Do you write for non-human yanderes? If so, could you write a parental yandere cryptid of some kind thats really possessive/clingy n affectionate towards the reader just not letting reader out of its sight for even a moment? It's alright if not
thank you for the request.
that's my longest story yet, i had a blast writing it, can you tell i focused a lot on athmosphere?
warnings: injuries, mind powers, infantilization, vomit, fainting, blood, major character death
summary: a weird girl has a job for you, take pictures of a small town urban legend, you just didn't expect to actually meet it!
“Sir, for the last time, we can’t give you a discount.”
“Cmon, dude–”
Putting your headphones on, the conversation gradually dissipates in the background. “Bathroom” you whispered to the guy sleeping next to you, Emmett, making him jump “Just go” and he slumped against the window again.
The gas station felt like a lighthouse in the middle of these dark roads. “Ew.” With a hand on your nose, you searched for the least dirty place to use. It wasn’t a surprise when the sink faucet didn’t turn on, your displeasure must have been clear, a one eyed worker calls the moment you leave the bathroom.
“That sink just won’t obey! Here, show me yer hands!”
Getting them out of your pockets, there’s no time to react at the hose aimed at you. “My fucking jacket!!” He turns it off with a throaty laugh. “Sorry, sorry. At least they’re clean!”
Twisting the corners of your clothes and biting back insults, a gush of cold wind makes your teeth clatter. When are they going to finish?! right after, a loud honk echoes through the station, about time. You enter the trailer.
-
That’s been your life for the past 2 years, living on a beaten trailer with four other people, travelling up and down to small towns and big cities after jobs, easy money.
It wasn't surprising, everyone who met you would say "That’s expected!”, if they cared enough to find out.
Like many things, your parents are a fickle memory in your subconscious, people used to pity you, but honestly, there wasn't a whole lot to grieve. They were young, young people like to party and drink, so they crashed. That’s all.
Moving from one foster home to another, life was mostly monochromatic blue, after so many different houses and schools, it was difficult to find it in yourself to care enough about anything, even the faces of people in your old life look like watercolor paint in the corners of your mind.
You didn’t amount to much, teachers gave up trying to get you to attend classes at some point, and classmates understood it was meaningless to strike up conversation when even the slightest look made you lash out.
Then, you met Chloe, that’s an unforgettable day.. Foggy afternoon, drizzle fell while you walked around aimlessly, the sound of barks made you leap– there was a girl running for her life, dirty blonde hair swaying wildly in the wind, when her wide eyes took sight of you it was too late to divert, almost losing balance when she jumped on you.
“Daisy! Shoo! Shoo!! Get out of here you old grump!” You chased the old dog away, she was the neighborhood terror, but after many bites you learned that it was easy if you just scared her right back. All bark and no bite, alright, a little bit of bite.
“Oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank you!!” You glared at her, she squealed, noticing her arms were still around you. “Sorry!!”
“If you run, she’ll chase right after, that thing loves fear.”
“I noticed. I can't thank you enough for saving me from that crazy hound though! What’s your name?! I’m Chloe!”
An excited hand was thrown your way.
There’s a moment of silence, then you shake it, her smile shines brightly.
-
Since then, you’ve been travelling with Chloe and her older brother, Scout. When she said she had to go, it was the easiest decision you’ve ever made, there were no goodbyes, no letters.
Besides the two, there’s Emmett, a college dropout who’s been travelling with the siblings since they first bought this trailer, there’s nothing you really know about him, and that’s okay, the best thing about the guy are the moments of shared silence, the others could use being a little quieter.
And then there’s Jude, they’re the closest to you, not by choice. They’re also a runaway, a bit younger than you and the last to join the group, made them feel like they had to stick close to you at all times.
Resting on the cold window, the sound of Scout, Chloe and Jude singing “Black” by Pearl Jam was loud enough to hear no matter how much you turned up the volume of the headphones. Still, watching the pitch black streets and the rare cities that came and went quickly, sleep came easily.
-
“For the last time, get out of my sight!”
“Look, just listen to us! Sir, I guarantee me and my buddies here can take care of everything you need!”
If there’s one thing Scout was, that’s persuasive, he knew the right words to say, or at least how to insist enough to make people decide that agreeing would be the quickest way to get rid of him.
Like clockwork, with a groan, the old man adjusted his cap. “Aight, I’ll pay for you scallywags to get all those pesky weeds out of my lawn in two days. It’s big, right in front of the ol’ woods, you won’t have time to dilly-dally!”
Bingo.
-
That was terrible.
It was your turn to catch a break under the shade of the canopy. The others worked on what could very well be a lawn that hadn't been mowed in at least 50 years. “That freaky old man!! He made us clean this place on purpose!”
“Yeah, that’s what a job is.”
“No! I mean, he did it to torture us!” Jude, who sat down beside you, was drenched in sweat.
“Go back to work.” Emmett appeared like a shadow in mere seconds, swatting Jude in the head. “Ow, ow, ow! Get off my back, asshole! Can’t you see I'm about to have a heatstroke?!” Jude’s plea didn’t seem to sway him, they surrendered. “I’m going!”
Stretching, they made sure Emmett was away, before turning to you quickly. “Meet me close to that big maple tree, I wanna show something.” Then, with a mousy smile, they’re gone.
It was a big tree, even in autumn, its orange and yellow leaves seemed full of life compared to the brown forest around.
“Spill.”
“Calm down, hothead! Look, meet little Abigail!”
There was a small girl right beside Jude, she was pale, with green eyes so big they seemed to take up half of her face. She reminded you of those creepy kids from horror movies, was a twin about to appear?
“I met her a while ago, she’s the old man's daughter!” You hummed, annoyed, failing to see how that has to do with you.
“Anyway, she has a job for us!! Don’t cha’ little Abi?” Nodding timidly, you’re handed some papers she’s been holding tightly against her stomach till now.
It’s a bunch of grainy pictures.. Taken at night, if you were to guess by how dark the surroundings look, but that’s far from the interesting part, getting closer to the photos, your breath hitches only for a second.
There’s.. Something, in these very woods, at first glance it seems like a random tall person, but looking closely, it's at least one inch taller than a tall human. That’s far from the worst part, the thing had a long black coat and what looked like a bowler hat, leaving its face obscured.
But, around the corners not covered by clothes, there were feathers, clear as day, coming out from every visible corner.. Almost like they were part of this thing's body, it had something similar to human hands, if it weren’t for the slightly longer fingers with pointy nails and the birdlike fluff.
And, the worst part, the legs, different from the covered torso, its legs showed freely a spread of feathers enveloping down to the knee in what looked like an elegant veil of plumage, something you’d otherwise find a beautiful marvel of nature was nothing more than an uncanny aberration with human parts.
Suddenly, you passed to the other photos rapidly, and.. They were empty, there were no weird things except the old forest during the night.
“..The fuck is this?” Jude shuts you quickly “No bad words in front of the child!”
“That, my friend.. Is money! Or.. As our little friend calls it..” They give the cue
“Owl!”
There’s a moment of silence, your sour expression makes Jude sweat, jumping to explain everything.
“Aight, no more theatrics. I met Abigail yesterday, and she told me about an urban legend that’s told in this town.. About a person who’s half owl.”
“It’s always watching!” She adds.
“Yes, Abigail. The story says it’s always watching the town, it has eyes everywhere, and if it decides, the thing will lure you into the forest with its coos and calls and..”
“And?”
“Well, it depends. Some say it takes naughty children, others say it lures good behaved children into a world of their own. Anyway, no one really knows what comes after.”
“Wow, it takes the good AND the bad children? Seems like a creep to me.” Jude smiles at your joke, they always get your puns even when you tell them straight faced. “But,” you continue, "what does this have to do with me anyway?”
“Haha, my friend, as i said, that’s money!”
-
Turns out the creepy girl was really obsessed with that weird owl story, and willing to pay a good amount of her allowance to those who agree to go into the woods at night and take pictures.
“Why only us?” Sitting on those late night diners, you stared at the neon sign outside from the window while Jude polished an old camera they found at the back of the van.
“Because it’s going to be a surprise, dummy! We’re getting back with all the money and they’ll be blown away!” They answered dreamily, you didn’t know why Jude felt such a strong need to prove themselves, maybe it has to do with their old home life, either way, you weren’t about to ask.
“Alright.”
“Heh, knew it. Don’t worry, buddy, just hope you haven’t been naughty.”
-
Even the bright orange and yellow hues from autumn trees didn’t stop the woods from seeming menacing at night, as if the branches coiled around themselves in an attempt to look bigger.
“Shine it up there!”
“I need to shine this straight so we can fucking see where we’re going!”
“But I need light up there so I can find an owl!! Just need a picture and we’re done.”
Groaning, you pointed the flashlight to the trees above, which scared off a bunch of birds that flew away quickly. Jude almost fell on their backs. “Well, nothing here, let’s keep up!”
Why were you even here? The money would be nice, but it’s not really needed.. Mostly, it’s for Jude, if that’s their way of feeling useful to the group, there’s no harm in giving a helping hand.
But also.. You’re curious about that photo, it didn’t look edited, your knowledge about these technologies is limited at best, but the creepy girl seemed set on only receiving photos truly taken by a camera. And the possibility of someone that dresses like that, something that is like that..
It sends shivers down your spine.
Hoos echo in the woods, making you both jump at the same time. “Owls!” Shushing them, you both start to move slowly into the forest, following the direction of the sounds, trying to keep the light on the trees above, it’s hard not to trip.
Hearing a voiceless gasp, you turn to look at Jude, following their eyes right after, on top of a big tree there was a Great Horned Owl, it’s ears stood tall and with big yellow eyes, it seemed to look down, at you, it’s impossible to turn your own gaze away.
The clicking sound of a camera pulls you out of the trance. But there’s no time to utter a single word, for right after a flock of black birds starts flying, they go up, darkening the already dim sky in inky black… Then they descend.
It’s unnatural, unimaginable. The birds start swarming with open beaks. Trying to protect your face, you hear a scream.
After that, everything is a blur, few are the things you can fully discern between the splashes of black. There’s someone’s back, Jude’s, running away, opening your mouth to call, a bird enters it with full force, you fall to the ground, pecks piercing your body.
-
That’s where the memory cuts off, there’s no point in trying to remember more when your head feels like it's splitting. “Aghh.” Sitting up, the pain is excruciating, sending flames to every part of your body.
You’ve woken up in a weird place, laid out in something akin to a hospital stretcher, but that was no hospital, it looked more like a bunker, lights on the ceiling illuminated the small room in a greenish hue, it felt like a shady alleyway hospital, were you about to have your organs removed?
It was hard to get up with your legs and arms full of scratches. “..What the fuck?”
There was a small hospital table, full of surgical tools.. Scissors, needles, curettes. Blood drains from your face, sounds echo from above, you grab one of the instruments quickly, a forcep.
With extended arms, you approached the door, just a little closer.
Something’s breathing on your neck.
Turning around you attack quickly, only to find there’s nothing in your hands. “Wha–”
There was a tall figure in front of you, coat and hat, feathers. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation, there was no way your brain could comprehend any of this.
It held the forcep. Raising your head, you finally managed to look at the creature's face.
A completely white mask, it imitates human features, a nose and mouth are sculpted, but behind the two oval holes that made space for human eyes, there are two wide yellow orbs looking back at you, owl.
The mask looked human, yet its eyes were anything but such, animal, uncanny, scary, you feel your knees buckle, it catches you before the fall.
It looks at you for a split second, before you’re lifted into a strong hold and laid on the stretcher again.
Hearing your erratic heartbeat in your ears makes it almost impossible to focus, no confident words leave your mouth, so you end up staring at the surgery tools.
Seemingly noticing your scared side eye, while keeping its face turned to you, the forcep is put back, and the table withdraws into the cabinet. Trying to get up again almost on instinct, you’re held down again.
“You-” Words die in your lips, followed by a surprised gasp, the creature's eyes stare at you from behind the mask, but they look different, maybe it’s the slightly more vibrant color, or the way its pupils dilated just a little.
Either way, you can’t tell, your eyes rolling into your head as you fall back into the padding.
-
“Are you mute?” It– They shake their head, bringing another spoonful of porridge into your mouth.
“Then why don’t you talk–" the spoon entered, making you cough it out, they patted your back. “What the hell?!”
Nevermind, there’s no point in trying. For the past.. What? Three days? You’ve been trying to have any kind of meaningful contact with whatever this feathered person is, and it’s not going well.
The problem is not a lack of rationality.. Actually, it's the opposite, almost as if this thing doesn't see you as an equal, as a capable person.
They feed you soft foods, check your injuries every day even though they’re practically healed, but worst of all, they’re always close by, and when you can’t see it, you feel it in the corner of your eyes.
So you’ve been scared, people call you a hothead, impulsive, there’s no denying. If you weren’t you wouldn't have ran away from home on a rainy night because a pretty girl asked you nicely, if you weren’t you wouldn't go on this crazy hunt in the woods at night.
And you wouldn't be in this situation.
But impulsive is not dumb, and you knew this was a delicate situation, analyzing the place, it was clear you wouldn't be able to get out normally, was you first guessed, it was an underground bunker full of padded walls able to prevent even a pin drop from being heard.
The worst part, the only opening that took to the surface was on the ceiling, but it had no staircase. This thing could fly, after all, but as a human, you don’t share the ability.
You’d thought about asking if they found someone with you, maybe they saw Jude, but the idea was discarded quickly, you didn’t really know them, and you weren’t about to make your friends bait if they suddenly got aggressive.
Time for your best bet, become acquaintances.
-
How long has it been now? At least a week? So much time inside was claustrophobic, you groan. From the corner of your vision, a tall creature stares at you, probably because of your whining.
Franz, that’s how you started to call the Owl person, after finding out one of the only pieces of human culture inside this weird bunker was a bunch of piano disks, they seemed to enjoy it dearly, hence the nickname.
“I'm just.. Bored.” So much so that the ruffling noises a second later weren’t enough to make you look up.
But soon, soft music echoes through the walls, sitting up, you find Franz by the gramophone. A laugh almost escapes your lips.
“Clair de Lune”, that’s what’s written on the disk, a familiar tune, the first time they played it, you unconsciously got close to listen, after that, Franz plays this one constantly, you hope the disk doesn't get scratched.
“Haa..” There were no windows here, and if there were, there’s not much to see underground, but this song makes it feel like you’re a tad bit closer to a night sky, maybe the ocean. It’s beautiful.
“Huh?!” You feel hands in your cheeks, Franz is holding your face close, a second later you realize you’re crying, tears flow down your cheeks quickly. There’s no reason really, you weren’t thinking of anything, it just happened.
Pulling away, you clean the snot and wetness in your sleeves, they get closer, trying to help you themselves. “I’m fine! Really!”
Their hands get close yet again, you’re about to whisk them off when something calls your attention. Feathers, that’s not really what catches your attention tho, if anything, you’ve grown fairly used to feathers by now.
What interests you is how Franz seems to have some messy feathers in their “wings”.
Their wings are connected to their arms, they have a fairly human arm structure, but it’s full of feathers that descend down their upper arm and almost touch the floor, it also has muscles that’d probably make them able to fly, how they carry the weight of a human body is beyond you, though, but this creature is already something against every common law of nature and rationality.
And yet, they had ruffled feathers, you suppressed a smile, the reason was easy to guess, birds preen themselves, but since you’ve came here Franz has been by your side constantly, never once taking off that mask, which probably made it hard to reach some lower feathers, if they tried hard enough, they can probably reach the higher ones if they use their hand on the opposite wing. But the lower ones are still unreachable without using your mouth.
Unconsciously squatting, you pull a feather, Franz doesn’t jump, but they look surprised for a second, fixing their hat, you wonder if they didn’t want that, but a second later they fix their coat, taking it out the way, a cheeky smile graces your lips as you pluck more messy feathers.
When you’re done, your hands are almost full to the brim, looking up, you find them staring at you still, just the same as when you began, but in a rapid swoosh, they’re hunched over, you show them your hands. “You’re sure feathery.”
Extending their hand slowly, they grab two feathers, putting it behind your ear, then the other. “Do I look like an owl now?” You joke, but there’s no sound, they stare at you with wide eyes.. Before getting up and leaving.
Weirdo.
-
A day later, the first fight happened, it actually took a long time considering your temper, but your fear of something so out of touch with everything human and animal kept you on your toes.
Not anymore, this wasn't unreachable, it was the person you’ve been sharing a space with for at least a week, it was Franz.
“So Chloe told me she and her brother travelled from place to place, and she had to go. I remember like it was yesterday, it was raining fuckin’ hard, but i still grabbed her, i didn’t even say anything, i couldn’t..”
“But she just looked at me and smiled, ‘I’ll wait for you at the parking lot’, that’s what she said.. I didn’t think twice.” It was as if the past and future were merging before your eyes, you’ve never spoken of this memory or anything about your past to anyone, there was no point, but right now, you found your voice emotional through the very end.
Coughing, you fix your tone. “So that’s how I started travelling with them.” Franz listened carefully, they were good at that, sometimes you wish not so much, the fact they had to put everything down to stare at you the moment you start talking makes it difficult to get the words out.
But right now, staring away from them, your mouth doesn't stop. “That’s why I need to get back, they’re waiting for me”.
Silence, silence is common between the two of you, it always happens when you’re not the one filling it, but this one felt heavy.
“You’ve helped me a lot these past few days, but I really need to go, those guys are so dramatic, they’re probably looking everywhere” A dry laugh, you look up to find them looking at you with squinted eyes.
They don’t move. You feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment, all this time being nice, all this time trying to understand them, and yet they don’t even acknowledge your plea, it makes you truly feel like something small, like a child, like you’re speaking a different language.
The embarrassment quickly turns into anger, getting up, you almost scream. “I’ve been cooped up in this place for days, only eating.. Fucking porridge! I need to go home, Franz!”
Their eyes widen, like always, but this time you can see genuine surprise, they take a step closer, the hairs on your neck stand, you forgot how tall they really are, but anger mixes into a weird type of courage and you stand your ground.
“Just let me out of here!” Their hand reaches out, you slap it away.
Complete stillness.
Then you hear a voice, someone's voice, not yours. Theirs. They’re saying your name.
And then the world starts spinning, you feel as if there’s static inside your very skull, and the sides of your vision darken while the world seems to jiggle and distort.
“Huh?”
“You can’t leave.”
You vomit, the pain inside your head seems to spread like branches inside your brain, there’s nothing to be done, you fall face first into your own vomit, the impact sends shock waves that are almost unnoticeable compared with the pain in your head.
A familiar ceiling is the first thing to greet you the moment your eyes flutter open, a single moment of respite, before a crushing headache makes you jump up with a throat groan.
Close to you, Franz loomed, their white mask seemed absorded in shadow for a split second when you looked at them.
“What the fuck did you do?!” You scream, holding your head.
“The pain will end soon.”
That shuts you up, their voice, you stare at surprised. It sounds different from anything you’ve ever heard, and the memories of vomit and pain seep through your brain, making you flinch, even though you’re clean now, the liquid still made you sick.
“Wha– What are you talking about..? Your voice..”
“That’s what it does.”
Before you can say anything, they continue, as if explaining something, “It’s for your own good.”
What did that mean? No one says that umprompted, feeling a pit on your stomach, your gaze seems to drift to a mirror, the only one in this bunker, right besides the stretcher.
Your eyes are yellow.
Almost fainting again, your mouth gapes and the blood drains from your face, but not a single sound comes out, almost as if your voice was stolen.
“I connected us. Now you can hear me.”
Shaking your head as if that’d deny the unreal reality in front of you, they continue, maybe they feel like it’s finally their time to be the one breaking the silence.
“We are kin now.”
Now your face turns to them, the white mask seemed taunting under the green lights.
“You are my child.”
The mirror breaks, the sound scares you until you notice the shards protruding from your clenched fist, their hands are on you in seconds, a worried face you could have appreciated days ago now made your empty stomach churn even harder.
And yet, you felt scared, not as a human fears the unknowable, the darkness, the monster under the bed. But as the way a child fears its parents after breaking a vase, the way you lower your head is almost instinctual.
When you’re brought under their wings, your mind is filled with hatred, yet your body moves closer.
-
Hands sweating, you grab the rope and bring it close to your chest, looking around.
The past few days were a blur, Franz never left your side, taking care of you in everything, food, baths, all was foreseen by them, it felt like that was really it.
Until you discovered their outings, a particulaly hot night, or day.. By pure luck, you woke up mid sleep to find them completely gone.
After finding out they sometimes left during your sleep, you started looking around the place more, truly exploring everything without constant eyes on your back.
That’s how you found the rope, hidden in a small hole under a cabinet, your escape.
The vault that took outside had no staircase, but it had a handle in it’s back, now all you needed to do was throw the rope around this support and make a sturdy knot, it had to be quick, Franz’s outings didn’t last long, and you had to be far away by the time they got back.
“It actually opened!” The disbelief in your voice was palpable, after getting out, your legs almost buckled under the surprise of seeing the outside. Eyes automatically looking up, a pathetic wish to gaze at the night sky, you find it obscured.
That’s when you realize how big the trees are, it’s leaves covering the view above and making the hole on the ground almost invisible, you see why Franz decided that’d be a good stop to make a bunker.
There’s no time! Looking for a path, you almost fall on a bear trap “What?!” grunting, you pull out a flashlight, the same one you used all those nights ago, when you first visited these woods, it was also hidden inside that hole.
Treading carefully this time, your light is the only thing helping navigation since the moonlight is obscured by the trees. Until you’re stopped by a bear trap, not a common one, this one is closed, a thick branch sticking out of it. Emmett. He was the one who took care of bear traps, always choosing thick branches to close it from a distance.
After a long time of doubt and fear, you feel a teary smile grace your face unconsciously. Those dumbasses, they’re really searching for you. For the first time, you swear you won’t take anything for granted again, a family was by your side all this time, and you needed to thank them.
Following the path close to the bear trap, your heartbeat speeds up, happiness explodes inside you, alleviating the horrible feelings deep inside your mind for the past few days.
Another clue pulls you in, a purple bow in the ground, you take it with a snort, it was Chloe’s. She forgot this everywhere, you knew exactly what’d be the first thing you’d complain about when you saw her ‘You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t attached'.
Just a little far away, you saw silhouettes, it felt like a moth seeing light again, caution thrown to the wind, you started running.
-
It wasnt supposed to happen.
Franz unconsciously reaches to their mask, an automatic movement to clean it, the effort does more harm than good, their hands are just as dirty, after all.
In front of them, you’re in your knees, with an expression that they wouldnt imagine to see in a hundred years, it reminds them of hunters who paled upon seeing them for the first time, countless moons ago.
They bent down, but your attention never left that singular spot.
Your friends bodies.
It wasnt their intention.
They were unrelenting, flocks of birds and angry owls weren’t enough to keep them away, they’d be braving again the very next day, even after the raven took an eyes with its mouth.
They still searched, so it needed to be done. That’s the explanation they wanted to give you, they tried the moment you appeared, but your surprised far outmatched theirs, and when you fell to your knees, they know no word would reach you.
Grabbing you carefully, they hold you, hiding your face under the feathers on their neck, there’s no fight, they can only feel you tremble against their skin, not from cold. It’s already a nostalgic sight.
Franz wonders if you remember.
They found you on the ground, the flock they sent scared the one with you away, but you looked unconscious.
Hunching down, ready to feel your pulse, they’re caught off guard when hands hold them strongly.
Soon they realize you’re not pulling away, you’re holding them close, tears running down your face alongside the blood on your body. They blink, how old are you?
There’s no time to react when they hear a delirious mumble “Don’t leave me alone”.
Freezing, they look down at you, your eyes close, hands leaving them. They catch you.
Going back to the bunker, the first rays of moonlight start to seep through the leaves, the wind making them sway, as if celebrating.
summary: you finally try to leave your house, it ends with you in the middle of the forest after separating from the group, that's when a mysterious figure crosses paths with you.
If someone asked you to describe your life, the right word would be meaningless, that’s how you saw it. But it wasn't in a melancholic way, maybe in the past, now it was more of an acknowledgement.
Never really having many friends, the few people you talked to always had more important mates, people they prioritized. Maybe it was selfishness, but inside your heart lied a deep wish to be someone's everything. Just for a little bit.
That wish wilted over time, or maybe it grew too big and wide so you had to vomit it out.
It doesn’t matter, you've long given up trying to worm your way into people's life, you cared too much, it brought only sorrows.
By adulthood, you were a shut-in, the type that paid deliveries beforehand so you wouldn't have to talk with anyone.
It wasn't supposed to be permanent, just some time at home while you looked for a job, but soon enough solitude seemed like a heavenly respite you couldn’t let go of, the world was stressful and mean. Who could blame you for escaping between the lines?
But that didn’t come without doubts, nights spent staring at the starless city sky and wondering if that’s truly how life is supposed to be lived.
-
Which is why you tried, the invite sitting in your inbox scared you deeply, it was the only notification you got in months that wasn't spam.
“Reunion of former Classmates! Class of…”
The awkwardness was expected. Surprised faces left and right after they asked who you were “It’s been 10 years! I haven’t seen you forever! What have you been doing?”
It was a tough pill to swallow. People who you saw skipping classes to play in the empty court wearing suits and ties, girls that laughed loudly in class and hid from teachers to smoke talking passionately about medicine and law.
Everything moved slowly, you felt stuck between what was and what is, you could almost taste the school years you tried so hard to bury, they were vivid in your memory as if it was just yesterday.. Running alone in the rain, hiding from PE under bathroom stalls, watching people dance in prom while you sat on the corner.
There, at that point in time, it felt like you were too grown, too far away, everyone danced and loved and laughed, stealing alcohol from their parents and going to late parties. But now they are here, matured, laughing and talking about family and jobs, and for the first time, you feel really small.
You’re not far away, you’ve been left behind.
Chugging down another cup, you decided, in a drunken haze, that you didn’t want to waste your life anymore.
That’s how you ended up booking a hiking trip with a group of people you haven't spoken with since your school graduation, 10 years ago.
It only served to show you why you didn’t go out.
“Haa.. Haa”
A nice bed, television. They wouldn’t put you in this situation. “Gnh!” A hidden branch trips you up, pain exploding in your leg, it felt like the world was against you, its hard to hold back tears.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”
Look what it got you.
“We only have one life, so live a little!”
Shut up!!
“Aren’t you tired of being alone?”
Your scream echoes through the woods, between the trees and leaves shaking with the cold night wind.
It’s hard to even recall how you got separated, it was hard following them, but you kept up fairly well for someone so unathletic, that is until a particular turn, it was so quick, when you saw, they were gone. You instantly despaired, maybe that’s what doomed you, breathing and trying to refind the path was all you needed to do.
But the sun was setting, and with trembling hands, you ran.
That’s how you found yourself in the cold forest soil, rocks and pebbles prickling your back through the brand new jacket you bought for this trip.
Looking up, for a second you don’t feel an ounce of fear, wide eyes are met with a sky full of stars, it expands far and wide, welcoming, a weak smile appears on your face, clasping your hands, you make a wish.
“Please let me be happy.”
A sudden sound makes you jump up, eyes alert scrambling around the dark woods.
Until they stop.
There’s a tall figure in the midst of the bushes, a fur jacket pulled over their face, it was completely obscured.. The only thing visible was the white of their eyes if the moonlight caught just right, striking blue irises in the middle, focused on you.
A predator seeing prey.
There was no time to analyze, the moment your gaze tilted down, your breath hitching, it felt like reality would melt away any second.
A gun, aimed at you.
No one knows what their instincts are until they come across the unfortunate chance to test it. Your hands fumble to your head, covering it in a mess of tears and snot, a pathetic attempt at stopping the inevitable.
Time stopped for seconds that stretched far, you wouldn’t dare move, even trembling felt damning. That is until you heard a clicking sound, and your head snapped up, he was loading the gun.
And then, something unexpected, you got up and started running, the pain on your leg forgotten as if your body decided by itself it needed to take charge, for a moment there was no sadness, no melancholy, it was the pure desire to live, or perhaps to not die there. Maybe it’s what makes us human.
It didn’t last long, it was a messy effort, an animal scrambling away with all it had, you stopped when sharp pain shot through your hurt leg, it wasn’t the fall, you were shot. The muscles on your calf tensed up, you fall face first into the muddy floor, hitting your jaw.
-
Groaning in pain, you open your eyes slightly, blinding light shuts them quickly.
“Don’t open your eyes just yet.”
“Turn these off.” You murmur annoyed, it’s not entirely conscious.
“No can do. Need to look at those injuries.”
Your eyes open instantly, ignoring the burning pain. They scan desperately, focusing on the man in front of you.
He had light brown hair, shaggy, but it was gelled and kept in place. He looked older, but not that much, the few freckles on his face gave a younger look. And his eyes..
Jumping up, you stared. “Don’t get up.”
“You—” Those blue eyes, ice cold. His face was completely obscured at the time, but you’d recognize those haunting eyes everywhere.
“Settle down.” But he made no move to grab you, nor did he look worried.
“No, no. I–”
Trying to get up, your whole body seized in pain, it was difficult to even move your mouth to speak.
“You’ll just pass out again.” There was a smile on his lips, it wasn't sadistic, more like an amused ‘told you so’. You were too scared to tell the difference.
“What did you do?”
“Tranquilized you. It’s a powerful thing, those darts, they act quickly if the target gets scared, muscles contract.” This time, he squints his eyes, almost regretful. “Didn’t expect you to be so fucking terrified.”
This time, he let out a little laugh. “Fell right on your face seconds later, it wasn't even the drug that knocked you out.”
“Why?” He looked serious again, getting up and fixing his tie, a red one that contrasted a black suit.. That couldn’t be the same creature with a ragged green coat scouring the woods.
And yet, his eyes locked on you just the same.
“We’ll talk more later, you already look out of it.” No argument leaves your mouth, consciousness slips right after.
-
“So… What’s your name?”
“Sinclair.”
“Weird... Name or surname?”
“Name.”
“What’s your surname then?”
“That’s a secret.” He seemed amused.
After waking up the second time, your body seemed to understand it wasn't productive to despair, so you let him change the bandages in your calf and replace the bandaid on your jaw.
“Can you tell me why you brought me here now?”
Focused on patching, he didn't look up.
“You looked lost.” Swallowing, you avert your eyes. “And what’s it to you?”
“Even prepared hikers have trouble in the forest during the night, I don't think you’d be able to make it.”
“You had a gun.”
“Yes, how else would I tranquilize you then?” His smile pissed you off, it was the smile rich people showed everyone while shaking hands and talking business contracts and golf trips.
“I– didn’t expect you to be..” some kind of socialite. If you knew hours ago you’d live to tell the tale, you’d have assumed the hooded figure would be some kind of crazy recluse. The type that lives in the woods and shoots trespassers on sight.
But now you’re in an enormous house, the supposedly guest room he put you in has furniture more expensive than everything you own, it’s scary to even breathe.
“I have a hobby. Don’t you have one?” You look down, silence stretches awkwardly. His elegant laugh breaks the tension. “Maybe we can talk more at dinner.”
After an hour, he comes back with a pair of crutches in hand. “You’ll need this.”
His house is just as gigantic as you expected, it looked almost historic, beautiful chandeliers glowing yellow light upon old paintings and the marble floors.
Sinclair tries to strike a conversation during dinner. “What were you even doing in those woods, don’t strike me as someone who’d like exploring.” You hold back a snort.
“You’d be right about that. I don’t know, I–” stabbing a fork into the food, your eyes drift through the beautiful dining room. “I don’t really get out much, so I guess I tried to do something different. That worked well, huh?”
Sinclair’s looking, it catches you off guard, why were you even telling this man about yourself? As far as you know, he was shooting darts at you less than a day ago.
But also, it’s good to talk to someone who looks so interested in what you have to say.
“I also spend a lot of time at home.”
It’s understandable, you’re a shut-in in your small house, if you ever had the luxury of living in this place, no one would ever see your face again. “Except when you decide to go shoot random people?”
“Is that how you thank the one who saved you?”
“My very sore calf begs to argue.” Bringing an arm to your forehead, you feign pain, he answers with a grin.
“As I said, it’s a hobby.. I’m a hunter, living out here made that an obvious choice.”
“Why do you live so far away, by the way?”
“No idea. My parents' choice.”
You did not pry further, the empty house gave you enough answers.
Sinclair also lived alone. Having you both alone in such a big place made it hard not to feel like kindred spirits, even though you were also so different.
-
For the first few days, you were left to explore the place as you pleased, you couldn’t stand up for much time anyway, so you abstained yourself to the guest room and the bathroom close by.
That is, until the accident. Mansions and their complicated circular stairs, you treaded as carefully as possible, placing the crutches before your feet, but one misstep and you were on the floor.
To be honest, you didn't even feel anything till you saw Sinclair running up to you.
After that, he was never far away. You still remember the look he gave you after your fall, like you were made of glass, he seemed almost disappointed at himself for leaving you alone.
“You don’t need to do this.” You hissed while he scrunched and dried your hair with a fluffy towel. “That’s what I thought, then I found you crying down a flight of stairs with a bloody knee.”
That shuts you, to be honest, you don’t even remember crying, maybe that’s what you do in scary situations, perhaps that’s why he looks at you as if you’re so much smaller than him. It makes you feel weird.
After leaving you in bed, you stop him before he leaves. “Huh?”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Well, what do you suggest?”
“You have a scar on your forearm. Tell me the story.” Sinclair shot you a side eye, considering.
That was embarrassing, before you could take it back, he sat down on the bed.
“Believe it or not, there was a bear..” Quickly, he got lost in the story, articulating about how he had to dribble the bear while looking for an opening to shoot. You made faces of disbelief from time to time, to which he bragged in return.
“...By the time I put him down, I had no strength left, so I collapsed right beside it–” You were asleep. “Hah, so much for wanting to hear a story, muffin.”
Moving the blanket a little close to your neck, his hand froze, the small scar on your jaw from the fall you took at the forest, it seemed like a distant memory now, but it was a jarring truth for Sinclair. “So flimsy.”
He spent some more time by your bedside, the moonlight beaming through the window. Nights like that made him wonder if he wasn't dreaming, if you’d disappear the moment he looked away for too long.
-
Soon, the crutches were gone, it was still hard to walk, but you could manage with a bit of effort. And falling wasn't a possibility, not with Sinclair and his ability to keep himself at enough distance to catch you. At all times.
That didn’t bother you anymore, on the contrary, it felt like someone really saw you.
Sitting by the window, he showed you different constellations. Such a starry sky was but a distant dream to you for a long time, but still..
“I’m getting better. Maybe in a few days I can already go home.”
For a few seconds, there was no answer, he was staring at you. “Why?”
“Huh?”
“You told me how lonely it felt to live by yourself. The hiking trip was a chance to change things. Is this not change?”
“Yes, it is, but I can't just– Abandon everything.. My friends, they must be worried about me, I just disappeared on them!”
“And yet no one came.”
That stung, his eyes flicked with regret for a moment. “Look–”
“Just go. Goodnight, Sinclair.” You thought he’d argue, but after a few seconds, you hear the door closing.
In the quietude of the night, you wonder about what he said, he’s not wrong, your life before this was mediocre at best, a poor imitation of living, but was it really right to just throw it all away, no matter how terrible it may seem?
-
The next day, there’s a breakfast plate at the bedside table, your favorite food. It wasn't flawless, but that only made your heart ache at the thought of Sinclair doing his best to cook this.
“Aghhrrh.” cursing under your breath, you throw yourself back in bed.
Everything feels confusing, since your childhood, there was no one you could connect to. Sometimes it felt like even your family was far away from you, so naturally connection became your biggest wish, at least subconsciously.
Wish..
“Please let me be happy.” Eyes shooting open, you sat.
It’s a stupid dream.
-
In the warehouse in the garden, you found him cleaning a black shotgun. His back turned, wearing the same green coat he did every time he went hunting. It always made you anxious, a small vestige of the terror you felt at night.
“I’ll be going home tomorrow.”
He doesn’t turn back, but you almost think you saw him trembling slightly.
“I can’t take you.” His voice carries a low grow, it always does after he comes back from hunting.
“Why?”
“I’m be busy this week.”
Damn it! Fuming, you crossed your arms, Sinclair was never busy, even with his mysterious status as a socialite, his mansion was empty of any workers, and he rarely met other people, he just closed deals over the phone, but every time you suggested going home, the guy found a way to suddenly get involved in ‘work’ business.
“Then I’ll just go by myself.” That made him turn around, a serious look on his face, he wasnt surprised.
“You won’t survive a single night in the forest.”
You deflated, of course you couldn’t go by yourself, he knew that too, a few minutes lost from your friends was enough to get you into this whole situation. Sometimes you hated being so inept.
But that only made you angrier at him.
“Just– Tell me why you want me to stay! I don’t understand what’s the benefit in keeping me here, i’m healed already!”
His eyes widen minutely. “Benefit? What are you talking about?” Sinclair looks hurt, but he explains no further. Looking at you as someone looks at a small crying deer.
He always did that, he always looked at you as if you were weak, as if you were a child.
“I understand.. You feel guilty about shooting me, so now you think you need to keep helping me!” You accuse, eyes reddening, that’s embarrassing.
“What are you talking about?” It’s his turn to look scandalized.
“You keep following me, helping me shower, making me food, do you think i’m some burden you have to shoulder?!” Stop, stop talking, you don’t even know what you’re saying, but words just flow from deep within you, somewhere, and you just can’t turn the facet off.
Sinclair’s mouth is agape, you see his brows furrow, angry, a visage you didn’t saw even when he came back after really long hunts.
“How dare you even think that about me?!”
“Then why don’t you tell me why you want me to stay?!”
“It’s for you own good!!” He hits the table with his fist, teeth showing, it almost buckles under the strenght, that silences everything in the warehouse for a second.
Before he comes to his senses, you’re already gone, there’s no time to apologize.
-
In your– the guest room, you checked everything again, the hiking backpack you bought especially for the trip rested full to the brim on the floor. Looking over your shoulder, a bunch of folded clothes sat on your bed, he bought them all, you just stopped using your own clothes at some point.
It was better not to take them.
Peeking out the window, the sun was rising, time to get going.
There was much to say, but perhaps even more that should be left unsaid. So you decided to leave a letter to Sinclair, apologizing, and thanking him.
It was cowardice, but you were too guilty to look at him in the face after everything.
Before leaving, you made sure to check on the strawberry muffins you left in the kitchen, you took some time to bake them this morning, they are his favorites. You were never a good cook, but seeing how many times he made it for himself, it was hard not to memorize the recipe.
After one last look at the place you’ve grown fond to like a home, you leave. Now was the perfect time, Sinclair usually slept till lunch after hunting, and you also hope to reach a town before night falls, or any place with human activity.
-
Sitting up with a groan, Sinclair decided to give up trying to sleep, it was a futile effort, nightmares creeped close every time he gave into slumber. He needed to talk to you.
Squinting to see the hour on the clock, 12:30pm, not bad.
While getting ready, he decided to put his yellow tie with green dots, Sinclair never chose this tie, but you caught sight of it one day while he was asking for your opinion on different suits, you almost passed out from laughter.
Maybe that’d cheer you up.
Deciding it’d be better to make lunch before talking to you – perhaps he just wanted more time to mull over what to say – he descended into the kitchen. The smell of food caught him by surprise, he recognized it instantly.
“Muffins?” Not any, strawberry.
His favorite.
Knocking on the door, it was difficult to contain himself. “Can we talk? I’d like to apologize for yesterday.”
…
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. Never, it’s just difficult to explain some things.. Can’t you give this old man a chance!” He articulated to the closed door, as if you could see him.
No answer, a sigh, “Come downstairs soon, i made lunch.”
Sinclair moved away from the door, but stopped just before the stairs, something tugging in his chest. He was never one to ignore his instincts.
Opening the door slowly, he announced “I’m coming in!”
It was empty, everything. All you had except the clothes he gave you, gone. A timid letter by the bedside.
-
Making sure to follow the trail you found outside the mansion, you walked for hours, trying your hardest to keep calm and watch in case any other people were exploring.
The plan to find a place to stay before night didn’t work, the sight of the sun setting scared you, but you couldn't give up, nor could you despair, that’s what got you in this situation to begin with.
And leaving was your decision, you just had to deal with it.
“What?” Getting on the tip of your feet, you squint your eyes, trying to gaze off into the distance.
Lights, there’s lights! Far away you see small points of glow together, a city! Hands clasp your mouth to stop yourself from squealing in joy.
Running to its direction, you stop after almost tripping on a rock. “Gotta go slowly… Just follow the light.”
You freeze when a howl echoes through the forest. The blood drains from your face, that was a possibility you considered, but you buried it in the back of your mind, or you’d freeze from fear the moment night came.
There’s a moment of reflection, you’re surprised to manage that much, but it doesn’t really help, what should you even do? Trying to remember Sinclair’s stories doesn't work, he hunts, his stories were about chasing, not avoiding.
You opt for staying still for a moment, not even breathing, but the sound of leaves ruffling even closer makes you jump, there’s another howl. You start running. It’s primal, instinctual, and sickling nostalgic.
A coyote appears in front of you, teeth bared, even though that’s the only one you see, a feeling in your very bones tells you you’re surrounded.
Walking back, it follows, until you’re on the ground, dragging yourself away, arms in front of you. The way its tail swooshes gives the impression it enjoys your fear. Soon, you can almost smell its breath.
The coyote lifts its hindlegs, pouncing.
And then it’s gone. Your eyes don’t follow, when you lower your gaze. It’s dead, it all felt like a movie scene, your mouth hung open.
“I found you, thank heavens I found you.”
Blue eyes, you wanna vomit, it’s the same as that night, the jacket, the gun, the smell of blood and decay. Except now those eyes look at you lovingly. Terrified.
“Shh, shh, don’t cry. Let me clean this up.”
A gloved hand rubs your cheek gently. It’s red.
You didn’t even notice your tears.
The world spins, he picks you up easily, rocking you back and forth, a soothing song comes out of his lips in a growling tone, you can’t understand, maybe he’s singing in a foreign language, or perhaps you were the one far away now.
How could he sing so calmly soaked in blood? How could you look at the sky above soaked in blood?
Suddenly, it all made sense. All the times Sinclair seemed sick at the thought of you living, it wasn't his worry about your inadequacies, at least not completely.
It was his own loneliness.
Sinclair was a paradox, a noble who turned into a killer during the midnight hour, who drank fine wine alone in front of a bonfire and practiced with a gun on moving targets.
But there was a common factor, he was alone. A socialite with an empty house, a hunter with no one to share his prey. An eccentric with stories to tell but no one to hear.
It felt like you both were so distant, it wasn't exaggerated to say you were from two different galaxies. And yet, under the gaze of the moon, hugging you tenderly in the midst of blood, you understood there was no one in the word more similar than you both.
Your wish to be cared for, his wish to nurture.
“I will protect you.”
When he turned back, you ventured a gaze at the distance.
You couldn’t see the city lights anymore.
final notes: i like hunter characters a lot, - but what if they're not a reclusive figure living in a cabin, but a confident socialite with an obssessive hobby? - that was my first thought when wondering about how to write this trope. wow, the hunter and the socialite are so different, are they even the same person? maybe the thrill of hunting bares humans down to their very core.
He got here at least twenty minutes ago, the secretary sent you a message, you almost laughed out loud in the middle of a reunion. What an uptight guy.
“Mister Berger really didn’t show up?"
“Nah, when the guy says he can’t come he really doesn't, not even answering messages.”
His displeasure is clear, you were unsure at first, but now it’s undeniable he despises the guy. Understandable, considering what he’s investigating, you also don’t think you could handle seeing him today, fists would fly.. He’d beat you to a pulp, though. Berg was huge.
“My car is parked outside, please follow me.”
It’s a beautiful black car, his intention was probably being discreet, it suits him. He opens the door for you, closing it after.
“Wow, how organized, even taxis don’t keep their cars clean like that, it looks new!”
He smiles slightly, it's a nice sight.
“I’ve had this one for years, I just vacuum a lot. Normally there’s no passengers.”
“I’ll try not to make a mess then!”
“Don’t worry about that. Seatbelt?”
You laugh, he must be around your age, but he acts as if he’s way older.. Like an uncle or something. Wait, is he around your age?
…Better not ask, it’s not polite.
“Yes, sir.”
–
The agency was a funny place, not at all what you expected, full to the brim with all kinds of eccentrics, detectives with big red bow ties, some using deerstalkers and smoking pipes. Well, to be honest, that’s actually more in line with what you think when someone says “detective”. Kenneth’s the weird one, being so serious.
His office felt like another world, a stark contrast from the eccentric detectives and colorful brown walls outside. A small room with gray walls, black table with an old computer and lots of filing cabinets, at least the armchairs looked comfortable.
“Wait.. Is this?”
A small table for kids in the corner of the room, pink, with 2 green chairs, above it there was a lot of paper and drawing supplies.. Markers, crayons, pencils, you name it, all nicely tucked into a pen holder.
“In case someone has a kid.”
“That’s so cute!!”
It looks very organized, makes sense, considering how systematic Kenneth is. It’s a little sad, those tables are meant to be messy!
“You can draw, if you want.”
He’s looking at you, you want to deny, but the words die in your mouth, no reason in particular, you just look at his serious face and feel, somehow, that’d make him feel better.
These scribbles don’t look bad at all! Maybe being an artist was the career for you, way better than working in a small office..
“That’s all, thank you for your cooperation.”
Jumping, you look at Kenneth, but he doesn’t look offended by your distraction.. Face showing the ghost of a smile.
“May I see what you drew?”
Having no heart to deny, you give him the page, face reddening by how seriously he looks at it, as if analyzing every detail.
“It looks very nice.”
“Thank you!”
“Come, I'll give you a ride back home.” You deflate in relief, it’s obvious he’d offer, but you were still scared of the possibility of having to pay a taxi all the way to your house.
Kenneth doesn’t return your drawing.
Who cares, it’s just random doodles.
-
Frigid air hits your face, it’s already that time of the year? The streets look even colder under the purple sunset sky, you see an older man hide his kid under an oversized beanie, it’s a funny sight.
“Wha!” Something fluffy and warm attacks! You’re enveloped by a comfy coat, its insides are soft and woolly, it smells like vanilla.
“No! No! No! You’re going to be cold!!”
That guy! He’s already walking towards the car! You enter the passenger seat quickly.
His coat looks big on you, it has less to do with your size, Kenneth’s the one comically tall, you recall thinking he looked kinda awkward sitting on his small office chair.. His legs were probably all weird trying to fit under the table.
Looking at the window, the lights at the city start turning on, leaving a luminescent trail you follow from the corner of your eye. Resting on the cold window, you quietly bring the coat closer, a hint of vanilla hangs around as you watch the sky darken.
“Hrnn.”
“....Keys? I just—” Dammit.. Shut up.
“What?!” Covers fall to the floor, you’re sitting up in seconds… In your room? The lights are off, except the small lamp by the bedside, there’s a note next to it.
“You were sleeping by the time we got here.
I woke you up, but you seemed out of it, so I took you to bed.
I’m writing this in case you don’t remember what happened.
Sgd. Kenneth Murphy
PS: You kept mentioning vanilla ice cream, so I passed by that market close by. It’s in the fridge. Keys on the table.”
Everything got dark.. It's the end, it's truly the end. Sitting on the floor, you hide your face behind cold hands, how can you just sleep in someone else's car?! He still has the nerve to leave a purple glittery letter, with your pen! It’d be less humiliating if he just kicked you out the car the moment your house got into view.
You need water.
Downstairs, opening the fridge, you almost pass out.
“Detective Murphy!”
It’s a big pot of ice cream.
-
There’s a lot of things you expect, overtimes, boring reunions and old noodles.. Becoming friends with Detective Murphy was not one of the things in that list.
“Are you crazy?! That restaurant is so pricey, I’m scared of getting close to the entrance! Maybe they’ll charge me for that too.”
“I can take you.”
“Only if you’re willing to wait at least twenty years for me to finish paying.”
He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want you to pay me.”
For the last two weeks, he’s been taking you home after your shifts. It’s hard to remember exactly when it started, but you both fell into this routine quickly. It's weird, but very helpful.
"What's up?"
“Huh?”
“I see you looking at my hands, speak up, dude!”
“Your burns. Are they healing properly?”
Throwing your hand at him, it stops centimeters before his face, he doesn’t flinch, but his eyes widen a bit.
"Look for yourself if you're so worried."
Analyzing your hand, his gaze softens.
“It’s almost healed.. That’s good..”
“....Your bandages..”
“Oh, I ripped those off! If I went to work with those kiddie bandages, I wouldn't hear the rest of it!” And, imitating a particularly annoying coworker, you continued “Is that a bandaid? Did you get a booboo? Do we need to kiss it better?”
There’s no laugh, looking up to meet his gaze, your own turns in surprise.
He looks sad.
His investigation required him to visit your office often, talking to employees, meeting up with your boss.. He’s practically known by now, the secretary messages you every time he comes here, even when it’s not for you.
Which is why this should come as no surprise.
You don’t know what you were expecting.
“I told you— I don’t know anything.”
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up!” Running a hand through his hair, Berg walks around deliriously.
It happened so quickly, going back to the office after leaving some packages in the mail, only to feel a trembling hand on your shoulder.
Now, Berger is walking from side to side in front of you in the middle of a back alleyway.
There’s a textbook number of things that should be done in a situation like this, calm him somehow, try to get any sort of help.. Just anything besides standing there terrified, but you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, and your brain was mush.
“Just tell me.. Did you say something? Anything?! I.. You know me, whatever they’re saying, it’s all.. It’s not—”
Screaming in frustration, he kicks a trashcan. It makes your legs weak. His gaze turns.
“Look, Berg..”
Your collar is grabbed, the whole world spins on it’s handle when he pulls you roughly to stare at him, downright manic, eyes bloodshot. A monster.
You’re left tiptoeing, Berg was huge, huge.. If he felt like it, god, if he had a quick lapse in judgement, you’d be a red smear on the dirty pavement.
There’s only one person you know taller than Berg… And suddenly, there’s fragments everywhere, memories that became so dear to you in such a short time.. His coat, smiles that were never fully there, observant eyes and calm hands patching you up.
Eyes tearing up, you feel so much smaller.
“I’m being nice, I need help. I’m in deep shit for something I didn’t fuckin’ do! Ye hear me?!”
“Answer!!”
“Look.. Alright, that’s how we’re gonna do this. If you don’t tell me.. I’ll beat you up. Please, please. No one is answering me.”
A laugh almost escapes, he’s desperate, not even him seems convinced in his suggestion, beating you up would just make his situation worse, if he’s really innocent, that’d actually be incriminating himself further.
“Berg—”
The world turns, everything darkens quickly, and like an old tv, it’s back on, you’re face first in the pavement, your cheek burned.
“Gnrhm..” You can’t form words, there’s a cut in your mouth.. Everything seems hazy and your eyes dart around.
“Fucking shit!”
Hand on his mouth, it looks like he’s about to take off.
He doesn’t.
He kicks you in the stomach, there’s no time for your body to get into a better position to alleviate, moments later, it’s your noise. A terrible gargled sound echoes somewhere… You don’t have the mind to think.
Soon, your body gives up trying to move and protect, maybe it hopes it’ll be quicker this way. Your erratic heartbeat mixes with the impact sounds inside of your skull.
That’s embarrassing.
-
“Please, please. Can you hear me? I just need a sign, squeeze my hand. Please.”
It’s too bright. That’s probably your first coherent thought after fighting the pain to open your eyes, is your face moist?
But it’s the second sight that sticks with you, Kenneth, he covers the light quickly, he’s all that you see.
He looks terrified, hair disheveled and glasses foggy, was that really the same man you came to know during these last few weeks.
“There you are, can you understand me? Nod if you can. Hello?”
Eyes drifting, everything gets darker before getting bright again, it feels like you’re in a rollercoaster without a seatbelt. Something catches your gaze, blood.. No, it’s not that blood, that’s everywhere, there’s something– someone, on the floor.
“No!”
Kenneth lifts you up easily, it should’ve been gentler, more careful, he doesn’t have time for careful right now. You almost vomit, but no sound comes out of your mouth still.
“I need you to keep listening to me. Don’t need to answer, just focus on what i’m saying, alright.”
But how can you? When his voice cracks at the end of every phrase and your body seems to be falling at the seams. It’s difficult to breathe, there’s something on your throat.
“...Kenneth.”
His guttural scream rings loud in deaf ears.
-
It feels like an anvil is crushing your whole body, your eyes burning when you get them open.
“Don’t move around so much.”
Kenneth looks at you, a sudden flash of his horrified face under bright city lights comes quickly, refreshing your memory.
“Berg..” His brows knitted. It’s not displeasure, it’s pure rage, he looks furious. Something that dissipates just as soon as it came, replaced by other emotions as he watches you.
Trying to flex an arm, you find it bandaged, it’s not just that, you’re full of gauze and bandaids. “You were hurt–” the words seem to catch on his throat “Bad. It was very bad.”
“I got to the office, you weren’t there. I knew something was off right away, then someone came to me, said they saw Berger around town, acting weird. I ran, i thought—”
Kenneth looked destroyed, self hatred written deeply into every line his face shows now. “I knew, I should've kept a closer eye. That bastard..” Reaching his hands, wide brown eyes stare at you while his mumbling dies down.
They’re not gloved, you’re not surprised by how soft his hands are. Kenneth grabs your hand, stares at it. “So fragile.”
There’s no answer. Everything feels slow.
“Hospital?”
“No, we’re in my house.”
You noticed. It was more of a “why?”, but your tongue doesn’t move. He continues, “..You were badly injured, there was no time to get you to one, I had the supplies.. And the ability.”
Despite how heavy your body felt, you threw yourself into a sitting position, Kenneth’s arms flew up, as if you were made of glass. As if you’d break into a thousand pieces at any second.
“I ‘eel sluggish’..”
The couch trembles as he sits down next to you.
“I gave you a sedative.” Maybe your face contorted, because he explained right after “...You probably don’t remember. When I was bandaging, you woke up and held me tightly, scared, small.. You said–” A side-eye is sent your way, you already look half asleep.
“Nevermind, you won’t remember this either.” His tone is fond.
Kenneth almost jumps in surprise when he feels your head hit his shoulder, he extends a careful arm to your sides, holding you closer. With dazed eyes, you search his face, he’s smiling, a real smile, cracked around the edges.. He has dimples.
Drifting off, there’s a distant feeling that nothing will ever be the same. Maybe it’s Kenneth’s smile as he holds you and watches the cold drops of rain hitting his window.
Maybe it’s the fact your drawing is glued to his fridge.
tags: mentions of sexual assault, burns, gender neutral reader
summary: a detective appears at your doorstep late at night, interested in hearing your testimony about a coworker.
part 2/last part
“Would you be able to fill in for Berg tomorrow?”
You groan, waiting a few seconds before clicking the red button on the telephone.
“Yes, but I'll probably get here a little late. Is that okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
A few seconds.
“Sorry for asking again.”
You sigh, hanging the phone and scratching your face furiously, feeling your eyes reddening, it’s hard to tell if it’s frustration or exhaustion.
You work in an office that takes care of helping with consumer rights and complaints. On paper, it seems like a cool job, and it is, for the owners, that is, they’re the only lawyers working here, the rest just takes care of writing and going over petitions, checking for grammatical mistakes. Riveting stuff.
But honestly, that wasn’t a problem in itself, the problem was how your boss kept asking you to cover for coworkers on your free days.
The lights in the office turn off, leaving only the small lamps you have around your messy work desk.
“Ghrrh..” And that wasn’t all, sometimes you felt like all your coworkers saw you as a.. Walking servant!
“Oh, I was looking for you! Do you think you could proofread my petition?”
“Hey, since you’re here, why don’t you make me some coffee, please?”
“Just the person I was hoping to see! Look, I really need to get going, do you think you could submit those papers for me?”
Dammit! You get up in a fit of anger, raising your arm and clenching your fist.
But you don’t punch anything, seconds pass, your knuckles white from clenching, you sigh and slump back down.
That’s what you got for being a doormat.
-
Alright! If you had to work tomorrow, you could at least make the most of your night at home! You open a packet of instant noodles and drop them into boiling water while using your other hand to explore what’s on tv with the controller. One of the advantages of living in such a small flat was being able to see the living room from the kitchen.
It seemed like a quiet and enjoyable night, until you heard knocking.
“Wait a minute!"
You could hardly hide your displeasure while unlocking the door. It was probably your neighbor, Miss Linda, knocking to gossip about the other residents, if you’re lucky, she’s just looking to give you leftover cookies.
“Good night, is this the residence of..”
Your frown immediately dissipated, on your doorstep was a very tall man, dark hair slicked back but one loose strand stood over his forehead, yet it didn’t give him a messy look, on the contrary! With his glasses and serious eyes, you almost felt like a soldier in front of a general. Should you salute?
“Yes! That’s me! Hello!” You said, voice cracking towards the end.
“My name is Kenneth Murphy, I am a private investigator affiliated with an independent detective agency that takes care of particular legal cases that weren’t taken to the legal system.” He shows his ID, you notice his photo looks exactly like he does right now, which would be funny to you, were you not scared about the fact a detective was at your doorstep!
“Can I help you, Detective Murphy?”
“Yes, you are an employee at this office, am I correct?” He shows you the card your boss carries everywhere, giving to anyone interested in his job, you nod quickly.
“Are you acquainted with a man called Anthony Berger?” You gasp, unconsciously squeaking ‘Berg?’, the conversation with your boss early instantly comes to mind.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Then, may I ask you a couple questions? It won’t take long, and you aren’t obliged to answer any inquiry that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Please enter.” You usher Kenneth inside, it’d be wise to ask more about his inquiries, maybe refuse to answer unless he told you why he wanted to know about Berg, but you didn’t. Mostly because seeing him outside in the cold made you feel bad.
But also, his serious and sincere appearance made you feel like everything would be ok, like there was someone capable taking care of things.
“Uh, should I get your coat?” you offer nervously, even though you have no coat rack, he raises his hand gently. “Well, then sit down, at least! Anywhere is fine, sorry for the mess..”
“Don’t apologize. First, may I ask how familiar you are with Mister Berger?” He sat down on the edge of your sofa, his posture was impeccable, yet he still looked confident, his eyes never left yours as you pulled up a chair from the dining table and sat down in front of him.
“We’re coworkers, we have those shared cubicle spaces, so we’re kinda like a duo.. Tho he just makes me do all the work.” You laugh awkwardly, he doesn’t smile. Tough crowd.
“But besides that, I don't talk with him much” ..because he always misses work, goes unsaid, you already badmouthed the guy enough.
“I understand. Haven’t you noticed any behaviour that’d you describe as concerning? Or just noteworthy in general?”
You get even more nervous, he still hasn’t explained why he needs to know about the guy, and now you remembered that employee confidentiality is something that you’re pretty sure exists! You feel sweat running down your neck, you can very much get fired for this!
“Well, Detective Murphy, with all due respect..” You tug on your collar, still on your work clothes since you got home. “I don’t think I'm entitled to answer these questions about another person. Hell! I don’t even know why you want to know about Berg! That can put me in a very bad spot!”
You’re surprised to see him squint, showing an almost imperceptible frown, you notice quickly it’s not directed at you.
“You’re right. I deeply apologize for my lack of decorum, I was too focused on making it quick, due to the time, I'm sorry for making you nervous.”
“I’m investigating Anthony Berger for accusations of sexual assault. I was hired privately by the father of one of his victims. My objective is to gather as much proof and testimonies as I can, so the case can be formally taken to the legal system. I’m also looking for other people who went through similar experiences with him, so I can provide help.”
The inside of your mouth feels cold, you realize it’s the air invading your slack mouth, you can feel your heartbeat rattling inside your skull “....What?” leaves your lips dumbly, Kenneth waits patiently, he doesn't seem bothered by your mumbling.
“No! No, I'm fine! I’m so sorry. I really didn't expect something like that.. But I want to contribute!” he seems grateful, his lips soften just a tiny bit
“You didn't expect it.. Then Mister Berger never showed any suspicious behaviour?”
“No.. I mean, he was a bit weird.. But not in that way, I guess.. He went on different dates every week, asking me to cover for him left and right!” That seemed to pique Kenneth’s interest.
“Oh! I just remembered, when I was hired, he asked me out on a date, I denied.. He insisted a few more times, but I really wasn't in the mood, so he gave up..”
His brows furrowed at that, seconds passed, he seemed about to say something, before looking around confused. You tilted your head, following his gaze.
“...Something is burning.”
“My noodles!!”
Running to the kitchen, you turn off the stove, grabbing the hot pan while turning the sink on with your other hand, you practically throw the pan there, boiling droplets fall on your hand before you can remove it.
“What happened?!”
You hear Kenneth say, you must have screamed, because moments later he’s by your side, looking at your hand.
“Can you breathe with me? It’s ok, focus on my voice.”
His expression is serious, he looks deeply into your eyes, trying to calm you down. You must look really scared.
“Do you have gauze? Maybe something similar?”
You shake your head, but thinking about it..
“Bandaids.. on the cabinet in the living room.”
He gets you to the sofa, coming back quickly, in his hand there’s a pack of children’s bandaids, you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on the burning pain in your hands, you don’t even remember why you have those bandaids, you probably bought them for Miss Linda’s son, sometimes he spent the afternoons in your house.
“Can you hear me?”
Blinking, you look at him, he seems slightly worried, you notice, his browns are furrowed again.
“I’m going to apply the bandaids, you can hold my hand if it helps you.”
You grab his hand with your uninjured one, his black glove feels very soft, you focus on that, and moments later, it’s over.
“There, there.” You lift your palm, there's now three bear bandaids covering your burns.. You can’t help the laughter.
“What’s the matter?”
“Getting hurt and putting on these cartoon bandaids. It makes me feel like a kid again.”
Kenneth doesn’t respond, you see him staring at the bandages in your hand, his eyes squint just a bit.
“Uh.. Detective Murphy?”
“Ah, I'm so sorry.”
“No! God, I'm the one who should apologize, I completely forgot about the noodles, you’re the one who reminded me!! And you still helped me.. If you weren’t..”
“I’m just glad you’re ok.” he interrupts your rambling.
"Thank you.." You steal a glance at the clock in the living room, it's already 21pm, he must have noticed your glance. “I should go. I thank you for your cooperation today.”
He gets up, fixing his coat and adjusting his glasses. But he doesn't leave.
“If I may ask, do you have time tomorrow? Your testimony would help me immensely, if you could go to my office, I could write a document based on your intel.”
“ I'd love to.. But I have work tomorrow.”
“You do? Your boss told me you didn’t work on Fridays.”
“....I only asked him about the employees that worked with Berger, nothing more.” He explains himself.
“Ah! It’s okay, haha! Detectives are really thorough! Yes, i don’t work tomorrow.. I’m actually covering for Berg, believe it or not.”
He doesn’t respond.
“But I can go any other time! I swear!”
“I can take you.”
“Huh?”
“After work, I can pick you up. My agency is a bit far, even if you didn’t have work, it’d still be a long ride from your house. It would cost a lot.”
“Cost?"
“You don’t have a car.”
This guy!! You huff. “Alright, alright! You probably know when Berg’s shift ends.. I’ll be waiting.” His lips quirk a bit
“Thank you, I won't be late.”
“If the burns hurt, you should buy some ointment, there’s a pharmacy close. I can give you money.”
You shake your head quickly, it seems like he wants to argue, but you must look really tired, because he just looks down.
“Good night, I'll see you tomorrow.”
He turns around and opens the door.. You swear you saw him look at your burned hand before leaving, but by the time you came to your senses he was already gone.
Your fingers trace the bandaids, a cartoon bear smiles at you.
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