yet - far too submersed in his role as the teasing sibling, but even so - so he must have at the very least been breathing. He tries to tear his gaze from Nathan’s face and can’t discern his surroundings from the memories of migraine auras. He’d take the migraine happily at this point.

He jolts, realises belatedly that it wasn’t his own doing, but rather Kiwoo clasping a hand on their shoulder, the other coming to rest firmly on Nathan’s as he shoots the both of them a grin that is knowing in regards to all the wrong facts.

Two pats. Then a nudge, a push towards the exit, and he’s gone.

“Let’s go, we can talk more on the way back. Mom demands to feed you. And you probably want to catch up away from prying eyes, eh?”

The chuckle elicits a smile out of Chulsoo.

You know, the likes worn by someone chewing on their own mutilated tongue.

Nathan’s going to die. He’s legitimately going to die. There’s no fucking way he can sleep in the same room as Chulsoo. He's spent so long trying to put their entire relationship behind him and now he’s going to play along in some sick mockery of it and for what? Because he’s like some damned kicked puppy who’s never learned what’s best for him? Because he’s a complete and utter moron? Because part of him wanted to corner Chulsoo and demand answers, get some kind of worthless closure?

Not that it matters anymore, Nathan’s already sealed his fate. There’s no turning back now and he might as well lay in the bed he's made. After all, they’re lovers, so he hides a grimace at the sleeping arrangements and gives what he hopes is a convincingly happy look at Kiwoo. He can play this role, he can act like everything’s fine, even as his hands tighten into a fists at his side.

[ They should touch, do something that isn’t just staring, but Nathan’s not quite sure he’ll be able to stop himself from throwing a punch if he reaches out ] 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Nathan responds to Kiwoo and he manages to make his enthusiasm sound at least half genuine. The whole thing with Chulsoo aside, Nathan has no clue how he’s dealing with their family because hey, he has enough self awareness to admit he’s not the kind of guy you bring home to meet your mother. He’s a recently abstinent alcoholic with a dead end job and a shitty apartment and the last time Nathan checked, those weren’t the qualities that won mothers over. Or anybody, really. It doesn’t help that the only reason Nathan even is abstinent is because every single fucking night, he’d get drunk with Chulsoo’s number pulled up and Chulsoo doesn’t even know how many times Nathan almost called them just to beg or yell because he couldn’t get Chulsoo’s stupid fucking face out of his head. It was no way to live, not when Nathan had to pretend he’d moved on. 

And it’s the same face, in fact, that he’s been staring at this entire time. He only realizes that oh, yeah, they’re in public when Kiwoo crosses his line of sight and the rest of the world comes back into focus. Hopefully, Kiwoo’ll just take it as Nathan being overwhelmed by the sudden proximity to Chulsoo and sure, he’d be half right but that’s not the full truth. 

If anything, Nathan’s staring at Chulsoo because Chulsoo’s staring at him and it, it’s a lot to take in that face once more. Sure there's a festering little part of Nathan that wants to slam Chulsoo's head into the nearest surface but that part, no matter how hard it tries, can't override the horrible longing that's settling in because man, he used to thrive on making Chulsoo smile. Or laugh. Nathan would take laughter too. Anything really, if it meant Chulsoo was happy.

[ And Chulsoo could be so sweet too. That’s the kicker in all this because Nathan wouldn’t care this much, wouldn’t even be here if their relationship was just sex. Sex, he can find anywhere but he can’t replace those late nights they spent watching Chulsoo’s favorite horror movies, the vibrations of Chulsoo’s laugh against his chest- ]

Didn’t change that he still got broken up with though. 

And on top of it all, Chulsoo seems so... fine. A little pale, true, but that’s not surprising with how much Chulsoo covets the indoors.. Other than that, he looks okay. Nathan finds himself trying to catch even the slightest twitch in Chulsoo’s face that might suggest Chulsoo feels even just a fraction of what Nathan does now, but Chulsoo’s expression is locked down, something Nathan could never fully master. That was always one of Chulsoo’s talents, Nathan thinks grimly, that he could just shut down, look and act like he didn’t care, like...

[ Like all those times they fought over stupid, stupid shit because they were bored and Chulsoo would start to storm off with that expression that suggested he could leave Nathan right there and then without a twinge of regret, like he could send a breakup message out of the blue when Nathan was at work- And Nathan would try to get them to stay with kisses, touches, anything because Nathan was sorry, he was, he was- ]

Or maybe Nathan just never was good enough to read him. Maybe things weren’t as deep as he thought they were. Maybe-

♔ ———–

  Eyes narrow, actually interested in restaurant’s description. Ah, yes! He’s seen places like those! Perhaps not as frequently, but he’s definitely witnessed them through the dramas he likes to watch. Reaper hums in acknowledgment, giving a nod. He can picture it in his head; vast spaces with…chandeliers? The big lamps hanging from the ceiling are called like that, right? He vaguely remembers Kim Shin told him about it. Reaper doesn’t remember anything from his past, but at least he tries to cling onto the present; to take bold note of these things.

  Coming back to reality, to the subway with intermittent lights and the man with the big grin plastered on face; he blinks.  Well, he’s going to try and do it, isn’t he? The five drinks, the swigs he dared him to take. Something akin to a long sigh leaves Reaper’s lips; shaking his head. He should be the one to blame, but then again, there was a point to prove and, as soon as Nathan goes for the first two pulls, the Angel of Death’s eyes widen. 

  A rascal, indeed. This one. 

  “Yah, if it’s bad why are you still—really—” 

  There he does, going for the third swig. He doesn’t back down, does he? Reaper’s back straightens; hands holding on tighter to his hat. It’s almost as if he’s somehow waiting for companion to simply drop drunk on the dirty floor, considering how close one swig is to the next. And isn’t sour alcohol one of the strongest? So he’s heard, at least.

  His ears, they catch the sound of a distant grumble; gaze lifting to address the original owner of bottle that’s now blanketed by Nathan’s jacket. A frown of preoccupation reaches his features, as if trying to send his companion a warning, but it seems that they both already saw each other — judging by Nathan’s abrupt stop and the preacher’s wish to reach out for what actually belongs to him. 

  He can’t use his powers here, can he? He can’t suddenly freeze time so he can take away the bottle from Nathan and put it in preacher’s hold; it’d be too obvious when things return to normal. An uneasy look takes over him. What if this turns into a brawl, over a meager bottle of alcohol that can be bought elsewhere? What if the guy ends up hurt, solely because he accepted a bet that had no reward, other than the consolation of temporal pride? 

  What if someone dies? Please, don’t let a card slip under his sleeve right now. He’d detest to know he was a variable in someone’s death. 

  But it seems, once more, that fortune or something similar to that is on the other’s side. The subway stops, the preacher is taken away by police officers and, here he is, Nathan, pretending nothing happened as to pass unperceived. Ah, really, some people run with good chance in their veins. It’s no wonder he’s still alive. 

  “A smarter–are you listening to yourself? One step closer and you would’ve been pulled away by police, too! I saw fear in your eyes and then relief. You know that what you did is wrong, so why did you even do it, on the first place? A sip? A sip? You like the thrill of it? How exciting it is to get hit on the back of the head then–” 

  And he moves, as if he’s about to give him a solid blow with his hat, but of course, he stops himself. He can’t touch people, he can’t even brush any thread or get engaged in any sort of contact. Whoever’s watching this around them, they might think he’s scolding Nathan like a father would a child, but he calms down; even slides a bit away from the other as to repel any sort of opportunity of touching.

  With all of this, he can’t help but remember a particular soul he guided all those years ago. He spoke to him about a friend, a dear friend he was vastly fond of — one Reaper also saw the day he died. They were both together, but one made it out alive whilst the other did not. The features of this friend…they look so much like him, like this bottle thief right here, like Nathan. And what that soul said before leaving to the afterlife…it suits him, too. 

“I didn’t want to die young but that’s the life we chose. I hope Nathan makes it out, he always knew how to wiggle himself out of bad situations, that rascal. I hope he does alright in life. Wish I had the chance to, oh well.”

 Reaper doesn’t even catch Nathan’s question, thoughts taking over, before he suddenly spills out: 

 “Your friend was right. You’re a rascal.” 

  It spills like water out of an open hose; he doesn’t even notice he’s said this out loud until realization hits him at once. Oh, no. Sometimes he’s too prone to admit things he shouldn’t; Reaper suddenly standing up. It’s time to leave before questions come. 

 Thank goodness the subway is slowing down. 

 “I, uh, I get off right here; right here—” 

 He doesn’t even know where ‘here’ is, but that’s not a problem, he’ll either figure it out or simply teleport himself home. Reaper rushes to the doors, hoping they open up sooner than later. Otherwise, he’ll have to resort to erasing the other’s memories if inquiries come his way.

———– ♔

Nathan can’t help but laugh at the other man’s chastising. There’s no malice in the man’s words and for someone who might not be used to such shenanigans, it’s a perfectly understandable reaction. 

“Awe, come on, I could have totally taken him!” Nathan protests, still chuckling. Still, it seems perhaps he’s scared the man off, seeing how quickly the other rushes away. He’s so caught up on the adrenaline that his brain skips right over the man’s words.

Until they don’t. Like a car slamming its brakes on ice, his brain skids to a stop. He knows those words. Rascal. Friend. They stir something in him, something old and long forced down and- Oh, yes, Nathan recognizes these words. He shouldn’t, because there’s no godforsaken way that man meant what Nathan’s brain is putting together. It’s impossible or some incredibly cruel coincidence. You know what, maybe Nathan misheard. Maybe the alcohol was heavier than he thought and maybe his ear slurred the man’s words for him.

Except Nathan knows for damn sure he didn’t mishear and he might just puke in this subway car because the last person who called him a rascal ended up shot in a back alley when he was seventeen. It was his friend, Martin, who during an already risky shoot up decided he wanted to be a martyr or some dumb shit like that and took a 9mm to the chest. Dumb bastard had always been addicted to those trash shows they’d play late at night, keeping Nathan awake by jostling him every time something funny happened, and he just picked the word up one day: Rascal. He only used it on Nathan because Nathan was the only friend he had and well, Martin was the only friend Nathan had too. 

Nathan doesn’t like to think about him. To be fair, Nathan doesn’t like to think about a lot of things but especially Martin, especially those little tender moments younger him had because they never fucking lasted for long. God, Nathan still has nightmares about it and fuck, the world had no right making Nathan relive this shit on the god damn subway at this time of night. He wants fucking answers!

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

“Good luck with your role, then. If you don’t understand what the hell the director is saying to you, then you’re on your own and good luck with finding a new job in any kind of field afterwards.” This was a big project. Many people around the world are waiting for the movie’s projection. Yi wasn’t worried about his role. He knew how to get in character to the point where one might think he wasn’t portraying the character, but the character’s spirit had possessed him and that Yi was just their vessel. In a way, that was also one reason many people haven’t yet figured his own character, the Yi in the flesh; that also helped him keep his private life to himself while still having a huge fanbase. But for Nathan, if he doesn’t do a good job, the public will ruin him. Yi cared little about that in particular, that was just how it was, but he surely didn’t want the movie to be ruined just because the new second lead was an idiot.

Yi couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up at the other’s guess of how much he was getting for starring in the movie. “Don’t make me laugh. If they offered me only a few thousand to play the lead character for the movie, I wouldn’t be here.” Didn’t the casting people tell him how much he could get if he does a good job at his role? We’re talking millions of dollars here, not just mere ‘a few thousands’. Sure, Nathan’s salary will probably be less for this movie compared to Yi’s and the other actors’ since he’s new, but the pay for their roles in this movie was high. The movie director and producers weren’t yesterday’s, they’ve been in the industry for a long enough time to know what they are doing and what the majority of the public likes to see. Add in worldwide known actors and you have a highly anticipated movie.

“I’ve been acting for 4 years and I’ve starred both in movies and in TV series. And the guy who should have been the other lead has been an actor for over 10 years. You understand now why you should do an absolute amazing job with your role?” Yi glanced at Nathan to see his reaction, but then his attention went to his script. “If you fuck up, good luck with even being able to get out of your house.” He grinned. In this scenario, the grin looked almost sinister, but Yi was only speaking facts. He still didn’t understand why Nathan was cast for the role. Maybe someone wanted to give him a chance for a breakthrough, but was it a good idea to make such a gamble?

“Listen kid,” Nathan says, emphasizing the age gap because Nathan be damned if he’s going to let some fresh-out-of-college kid tell him what he should know, “I don’t know what English literature professor is paying you off but the shit ain’t all that. I’ve made it just fine in life without having to learn more bullshit fancy talk. If the director wanted someone who could recite Shakespeare by heart, they would have hired one. I applied and I got the job. You got a problem with how I am, you bring that up with the people who hired me.” Nathan speaks without any real anger, just annoyance. While his literature skills might not be up to par with the educational standard set by most schools, he gives all he’s got into his work and that’s what he considers most important. 

He does frown slightly at Yi’s answer about his salary but doesn’t press further. This seems like something he'd best research in his spar time lest Yi give him a lecture on that too. When Yi grins, Nathan’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed.

“I have been doing nothing but my best for this role.” Nathan snapped back. Now, it seemed, was a good time to leave. While Nathan wanted to get chummy, he wasn’t a glutton for punishment and he’d heard more than enough from Yi’s mouth. 

the mouth

sharp teeth, sharper tongue, all growl and bark and bite, bite, bite. your power is gritted teeth and set jaws, quick and powerful words, decisive actions. everything you do is so personal and vulnerable - the way you love, the way you are loved, the way you attack, the way you drink in and feast on life.

 ━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Yi couldn’t help but to grin slightly due to the other’s comment. Nothing new under the sun in the mind of pretty much an amateur. “I’m telling you, even that won’t save you if you don’t portray the character well. The critics can only either try to kiss ass or to bark, they’ve become useless and irrelevant for regular viewers. But the viewers and the general public themselves will tear you to shreds, to say the least if they don’t like your acting, even if you were to hang with me and the rest of the actors. They’re already pissed the other lead actor had to be changed to another that they haven’t heard of before. Keep that in mind.” 

He wasn’t trying to scare Nathan out of his mind, that was going to do more harm to the production of the movie than good, but the guy had to stay aware of the backlash that could come with having such a huge role with no prior experience in bigger projects at least as a secondary character. “Bring down the energy of your acting a bit. On some scenes that include arguments and fights it’d fit well, but on other scenes it just comes out as unnatural for the character. I’d say practice on that first. Going to additional acting classes would be good for you too.” Though, as he continued to listen, he added. “Nevermind, it’d be better to go back to school, especially for literature classes, and then go tackle the acting classes.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that. People quickly change their mind on whether they pursui something or not once they see their pay cheque.” Plus, this job wasn’t like most other occupations, like delivering mail, or working at a grocery story, or a janitor just to name a few. This job sucked people in. Not only because of the money, but also the fame, the power. Also once people saw one’s face on TV there was no going back most of the times.

“If you say so, man, if you say so.”

Nathan nodded along, mentally noting down what Yi, up until the school part.

“Why? Actors don’t have to know literature. That’s not an acting requirement unless- Well, no, I don’t think I’d be the type they hire for any Shakespeare plays.” Nathan thinks about it and yeah, there’s no point in literature classes. He’s made it this far in life without them and he can go even further without knowing what an allegory is. It’s a fancy metaphor from what he understands and that’s it. He doesn’t need to know the specifics of it. 

“Pay checks are nice,” Nathan acknowledges, “Though I don’t imagine mine will be all that high since I’m new. I mean, how much are you getting? A few thousands?” Nathan’s brain couldn’t comprehend anything higher. Large wages just seemed so unrealistic, one of those things they amp up in movies to emphasize how rich someone is, but people don’t actually get that, at least not people Nathan talks to. All those celebrities with their millions were often times born into it, working of hooks they already had in the industry, and to be honest, if Nathan had a million, he’d probably have a heart attack. So, he undershoots his estimate, because if the movie’s pulling in people like him, it’s not going to be that big. 

“How many years you and the guy I, uh, replaced been in the industry anyways? Don’t think I’ve seen your face before in film.” The comment is not at all meant as a slight against Yi. In fact, it might be a compliment considering Nathan’s experience with movie and shows involved either fishing something out of the discount bin or seeing what soap opera was up on the free channels. Nathan’s simply curious about how long Yi’s been here because the more knowledge Yi has, the more knowledge Nathan could potentially leech off of him. Plus, doesn’t hurt to see how far down stream he stands compared to others in The Biz. 

What? Does he have to elaborate on everything? He’s tempted to just—never mind. “If you get thirsty, get something to drink.” Words come out slow. Oh, how is his patience already waning? “I have a Kitchen.” With that said and permission is granted for Nathan to eat and drink as he pleases, he takes steps back and heads toward the door, “Do not leave this place. Lock the door as soon as I leave and don’t open the door for anyone.” Rick doesn’t expect any visitors. In fact, Nathan may be the only one who knows where the Alien lives. 

Anyway, Rick’s already left the building to give his boss the rundown of what went on. It only takes him a couple of hours before he’s finally able to make it back to his studio without any problem. 

OH, how he hopes that Nathan stayed put and stayed out of his room. Either way, he’s prepared to come home with a surprise or..something. Luckily for Nathan, he doesn’t come home empty handed. He’s got food!

Nathan is nothing if not obedient (especially when in the house of someone like Rick) and to be honest, he doesn’t want to see what Rick might have hidden. He’s learned long ago that sticking your nose into the business of people isn’t a wise move. Now, does he always listen to what he’s learned? No, but he’s learned it nonetheless. It’s one of those more follow at your own discretion lessons. 

Still, in Rick’s apartment, Nathan stays put. It’s boring as hell, yeah, but he’s had enough fun today that he’ll take the boring over Rick’s potential anger. Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t do some peering. Above all else, it appears to be a rather simple studio which raises the question, how are two grown men who don’t know each other going to coexist together because Nathan’s got some habits he hasn’t kicked yet (cough drinking cough) and he’s not so sure how kindly Rick takes to drinking. Some people really don’t like it and if that’s Rick, oh boy is this going to be interesting. 

Still, when Rick arrives, he’s still in the small square he started in except now sitting. He hops up the moment he hears the door open.

“Ah sweet food, you get some for me?” Nathan asks because it’s entirely possible that Rick didn’t, regardless of the circumstances.

This is so incredibly sweet and I love all my mutuals so much and I know some of you are going through rough times but know that I'm like a gremlin in your house leaving you little gifts during the night: I'm here to stay and you're never going to get rid of me.

Oh god…

He truly hopes he can get everything under control so they can go back to living their normal lives. NATHAN’S normal life and Rick’s life. He sighs rather heavily and scoops Nathan up once more. The human weighs nothing. Not even close to 2 lbs., really. 

“Let’s go.” And on the road they are again. 

They don’t arrive at rick’s work place like he had planned. Taking Nathan to a safe place where his slinky link (?) and his friends would find him. His home…His studio seemed like a pretty good idea. 

“Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, don’t touch anything. If you need to use the restroom it’s over there,” He gestures to one of the bathrooms. For now, he won’t give nathan any time to speak as he makes his way into his room to pull out a couple of clothes. When he returns he tosses them Nathan’s way (He’s put on a different shirt himself), “Put these on. I’ll be back.”

When they arrive, Nathan opens his mouth to say something but Rick’s already gone so instead he takes the time to look around. It’s nice, definitely a better place than Nathan’s own, but it’s still so... small. Somehow, he’d expected something like the bat cave. As Rick requests, Nathan doesn’t move from his spot, just observes, like a good man would do. He’s not at all trying to scope out if Rick’s got any obvious liquor cabinets. No, he’s simply just taking in his surrounding, like a totally not alcoholic man considering if Rick’s got the good stuff. Yes, Nathan’s a good man but you can only put so much fine liquor before a man before his fingers get a little sticky. 

Nathan most likely not even going to steal anything, to be honest, considering that Rick’s clearly not fully human or just taking massive amounts of steroids, and either way, Nathan doesn’t want to see what it’s like when he’s on the guy’s bad side. Still, he’ll be so god damn tempted.

Anyways! Enough with the alcohol, Rick’s bringing in clothing, a very important event because Nathan’s getting a little chilly with his legs out like this. Also, he’d really like to get into some clothing that he doesn’t risk having a dick print in. Needless to say, he’s more than happy to put on the offered clothing.

Rules: please repost, don’t reblog! Bold and italicize what applies accordingly.

ANGER: jaw clenching, hands balling into fists, teeth grinding, yelling, going nonverbal, stuttering speech, rushed speech, slow concise speech, rambling, quiet, arms crossing, shaking head, tearing up, animated, expressionless, projects, internalizes, vents, withdraws, passive aggressive, direct physical outbursts, verbal outbursts

JOY: easy smiles, fighting back grins, suppressed laughter, loud laughter, giggles, chuckling, smirks, whole body laughs, covers mouth when laughing/giggling, throws head back when laughing, slaps leg, touches people around them when laughing, looks down when laughing, looks for eye contact when laughing, sparkling eyes, bubbly happiness, quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness, wants to spread joy, quietly savors joy

SADNESS: crying, bottling it up, seeks distractions, wallows, meditates and processes, avoidance, seeks out comfort, withdraws, talks it out, internalizes it, sad smiles, depression naps, uses alcohol, uses drugs, seeks out sources of joy, fidgets with sentimental item, sits in silence, broods, gets moody, wants someone to share the misery, tries to hide negative emotions, nurtures others to make themselves feel better

EMBARRASSMENT/SHAME: blushing, looking away, rubbing at back of head, covering face, laughing nervously, laughs it off, overthinks, lets it go, self deprecating humor, deflects, gets irritated, smiles, withdraws, crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest, hands in pockets, shoulders sinking, shrugs, falling into silence until comfortable again, talking a lot to compensate

GUILT: avoiding eye contact, shoulders sinking low, head hanging down, crying, chest aches, lashes out, internalizes, apologizes, deflects, communicates, withdraws, grand gestures for forgiveness, accepts fault easily, punishes themselves, martyrdom, victim complex, over-active guilt complex, healthy conscience, internalizes even after forgiveness, seeking redemption, moves on easily, denial, lack of guilt/conscience, sorry they got caught more than caused harm, can’t handle knowing they hurt others

FEAR/ANXIETY: trembling, crying, sarcasm/sass to cope, rambles, goes silent, gets angry, fidgeting, clenching jaw, picking at nails, chewing at lip, pulling at clothes, adjusting jewelry/clothing, swallowing thickly, eyes widening, over-reacts, under-reacts, calm, logical, panic, irrational, overthinks, carefully analyzes, talks to themselves, breathing exercises, flight, fight, withdraw, fawn