𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Cursing | Extreme Violence | Sexual Assault Mentioned | Rape Mentioned | Non-Consensual Drugging Mentioned | Cannibalism Mentioned | Graphic Gore Mentioned | Psychological Abuse Mentioned | Emotional Abuse Mentioned | Self-Harm | Suicide | Suicidal Ideation | Major Character Death | Childhood Abuse Mentioned | Trauma |PTSD
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!
There are only light-hearted giggles that leave the two of you. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and you're not surprised by the way that his skin holds that golden tan so well; you don't know if it's even possible to be this stunning and to exist with someone who was a practical disco ball.
You can feel your legs tangle with his. There's a warm laughter that coats your heart that makes you feel like you could lie in bed forever…
Breaking News !
The Tuplar remains that have been recently under investigation, after the closure of Pony Express, one of the last manned crew freighter companies, which suspended its manned crews almost 10 years ago, before the company's closure. It seems that two bodies are locked in a cryogenics chamber—We have someone on site at the hospital. Bodies that were also found around the Tuplar are also put into the morgue upon returning to Earth. Our thoughts and prayers are with the family.
The television plays loudly through the white room; it echoes through the eerily quiet area, and you wonder if this is really what you were forced to be given. You don't know how old you are when you wake up in the hospital room; you just want the television off so you can go right back to sleep.
It seemed your mother made a big deal of your disappearance, her last years spent trying to find her missing baby, but you wonder if she did it because she cared or because she knew she couldn't start over if you were gone. You're not surprised that she's absent from your side, but what you do find is Daisuke's older sister with her father and mother. You can hear some quiet gasps from the other side, which reveal two little children you assumed were hers.
The woman looks at you in awe, her eyes lost in your aged face, before she begins to find her cheeks riddled with tears. She latches onto you without hesitation, and you're shocked that someone could find themselves at your hip.
Though you're not surprised that it's Daisuke’s sister who finds this fondness for you instantly. Even her children comment on it as they follow around their mother to surround your bed. “You knew our mom's brother?” You only nod in return; their mother eagerly hushes them, “Boys, please, don't overwhelm ‘em.” Though you can hear her father as he puts his hand on her shoulder, “You might also need to ease up, Issa.”
You can hear the door close, and you wonder where Daisuke's mom went. You allowed ice case sister's warm arms to wrap around you and you can feel her tightening grip whilst she begins to rub her hands up and down your back, it was grounding in a way that feels undeserved, and you don't hug back at first–Not because you don't want to, but because your body hasn't learned how to accept the things given to you yet.
Eventually, though, you allow your face to find the crook of her neck, and the smell of her perfume makes you feel like you're on a beach with a pina colada.
You don't remember agreeing to go anywhere, only that the hospital dissolves into motion—paperwork, voices during tests, and the studies that continue the need to fill out all signs that you’re ready to be dismissed. An insistence that you shouldn't be alone right now. You just nod, nod in response to everything, shake your head when you need to, and avoid your reflection at all costs.
The house is filled with baked goods, a hint of tonkatsu fills the air, his mother tells you that she's already beginning to make dinner as they head to the hospital to do a nightly prayer over you before heading back home, she's so grateful to have you here, they all are and continue to eagerly express it every time you're in the same room as then.
There's clean clothes being brought from their laundry room, warm oil from the kitchen that's still popping as new slices are being prepped for your additional plate, and the faint trace of citrus that clings to the hallway as you begin to make your way up the stairs. You're not surprised, a variety of fruits were found in a bowl in the living room, alongside the upstairs hallway, the kitchen island table, and the front door, just in case Daisuke woke up a little late and missed breakfast.
Though the smell of oranges clings to your nose upon reaching Daisuke's room, a small wooden basket before the door had almost 8 of them with a little sticky note on top. You don't know why you're standing in front of his door before dinner anyway, you're embarrassed by the colorful assortment of letters cut out from magazines when you first decorate his new room after he moved a bit farther, from being only a couple of blocks away.
The bike he had was probably still on the patio outside, locked up, waiting for Daisuke to come and unlock it to make his way down to your house during the times his father and mother used the car for work. Do you hear the way they talk about Daisuke? It's like they're just waiting for him to come down for dinner; in a way, you're waiting like a puppy dog in hopes he comes out of the room.
You almost whimper before his sister finds you. She's quickly on your back as her hands find your shoulders, you're met by her teeth, which are stained a slight yellow, and when she talks, you can see the brown on your tongue from what you assume is coffee.
The woman doesn't take long to usher you down for dinner, they give you simple yes or no questions at the table, even Daisuke's nephews try to be more easy with their questions towards you. You only tilt your head when you try to help with the dishes, you're quickly stopped by Daisuke's mother, who only tells you to get ready for bed, so you begin to take out the pull-out mattress from the couch that Daisuke's mother would use when extended family comes over.
You're about to pull it out before Daisuke's sister gasps, she quickly ushers you upstairs, and you find yourself in her room. It's a lot more bare than it was before. She had taken all her stuff with her to college when you and Daisuke were in middle school. It had some random paintings she did while she was in high school, a Renaissance lover who loved immersing her multiculturalism into the pieces that you admired as you sat on her bed.
Daisuke's sister caught you staring at one of her and Daisuke during his quinceañera, you don't remember it too well since you showed up midway through after sneaking out. It was him in a nice suit with his sister next to him with the biggest smile on her face, then the other, which was a painting of her holding Daisuke in the hospital. You could feel her eyes burn into you as she watched you watch the painting.
You waited for her to leave the room. She gave you one last hug and bid you goodnight. You stayed up staring at the ceiling above for hours; it gave you time to vocalize your thoughts in your mind, but you weren't ready to listen to your voice.
If it aged, or changed, or was something you wouldn't recognize anymore.
That's what terrified you at this moment.
You found your feet against the cold wood floor. As the door creaked open, you could see Daisuke's mother come to replace the oranges in front of his door. You could hear her soft whimpers, but she didn't break out into a full-out sob. You assumed she had already known about her son's demise, having it confirmed when she had to plan his funeral was something that left your heart aching for the woman.
There isn't time to mess up a good thing, so you leave the room unchecked. You don't try to sneak into the room, the only thing that woman has left of her son; you can't ruin that for her, as you ruined him.
Once you awake the next morning, it's Daisuke's sister dropping off her children at school. There's a silence as she begins to drive to a park. It was one she and Daisuke frequented, “I actually took him here when he accidentally took my edibles.” The woman takes a moment, and then some, and you can hear the way her voice begins to crackle before she turns to you.
“We've been talking…My father and I,” she says gently, eyes fixed on the grand view of the park. “About a press release. Just something small we hear about, that even your Captain Curly has taken the new additions to his body like a duck to water…” You find your view broken by the trees, then fix your eyes on Daisuke's sister…
“I beg your pardon?”
You don't hear your voice as your own; you watch her face slowly be filled with shock, but she continues regardless of her point, and you admire this family's perseverance. “Just something small that they plan on doing, it's going to be live televised, and there's a chance you'll be able to talk about what happened, how everything ended up the way they did, so people stop asking questions that aren't theirs to ask.”
Your eyebrows furrow; regardless, you nod in agreement. “You're right.” The woman gives you a smile, you feel your body heat up as you feel her eyes begin to crease the same way, although she had many more beauty marks on her face than Daisuke, it still feels like being lost in those honey colored eyes.
This time, you initiated the hug. There's an eagerness to return it; soon enough, she begins to sob, and you allow her this grief. You rub her back more soothingly, circling your thumbs into her shoulder blades, which causes her to ease her harsh sobs into soft whimpers.
The hug lasted for what felt like an hour; you were met by her puffy eyes as she continually thanked you for being there. You wondered if Daisuke needed this when you left, if he had done the same thing about you to his sister. You don't know if he ever told them what happened to you, and they seemed so eager to have you back in there, regardless of the gap spanning more than a decade.
Daisuke's funeral came and went, ashes stood in a loving urn decorated with hibiscus, and there was still a tombstone thanks to donations. You're grateful for the number of people that attended, you watched as Daisuke's father and sister stood their ground by denying people questions during the service, and trying to overwhelm his mother.
Upon reaching the cemetery, you decided to stay back, Daisuke's family unfortunately not agreeing with such an idea, as they agreed to wait in the hearse for you as you went to look for your mother's grave.
Your mother's grave is smaller than you expected. It's clean and maintained. Someone cared enough to keep it that way, even if you never felt it well, she was alive. You're quick to find your bottom on the grass, no care for the clothes you're probably staining, and the sight of her being just a mother on the tombstone leaves you conflicted.
There's something in you that made you want to tell her that you hated her that you hated how miserable she had grown up and how you wished that you could have knocked out the bloodline from the beginning that if given another chance at life you would just kill yourself when you were a child you tell her how small she made the world and how you for everything was a test you are always wrong.
You want to tell her about the ship.
About Daisuke.
About how right she was right that God just wanted you to be alone.
You want to tell her how you don't forgive her for everything she's done to you, how tired you are of caring for her, but when you stand to leave, the world doesn't feel lighter; things just feel empty, the way they always did.
Back at the house, the lights are low. You pause in front of the door again, fresh new oranges with another note on them, it's in Mandarin, and the characters have noticeably changed from before. You wonder briefly if this is what coming back is supposed to feel like, this hollow and empty feeling that only becomes a bottomless pit with you practically floating in the sea of your issues and thoughts, left with nothing to contemplate but the reality you're being forced to deal with.
The press release was ushered upon the people finding out you stayed at the Juarez residence, you made the executive decision to move to a motel despite the family's wanting to keep you there. They were happy you were speaking, Daisuke's mother using it as a point that they were really helping you be better for your future, that they'd help you get back on your feet, and so on.
Though you disappear without a trace. You go through the streets in a baseball cap and a mask, looking for formal attire for the upcoming panel. The outfit is formal in the way that makes you feel like you're going to a court: neutral colors, no sharp lines, nothing that might be read as emotional. It fits your body, but not your sense of time, as you try not to look at yourself in the mirror longer than you need to be.
Maybe they were helping you, despite the fact that you were hurting them with the letters and people showing up to question you and the family. Daisuke's family was a bunch of Daisuke's themselves, it honestly brought a smile how many times they talked and you could hear Daisuke's voice say those exact words to you.
You don't know how old you're supposed to look when you show up, you're honestly embarrassed as no one really mentioned years. The time you spent so long on that ship for calendars meant nothing now that you were here.
Alive and existing…
The room they bring you to is a little bright, you rode over with Daisuke's sister who gave you a pep talk about how if the questions become too deep that you can signal her to say something, she asks if you want her to join you on the panel, just in case anything happens.
You lovingly tell her there's no need, and soon enough you're making your way to a chair on the platform. Families sit in the neat rows before you, hands folded and eyes fixed forward. Daisuke's immediate family is there, you see Swansea's adult kids, and soon enough you see Curly's family begin to make their way into the area.
One of your biggest fears is that you'll see your mother's face in the crowd praying she would just walk right out that coffin and apologize to you, for everything, how losing her baby changed everything and made her want to be better for you.
Though the only other person to come through that door is Anya's mother, you're surprised by the fact that she's not as aged as Daisuke's parents or Curly's father, you're lost in her features as it feels like Anya is walking right into the room–You quickly rip your eyes away from hers before you find the same images of her bloodied body beginning to flood your mind.
You wonder if Curly also feels this way, and soon enough he's making his way up the platform to you.
The technology is impossible in the way that only corporate funded rehabilitation ever is–invasive, expensive, and still incomplete. A spinal exoskeleton to brace his legs, glossy white and threaded with fiber optic cables that pulse faintly with each assisted step, neural pads hug his temples, translating intent into movement. His hands shake when lifts them and from what you can hear from him ushering his family to their seats, his voice comes through a synthesized modulation, slightly delayed, flattened at the edges.
You're glad it sounds nothing like him.
One word from his mouth and you were sure you'd light the whole place up.
There are people that stare at him, not like they do you but with an uncomfortableness at his exposed nature.
You're dressed up in an outfit you don't know if you like now, you know it's appropriate for someone your age–But how old are you? No one's saying anything like a date, and even if they did, you've been on that ship for god knows how long.
Curly doesn't even face, you watch as he's the first to make his way behind the podium and soon enough the screen flickers to life from behind him. The Pony Express logo appears first, it's the outdated one you saw on the ship, you had heard that they changed it after the company went under and tried to rebrand, regardless, it stays the same as it was when you were on the ship.
“Cans or sludge, that's a mockery of what I had ever thought of. Not being able to sleep for more than 5 hours or we're docked credits, credits that are then used to pay us,” Curly begins, a voice mechanical but steady.
You watch as he pauses before he finally turns to face you for the first time, you find those piercing blue bloodshot eyes back to when he reprimanded you for speaking out of turn or him on that table feeding him those meds.
Does he remember when you beat him?
Will he tell them what you did?
Or is it just another accident?
Curly seems to also be lost in a trance by your age, he remembered your colorful accessories and eager nature to get the job done, the only control you had was your wardrobe when you left the house under the watchful eye of your mother. There was now an adult sitting in place of you, but to be honest, all he saw was that same teenager still sitting there with hair not as long as it was now, or the uncaring expression that plagued your face, or the dried blood and vomit choked that coated your face.
“If I was ever going to survive that cryopod, if I was ever given the ability to talk about what happened on the Tuplar…then I owe you all the truth…”
Soon enough the screen changed behind him, to logs, schedules, ID Card photos that caused some gasps and quiet cries from the families as they saw their once beloved members once more.
Curly goes day by day, no metaphor, no excuses.
You listen as he begins to talk about Jimmy first–the favoritism he played with amongst the crew, especially when it came to when you and Anya reported his predatory nature to the both of you, the excuses he made for the man, the way he allowed aggression to masquerade into incompetence.
Curly names Jimmy's outburst.
The threats.
The way everyone learned to stay quiet around him.
“Jimmy, was the one who crashed the ship after he had…sexually assaulted a member of the Tuplar.” Curly's voice stutters as he says her name, “Anya was raped by Jimmy. Repeatably. Using pills from the medical room that I had noticed had been coming short but continued to act none the wiser. I told myself that I would handle it, I told him I would handle it, that we could all sit down and talk about the situation…unfortunately, she was impregnated. Anya was terrified to the point where she had hidden the emergency weapon in a place only she knew, she told me countless times of how he wanted him off the ship, his constant and inappropriate behavior towards her, and instead of confronting him. I coddled him.”
Curly took a deep breath, “When Anya told Jimmy he…spiraled, and crashed the ship to a meteor off course. I ran to the room after the crash to try and steer the ship off the course…but it was too late, I spent the remainder of my time on the medical bay being taken care of by Anya and F/N, who oftentimes fed me my painkillers. Then, after F/N defined themselves from Jimmy after he got a hold of the gun in the emergency case, we were both put into the last remaining cryopod.”
When Curly finally decides to lift his head from the mic and towards the families his voice then drops, “I allowed it all to happen.” He first turns to Daisuke's family, “Your son died because I believe keeping the ship operational mattered more than keeping people safe. I'm sorry.” He then repeats the same apology to Anya’s mother who's shell shocked face is now forced into Curly's memory until the day he dies, then to his family he apologies for being such a failure that his mother had raised him better and he understood what it meant if he was to be left.
There is no defense.
No justification.
Just an explanation and apology, laid bare and insufficient to the families that are now being force fed the torture their loved ones endured in their final moments.
When it's over, no one applauds.
No one forgives him.
That isn't the point.
Soon enough, it was your time to give the statement, where you explained what happened after it all.
You tell them everything.
Your heart aches violently as you speak about your fellow coworkers on board the Tuplar.
“Anya and Daisuke were my only true friends on board the Tuplar, I found myself confiding in both of them and with their existence the months after the crash allowed me to feel better after being abused and belittled by Jimmy.” You sigh, “Anya had swallowed all the rest of the medication left in the med bay after months upon months, I didn't know she was pregnant, I had no idea she was being abused by Jimmy and I wish I had known so I could've done more for her.”
You choke up as you continue, nothing to hear but your very own tears hit the podium, “Daisuke was put out of his misery after Jimmy had told him to go into the vent leading to the medical room to save Anya when we wanted to help her at what Daisuke and I believed was a psychotic break, he suffered injuries that result in multiple lacerations on his body from a previously damaged vent. Swansea was the one who used the axe to stop his slow death after Jimmy poured mouthwash onto his wounds since we lacked any wound cleaner that we had been using for Curly's body.”
A silence falls as you try to think about your approach for the end, though you try your hardest to make sure you can properly assemble yourself before the crowd, “Swansea was shot by Jimmy, something I only found out after keeping Daisuke company whilst he was dying. Then, Jimmy put all the bodies at the table like a final supper. Jimmy cut off Curly's flesh from his leg and he ate it then forced me to eat it as well, it went on like that for days, I think, before we had our quarrel where the cryopods were being kept. I…I hurt him, I beat on him until I shot him and locked Curly and I in the cryopods.”
You then nod with silence still in the room, after you finish talking there begins an eruption of questions and sobs allowing you to fully take control of the individuals. Soon enough, you and Curly were dismissed. Both of you are going behind the stage to share a one on one chat with one another. You don't waste a second, finding your hand on his cheek as fast as possible.
A smack you had been yearning for such a long time.
Curly doesn't say anything as you sigh, feeling the hot tears begins to prickle your eyes, “You don't…You could never understand what the fuck I have been through to just end up here…” You find your heart pounding against your chest, flames licking at your vocal chords, “Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to die. Until…Daisuke? It felt like…” You looked at Curly for a moment, but you see those blue eyes as nothing more than a reason you're now stuck in this situation.
“Before Tuplar, Daisuke and I were…” You look around for the word, you try to think about what you and Daisuke had for a moment if it was the relationship you believed he and you shared or if it was just some teenage fling that happens to break each other before college.
“I loved Daisuke, and I'm sure as hell he loved me too but I was too scared for him to realize that. I was hoping it would be like the last relationships, where I just kind of went along with whatever my partner wanted and I just existed? I was like a dog to be showed off, cared for, seen as equal, reprimanded when needed and then…”
A soft sigh leaves you, “Daisuke made that part feel nicer, like I wasn't just a lifeless blow up doll taking whatever was given to me but was an actual human, but not just a human. I was loved, loved so hard that I didn't have to worry about being careless when I knew there was someone to always fall on…but, I didn't. I couldn't just sit there and be loved, I kept overthinking it, what would happen after college, what would happen if I got pregnant, what would happen if one day he decided to love me but Daisuke, being Daisuke, would just lie to me just let me be happy and live in the security of love.”
You could feel your eyes get hot with the tears brimming your bottom lashes, you don't wipe them though since who could stop you now. “One night, we had sex…It was the first I had ever had consensual sex with anyone before then and I had genuinely enjoyed it? Sure, he was awful the way any inexperienced person was but I didn't focus on how bad he was with his hands or if he accidentally went too rough because after everything, he'd ask me if I was okay–” You choke oh phlegm building up in your throat as the tears begin to boil over your cheek.
“I always felt like my life was passing me by, childhood, preteen, teenaged years, being a young adult–It’d not that I don't remember it's just what is there to remember? I was just there. Existing day by day, because I had to. That's it. But, when it came to Daisuke I felt like I had to be in the moment. He'd ask me everything, like how I felt about something, how it tasted, if I liked it, if I cared, if I wanted to be somewhere, what I wanted to do. It was weird to be put first in a world that always saw me as just another homosapien. I never resented him for it, or hated him for loving me but…I was terrified, terrified someone could see me as he saw me, terrified because I knew I'd always be the way I am and I hate the way I am. I couldn't allow him to feel so happy with me the way we did that night, the many nights before, the days before, the months, the years–I can't allow him to be this happy with something that was never going to last.”
A silence falls between the two of you, nothing but your soft sobs as your fists balled up to find your face. You wondered if Curly would comfort you, if he had it in him to bring that hand on your shoulder and try to tell you it's okay. Though, you already know what to expect from him. So, you quickly sniffle and suck up what you can do. You continue to allow all your entrails to continue to obscenely plop onto the floor before the man.
“As a child, what I've wanted more than anything was to be dead. I knew what was going to happen, when my mom kept pushing me and telling me to be better, to do better, when she belittled Daisuke to me and to his face, no matter what he did, there was nothing that was going to stop me from fulfilling my purpose on this earth which I had decided on all those years ago.” Curly questions it, “A purpose?” You only nod, your wet eye lashes flutter close as you can't look him in the eyes as you tell him, like a bad child admitting they've broken a vase, “Get the degree my mother always wanted, and then I'll kill myself.”
A defeating silence falls between the two of you, allowing your eyes to open once more, you're met by the sight of the fear stricken look on Curly's face. Your eyes don't meet his, it takes a few minutes before Curly begins to speak up, “Hey. We all tried to escape. Didn’t work for any of us. I’ve thought many times, 'Is this what peace feels like? And, is it good enough?' If I’m being real, it certainly isn’t the best." So all I can do is try to make my life one I’m not trying to run from all the time. Sometimes I’ll be promoted, buy a house, fall in love. But other times I’ll just have some awful fucking cake with my friend. But now…What do I do when everything is gone?”
You only huff out a sigh, you feel your nails begin to dig into your palms with irritation at that stupid look on his face and then he began to speak, “In that quietness, in the cryogenics pod, in my mind, I continued to replay those months I spent with my crew ultimately leading up to me ending up in the pod. It was a repeat, and as soon as I was in the cryogenics chamber it would just restart all over again–”
You’re quick to cut him of, “I saw what Anya did, when she killed herself, why she did it in that room…It all made sense to me in that moment, and the fact you couldn't even look me in the eyes or her mother just tells me all I need to fucking know.”
You can hear him try to explain himself, just like he did on the stage, he tries to apologize again and you don't listen to him.
“Shut the fuck up, Orion.”
You take in another breath as Curly finally begins to shut up, “No one else can talk. Not you, not Jimmy, not Swansea, not Daisuke, not Anya.” questions rise up, it doesn't need to.
Your job is done.
It clicks for you in that moment that there's no need to continue, to allow him in your personal business if all you were going to be met was by the same pointless apologies that did nothing but allow him to bask in the light that was a new job opening after the whole crew had been let go.
“Bigger and brighter things, huh?”
There's no resolution.
No lesson neatly learned.
“Let's hope you still have that going for you.”
Just two people departing and taking in the weight of what they survived—and what he allowed. And somewhere behind it all, the knowledge that telling the truth didn't save anyone. It only made sure that the story couldn't be buried with the ship.
Curly gets dropped off by his extended family, his parents and siblings can't face him for the moment as they practically grieve the man Curly was believed to be. There's the same apartment that has awaited him for a long time, learning how to use the equipment in the hospital was the only human interaction outside of his family.
The man can't sleep that night, he can't even bring himself to the room as he lays on the couch just staring up at the feeling or staring off the terrace into the night sky during the crack of dawn.
The neural interface hums softly at his temples as the system brings his body online. Assisted movement, manual breathing, a completely relied on system that was guaranteed and necessary to keep him alive. His legs didn't hurt anymore, not really–they just didn't belong to him. The exoskeleton that locks into place with the clock he had been becoming slowly familiar with.
Curly wakes to hate, he doesn't even know why he even opened the phone his brother had gotten him, it vibrated profusely on the wood floor until he silenced it. There were no real new groceries since he had been going to his family’s house for dinner every night, removal from the family group chat guaranteed his belief that he was disowned for the time being.
If Jimmy taught him anything, then a hunch isn't just a hint.
The man decided no breakfast for him, what is the point in eating when he can't even taste anymore.
So, he reaches for his remote with hands that still don't feel like hands.
Soon enough the television turns on.
BREAKING NEWS !
A survivor of the Tuplar tragedy was found dead earlier this morning. A self inflicted gun shot wound found in the head of a body found in an empty motel. Authorities have confirmed the death has been ruled a suicide. A note has also been recovered but has not been released to the public as it's still being held in evi–
Curly stares at his reflection of the black screen of the now powered off television, he's just looking back into those same blue blood shot eyes before you call his name.
“Orion…”
He laughs.
It slips out of him, sharp and sudden, bouncing against the walls of the room with nothing stopping from it becoming louder and louder. There's a vocal fry, with his voicebox overheating from the strain on his vocal chords, sounds wrong coming through the vocal modulation, flattened and artificial, like the system doesn’t know how to process it.
“Of course,” he says to no one. “Of-fucking-course.”
The laugh keeps going longer than it should, a wheeze leaving him before his modulation begins to go wrong leaving him to be met by a much more different sound. It's like he's watching Jimmy find the gun in the medical room all over again, as his shoulders shake, his chest tightens.
The system flags irregular breathing, but it doesn’t intervene fast enough.
The laughter breaks.
What replaces roars from his throat.
Curly’s hands curl uselessly in his lap as the sound turns inward, collapsing into something wet and broken. He bows his head, forehead resting against the cold brace of the exoskeleton, and for the first time since the Tuplar, he doesn’t try to steady himself.
And Curly continues to cry, God knows how long, trapped in a body that works just well enough to keep him alive, knowing—with a clarity no technology can soften–that even now, even after everything, survival was never the same thing as being saved.
The sobs that escape him are now from his throat, the voice modulation decommissioned without a care from Curly as he continues to allow himself to sob, even just for this moment.
You could hear the clinging and popping of your accessories after they had been snatched off your body, you feel putrid by hearing the remarks, and pray that his eyes are gouged out by a spoon riddled with septic. You're desperate to find peace in a place you can finally find comfort in after all his wrongdoings…“Anya, can I come in?” You're met by the shuffling of footsteps towards the door, “Not tonight…I'm sorry, F/N…” You plead, “Please, Anya…” You say, “Please, I miss you…” There's a silence as your hand finds the hatch. You can hear her stumble and her body hit the floor, “...Anya?” She only whimpers in return, “Please, just go…”
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
The look in his eyes felt off, probably looking too deep into it, but you missed those honey colored orbs that shone like the sun. You rolled your eyes at his behavior, just trying to hide the grin pulling up on your face, with you planting the lower half of your face in your hand. “God, that kid’s black eye must’ve lasted him months.” Daisuke smiled, “Exactly! If I got a hold on that utility axe and–" Swansea immediately shut shit down, “You were goddamn born fully corked!” Jimmy lets out an exhausted sigh. "That’s enough, Swansea.” The man pinches the bridge of his nose, “There has to be an 'in case of emergency' way inside.”
There’s a moment of silence in the group before Anya immediately perks up, “If I remember correctly from the safety protocols…The doors should have an alternate access code. But it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.” You smacked your teeth, “Curly’s the only one who had that scanner.” “Of course! Go ahead and ask him all about it then. Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too!” You and Anya let out another shared sigh, “We don’t need him if we find the scanner, get the code, and open the hold. For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You and Anya looked at each other. “I’ll figure it out.” Jimmy notices your held gaze and quickly snaps his hand to gain your attention. You're mad it works, “The co-captain and I will go search for it, two heads are better than one.”
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“I mean, she didn't even defend you when you defended her during that bullshit of a party, not even the little twerp you admire so dear.” You felt your face become inflamed, “Yeah, trust me, he's not staring at you the way you think he is.” You roll your eyes at this, “Yeah, like I'd listen to you, Mr. Pessimism.” “Is it pessimism, or am I just being honest with you? It's not my fault you can't handle the fact that Daisuke is just constantly thinking with his dick, just like Swansea said, all he's worried about is girls, parties, and whatever other superficial shit he's been spoiled with his whole life.”
You want to cover your ears. Daisuke has always been a good friend to you, right? I mean, he even texted you after the whole situation, but he didn't really keep trying, did he? I mean it was your fault for just ghosting him and leaving him, but he should have known that your mother is just an awful woman. Who knows what she would've done? If you're honest with Daisuke, maybe he'll understand, and you can apologize, and you guys can try to rekindle what you guys had before–
“Trust me, F/N, look at how Curly fell. Once he realized he no longer had to put up with us, he completely turned us out because he knew it was beneath him…We're beneath him.”
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“I’m very disappointed that you're being like this, F/N,” Your eyes widened at what your dear Captain just dared to utter to your face. “You know how hard Jimmy has been working to not let his issues get the better of him, and instead of working alongside him and understanding you both are going through the same thing, you instead are constantly lashing out and hurting those around you who only want to help. It's disheartening to see, and it's no excuse to just completely shut yourself away from the rest of the group just because you can't control your emotions.”
Captain Curly then sighs, “I understand that everyone's under a lot of stress right now. Just the other day, Anya had a moment of weakness just like this, and I’m not surprised if Swansea is dealing with Daisuke, so I don’t have to, you know, Anya said, ‘Your worst moments don't define you.’ And I hope you take those words into consideration.”
You look at the two men before Captain Curly looks at Jimmy and then back to you. You clear your throat before you speak, “Oh, Captain Curly, you're right…” Both men’s eyes widen. “I shouldn't be taking it out on my superior when they're just trying, but I'll be honest when I say that my superior isn't as great as you are, Captain Curly.” Your eyes flicker between the two, but they hold on to Jimmy as you continue to speak, “Honestly, it'd be better if I trained after you, like I'm supposed to, under an actual captain.”
Jimmy’s face stays straight, but his eyes call you a slew of phrases that demand an ass whooping. Unfortunately for you, Captain Curly looked between the two of yo,u and he cut in with a bit of annoyance in his tone.
“You're dismissed for the day.”
You nod, “Aye aye, Captain.”
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“Why did you do this, Curly?” You spoke, your cough up noodle chunks, and wipe your face, “I just–I just don't see why you'd do this to me? I have to go with that fucking psychopath everywhere, then I can't even talk to one person I want to because of him, and now I can't even stand being in the room with my one and only friend on this ship because of you .” You feel the hot tears in your eyes begin to build up, they're scorching, and you try to blink them away, but you know these tears aren't meant to coddle you through this.
You begin to wipe against your face, these tears continue to burn, and they continue to run like a faucet, and it leaves you with nothing but to continue wiping your face, your palms press deeper into your sockets, and you find your nails grazing your skin as you try to get them all off. You claw away at your face, the exhausted sighs that left you once before now turned into noises filled with anguish and resentment, you're starting to yell before you bring your hands onto the bed that held Curly, and slam your fists against it.
“You fucking did this!” You shouted, Curly had no choice but to bear witness to the redness in your eyes, the spit that came flying, and the anger in your face as he looked at you. “I'm fucking stuck here because of you! It's all–” You slam your hands against the bed before your foot, then kick at the legs that held it up. You repeated these actions with heavy grunts, leaving you before you let out a sharp grunt and backed away from the bed. You looked down at Curly, and he felt the shadow over your face contradicting the light that shines above it.
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“Oh! My! God!”
“What?”
“Jimmy, you’re so fucking boring…”
“You hear the way they talk about you?”
“That’s ‘cause Jimmy is limp as dick, he’s boring, lackluster, and does nothing really besides sit there and make himself sad comparing himself to you.”
“Plus, he’s kind of a hard ass?”
You can hear him and Curly talk about your past behavior as you await them outside the door. You feel a sense of embarrassment from the humour that found Daisuke, Anya, and even sometimes Swansea snickering at it.
They mock your voice, when it cracks when you laugh too hard, or the awkwardness that hangs in the air when you're just with the two of them. You're surprised by Curly as Anya talked so fondly about it, but it seemed he was more worried about Jimmy's feelings than whatever joke you were trying to make.
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“Please, don’t speak about this to Jimmy–He’s just always weird to me, all the time.” You're hushed as you lie about with Daisuke on the floor with mouthwash, you don't know how it finds its way down your throat after all the hell it took just to get out of your stomach later.
“At first, I felt special? Like, all he was doing was just making me think that there was a chance? A chance for what? Absolutely nothing. It was this sick cycle, he’d compliment me, then he’d backhand me with a little thing, ‘You could’ve been better.’ ‘You could’ve not missed it.’” You only sigh,
“Well, why the fuck am I even trying then?”
“What the fuck am I gaining?”
“If…If all it amounts to is him just pulling the rug from beneath my feet to see if I’ll float for him.”
You find the mouthwash in your hands a close comfort, the sting riddled with bitterness, and the mint that coated your taste buds was the only thing you could really miss anymore when you tried to think back on what you had before the Tuplar crashed…
“What’s even the point of trying anymore?
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
“I’ve always felt like a pit, like when my mom found out I cut myself, she talked about evrything good she’s done for me and how she had more of a reason to be sad than me, and if she really did have more of a reason to be sad than me and she felt better than I did then what was I doing? Was I just being the fuck up? A pit? No matter how good things are, my first time finally having consensual sex, having a guy stay and hold me, to not want to leave, to want to be around me even after it all, was I always just be a fucking pit?”
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
"A lot of people struggle to put food on their plates. But that wasn’t enough. Right, Captain? The lowest rung of your ladder is our highest. Until it was all swept from under your feet. Life isn’t even worth living at the same level as us. But I forgive you. All of us do. I won’t give up on you, even like this. I believe in you. We’re going to make it through this. Sometimes we thrive, traveling the endless reaches of space. But other times we just have to accept days like these. You taught me that, Curly."
Jimmy pauses for a moment. He looks to you as you sit right across from him, your head is spinning as you hear him talk to himself, with all your coworkers' bodies at the table. You try to focus on what he's saying, but the last few days have warranted a gag from the smell of bodies.
The hum of broken ventilation fans chokes the air, and the smell of death has settled into the metal walls like mold that won't wash out. You press your nails into your palms to keep from losing it as he stops talking to the corpses and focuses entirely on you.
Your breath catches, and your heart skitters as Jimmy places both hands on the table, grabbing one of the plates with the slab of Curly's burnt flesh on the plate. Your chest cramps as Jimmy then puts two hands on your shoulder. He leans in close. Too close. His breath is hot against your ear.
“And you…You and me, we're the same, you know what it's like. Don't you? Feeling like a pit?” You can't focus on his words as you see your coworkers' bodies turned to look at you, mind drilled with images of their now deceased faces.
“Like everything you touch turns into a disappointment.”
“Like you're supposed to be grateful even when you're drowning.”
“Like if someone else has it worse, then your sadness isn't real.”
Your mother's voice rings in your ears: “I've done everything to get you this job.”
Jimmy keeps going, voice soft, uncomfortably more caring to you. “I know how it feels to have to be grateful for what they give you when you didn't ask for it. They take pity on us and expect us to be happy about it.” You shudder, causing Jimmy's hand to rub up and down your shoulders,
“Oh, don't cry, it's good we found each other when we did.”
You wanna flinch away from his touch, “You know I heard you. All those days when we'd all call family.” You feel your spin lock as his fingers dig into your collarbones, “The way she talked to you,” He murmured. “And Daisuke.” There's a crack in his voice, “I heard that too. That pathetic little breakup, the crying, the guilt, the begging…You loved him so much, yet you were so awful you couldn't fathom loving him back until it was too late.”
You feel your hands clench into fists before he then grabs your jaw, “You don't think I don't know what that feels like?” He asks. “To have everyone twist what you do? Call you terrible? To feel so unloved?” Jimmy pulls up your head to look him in the eyes, and you're only met by a shadow covering half his face, but you can see the way his expression darkens, causing your throat to clamp shut.
“But you…You're not like the rest of them, are you?” You almost get whiplash when he pulls your head to look at the table filled with the rest of your dead coworkers and Curly in the center like a Christmas dinner. “No, you're different from them…” You listen to the sound of utensils against the plate, you instinctively try to turn your head away from the man, only for his grip to tighten, and soon enough, there is a fork with the familiar pink and red flesh that now finds itself in your face.
"Let’s eat."
"Let’s survive."
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
You don't know how long you've been eating Curly's meat, the more you forget, the better, being held down by Jimmy and force fed under the pretense that he wished to keep you ‘healthy’. You don't know where he put the gun to kill Swansea, you wonder if he was still carrying it but the fear of asking him made you believe he'd out you down like a deer.
Honestly, you wish he did.
Your eyes would hang low once the gold metal hit your skull, and he pulled the trigger without any hesitation. This consists of your life, stuck with a man who now has to tie you down to your chair and force-feed you and Curly like a child. You felt awful at the thought and even more so at the thought of what this is probably doing to your psyche.
Though you only sigh and accept it.
Your arms around your back once more, with the flood now finding its way near your lips, had caused you to begin to cry again, but now he wouldn't hush you, he wouldn't coddle you, or wipe your tears anymore; he just continues to force the flesh down your throat and holds his hand over your mouth until you swallow.
There are times Jimmy is so concerned about Curly that he leaves you there, your head hangs low as you try to find eye contact with the rest of the dead crew members, who you feel have eyes that bore into your soul.
You feel awful that they even had to go through this in the first place, and now here you were accepting the fate you know you could've fought—But you're being slowly consumed–You’re tired.
You're so fucking tired.
Of existing.
Of living.
Of breathing.
Every time you are awake, you suffer, whether that be at your hands or someone else's. You try to think back to your life before this one, where you were happy, even for a moment. Though there's nothing there when you search for those memories.
You think about those times with Daisuke only to remember that he's dead, Anya’s dead, everyone is dead.
Everyone you care about is dead.
So, you just hold your breath. When you were free, and Jimmy wanted alone time with Curly, you would go through Daisuke's belongings, huffing shirts that he wore and putting a new one on each day after the smell of him went away, and your unfortunate musk seemed to stain it before you went to find another hiding spot before Jimmy called you again.
If you didn't come, he'd find you.
He always found you.
For now, you hid in a closet, you don't know if you were somewhere that matters, but all you could do was huddle up on the floor and huff the mix of Daisuke's cologne mixed with your sweat that beaded like bullets off your skin when you think you heard Jimmy's footsteps nearby. Though you got one chance, a moment's rest that allows your dreams to consume your field of vision.
Your breath hitches more and more. You're locked up in the utility room closet on your terms, as you watched through the three slits, across from you was the cryo stasis pod. You can hear Jimmy sobbing and yelling from a distance, the ship so quiet you could hear a needle drop, he's apologizing to Curly, and you wonder if he can even hear the man.
Once the food ran out, you could do nothing but be force-fed Curly's meat whenever your stomach growled uncontrollably. It was embarrassing to have him care for your well-being while also using his hands to give you one more thing to do, something you didn't want to do.
Soon enough, after a couple of days, you snuck off in the middle of the night, you suppose, Jimmy was still asleep and apparently could sleep through Curly's incessant sobbing. You took this moment to run, after having him on you like stink on shit, you found yourself in one of the random confined rooms.
You couldn't sleep in this locker, though; you kept running around and hiding in the Tuplar like a rat. You had been so long that exhaustion had begun to take over you, and the only reason your eyes were waking up was if Jimmy did a surprise pop-up and shot you right there.
Fortunately, he hadn't come looking for you.
You don't know why, though, wondering if he even cared in the first place. However, you couldn't take your chances. The man could've been anywhere on the ship, and with him being able to consume human flesh even after the food ran out, you knew you needed to make sure you were doing it right.
You feel a burn on your back, the way it dragged against the jagged street, you wondered if Daisuke had fucked up the tires on his father's car, you remembered the 1980 Red Ford Escort that his father had been driving the two of you in since you guys were in middle school. You can feel Daisuke's food put his entire weight on just the gas pedal; you could feel whatever clothing you were wearing begin to tear and rip off your back, allowing it to succumb to scarring and bruising.
Though you didn't cry.
You didn't sit there and beg him to stop.
Nor did it seem like he wanted to.
You wondered if he knew you were here, but when you begin to hum a familiar song to yourself at a stoplight, you can hear him hum as well alongside you. You try to wonder why you deserved this, the ropes around your lower back protecting your arse and wrists from getting scraped up, nonetheless, you're still just humming that stupid song.
You find yourself hissing at the pain, exhaustion eating you to such a degree you don't even know if you're genuinely happy or not about the way things have been. This dream of yours was a recurring one whenever you finally felt safe enough away from Jimmy to sleep. Ever since you caught him staring over you after you had been sobbing in your sleep, it was just better safe than sorry to find a place far away from him, cold and tight, to make sure that you were completely alone that even the walls were of comfortable reach.
You would rather the crook in your neck than the flesh being burned off by the sudden rush of concrete against your skin, though you don’t feel the tears coming down your face anymore. Instead, it’s a knowing feeling for how the dream ends, you know it’s coming up, and when the car stops, the door opens shortly after it. Soon enough, the shadow surrounds you, and you’re met by the glowing moonlight from the back of Daisuke’s. Honestly, you were overjoyed by the overshadowed features as the previous incarnations of him were of a biblical angel that hovered over you in church, while period blood gushed out of you. Then your mother would begin to yell at you, telling you that you ruined the white dress she and her mother had.
Daisuke says nothing as he hovers over you, it’s an awkward sight as your met by honey brown eyes creasing at the large smile slowly overcoming his face. You admire his white teeth, envious of how hard he worked to keep his physical attributes in such a perfected state that made you hate the idea of standing around him. Though as Daisuke looks at you, you watch his mouth slowly move…
You don’t hear him at first, you only blink in response as you continue to just orgasm at the feeling of your back no longer hurting. Though you already know he doesn’t repeat it, instead you find his fingers in your mouth once more, teeth being plucked seamlessly, and the way he’s able to tear them apart, the way he was able to chew through Jolly Ranchers like they were potato chips. You could only give him a gummy smile in return, and he returns it after finishing your molars.
The two of you stare at each other for what feels like eons, you want the moon to show the beautifully sun-kissed skin and that moles placed angelically to maximize his appeal. You're almost yearning for a beam of light, even if it's the same sight as before.
One more time, he mouths the words to you—
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
Sweating profusely, you're struck by Jimmy, you wonder if he's imprinted on your cheek by this point, unfortunately, you're just lying there on the floor as Curly sits in the opened cryopod. Your vision is blurred, but you can obviously tell who's who in the moment, and you find yourself slowly getting up as Jimmy watches you.
“Have a good night's rest?”
“How can you tell it's even night?”
A silence falls as he just rolls his eyes before gesturing to Curly, “Listen, I'm giving you this chance right now.” You tilt your head, and he is only irritated by ignorance before he finds his nails tearing into his palms. Jimmy takes a deep breath, and you roll your eyes at the sight as he continues.
"It’s okay, F/N. You’re going to be okay. You always had my back. I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us. Even though sometimes you deserved the reprimanding.”He growls under his breath at your lackluster expressions, drained and confused as you're now immersed in a scenario that you've been unable to handle.
An unskippable cutscene, Daisuke always complained about it, and you both would cuss out the characters as they spoke.
"You both are people whom I oftentimes found myself confiding in, being lost in a world where I had nothing. Curly helped me to see that things didn't have to be that way…with a job…this job. Though when you boarded…I found some things being put into perspective for me.” You feel his hand on your shoulder, and you could only recoil in fear as you felt your cheek sting from the contact alone. “You put those things into perspective for me.”
You try not to roll your eyes at such a notion, hoping he won't use that hand to double back and backhand you. “I always wanted a big family, back then it was just me and my mom and I…” You're quick to flinch away from the man.
“Listen, man, I don't want to have kids with you. The idea of imagining you sexually or romantically would kill me, I'd rather you just keep feeding me Curly's leg meat.” Your eyes close instantly, just waiting for the heat on your cheek before you find his hand on your head, a heavy-handed pay that you were sure was him trying not to knock you upside your skull.
Nonetheless, you keep your eyes closed.
“I think about you like the kid I never had, just trying to make sure they were on the right track, even if it required some…tough teaching. Nonetheless, it turned you into the person you are now. If we were in better circumstances, I would find you more…” You can hear his mind searching for a non-insulting word, though, regardless, you're not too invested in his speech.
“Presentable, someone I could be proud of is in there and maybe one day you will be someone I can look at and feel grateful I impacted you the way I did… now you’ll survive, you'll both survive.”
You're in awe of his response, snapping into the moment in an instant. “I'm…sorry?” “There's no need to–” You bark out a laugh at his wording, you can't even fathom he's talking to you this way, and now, here you were being lost in what the hell he could even be talking about anymore. “Survive? On what? Curly's flesh? Your flesh? My flesh?” You could only roll your eyes as he began his explanation once more, “I’m going to fix all this–” “Fix fucking what?” You watch as Jimmy turns to face Curly, your eyes are snatched by the gun in his right back pocket, and you don't waste a moment.
Your finger finds the trigger instantly. “Are there bullets in this thing?” Jimmy goes silent upon feeling the warm steel against the back of his head. He knows at this angle you won't hit anything major, and he'll be left to bleed out. Instead, he's silent…
“ARE THERE FUCKING BULLETS IN THIS FUCKING THING?” You're as loud as can be, your voice bouncing off the walls and back into his ears. You watch as Jimmy swiftly turns around, finding his face pained with an unimpacted expression, the gun now digging under his chin, “You don't have to–”
You don't even wait to hear what he has to say. The moment his lips begin to move, you're slamming the gun against his jaw, his hand finds his cheek instantly, but you don't even waste a second as you begin to hit him again.
Not wasting a second, you make sure contact is made with every thwack that echoes in your eyes, you're practically molding the gun into your hands as you strike over and over again. You slowly but surely become more unhinged, not even the muzzle of the gun hits him anymore, as you begin to feel your knuckles begin to ache as he slowly eases his way towards the floor.
You don't stop to break or catch your breath; you honestly believe you're having a delayed reaction due to all he's put you under. There is no stopping you, making a super sonic man out of Jimmy as he becomes your personal punching bag.
Unfortunately, you get tired.
You don't know how long, but the bruises forming on his eyes, the multiple lacerations across his face, and the fact that he had his face turned to the side as he spat on some blood near the cryopod…You can hear him mumbling; you wish you had popped that jaw out of place when you're slamming that gun across it, but you're unable to wind up in time before he begins.
“It’s–Curly said, “together we can fix anything…I’m-mugh–justh proud I got to be your friend and co-pilot, Captain and…your meeeentor….” You roll your eyes as you catch your breath, you pray his ears are ringing from the sound of metal against his face, but apparently, he's able to continue to spout that same bullshit to influence you.
Yet, you still respond to him.
“I…I know what you're thinking…poor-huff–you, caged and misunderstooooood…” You find your teeth in your lower lip, trying to restrain the smile on your face, “Jimmy says, ‘SORRY!’ for putting everyone through this FUCKING RAT RACE!” The burst of laughter that erupts from your chest leaves you hunched over, finding your knees buckling under the weight of the scene before you.
“JIMMY SAYS SORRY FOR HURTING YOU–!”
It's not too long before the laughter turns into vomit, it shoots out your throat without a care onto Jimmy's crotch and lower stomach before you begin to laugh again at the red color. You're hunched over and retching at thick globs of flesh you couldn't be bothered to chew. There are hot tears that come from the straining, and you think you're gonna pull a muscle from your throat being out to the test.
You're surprised by his voice once more, “No one can hurth you now…We fixed it. I... fixed it…” You can only cock your head to the side as you look at Jimmy with a craze expression, lips pursed into an ‘o’ as your eyes are shot wide open. "Yeah…? You fixed it…?” Soon enough you can't hear him begin to sob on the floor, you mock his tears instantly, “Awwwwh! Jimmy, you better buck up, or I'll have to tell your mommy you were cwyin’!”
A cackle escapes your throat, leading to a pitiful response from Jimmy, “Shu-shuth up…Curly tried his best…i did too, but he’s the betther-er man than muh-me. I see thath now. We can buh-uh-th–” “Buh-Buh-Buh-Spit it the fuck out, Jimbo.” You found your girl back on the gun , finding one of Jimmy's propped up knees and slamming it down causing him to flinch as grab for it.
“You're guh-guh-gonna take care of him? Tuh-tuh-tuh-take responsithbility?” You find the gun at the back of his head, your hands move faster than your mind, and you're grateful your body can do something that isn't harming you for a change. You can hear him whimper in pain as he finds himself back on the floor, groaning and crying out. “Cuh-curly…Ca-cuh-cuh-captain, I’m stho, stho, stho sorry." You cock your head to the left, your crazed expression now calmed as you then take a knee, you don't care that your foot is in a pile of red bile on the floor as you speak.
"You really mean that, huh?"
"Yesth! Yuh-yeth, yeth!I do." Jimmy continues to cry, "I fucked up. But I–I–uh–can still make thu-thus right. Uh-Oh-Our worsth moments don’t make usth–"
You find your foot slamming into his clothed testes, you watch as he gains the energy to cup, but you find your foot also slamming into his knuckles. You find yourself back up to a standing position before you begin to stomp him out once more, your feet fly all over his body, and once you find his face, it's over for him. You can feel his nose break against your heavy boots; you're almost grateful to wear them for the moment, but now, you're almost feeling orgasmic joy from such a beating.
Not tiring even after 10 minutes, you begin to berate him once more. “All you did was belittle, humiliate, and antagonize me like the FUCKING CUNT you’ve always been!” You huff out once more, finding your boot now back to his dick as you continue, “I'm the one who's fucking over explaining, trusting you, believing that you actually feel what I feel—But you–You’re just-just fucking impossible! You could've fucking been there and been FUCKING NORMAL.”
There's an amalgamation before you, teachers who found their way making inappropriate comments to you as the classes giggled, relatives that got too handsy with you, the 18-year-old boy you thought could genuinely love 14-year-old you, they find their eyes tearing into your form once more and you begin to find the footing to continue for another 10 minutes.
“Fuck you!”
You take in a breath, last kick in the balls.
“Fuck you, both!”
Another huff leaves you before you find your foot in his stomach.
“Fuck you–All of you!”
Soon enough, you find the gun back in your hands, a simple and easy wound that makes his suffering just a little shorter. Aimed right at his forehead, you can't even fathom allowing such a victory, a brain sound to allow his early escape to eternal rest—“I HOPE THIS HURTS.”
You can still hear his whimpers as you take Curly out of the cryopod. You push the door a little to make sure that it will close more easily once you get in. You held Curly close to your chest, your arms wrapped around his waist, before you forced both of you inside with the door behind you.
You don't remember falling asleep…
Don't remember the dreams you had before…
Don't remember the people who were beside you…
The person you just pummeled…
Allowing yourself this moment of silence to consume you, though you're clutching Curly like a child desperate for another person's existence.
—
Hehehe, I love you as Polle symbolism because while Jimmy disregards you the same way he does Anya due to the fact you are both AFAB, alas, he also views you as some sort of “caring” mentor relationship. Jimmy wanted a more “positive” relationship with you. Jimmy was grooming you.
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Waiting for that long look that never ends...
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Graphic Violence | Major Character Death | Gore | Non-Consensual Drugging | Emotional Abuse | Psychological Trauma | Panic Attack | Cursing
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ My fault. Who the fuck makes a video essay a final?
"F/N! Jimmy! Help!"
Daisuke cried out for the both of you as he ran into the lounge area, which made you turn your head from your seated position on the sleeping bag. You were already awake since you heard Jimmy trigger the Polly horse shit by getting close to Anya's sleeping area. "Jimmy! It’s a total emergency!" Jimmy quickly tries to calm him down whilst you begin to get up and make your way over to the two, "Calm down. What is it?" Daisuke took a deep breath before explaining, "Anya is stuck in Medical! The door won’t open! What if she runs out of...something?!"
Jimmy looked at you with a sideways glance before turning back to Daisuke, "Right. Let’s go have a look."
You guys began to make your way towards the med bay with Daisuke rushing three of you down the hall with a pure panic in his expression, you too feared for Anya as Daisuke began to pound on the door, “We're here to rescue you! Don't worry! DON'T PANIC!” You watched from the corner of your eyes as Jimmy rolled his before Daisuke was softly pushed to the side and Jimmy took control of the situation.
"Hey. Heard the lock’s broken." You're all met by silence while Jimmy's face slowly becomes a bit shocked, "Hey. Anya! Can you hear me?"
There's a pregnant pause before you hear Anya's hoarse voice "...Yeah, I can hear you, Jimmy." "The rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn. This could be bad. Did you try to really put your back into it?" Jimmy questions, "Any wrenches laying around? How heavy is the med kit?!" Daisuke also questions Anya, but you're met by silence again.
"...Anya, is the door stuck?"
"No."
Daisuke almost shoots up like a cat, "Huh? What do you mean?!" Jimmy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he speaks again, "Look. We’re all stressed. But you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship. Open the damn door." You quickly try to correct Jimmy's tone, “I mean, if she wants to stay in there, why don't we let her?” The two men turn to you in confusion, “Because our stuff is in there.” You scoff at such a notion, “And if it's in there, and the door isn't stuck, that means we can still reach it if need be–” “Are you questioning my authority?” The sharp gasp you let out only allows Jimmy to understand you're not taking him seriously, not that you were to begin with, “I'm just saying, man, if she wants to have a moment to herself, let her? She doesn't need you hovering around her every goddamn second.”
There's a moment where Daisuke looks at you with a bit of confusion as he assumed you would follow Jimmy's orders and stay silent while the two of them tried to convince Anya to come out; alas, you were on her side, it seemed.
Fine.
If that's how you wanted it to be.
“Because it's my goddamn job to make sure that we're all fine, I'm the one making sure everything is all right, and you undermining my authority by questioning my choices only continues to allow this pity party that she–” You were quick to cut him off, “Pity party!? We're stranded in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, and you want me to believe she isn't allowed to be even a little distressed through the situation!?” Your voice echoed through the hallway, leaving Jimmy to bare his teeth at you. At the side of his hips, you can see his hips balling up in frustration at your actions, the way you roll your eyes and cross your arms, he wonders how in the hell you can even talk to him like this after all he's done for you.
You don't even face him; instead, you're facing the door, and when you give it a little knock, you tell Anya to ‘Take your time.’ Which Jimmy is quick to argue, “No. Get out of the damn room, Anya.” “Anya, don't listen to Jimmy–” “You have to listen to me, Anya, I'm the captain–” “No, Curly's the captain! You're just the interim that's failing miserably at your job.” Jimmy is quick to snap, “Failing at my job? You're supposed to be supporting me; we're supposed to be a team.” You only scoff at his words, “God, like I'd ever willingly team with someone so up their ass that they couldn't allow their FELLOW PEER a moment of peace.”
“Anya, it's okay–”
“Anya, open the door.”
“Anya, don't open the door.”
“Anya, open the damn door.”
“Anya, don't listen to hi–”
“Anya, this is an order, open the–”
“...You were right.” The bickering is quickly halted as Anya's voice tears through the two of you, "You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair. You think I wanted this either? Make no mistake. This isn’t my worst moment. Far from it. It’s the best decision I’ll ever make." Your heart falls into your stomach. Jimmy can only continue to command that Anya opens the door as she continues.
"I’ll take care of it."
"Anya?! What does that mean?!" Daisuke pleaded desperately as he began to bang on the door. After a couple of seconds, Jimmy questions if Curly is still in the room with her, "Yeah, you don’t think…?" Jimmy is quick, "Daisuke. You and Swansea know the internals of the ship better than anyone. There’s absolutely no other way into Medical?" Daisuke's face illustrated unease, which you would be quick to shut down if you needed to, "Uhh.. Uhm.. Well…Swansea said it was strictly off-limits…Like, super, mega not allowed above all else." Jimmy quickly put two and two together, "...The utility room."
Daisuke then explains that there is a busted vent in there that loops right into medical, but that even though a person could fit in, it wouldn't matter because it's damaged. Jimmy glossed over the last part, however, "If that’s the only way, we’ll make it work." Jimmy then turned to the door, “You listening, Anya?!" With no response he only huffs, “Fine. Come on, Daisuke.” you roll your eyes again at the fact that Jimmy believes not including you would make you feel something but you follow the both of them anyways regardless of it all trying to make sure that the skate doesn't succumb to what you thought you could have had with Jimmy as a second in command.
You and Daisuke walk side by side behind Jimmy, and you listen as your old friend whispers to you, “It's really bad that Anya’s in there. Why are you so keen on letting her stay cooped up in there?” You turn to Daisuke, “Because we all just need a moment to ourselves once in a while, y'know? Jimmy is just disrespecting her boundaries for no reason at all just to show off his authority; he's just trying to make examples of us–ugh!” Your body collides with Jimmy's back and as you take a step back to look up at the self elected leader he only scowls at you, there's a thought running through your mind if you should still be afraid of Jimmy after all he's done to you but you wonder if there's no point in trying to fight against him anymore that you need to be your true self even if this might be the last time you can be it.
So, you pick up your frown from the sight of your shoes to glare and burn back into Jimmy's eyes. The rest of the trip is silent as you three begin to head downstairs to where Swansea is. Daisuke runs before the two of you as he shoots out to the older man, while Jimmy steps on the back of your heels, causing a satisfying limp for his gaze.
"Swansea! We need your help. I know you said Utility was dangerous, but I-" "I’m good right here, fellas. You know I’m not letting you in there. Offff limitss!" Swansea was quick to cut off Daisuke, and when Jimmy spoke up, he did the exact same, "Look. If there’s any possibility-” “Jimbo." Swansea began, "Letting you scratch at that foam wall would be useless. You’d only tear this goddamn ship a new asshole. Nothin’ to be done about it. Bad luck. Tail missed the donkey." Daisuke pleads to his teacher, "But Swansea… this could be really bad. Just hear us out!"
Swansea doesn't even listen to the two as they plead to be let in, "We’re God’s hand-picked favorites on this here planet, I reckon. Means we get to name it. So let’s hear it for Wake Rock!" Whatever’s goin’ on anywhere else ain’t my problem. Since I’m the happiest man Wake Rock has ever seen!" You wonder if the mouthwash is really starting to impact Swansea, sure, the axe in the glass was enough to prove that, but there was something that made goose pimples prickle up your arms.
"Let’s just go, Daisuke. There’s no point with him.” The three of you find a place to discuss your options, Daisuke takes what Swansea said to heart, “I just don't wanna fuck up like I did before.” “You heard Anya.” Jimmy quells, “I wouldn't put it past her to do something extreme…right now.” You cross your arms at this, “Maybe she just wants a quiet moment to herself.” Jimmy doesn't even acknowledge what you say, “You and me, Daisuke. We can save Curly, yeah? It seems Swansea won't help us and…someone isn't really being the team player they signed up to be.”
You only shake your head at this before Daisuke speaks up, “I mean, we need to help Anya and Curly. You understand that, right?” Trying to find common ground with Daisuke was like treading the thinnest ice, as you feel Jimmy's gaze piercing into the boy's head like a hunter aiming at a deer, you wonder if you should get on board with this plan to make sure that at least someone you care about can be helped in this situation. You don't wanna believe it's too late for Anya, your heart swells as you wanna tear the door open and give her a hug, but you wonder if maybe Daisuke was right about helping Anya, and as much as you want to disagree, your heart aches upon seeing Daisuke with such a cheerful look, with the hopes of helping his fellow coworkers.
“Even if we have something to deal with the foam, the Utility door is still blocked by Swansea. How the hell are we even going to get in there?” You questioned, hoping to dissuade Daisuke until Jimmy spoke up. “I have an idea…but you both need to trust me; We need to knock him out.”
You and Daisuke freeze at the thought, “You're gonna fight him!?” Jimmy pauses for a moment, “...no.” You snicker in response, “Jimmy couldn't beat a squirrel’s ass, much less the absolute unit blocking the Utility room.” You watch as Daisuke also tries to stifle his snicker. Unfortunately for both of you, Jimmy cuts the mood short with his plan, “Even he has to have his limits when it comes to booze. We knock him out–Simple, safe. He might not even realize we did anything after the fact.”
There is a knowing feeling that consumes your thoughts as you watch from afar in awe as Jimmy begins to create the mocktail. You feel your heart pound against your rib cage as you try to neglect the reality you're living for a moment, but there's nothing to stop you from such an experience. You watch in horror as you all head back towards Swansea, and Jimmy convinces Swansea to drink the roofied mocktail–Roofy.
Jimmy is drugging Swansea.
“You two should never have come here. Who the fuck even decided to let the two of you on board, huh? Stick the idiot and the suck up with a bunch of sad sacks adults and see what they learn, eh? Bootstraps and all that. What a load of horseshit. You think it's all goin’ somewhere, but every failure leaves you a little more mangled than before. Older, uglier, meaner.” Swansea turns his attention from Daisuke to face you, “Smarter in the worst way.” You wonder if he can see through you, the bullets of sweat racing down your face as the older man's eyes bore into you.
“Wallowing doesn't suit you, Swansea,” Jimmy comments, “I s’pose you think we should all be acting like you. Our hard-working, esteemed captain. I say take a load off before the Sun finally sets on this party! May we never go to hell but always be on our way!” Swansea then chugs the mocktail, and soon enough, you watch as his body hits the floor faster than you would have thought. Jimmy doesn't even take the time to really look at Swansea; instead just snatches up the key from the floor while you and Daisuke look on in horror at the situation.
“Is he still breathing!?” Daisuke shrieks, “He'll be fine, his tolerance has to be through the roof by now.” Jimmy says nonchalantly, “Probably just wake up with a massive headache.” Daisuke then whines, “Awugh, he's gonna be so, so mad. I'll never get a good reference now.” You're in awe that Daisuke could still be thinking about a situation when you were all so obviously in purgatory suffering for the sins of your awful captain and co-captain.
Upon unlocking the door, Daisuke's hand shoots over Jimmy's, the older man grimaces at the boy as he speaks, “Captain, uhm, you sure ‘bout this? Maybe we could talk with Swansea when he's cleared up a bit, later. He's just like really into workplace safety and stuff sometimes, y‘know? Which is like, totally cool and stuff, I think. He taught me–” “It's time to be brave, Daisuke. Curly and Anya are counting on us.” Before the two of them headed inside, you felt Jimmy's hand on your shoulder as he pulled himself down to your ear, “Make sure our friend doesn't wake up.”
You stayed outside while the two of them made their way into the electrical room, staring at Swansea's body as you tried to control your breathing. The hallways are almost too quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like someone is cupping a hand over your mouth, your eyes practically burning into Swansea's body as it slumps on the floor with its back rising just barely. It's slow, just as you remember – Remember?
Your breath snags, and you blink once. It's the world beginning to spin. Suddenly, you're back inside your own skull, and soon enough, you're thinking about being handed consumables by Jimmy, how you don't remember reading something that night, being too tired to hang out with Anya, and her being too tired to hang out with you.
There's a hook in your ribs pulling inward as you take in air; it just sits in your throat and won't go any further. You try to swallow the saliva that goes up in your mouth, but it burns a sweat trickles on the back of your neck as you remember when you and Anya made your way to her room. As the two of you make your way over to Anya's room, there's a sort of stumble, a bit of a trip, and suddenly Anya's hand lands on your shoulder to support herself. You question if she's all right and she tells you that she's good, but you don't believe it. The woman smiles warmly at you, and you clutch her body as you direct your way into her area. You stumble a bit as you knock over her needles and yarn kept in a small basket next to her bed.
You quickly curse yourself and apologize before Anya mumbles, “It’s okay…Everything…okay…” You sigh; a bit frustrated by her exhaustion as you help her lay in bed. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself Anya, you don’t have to overexert yourself, it’s just a small group and we can all do this even if you need a break.” You smile sweetly and she smiles back, tangling her fingers in your hair, “God, you’re like gorgeous, an angel sent from above…” You feel your face flushed before you watch her eyes flutter close.
You lightly shook her just a little bit just to see if she was even a bit awake, you were in awe that she was knocked cold. ‘I hope she stops overworking herself.’ You were still in awe nonetheless; you were concerned on where to go from here. It was most definitely late; the yawn that escaped your throat was deafening and you tucked her into bed as you made your way out the room. “Goodnight, Anya…” You say softly before turning around and making your way over to the door only to be met with a solid form that caused you to take a step back. You rubbed your head, and you looked up to see Jimmy.
“Jimmy?” You're so confused by what the hell you could be doing over here at this time. You cock your head a bit and Jimmy raises a brow as he causes his arm, “what are you doing all the way over here isn't your room a bit farther from Anya's?” You hesitate but you still crease your eyes as you look at them a bit confusingly, “Yeah, we were just hanging out in the med bay before she invited me back over but then she, like, fell asleep. I think she's just working herself.” You share this grief with Jimmy who only rolls his eyes, “She shouldn't be overworking herself; she's acting like this is being a real nurse. No wonder she's never good, if she just put that time into studying instead of taking care of dumb and dumber than she'd actually pass.” You immediately hushed him, putting your hands on him and pushing him back out the room allowing the door to close behind the two of you.
“Even then she's still trying, you shouldn't talk about people like that, that's rude, Anya's one of the few people on this ship who can really see the good in everybody, so I'll be damned if you're about to be that way about her.” There's a silence between Jimmy, he scoffs at you, “like I said before if they were really caring about you and they really saw you for your best interest and why did it take so long for Anya to hang out with you until today? I'm just saying, F/N, I personally don't even see why you defend somebody who's so…” Jimmy catches the look on your eye, you're growing irritated and his eyes dart to see the balled-up fist you have with your nails digging into your palms.
The man looks back from your hands and towards your eyes, the harshness in your gaze leaves him hurt, he sighs as he clears his throat. “Y'know what, you're right.” Jeremy then changed his posture, and you subtly fix yours but still hold your irritated expression, “Listen, you were right about everything. I don't even know what I was thinking saying all that stuff about somebody who you still considered a friend. Who am I to judge who you keep in your circle when I completely trust you.” Your features soften, “Trust?” Jimmy nods before sighing, “I guess you could say, I was a bit sad by the fact that you left to go to your psych eval. We’ve gotten to be around each other, and I know last night I got angry, and honestly it was just kind of rough being without you, maybe it was being jealous of your other friends, and for that, I hope you can forgive me.”
You raise a brow; there's no universe where he feels this way genuinely, you're on edge by the feeling, but then you look into his face, and there's this kind of expression like a beaten down dog. It felt like you were rereading Shiloh back in your 3rd grade classroom, and you remembered that dog's distressed look as it prayed to have that type of special attention. You change your wording, “Listen, I don't mind us being friends, getting to know each other and being on better terms, but that was completely unacceptable. I don't want to be told that I'm just the runt of the group, I got really in my head earlier, and it was hard for me to be around Curly and then when we were in the lounge. "You then sigh to yourself, “I could tell from the way you talk that you were just looking out for me but that's not how you do it. I'm not mentally ready for that type of rejection, as pathetic as it sounds.”
Jimmy laughs, “Yeah, I know a lot about being pathetic.” “Your self-deprecation rubbed off on me to a point where Anya pointed it out,” The two of you looked at one another with a conflicted look before letting out an annoying sigh, “Oh brother, she can't take a joke.” You then spoke up in defense, “Can't take a joke when you're making a mockery of her career, you can't just give someone coffee as an offering, you gotta apologize like you're doing with me.” Jimmy then gives you a smile, it's awkward and crooked like it doesn't belong, it's eerie, and you try to get rid of this feeling for the sake of having a more positive relationship with your trainer.
You smile back, “So, uh, why were you out here?” just as awkward as his before you try to think about what you want to say, “Just a mandatory check…Making sure you're all here and safe, even in space, you could never be too safe, as Curly says.” You chuckle, “Yeah, not surprised there.” The two of you share a laugh, the dark chuckle that escapes his throat feels even more terrifying, you quickly dismiss yourself to get back to the comfort of your enclosed space, “Well, I'll be heading back.” You say, you turn in the opposite direction and wave him off, Jimmy nods, his smile falling, “Goodnight, F/N.” You feel a shiver down your back, turning around to wave awkwardly back at him, it's hard to even emit any joy with the darkness of the area just shadowing his face and only highlighting the dead look in his eyes that tore you apart.
You let out a spacious laugh, “Goodnight—”
ARRRRGGH
Your eyes shoot open, taking in a large gasp of air as you quickly get up from the cold steel floor. Jimmy is shaking you awake while Swansea stands over a bloody Daisuke— “Daisuke!?” You push past Jimmy and dart over to the young man's feet as you look over his injuries, your stomach does somersaults as your hands shoot to cover your mouth.
Jimmy joins your side before you go to Daisuke's left, while Swansea is on his right with his hands on his hips, "Don’t do anything! Stop, stop, stop. I can fix this!" Swansea shouts, “Why do you keep fuckin’ saying that? Are you hearing yourself?!” “Can the two of you shut the fuck up!?” Both their heads snap towards you while you only keep your eyes on Daisuke, "Hhruugh… I-I’m s-sorry…" you blink back into your body like somebody dropped you out of orbit and the smell of cheap alcohol, weed, and the warm Sun on your bare chest is now gone as your senses are filled with metal, burnt plastic, and the copper heavy smell of his blood bubbling from his wounds.
You watch his Daisuke writhe on the floor like a slug smothered in salt, his breath hitches and short, and panic bursts. Your hands hover uselessly over your mouth as you try to think if you could even touch him in this state. “We still have disinfectant, right? The one from the extra medical stash? Get it! Now!” Swansea questions Jimmy, he almost puts his head down like a bad dog, "...The cocktail, we… you…" "The cocktail?!" Swansea snaps, "What are you blabbering about?" Jimmy then shouts back, “That was your fault! You would never have-I-I had no choice.” You can hear the anger fester in the older man, "You...Useless! You goddamn fucking idiot! There has to be something else!” The two men then depart to find some type of disinfectant.
You're snapped away from the door when you feel dice case fingers grass for the pants of uniform, hands hovering used to sleep before you finally force yourself to touch him, your thumb wipes a coat of blood off on the rings on his hand, and you swallow in hopes it'll lubricate your throat. The last time he held him this close, he smelled like citrus soda and cheap cologne, and while you try to hold in that memory of him and you during the summer years ago, you can only watch as he's covered in blood and the air is filled with metal and fear.
“Hurgh-Hey, stay-stay with me,” you try, even though your voice trembles and he can hear the lie in it. There is no medical bay, no nurse is coming to treat him, no backup–You don't know if your words are helping or tearing the wound further. The two of you are silent as your thumb rolls against his knuckles as they desperately dig into your thigh. Soon enough, Jimmy bursts through the door, and when you see the mouthwash in his hands, you wanna slap him senseless.
“You fucking ass! Anya said it wouldn't work as a fucking disinfectant!” Hissing at the man who only ignores your pleas, Daisuke cries out, “Mmrghhh… I’m so...rry…I messed… up...mgh." Jimmy only hushes him, "Don’t try to talk." Your eyes widen, and before you know it, you watch his Jimmy pop off the cap, you're quick to launch your body over Daisuke's—Even though that doesn't stop it. You feel the warm liquids all around your back, but they drip right into Daisuke's wounds after soaking your clothes.
Jimmy's hand finds itself on the collar of your uniform, trying to pull you up. A struggle ensues before he's able to use the other half of the mouthwash to try and disinfect Daisuke's wounds. You can hear him bare his teeth as he begins to yell in agony and whimper in pain. Once Jimmy is done hovering over Daisuke, you're quick to rush back over to him, you pick up his head, and press your forehead to his. The young man's skin is burning hot despite how pale he's getting, and then now wet hair brushes your eyelashes the way they used to when he leaned over to talk during movies–when he rambles too loud, and you'd shut him, pretending to be annoyed while still listening to every thought he utters.
A memory from your mother's living room flashes to your head, her nails cutting into your jaw, she spat, “He's bringing you down.” And now here he was, dying in your arms because of a mission you both signed up for. You watch his hand fumbling up and pressing against your cheek, you can feel the way his hands continue to shake and the blood smears across your skin, even though your tears are quick to wash it away.
Daisuke's eyes widened slightly at your tears, not with shock but with recognition. With all the texts you left on read, all the forgotten costumes, unanswered invitations, and the way he waited for you like an eager puppy, only leaves you to watch him go one last time–He wonders if this is how his guinea pig must have felt. His coughs are wet and thick, and your hands move instinctively to try and hold them together, your palms now a crimson red, which you wonder is more vibrant because of the red light bleeding down onto the two of you. His breath rattles, and the lights flicker, and somewhere nearby, Swansea and Jimmy are talking, but they're distant, muffled, not real.
Only Daisuke is real.
You pull them closer, because now there's nothing left to hide. You no longer fear hurting him, you are no longer scared of showing him who you really are anymore; instead, you're ready to embrace him. Just him. Just the boy who cried over movies and watched you two pieces because of a joke you made once. The boy who tried to better himself because he wanted to be someone worthy of standing next to you. Whose last words were going to be an apology. You press your shaking hand over the wound, even though it's useless. Even though you both know it's a losing battle.
“I should've stayed,” you say, voice crackling into pieces like you dropped your own porcelain heart. Even though it would shatter into a million pieces, Daisuke's thumb rubbed your cheek soothingly; he would cut himself if it meant putting all the pieces back together. His lips twitch, you hear hushed whispers before his eyes start to flutter, and panic chokes you. You feel hands on your shoulder, they tug at you, pulling you back. You quickly flinch only to find yourself losing grip, you need more energy to keep holding on to Daisuke just a little longer, you feel the hands are stronger than you in this weakened state of only eating a few days and the emotional exhaustion as Daisuke's grip got tighter on you it couldn't fight against the force that was your self appointed co captain.
Soon enough, you're pulled out of what you had; instead, you're staring at a moment you can't control.
You watched as Swansea took the axe into his hands, eyes widening as the words are caught in your mouth silenced instantly by the sound of pure silence as you see the axe slam down into Daisuke's skull, splitting his face in two. The two begin to talk again, but you couldn't be bothered to listen, feeling the hot tears begin to scorch your eyes as you watch the axe sit in your lover's face as if you were nothing but an audience member. You could hear as the two bickered but why would you care anymore?
When do you think the next chapter of your reader x Daisuke fic will come out? Not trying to rush or anything ofc, people have real lives lol, I'm just curious! (And excited hehehe)
To be truthful, I'm wrapping up the series in the four chapters which include
Judgment day
Whiplash Ending
Epilogue
Bonus Ending
I wanna be able to upload them all in one day, most likely sometime next week! I got like over 6+ essays to work on for school as well so most of my time this week will be dedicated to finishing up finals and prepping for upcoming exams.
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ No more drinking for you, only self reflection and depression, just like nature intended!
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Cursing | Self-harm mentioned | Suicidal Thoughts | Physical Abuse | Verbal Abuse | Medical Abuse | Everybody is losing their mind | Jimmy being Jimmy
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ A reminder that the reader has the same information as the other characters, they do not know that Curly didn't crash the ship.
It’s been…3 or 4 months since the crash?
Was anyone really keeping track anymore?
You'll be honest, you don't really keep track of things like this anymore. I mean, what's the point now that you're here? You know you're stuck, you wish you were like Daisuke and Swansea, you wish that you'd really embrace alcohol the way everybody else had in their lives, thus making them want to drink in the first place. You would never really go wrong, yeah, there was a first time you got drunk. You had pink with me, and you had a few more shots than you should have, thus ending up in the bed of a person you don't even like.
It wasn't just that, though; you really gave up on drinking because of what happened between you and Daisuke. The moment could've been ruined, killed by thoughts you knew you wouldn't have if you were sober; you could be in more control of yourself than you had fully been allotted in life.
Everything worked under your mother, tethered to her from the womb and the umbilical cord you wished wrapped around your throat and choked you out in that wretched snatch was only cut off and forced you to take your first breath.
You can't stand the fact that you could've fucked up everything, the fact that you two were finally on good terms, you'd look for each other whenever Jimmy wasn't on your case about this, that, and the third.
Nonetheless, you proceeded with going back to work, unfortunately.
You feel the leather boot of your new boss seep into your tummy; it's almost like he prepared his foot to strike in your ribs, and you pray that he'd get the balls to crack them. You think that's the worst part about Jimmy, that he's so terrified that the consequences of his actions won't even be honest enough to put you down to your face.
You're positive Jimmy founded passive aggressiveness, backhanded comments, and microaggressions. You wouldn't be surprised if those were the only skills he had perfected. Regardless, that didn't stop you from getting up whenever his foot found its place above your belly button, and then the gruffness of Jimmy's voice awakened you once more for your ‘job’.
Jimmy doesn't greet you anymore, he just waits for you to pick yourself off the floor and drag you around the ship, if you had music this wouldn't be but a drizzle but because you'd have to raw dog the experience of being around some pig that did nothing but complain about the people around him, including yourself, while praising their abilities backhandedly, including yourself—Did you already say that?
This ship is doing numbers to your mind.
You don't know if you want to be saved or for the oxygen to just suddenly give out in your sleep.
Wondering if you'd awaken from choking to death, your head knocked against Jimmy's back. You wince from the harsh wall. Jimmy doesn't even look back or ask if you're okay; he just enters the room and looks around, mumbles some stuff to himself, then you're both out again. Is it crazy to say that it pisses you off that the silent treatment is actually doing something? You wonder what it's about. Maybe it's because of what happened, but he still wants your presence, someone to watch him do the work, so he can use you as if it were some live audit.
That's so sad.
You wonder if he's ever had friends as you both make your way through the long halls of the ship; it almost feels like a maze sometimes, and you're amazed by the fact that you would never truly get to see all this. “No. I understand completely. If that's how it has to be—” Your ears perked up, the sight of Anya in the foam infested room almost made your heart explode, there were only a few moments you got to interact with Anya, you didn't blame her for not hanging out in the medical area, the sounds Curly makes leaves you up at night from time to time. You're too scared to wake up anyone to give him medication, so it's up to you.
Shaking off the goosebumps of those terrifying nights, you find yourself whisked unknowingly over to Tuplar's nurse, “Hm? Oh, it's you two.” You nod as your shoulder finds Anya’s, your face is warm, and the pit of your stomach burns, feeling the disassociated coldness be steamed off you. “Hello there,” Anya says softly. She says it only to you, not knowing if she's signaling Jimmy out on purpose, and you just find your wide eyes creasing with a smile. Anya then redirects her attention, “Jimmy! Not able to sleep, huh?”
The man notices the closeness, he makes his way closer over to the three of you, and suddenly the mood dims as you feel existence become more suffocating from what was a nice moment. "It’s 'night time'. Why are you talking this late?" Jimmy's head then falls closer to Anya's, "...Anya. Are you crying?" Anya is quick to turn to the side, "No, don’t worry. I’m okay." The man only sighed in disappointment, leaving Anya to put her head down in shame whilst Swansea looked over him.
"We all need to keep it together.” Swansea blows a raspberry as he rolls his eyes, "Oh, I’m keepin’ it together. Don’t you worry, Captain." You both notice the way he just glides over the two of you; he has no real care for Jimmy and his little second-in-command sheep. You also put your head down in embarrassment. Jimmy folds his arms and doesn't take his eyes off the woman, "He’s making noises again. Did you give him his meds before, Anya?" She picks her head up, "Ah, no. Must’ve slipped my mind."
There's a quickness to her voice, "I’m sorry, I’ll-" Jimmy then lets out another sigh, "I’ll do it." "No, really, I’m perfectly okay." "I said I’ll do it." The silence consumes the air before Anya speaks up,
"I wonder if they’ve even noticed we’re missing, back at headquarters. It’d take a rescue ship so long to get here…" You nod somberly, "Might be another freighter they could divert to try and find us. It's not… inconceivable." Jimmy adds, before Anya hums, "I suppose you’re right."
You find your eyes wandering once more, soon on the axe in Swansea’s arm, “Nice ax, where'd you get it?” “Your mother's house.” There's a shocked look on both your and Anya's faces before Swansea smirks, “Gotcha.” It doesn't take long before you realize it was most likely a Daisuke joke. You stifle your laughter before Jimmy cuts through the flowers, "You getting a lot of use out of that right now?" It's the first time Jimmy's directed his attention towards him since he got in this room. You were all aware of Jimmy just eyeing down Anya like prey; it was overwhelming, and you prayed the two of you would just leave so she could just be happy once more.
"Force of habit. Don’t overthink it."Swansea grunts, before Jimmy heads out of the room, you wave a goodbye to Anya, who eagerly returns yours. Upon entering the medical area, there's a silence that falls between the two of you, noting the fact that there's only so much medicine you guys could be giving to Curly. Your face falls a bit, and Jimmy is the first to notice, “We won't be able to keep him quiet forever.” You only nod, you hear the way his tongue pops against the roof of his mouth, “He did it to himself, honestly.”
The tone is not unfamiliar to you, watching as your captain makes his way to the table and hands you the medication, "Come on. Stop with the noise." Jimmy groans as Curly’s whimpers and cries go unanswered. You wonder if he can even cry in this state or if the salt in his tears is burning his flesh. You wrap your fingers around the bottle before you make your way over to the table where Curly lies. You and Jimmy are side by side, hovering over him, "I know what everyone is thinking.” Jimmy states. Your eyes stay glued to Curly as he continues, "The way they look at me. What could I even say? And then…What would she do?" You stay quiet, you know if you say something it'll be like those times in the closet or in the control room, now that you'd grown sick to the mouthwash, you couldn't imagine returning to cutting yourself as a coping mechanism, it's times like this you brought a bong and a pound of weed on this trip.
"Dammit!”
Unfortunately, you're stuck with this out-of-control man, who just slammed his fists on the table. You flinched at the sound, and Curly's eye finds yours; his labored breaths that flow with his groans and whimpers sound like a symphony of torture. You're sure Jimmy is thrilled at the thought that Curly is getting what he deserves for crashing the ship. "Here we are now. Me in the driver’s seat. Thanks for that." Jimmy spat at the man, You don't know how to feel as he then slapped his hand against your upper back, “I saw you feed him the other night, like he was some baby bird unable to do a thing, but I need you to do better if you wanna keep this position.”
You mumbled to yourself, “What if I don't wanna keep this position?” You feel Jimmy's course and heavy hand find itself on your shoulder, you feel the heat leave it, and then the sudden force as he slams down the dead weight of it onto you. You try not to let out a peep; nonetheless, the ache that came in your collarbone almost made you yelp in pain. “Nonsense, we're in a better position than everyone on here. I mean, the drunk, the hoarder, and the incompetent?” You don't know who's who, you wonder if you're one of them, “We could be like them, falling into despair and falling over like children, but instead, we're taking charge to make sure everyone's alright.”
‘Stay silent. Just nod.’ You turn your head, you shake like a Chihuahua, and pray you get out of your misery upon being met by the darkened face that was Jimmy. “Listen, you just need to be better than they are. You already are. You and me, we're a team, I got us the better position. You should be happier now that you're dependent on that mouthwash, that means you're better than Swansea and Daisuke, and better than Anya.” You don't feel the warmth in comparison; your mother had practically steamrolled it out of you like you were a bottle of toothpaste. “We're not in a better position, you are.” You spoke, “Oh please, as if you don't do everything here with a purpose, I make the way and you come on it, I'm doing this to make it easier on us, and if you think my job is so easy, you can do it your goddamn self.”
You want to show some type of confusion, a tilt of the head, or genuinely questioning him, but it was imperative that you just did what he told you when you watched that look of pure pride fall into disappointment.
So, you nodded.
You opened up the pills, but before you're able to do anything, Jimmy drags his hand down your shoulder and to the small of your back, “The problem with why you're not appreciating this position is because you're not doing what you need to do, and what you need to act more like you're in charge.” Your feet stutter as you feel the harsh push forward to the table, “You don't understand the things captains have to do that make them the way they are, and that's okay, you've been babied, cared for, this little Tuplar ship is just another one, your actions on what is a long list of extracurriculars.”
You're met by another shove forward, your shoes squeak against the floor, “You don't understand genuine hard work, and if we're going to survive this experience, then you need to learn how to do the hard things.” You're met by another shove, and you're now sure you can see the pieces of skin Curly once had and the way the flesh had melted; you feel your heart fall into your stomach. “But maybe, instead of trying to beat it into you, maybe, you just need a little motivation.” Soon enough, you felt the table now morph into your stomach. Even when feeding Curly the pills, you weren't even entirely looking at him, your eyes closed as you felt the way his throat closed around your fingers to swallow the pills. You were now forced to bear witness to the captain you once had in his state of pure torture.
“You look at him like he's not going to hurt you, like Swansea, Daisuke, and Anya. You're looking at them like they won't do anything to you, but you need to understand that anything can happen, and what Curly chose to do in that time was try and kill us all.” You flinched at the sound of it, your attempted murderer just praying for someone to end the feeling of their flesh aflame and the way their body was bound to this table with no hopes in real, genuine medical help outside of painkillers.
Was the punishment enough for what he had tried to do to you, to all of you? To end these lives that existed outside of him and only met because of the job, a lot of you don't even want to do? The heart pounds into your chest, you wonder if they can hear your labored breaths, but as Jimmy stares you down, so does Curly. You look into that blue orbs,wondering why he would do this to all of you, destined the whole crew to a date worse than death?
“Hurry up and feed him.”
Your hands shake as you find the pills, your wrist bounces viciously as you try to fight off the child-proof cap. There are so many thoughts that flood your mind, how you could end up on a ship with some abusive control freak and a killer. You're floored that this was your destiny, and distraught that you couldn't drink your feelings away after this, only watching as the eyes that yearned for the pain killers couldn't give you the time of day.
"...Open up." Gulping as you finally pop the cap off, you then find the pills in the palm of your hand. You watch as his eye leaves the bottle once you put it down on the table, and the way his eye finds you once more causes you to question what the fuck you're even doing here in the first place.
You lived in their world with a million possibilities that allowed you to explore and become a better person in the future. You don't know if you'd been able to truly grow in this world; no one would question why a rose that bloomed from the concrete had tattered leaves, but you only hoped that the rose didn't have to grow at all.
As much as the dreams of love and success consumed your hopes, it was as fickle as the idea of actually completing college on your own reasoning; honestly, you didn't even really want to do anything besides drop dead after you gave your mother your degree.
Yet, here you were.
Dreams were now taking that axe from Swansea and slamming it straight into Jimmy's and Curly's bodies until they were nothing more than minced meat. Taking SSRIs was great when you had to continue living compulsively for your dream to ultimately kill yourself, but with nothing left in this world, why would you force yourself to conform even in your final days?
"I hope these make you feel fucking better.”
You couldn't sleep after that, your hands can still feel his throat closing up on you in desperation and you shiver at the thought before you're met by the sight of Daisuke lying out before the cargo room with another bottle of mouthwash, you felt the dip into what Jimmy had spoken to you once more as you met the drunk. "Uuurgghh…" "How many have you had?" Jimmy questions, only met by another groan before Jimmy scoffs and crosses his arms, "Those will kill you before-" "Yeah, yeah, before anything else. I know." It takes Daisuke a moment to push himself up; he's not even able to really as he rolls himself over with his left arm covering his eyes and the bottle of mouthwash glued to his right.
"My mom found this internship for me. Such a slacker, she said. I don’t know. I just never knew what I wanted to be. I was never good at anything. Total screw up." Your heart winces at his defeat. “We’re not done yet, Daisuke." Jimmy is quick to console him, "I just hope she doesn’t blame herself." Daisuke then puts the mouthwash on the two of you, "Please… just take it. I don’t want to look at this stuff anymore." You're the one who reaches out for it, the young man can feel the difference from Jimmy's rough hand to yours, you feel his hand shake a bit, “I…I wanna be alone, if that's okay.” You both say nothing, and as he brings them down, you're sure you can hear him begin to sob.
There's a softness in your heart that's rotting, you feel it as Daisuke does nothing but add onto the weight in your already heavy heart, your thoughts are to drop to your knees to comfort him, but you don't even know if he knew you were there, you had a sympathetic look on your face as the two of you made your way back up stairs to the main area where a little tune blared from the radio and there an old man out his all in busting the right move.
You wondered if that's how he had his kids, if it really took a guy dancing to convince you that he's all you wanted in life, though Daisuke had two left feet, he didn't know how to dance, but he was always too pretty to have to care about dancing.
All anybody wanted to do was listen to him talk.
"Jimbo! ¡El Capitano! The man with the plan!" Swansea then gasped loudly before going back into his jig, “And his little second in command can't believe you gave up the party life to go be a follower! Missing out on the good stuff—Listen, listen, listen! This is the best part! Aa-waaay-oooo!” Jimmy had a disappointed scowl on his face, “You're a mess, Swansea.” The older man brushed him off, “It'll be all the sad motherfuckers of the Tuplar in the sky with diamonds! Captain Jimmy pullin’ the plug on the party before the last call, right kid? Lemme guess, he was talking about how we need to be more ready for the end!” Swansea then stopped for a moment, “Where'd that kid run off to?! He's gotta work on his stamina! Party's over here!”
The laughter that left the pit of his stomach was the only genuine happiness you had seen in a while; you don't know if it's only the mouthwash, and if he had already ingested so much that he didn't even acknowledge that this was it. You found your eyes on Anya, who was on the table investigating a bottle of mouthwash. It hurt you a lot to see her consider such a notion. You hoped she would rise above this nonsense of alcohol consumption, but you couldn't blame her in the state we were all in.
You decided to make your way up the stairs and join her. Before you could even say anything, Jimmy was quick to push past you to sit down next to her. You rubbed your shoulder with a glare and wondered if you could convince Swansea to let you hold the axe for a little bit.
The two began to talk, and you took this as a sign to be quiet. Your hopes in dissociation were shattered, however, as you and Jimmy are sent back to Swansea to collect the axe to get some medicine from a foam-infested area.
“You done?” Jimmy crackled, “I need that." Swansea erupted in laughter, "This old thing? This was entrusted to me by our previous, tragically inclined leader. Big res-ponsi-bility. But you know all about that, huh?" It slips out faster than you can catch it, as your lips purse together and a raspberry finds itself stopping your laughter.
Unfortunately, Jimmy's hand finds your shoulder once more, and you don't know if this is the one with the bruises or not, but at this rate, he's going to damage your shoulder blades. Swansea continued to dance, swaying his hips and swinging his arms to turn away from Jimmy. You quickly find your face going slack as El Capitano and The Hoarder begin to go back to talking, "I’m going to try and get some more painkillers. Do something useful, you know?" Swansea found himself turned right back around, his body straight as he looked past Jimmy, “Oh-o, I heard all about it. You’re looking to pull the plug on this party early."
"I’m trying to save us." Jimmy refuted, Swansea only chortled, "Take matters into your own hands, eh?" The man then adjusted his grip on the axe, "Be. My. Guest!" It only took a moment before Swansea slammed the head of the axe into the glass screen that displayed the beauty that was Earth. You don't know if you genuinely miss the planet, but you'd rather be anywhere than here. As Jimmy went for the axe, it's good he went for it instead of you, since who knew what you'd do with it.
You wonder if Jimmy knew, if they all knew there was something wrong with you, that's why you were going all quiet and not doing anything anymore but staying by Jimmy's side. Maybe they're waiting for you to crack like everyone else is, or maybe you've already cracked and this was your moment to go back to your room, swallow your year's supply of SSRIs, drink three bottles of mouthwash, and try to enjoy the unfortunately catchy music on the radio.
The journey was a breeze, of course it was, collect the emergency medicine from the red box covered in foam, you're surprised Jimmy did it with no real back talk–Well, that was until Anya came to check in on the two of you.
"Oh, wow, Jim! You did it!" Anya cheered, "Yeah. It actually wasn’t that hard once I figured it out." "Amazing, really!" "Sure." Oh no, flattery wasn't working. Anya then cleared her throat
"Um. I hate to ask you again…but…Could you give Curly his painkillers? It still just… just makes me so nauseous." A little silence falls between the three of you before Jimmy exasperates, "You’re not serious." Another phase confirms which caused Jimmy to pinch the bridge of his nose before huffing out a sigh,"Look. I’ve entertained your sentimentality up until now. But I’m trying to actually fix things, Anya! I’m getting us through this!"
You were quick to situate yourself between the two of them, “I mean, can you blame her? That shit is horrific to do, I can still feel his—” Jimmy scoffs, “It’s 'Find the code scanner!' Then 'Figure out the door code!’, ‘Get the axe!', ‘'Chop up the foam, but not too much!’ And best of all, ‘'Give Curly his fucking medicine!' But I’m bearing it. I have to. Because the captain has to take fucking responsibility on this goddamn ship!" You flinched at this before scoffing as well, “No one asked you to take on the position,” “So?” “So, don't expect us to sit here and suck your dick for making such a dumb decision you don't even wanna fucking do.”
Why the hell was he going so hard on Anya for the pills? Anyone else can do it like him, or Swansea, or even Daisuke! He keeps talking about everyone having to do their job and do this and that, but he won't even get on the mechanic to be a mechanic, the intern to be an intern, but he can sit here and chew out a nurse for something she cannot control? “I mean, everyone's choosing to get drunk, and you're not saying anything to the mechanic that's supposed to be helping with the ship or Daisuke to do anything, just because Anya isn't doing anything doesn't mean we're any less closer to being found!”
You don't remember when your thoughts turned to words, but it's far too late before Jimmy dismissed Anya, "Go make sure Daisuke doesn’t choke on his own vomit.” Anya looks at you as you speak up for her. She's happy that someone finally said something, and if she were in better shape, she wouldn't join you in triumph, but she no longer has that strength. You notice in the way she defeatedly tries to stop the two of you, "N-no, no I can-" Jimmy just dismisses her, his eyes not leaving your form, "I’ll take care of it, Anya. I always do." With that, you're right behind Jimmy as he heads back to the med-bay.
The two of you were back to standing above Curly, you and he closer now that you had become forcibly used to seeing the up close ,gory sight of your past captain. You're both silent for a moment before Jimmy speaks, "...I don’t think I understood the pressure you were under before. Fuck. And you tried to tell me." Jimmy gripped the life out of the pills in his hand, and you watched as the veins began to pulse violently around the bottle.
"Our worst moments don’t make us monsters, huh?"
You thought for a moment about what Jimmy had said and if it was true until you looked down at Curly once more. "You were a good captain, Curly. And you’ll be one again. I’ll get us both through this." You thought more for a moment, and then some, before you made an offer. “I should feed him.” Jimmy looked to you for a moment, “And why is that?” You're silent for a moment, and then you continue, “You're right about earlier, how people burden you with things and how it's wrong that we have to be the ones who do everything for everyone while they all just wallow in their own self-pity. It's embarrassing. You were…right to tell Anya that.”
It hurt you more to say such a thing; nonetheless, you had to continue. “You should go get a rest, Captain. You deserve it more than anyone after all, everyone's put you through.” You watch as Jimmy tilts his head in confusion. Anyone would be a fool to pass up having someone who could practically do everything he was doing for a good break, had allowed him to be fully immersed in it all. You put your hand out for the pills, and Jimmy places them into your palm steadily before he dismisses himself.
You turn back to Curly. Once the door is closed, you look to him with an uncaring gaze, the one you had sported when talking to Jimmy had only been for survival, but as you looked down at your captain, you had no care for what he saw in you.
"Our worst moments don’t make us monsters, huh?” You repeat it, a soft giggle leaving you as you make your way closer to the table, trying not to skip over to it, “We are what we have always been, humans, mammals, animals—The only difference between us and the ones in the forest is that our brains are more self-conscious of ourselves.” You leaned the top part of your body over the table and hung the painkillers in Curly's face, you watched as the blue hope ran towards the bottle like a hungry fish, and you could only tilt your head in awe at the sight.
“You most likely thought long and hard about doing this, after we'd be all fired after our first mission, how'd you do it, how'd you make it seem like an accident, and how you could fuck us over like this corporate elites had.” You watched how he didn't even direct his attention to you, his eyes stayed glued to those painkillers as if God was hanging them down to him personally, “I don't know if this your worst moment, so I don't know if it defined you as a murderer, but I can tell you that you crashing this ship has done irreparable damage to the people on here.”
You brought the painkillers back to you, his eyes followed, and as he met with this sickening smile on his face, he wondered what could've been going out outside this room. You take your time as you pop open the cap and one of the pills finds your palm, you roll it around your thumb, you wonder if you should just take the whole bottle right in front of him, go back to the red box, and take the rest of them so he can sit there and write for the rest of his life.
Nonetheless, you did your job.
Like every good captain has done.
Discovering heavy-handedness when feeding your former captain, the little whimpers become louder as they snowball into full-bown cries of anguish, and the groans in pain become more aggravated by your movements. You watch as his body convulses and tries to pull itself up, you only continue, one pill at a time, for the necessary dosage. You wanted to fear choking him at this moment, that maybe if you guys are all saved, he is als,o and he tells everyone about all this mistreatment he faced after trying to kill his entire crew. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself not even caring about wiping the mixture of spit and blood off your hand.
Silence can't fill this room, as Curly's sobs began to become louder and louder, you listened for the sound of footsteps or the door opening until your work was done. You stayed for a few moments, just hearing him cry out more, wondering if this was your worst moment until you thought of comparing yourself to him… “Eugh.” You gagged at the thought, you ripped your hand out from his throat, covered in his saliva, you only huff as you go to find some hand sanitizer and head to bed yourself, a little smile finding itself when you announced you would be feeding Curly from now on.
“No! You don't remember her? She was the girl you know, she did like that little, ‘Have you ever tried this one?’ and it was like a sex position?” Your question was met with silence before you loudly groaned, not that you really gave him a chance to react to your memories. You’re terribly bored, you slam your feet into the back of Jimmy’s seat, and like an exhausted parent, he ignores you in hopes your attention-seeking behavior dwindles from the lack of it.
The irritation trickles down his spine and slowly cracked through his veins as you began to do a little jig: Putting both your hands on your hips and kick your knee out in a rhythmic pattern, “You make me wanna make you fall in love–” You then spun around, continuing the motion and only getting louder, “LATE AT NIGHT I'M THINKING BOUT YOU!” Your left arm goes up, and your right arm goes down.
You repeat the rhythm as the pop song fills your eyes with vivid imagery.
You're now just loudly yelling until you're finally interrupted by your captain. “[F/N]! Please!” You continue the dance, spinning back around and continuing the choreography to the best of your abilities. You giggle, snicker, and find yourself with just a big grin on your face as you look over to the captain. The big smile on your face never fades, even by the scowl you're met with when you finally turn around to face your Captain. “I'm sorry, Capitano!” You jokingly roll your eyes, beginning to spin around again, before Jimmy slams his hands on the floor.
Your shoulders jump, you know he would hit you if he were closer, and you try to hide that fear by stomping on the floor, “I can fucking hit shit too!” Jimmy just scoffs at your obviously insolent behavior. He couldn’t believe that such a kiss ass like yourself would fold under the pressure like Daisuke and Swansea, he thought you were BETTER, I guess? But, like, who is Jimmy to act like he’s better than all of us? ‘Cause he assumed a position for something no one asked him to and now he believes he can use that power to fucking hurt us like what a loser ant bully–” Oh my god, did you see that movie?” Jimmy’s scowl doesn’t hide the anger he has, but now the confused frustration takes over his features as a loud ‘Huh’ escapes him. “Y’know, Ant Bully, the kid he like bullies ants, gets shrunk, and then he learns to stop being a little asshole?”
A silence falls between the two of you before Jimmy returns to the task at hand. You wonder if he just drags you around, making you watch him do work so you can be ready to take on the position, if you guys even make it off this ship. “I don't even know why I'm talking to you, you're just…” Jimmy grumbles, you wondered why he even let those words slip past his crusted-over lips, knowing you’re a very emotive drunk. “Pfffft…I don’t even know why you’re still trying when we’re all gonna die on this ship.” Jimmy turns to you and he's conflicted on how in the world you can say something like that, “What?” You scoff back at him, “You heard me!”
Jimmy's shoulders relax, maybe you've gotten through to him, but you wonder if he's actually hearing you. A smile finds its way back on your face as you twirl the tips of your shoes in a little circle with your hands finding themselves behind your backside.
“I mean, why are you even still sober? It's obvious we might not even be found, I mean, it's been like months, no? Like, if they were gonna come, they would've come already, and so it's like why would I give a fuck about our situation?” Your thoughts are genuine, phrases and words racing around your mind, finally finding their way off your minty tongue and into his ears, and unfortunately, as always, your new appointed Captain had a rebuttal.
“I mean, you could think about how I'm being responsible about this–” You blow a raspberry, blasted by the idea that he could even believe he was being the ‘responsible’. You watch that scowl find its home back on Jimmy’s old mug once more. “Yeah, responsible, Mr. Big man in charge who just takes his little anger out on anyone whenever he gets the chance. What a big, responsible boy!”
You continue to mock him, your hands flying around all over the place as you go on and on about his faults once more, you know this monologue as well as he knows it since it's been the only thing you could do sober up to put him down, however, you only did it when no one was around though, you remembered the first time you tried to undermine his authority in front of others and you couldn't beat to end up back in the closet.
Jimmy looked at you with this glazed over look, he couldn't care for a word you're saying, and from the smell of your breath and the ragged movements, he could tell you had yourself at least two or more bottles. The man lets out a huff before he dismisses you, “There's no need for you here, Co-Captian.” You gasp loudly, your hands find themselves slammed onto your cheeks, “You wanted me to be around you all the time, and now you can't stand me, and now it’s like what the fuck am I supposed to do, Captain Jimmy?”
Jimmy's hand is quicker than your mouth; before you're able to roll out another insult, you're quick to feel the whack against your head and another firm dismal of your presence.
“Go give Curly his fucking medicine.”
You were grateful that the amount of mouthwash you had consumed had allowed the dulling of the pain, and upon finding another, would allow you to feed Curly with ease. Anya wasn't there in the medical area when you began to feed Curly, she was probably hiding out from Jimmy's gaze, seeming as if it was around this time he would go feed her. You don't blame her; being around Jimmy was like being on the subway after dark.
After doing your task, you find yourself a nice, quiet spot to drink another bottle of mouthwash. Unfortunately, your familiar spot is met by the smell of a familiar cologne and the sound of finger rings clashing together, which results in a hurried gulp. You giggle, and they come to a sudden stop. You make your way completely into the area, the door closing behind you, before you're met by the sight of at least 10 full bottles of mouthwash and the boy you've been trying to avoid this whole trip.
You groan as you feel the mouthwash in your tummy spin like a washing machine– “Were you ever into Mitski?” “Uh, yeah! I saw her on tour, actually, backstage passes and everything!” You roll your eyes at him, “Stop trying to flex on me.” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Am not!” You missed dumbing down, no more intricate and thorough thoughts of killing yourself, the sense of impending doom, fear of messing up everything you've worked on, your mother, Jimmy, or even your future after this ship.
All that was on your mind was the idea of another drink entering your system.
You turned to Daisuke, “We haven't done the test in a while…” “Test?” “Y'know, the intake thingy we took like every month–” Daisuke gasps, “Oh my god, we haven't done that in forever!” The young man then turned to you, “That's probably why, like, we're all like this right now…” “What do you mean?” There's a knowing silence that falls between you and Daisuke, “We could do one right now.” You raised a brow, “Huh?” “Yeah!” Daisuke eagerly turns to you, “I'm Nurse Daisuke. Tell me about your experience on the Tuplar!”
You giggle, playing around this goofy little voice as he adjusted his posture with one leg over the other, and you lay down on the floor, similar to a psychiatrist appointment. “Well, Nurse Daisuke, my experience has been…”
Oh, God.
The idea that you'd have to think back on everything that's led you to hear just continues to consume you. You look at Daisuke, your face falling as you think back on everything, “It's been…a lot to say the least…” “Mhm…” Daisuke hums as he fixes his posture and re-crosses his legs, “Please, don’t speak about this to Jimmy-He’s just always such a bitch to deal with, y'know?” You lament, “At first, I felt special? Like all he was doing was just making me think that there was a chance for me to be better than I was now, and I cared for his approval and all that jazz?”
You pause for a moment, rolling off your back and onto your tummy with your legs in the air like a whimsical little lad.
“Y’like jazz?”
Daisuke's eyes lock with yours for a moment before he begins to ‘tsk’, “Deviation from the questionnaire is against company protocol.” You tilt your head, “When the fuck did you learn the word ‘Deviation’?” Daisuke’s face softens, a noticeable frown appears on the young man, your smile doesn't fall, though, instead your eyes squint as you try to think about why his face had fallen so fast after such an amazing joke.
A silence falls between the two of you once more before Daisuke then questions, “So, what's going on between the two of you?” Your eyes widen, “I’m sorry?” Daisuke then looks down at the opening between his criss-crossed legs, “Weren't you guys like hooking up or something?” There's clear jealousy in the boy’s tone, but you're too stunned to realize it, “FUCK NO!” This startled Daisuke before he looked away, “I mean, are you sure, because remember when you guys were both in the storage clos–” “No! He was just reprimanding me behind closed doors like some weirdo freak!”
You then sigh, “It was this sick cycle, he’d compliment me, then he’d backhand me with a little thing, ‘You could’ve been better.’ ‘You could’ve not missed it.’ ‘Why can't you be like Anya?’ ‘Everyone on this ship is against you.’ Blah! Blah! Blah! Well, why the fuck am I even trying then? What the fuck am I gaining? If all it amounts to is him just pulling the rug beneath my feet to see if I’ll float for him.” You then let your head fall onto the cold floor, with your arms extended forward, “What’s even the point of trying anymore?”
Daisuke puts his hand on your back, you feel all warm and tingly from just one touch, that familiar smell eases itself into your nostrils as the young man gives you a large, toothy smile.
“Trying your best!”
You both looked at one another before you both began laughing. It was in the pit of your belly where the lining of your stomach got hot. This feeling allows you to roll onto your side, and Daisuke joins you on the floor before you both roll onto your backs.
“You remember how we first met?” You ask, Daisuke thinks for a moment before he sighs, “I don't know, since I got ghosted, I just kinda forgot everything…Maybe, you could, I don't know, jog my memory?” You hear the hostility in his voice; it's sudden from the giggle sesh you both just shared, nonetheless, you understand.
Stupid question.
Stupid you.
The embarrassment ignited your cheeks. You didn't know if you wanted to talk about what you guys were at this point. Maybe the mouthwash was making it easier for you to question things and really think back on what once was, but there was clear disdain in Daisuke's voice that was different from what it was before.
You couldn't just gloss over what you did, Daisuke would never let you do something like that, he'd endure a lot for you–Give up his own heart for you if you need to continue with what he perceived as your brilliant life–But he knew that he couldn't allow you to do this to him again.
“I remember when I was like, deep into Mitski, I told you, ‘If I give up on being pretty, I wouldn’t know how to be alive.’ That’s when you told me, ‘Good thing you’re always pretty!’” Daisuke feels this nostalgia in the pit of his stomach, though this isn't the shared warmth of the blush of your stomach’s inner lining; instead, it's the disgust of his childish mind to believe you'd genuinely want to think fondly about the relationship between you and him.
All those thoughts only give him a bad taste in his mouth, like the smell of boiled spinach; he feels the burning of vomit in his throat as he thinks back to those words you once said to him and the idea of what you shared with him. “You were just fucked up on shit from the party, but my god, hearing you tell me that made me feel better. Every time I thought about you saying that to me, I felt nothing but amazed by how someone can stay so positive when everyone seems so drained with me.”
You roll off your back and onto your side to face Daisuke, “I’ve always felt like a pit, like when my mom found out I cut myself, she talked about everything good she’s done for me and how she had more of a reason to be sad than me, and if she really did have more of a reason to be sad than me and she felt better than I did then what was I doing? Was I just being the fuck up? A pit? No matter how good things are, my first time finally having consensual sex, having someone stay and hold me, to not want to leave, to want to be around me even after it all, was I always just a pit where nothing would ever fill me, and I'd be constantly searching for the next person?”
Daisuke doesn't look back; he doesn't even budge.
As bright as it is for you to cut yourself open and show him your guts, he can't turn to face it, to address it, he only continues to look forward. “I abandoned you, though, for some reason I just ghosted you. I'm sorry for that, genuinely.” Daisuke's ears perked up. “You feel bad about what you did?” You nod eagerly, as if he could see you, “I left you because I didn’t want you to be consumed by me and all the shit I have going on. I never had someone so into me? You’re so…magnificent, not even just with the mouthwash, you’re always this stunning art piece that no one can ever harness…”
Daisuke’s head turns to you, and a question shoots out of your mouth, “Did you really care when I left?” The young man holds his glare towards you; he's only doing it so he doesn't break down in front of you and allow you to believe you've gotten him again. Though the words find themselves like vomit, “I was bummed the fuck out.” Daisuke spat at you. He's quick and curt, turning his head back up to face the ceiling.
“I thought, how did I fuck this up? I did everything right; the only thing you owed me was an explanation, but I never got it. Ever. It was so embarrassing after I defended you to everybody, my friends told me that you weren't going to stay here, we weren't compatible, and that all these feelings I was feeling were just temporary high school relationship feelings.” Daisuke's arms wrapped around him, “I was so alone…I sat there and thought if somebody was as great, as smart, as strong, as amazing as you, couldn't love me, then would I ever be loved again?”
Daisuke hiccuped; he wanted to beat himself up for slipping up like that as the stinging of his eyes only allowed a single salty tear to roll down his tanned cheek. You feel your heart constrict, a snake wrapped around it tightly, and clench in hopes you'd die from the loving feeling.
“I mean, I was always weird–Not was. I still am. Nothing’s changed from Elementary, to middle school, to high school. . .In college, people hit on me. I was ‘good looking’ but what if people got to know me, the real me, like you did, and I’m just not that good enough for them…” Daisuke’s eyes fell closed, you’d see his cheeks glisten under the sparse red light in the room, and you feel your back freeze against the floor.
“And it was so hard to date outside of you, you were so genuine with everything that if they didn't act exactly like you, I didn't want anything to do with them. It made me think about whether I'm really interesting and outgoing, or am I'm just impulsive and weird? I don’t understand what people are telling me, I say people’s names too much and they get irritated, and people always look to me to be the slacker one and they ask for me drugs but I've only ever done weed, y'know?”
Daisuke sighs, he thinks back on all those memories like when you both snuck to parks at night just to get on the swings, dying his hair colors that pissed off his father, going to dances just to spend the whole time with each other shitting on it, laughing at inside jokes, trusting enough to become physically—“I really didn't want to do this internship but my parents felt so bad about me, I didn't do anything and I never thought I was really good at anything besides baseball. I was just wasting their money partying and drinking, but when I decided to show them my grades, they were disappointed in me. I didn't do anything to try and fix it either, I got put on academic probation, and that's when they told me I needed to settle down on what I was doing at this instant…”
You nodded before you heard Daisuke’s body turn around to face you, your mirror his actions, and the two of you look into each other's eyes, “I'm sorry for leaving you, Daisuke, it's just…My mom would've never liked you, and I couldn't endure–” Daisuke let out a loud, irritated groan, “Are you fucking serious?” Your face freezes, flinching as he shoots up from his position, “This isn't about your mom, I would've stayed regardless of what she said.” You rolled back onto your back to look at him, “Yeah, but that's because you wanted to, but I didn't want you to endure–” “That's not your call to make at all!” “It’s just–” “No!”
Just listen.
“I just wanted to be with you, anything that you did I was happily able to just go be with you and just be by your side no matter what, no matter what your mom said, no matter what my parents said, no matter if the whole world said that we wouldn't end up together, I was assured that we had something that nobody could do anything against. It was me and you against the world, and now I'm just sitting here wondering why you left me for the world? The fact that you became friends with the people you even like, that you dated people you told me you couldn't stand, wearing outfits your mother wanted you to wear–I get that you wanted to appease your mom, but holy shit, I just wanted you in any capacity–Hell, we could've done long distance!”
Daisuke's cheeks were shiny like a porcelain doll; it seems like nothing on his face could hurt or ruin him–God, he was even a pretty crier.
“I just wanted you to pick me over that, you picked me over everyone and then…when we…” There's a quiver in his voice, you sit up, trying to reach out and comfort him, but he only flinches from your touch, he staggers a few steps away from you and for a moment you feel like you're scaring an injured puppy, “You left me for people who didn't even like you, who you insulted, who you stood up against to tell them I would amount to something–And then, you fucking left me!”
Your head cowardly shoots down, you can't even look him in the eyes with the amount of embarrassing moments that flood your mind.
“I used to replay the morning after over and over, coming back to my room and finding out you just left.” You sigh, taking another swing, trying to stop your glassy eyes from becoming waterworks, “I didn't do it properly, but there isn't a right way to disappear from someone–” Daisuke hugs, slamming his head into his hands, “You ghosted me, [F/N]. I defended us to everyone, I told them we didn't need a label, that we were different than that, that it's just high school and high school's complicated, but if we made it out of high school, that would most guarantee that we would still be together in some capacity.”
Daisuke then shouted, “You didn't even wanna be friends! As soon as shit got hard, you bailed!” The tears rolled down his cheeks, the sound of them hitting the floor was the only thing that filled your ears when you were met with the agonizing sound of him sniffling and stifling his tears.
“I was a coward, you made me feel things I didn't even know were possible in this lifetime, you need me to believe that there was something beyond me just getting the degree my mom's always wanted and then killing myself after doing all she wants.” You then took another deep breath in, you both looked down, not being able to look at one another, “If I stayed with you, she'd cut me off, if I stayed with you, I'd ruin you–” “You did ruin me.”
Daisuke then sighed, “You made my standards so high that I thought for so long that you just died, that there was no way you could leave since there were no si–signs of it.” You remembered those voice cracks in early adolescence, the braces that used to adorn his teeth, and the sight of his eager face to tell you a new album he just listened to; you could only pick your head up and watch the nightmare you made just for yourself.
Daisuke’s eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, barely able to stay open through the flood of tears that streaked down his cheeks; his face glistened in the low red light and highlighted his flushed tan skin. His mouth trembled, parted slightly as ragged sobs spoke through, and gas too short to be called breathing, he tried to hold back, and when he couldn't, he just wrapped his arms around you.
It was too quick for you to respond; you were squeezed like a viper, his nose digging deep into your neck as he brought you closer to him to feel your body heat once more.
“The worst part is that I never stopped loving you…”
Each inhale hitches his throat; he's sniffling at the confession, he cuts him open himself, following the same scar he's done a thousand times before.
Did you wear him down?
The physical expression was raw, unguarded, wrecked–It was human. It was so…Daisuke. The feelings he displayed had no care for who saw them, just this need to be seen, to be known, to be truthful. Daisuke then quickly sighed. He felt rushed to get it all out before this feeling left him like it always did. When he got drunk, it was so hard for him to cry.
Daisuke ‘Life of the Party' Juarez was distraught by how influential you stayed in his life.
This close and intimate connection he had with you for so long, which ended after he gave himself away physically to you, killed him; he couldn't see himself being emotional with anyone else after such a devastating loss. You knew that, you hated that, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that leaving Daisuke was for the best and the two of you were bringing the worst out of each other, you had nothing to do but to accept the fact that what you did was wrong.
All of it.
You allow him to sob into the crook of your neck, your arms find themselves under his and around his waist, you pull him in close, and his grip loosens as he feels your embrace surround him. Desperation that said never again. It wasn't graceful or soft; it was squeezing the life out of you and shivering like it was below 60 degrees, as jeweled fingers looked for any fabric to clench onto and dig their colored nails into.
It was keeping you both tethered to reality while allowing you both to relieve yourselves of the situation. Both of your bodies fit together like a memory–irreplaceable. “I'm so sorry, Daisuke…for everything…” The young man only sobs louder, you willingly endure this even if for the rest of your life, if it means you could be with him once more. You rub his back with your index finger, making a figure eight. He admires your memory from those times you'd be lying up in bed with him. Daisuke's posture softens; he's allowed this one moment in the field of all of this madness to get this familiar feeling that he's yearned for all these years. After what feels like a lifetime worth of hugs, you two pull away from one another, your hands still lingering on one another in hopes that you guys can be this close with each other forever.
There's a silence that falls upon the two of you, both looking to one another for the answer, before Daisuke sighs, just looking at you. Now that everything has calmed down, you both find your eyes on each other's lips, staring with an almost hypnotized gaze. It was a knowing feeling from the two of you, and yet, you knew you couldn't kiss him, not right now, not like this, not after all this shit you put him through.
You notice his eyes on your lips, his spine rattling with anticipation, but you think about how this could be a moment of weakness for both of you, that you didn't want to ruin this moment like you did before, and you wouldn't allow Daisuke to ruin it for himself either.
It was the mouthwash, most definitely, just the mouthwash.
You both looked to each other, in hopes the other knew what the next move was, but the two of you could only tear yourselves away from one another once more. “It–It’s getting late...” You spoke, Diasuke’s honey brown eyes looked into yours, and you felt yourself torn by your own decision, “You think so?” The softness of his tone–God, his voice made your heart leap out of your chest, but you're quick to snatch it up and put it back.
“I know so, Daisuke.”
You both get up and make your way back towards the lounge area where your guys’ bedding was, the gang had decided to pull them over to the front of the screen, whilst you guys get comfortable under the blankets you hear a groan from Swansea, he rolls over in his sleep and it suddenly becomes silent, Daisuke makes the same noise in response causing you to snicker.
Silence falls between the two of you before you repeat his groan to Daisuke, and the two of you stifle your laughter with tears building up in your eyes, the once orange setting sun imagery on the screen now displaying the dark blue night with stars sprinkled about.
You take another swig of mouthwash, your tummy aching, but your mind is pulled into the pleasure of limited thoughts.
Daisuke gets silent, he turns back to face the screen, and is lost in the night sky while you're lost in his face. The glow allows all of his features to be highlighted in such a loving face, you find yourself lost in his moles, his fluttery lashes, and his always moisturized lips–You accept your decision, and you turn to face the screen alongside him.
Daisuke breaks the silence with a question, “If we survive this, and we get really famous, you think I can be a baseball player?” You turn your body to look at him, and he does the same in response upon hearing you. There he is, with a smug smile on his face and eyes creased by his big smile, and that tells you all you need to know.
“Of course you can.” Daisuke lets out a soft giggle, which leaves you also just giggling at the scene. You're both most definitely still impacted by the mouthwash, but it feels more natural this way, something that nothing could compare to before.
You fall asleep more quickly when you're inebriated, it's helped a lot during your most stressful times with Jimmy. You're allowed to be in these high-quality dreams that feel so real to you, and in this dream, you're alone, reading on this nice, soft couch, and far, far away from the Tuplar.
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ An arranged marriage leaves to confront your future.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault | Implied/Referenced Child Abuse | Implied/Referenced Character Death | Implied/Referenced Self-Harm | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con | References Suicidal ideation | Implied/Referenced Abuse | Deeply Traumatized Reader | Vomiting | Hallucinations | Self-Destructive | Unhealthy Relationships | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Hurt No Comfort | Unrequited | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat | Self-Worth Issues | Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse | Arranged Marriage | Swearing | Verbal Abuse | Doomed Relationship | No Beta We Die Like Everyone | Reader's past is influenced by the Author's | A Little Self Indulgence
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ I DID IT WRONG!!!! 😭
You awoke one night with painful cramps that made you feel as if your uterus was being suffocated and punished by slashing at your body. They continue to tear through your body and consume you whole before you begin to whimper in your sleep, you cry and wail subconsciously, praying and begging for anyone to come and put you out of your misery, as these knots in your abdomen only get thicker and tighter at the random spots to help spread the pain further.
You’re shaken awake, your name shouted in an angrily hushed tone from one of your birth givers, you find yourself immediately clutching your chest with your arms covering your chest and your hands wrapping around your shoulders. You feel the beads of sweat begin to trickle down your forehead and cheeks. You feel your tongue roll against your dry lips, getting a taste for the familiar salty liquid. You wonder whether they were your tears or your sweat; whatever it is, you've successfully been awoken.
The lamp next to your bed clicked when your mother pulled on the beaded string. You feel your chest heave, and you look around before your eyes land on the sight between your legs. A bath of blood that welcomed you to the trenches of your budding womanhood, you wonder if this is just God allowing you to endure another harsh reality you’d be unable to escape, that if you are to be stuck here once more that maybe you’ll have a better life if you were able to use the small shaving razor that you used to cut up your thighs would come in handy to slice open your throat.
Alas, you are not so lucky.
Your lids are heavy with the gruesome change of fate, you dare not even look up to see your mother’s face as she puts a hand on your upper back, you know there’s no comfort in her expression; you would much rather sit in the stew of your own excrement than hear what comment or stare awaited you in her dead and lifeless eyes.
You are told to clean yourself up and prep your outfit for the next morning. There’s barely any sunlight to coddle you in its warmth, while you find your clothes, you slip them on after your shower, and you become much more aware of your posture and stature. You look at the fabrics meant to enhance your natural beauty, and yet, as you look in the mirror, you’re met with the same soulless eyes the world carved into your sockets.
You couldn't imagine a world where anybody could ever see that you were a normal human being, because that's how you'd been auctioned off to everyone.
Even now, as you stand before the people with your birth givers sat behind you, with the same expectant look all the other adults gave you as you stood on the stage for them.
The area is desolate, an old, small theater with a bright red, velvety stage that had show lights on you and the other young woman, who were unfortunately burdened with the societal expectations of their lives.
That's all you'd ever been.
You waited for your fate over and over and over again.
That's what you were, a piece of meat to be put on a pedestal and sold to these people.
The parents looked at you expectantly, and they questioned the things that made you know your place in the world. You’re not a person, you're an item that needs to be sold, something to be put down and reused over and over until your usefulness falls out of style. You had hoped that when you began chopping up your thighs, you would become less desirable, but that only made your birth giver lower the price and allow more to come and exploit you.
A housewife, a mother, a caretaker.
That's all you're to these people.
That's all you'd be to their son.
You hear your mother’s heels clack against the velvet tiles, you feel the goosebumps that used to run up your skin now dulled by the abuse you have endured, damn near your whole life. “Such a pretty girl.” You hear from the crowd, which brought smiles to the faces of the onlookers and your parents; they relished the beauty that was the child they had meticulously bred for over and over again. Your mother cups your chin, she turns you to the crowd, and your cheek stubbornly swells. You let the gum that you kept hidden in the sole of your shoes, which were unused, and as you cut it open to place that pack, you took one every day, and as it was mashed and the flavor was sucked out of it, you found this piece of gum to be your one guaranteed joy in life.
You allow your tongue to slowly and lovingly slide into the safety between your cheek and teeth. Those who were ready to place their bids on your existence to benefit their own, or their sons, or even their own husbands. You heard about how other girls joined harems and were kept around in their houses only until the daughters were of age to be married off to the man who had previously bought them. You hoped that an older man would buy you, in hopes he'd have a stroke before he could ever truly collect you.
The crowd awaits your smile, and your mother is eager to please them as she digs her middle and index finger into your left cheek while her thumb finds where you had placed your gum and applies pressure with her long, extended nails that need a fill-in; you wonder if it’ll snap off while carving into your cheek. Your mother turns your head towards her, and you’re forced to see those eyes that have done nothing but watch as you’ve endured everything possible. She awaited for you to crumble beneath her and beg for your death at her hands, just like the abortion she wishes she could’ve had.
You force a smile, and your teeth feel the cold air of the auditorium; you’re quickly turned back from the light burning behind your mother’s head and preventing you from galloping into the sweet relief of death. “This is my daughter, Clementine.” It’s not your name, you can tell by the way your mother says it with so much love and compassion, unlike those times when your father would cast you aside after you fulfilled his usefulness to you, and your mother dared not dare utter the name that your father groaned or moaned.
You have one on your certificate, but you don't even know what it is anymore; you've been Clementine since you blossomed into womanhood.
You allow her to force it out of you, a toothy grin that shows off that award-winning smile that’s only ever gotten you nothing but used by those with enough cash.
This time, your fate would be sealed, no more sweaty nights under anyone with the big bucks to throw at your mother and father to continue their way of life. You didn’t know how to feel about this development, that now that you had started your menstrual cycle, you would be promised to some man who could keep your parents and you above the poverty line. It was shocking, given the world around you, that forced so many young men into militaristic roles while giving them dirt-poor wages that anyone could really afford.
You were met by Mr. and Mrs. Olson, some folks your parents' age, who owned a large farm in Minnesota. They offered all they had for you and what your family had to offer. Once chosen, you walked off the stage to meet privately with the parents of your now husband, as they inquired and inspected your parents on your behalf.
You stared vaguely into the distance, the gum grinding between your teeth until it did nothing but help you distract yourself from the fact that you were now losing your freedom for the final time.
“Is she a virgin?” Your parents gleefully said yes! You were not; you having a delayed menses allowed those who used you to be free of the consequences of pregnancy that would’ve further lowered your value.
“How is she with chores?” You were clean and quick, you were always there to take care of the messes, such as spilled drinks or broken appliances, thanks to your rowdy brothers. Your mother rotted in bed while your father and brothers worked long hours to maintain the abode; it was you and you alone ever since you could walk. Your first words were mama, and her first words to you were to teach you how to sweep and mop the floors. As you got older, your tasks became taking full control of making sure the home felt like a home to everyone but you.
“Will she be able to bear children?” They lied about your mother’s history of birth, she had two faulty pregnancies before having you, they were both females, just like you, who either came out as stillborn and the other who escaped your mothers wretched womb as a pure red glob into the toilet and flushed away with the same burdened look of losing another useful able body to create income in the home.
Before you were to be wed, you were to endure the ceremony they had for their son before he was to participate in the Long Walk. Once he returned, there would be a wedding. They say it surely, you remembered your older brother who did the long walk when you were but a child, you remembered watching his death once it was broadcast.
At the starting line, where he froze up, you weren’t surprised since your birth givers were often critical of his spineless nature. You couldn’t properly grieve your brother’s death; You were all just coworkers who happened to be related by blood.
There was nothing to argue against as you all accepted your fates with your heads hung low.
The Olsons had purposely flown out to meet you after securing your existence if your husband was to win the Long Walk, eager to hand you over for all the riches in the world, where they had mistepped with their feeble spawn, they had succeeded with their son-in-law's potential future riches.
You remembered the letter they gave you before they returned their farm upstate, you hid the small red envelope in your bra, and when you returned home, you were to continue the same ritual you had before and once you were dismissed for the day and your father lost interest in giving you attention you returned to your room where you changed into your pajamas and got ready to read the letter with your yellow lamp lending you the tiniest bit of clearance through the darkness of the closet.
Upon opening the envelope, you are shown a Polaroid of a young man, who is around the same height as both his parents, which allows you to compare the fact that you wouldn’t be looking up at a man for the first time in your life. You say man loosely because apparently ‘he's of age’, you have a few inches on him, and if it weren't for the heels your mother was making you wear, you wonder if you guys would be the same. There's a softness in his eyes, something you missed in your brothers before you started showing signs in puberty. You could stare at them while you tried to tear yourself away from finding out everything bad about him. There was dark hair that was shaped and cut down above his ear that melted with his fair skin, and his soft eyes drew you back in, and you tore yourself away to read the letter and let it reveal who he actually was.
To my darling, Clementine
Have you ever found yourself so lost in the appearance of another? Once my eyes landed on the absolute beauty that was your face, I was completely transfixed by your appearance. I warn you that I do run my mouth quite often and am known to curse like a sailor, but I’ll stay silent and stand guard to guarantee you sleep peacefully at night.
I've had to make peace over the past couple of weeks as I've come to realize my selection and my active, willing participation in the Long Walk. Nonetheless, I’m proud that my life would be the price of your safety.
I want you to know I’m dedicated to you, that I am willing to grant this wish for a better life for you, anywhere you decide, even if it does not end up being with me, that you’ll understand I’m doing this for you.
Your eyes take me away, the mirrors to the souls that show the brutality in the things you’ve seen, they seem a husk of what they once were as children, and if that is the case, I wish to bring that sparkle right back into your eye like a shooting star.
I look at this photo of you. And I know I know nothing of you. Regardless, I want to know more about you. I hope and I pray that at the end of this walk, I become the one true Savior of your life. I know about your life from my parents. That you've been purchased for me. In hopes that I survived the long walk. I intend to guarantee your safety. Your future. And your smile.
Grateful to the heavens, I’ve been given this chance to walk to God’s garden that is made up of the beautiful fruit you're named after. Given this chance.
Not much about you. And I know that, given my situation, I have been in no place to try and convince you or beg you to see me in a different light than you have seen many other suitors before me. But I need you to know that I take the hits, the heartbeats, the heart roads, just to make sure that you walk on the softest shoes. I want to make sure. That's when I give everything up for you, even my life on the line for yours.
That it would guarantee you would never flinch in this world.
That you would never flinch at me.
I want you to know that I'm not like the other suitors who come in with their. Loads of money and a promised lavish lifestyle.That I and I alone. I'm choosing to be with you. Even if it's just because I saw your photo. I know with that look in your eyes.
That I promise. I mean every damn word.
I'm not Shakespeare. I'll never be able to sweep you off with my words, but I want you to know that even if my tongue is cut off, I will show you in any way possible that I care deeply for you.
I do nothing carelessly. I think and choose my words diligently, even when they’re an amalgamation of curses. The act of signing up for this long walk is only a matter of being a lamb to the slaughter. After my return from the walk, I'll spend every day proving that your safety, your joy, your peace, and everything you've ever dreamed of will always come before everything. And if I ever slip up and say something crude in your presence or anything that you do not approve of, I give you full right to pop me in my mouth as is your command.
Forever yours,
If you’ll let me be,
Hank Olson
You try to find the love and care that is in the handwritten letter, you admire its handwriting that is as fancy as the outfits you’ve worn when being shown off. There is care and dedication in how it's folded, and unique gold foil decorates the outside of the envelope that shows flowers and bountiful fruits. You're unsure of how to feel, as you've never been cared for like this before. You doubt you could have ever felt this way, and you doubt even more that anybody could ever feel some way towards you, especially if they knew the truth about your nature, the way you've been raised and brought up. You knew if he knew the truth and his family knew the truth, they would grow to despise you and think of you as nothing more than useless to them.
The letters that promise you this lavish lifestyle, where you're guaranteed to be a mother, to be a housewife, to be put together and kept pretty like a doll. This letter only fills you with the realization that the only person who could ever really love you is ready and actively suicidal.
The idea of him walking the Long Walk is absurd; the more you look at his picture, the more you’re disappointed in what he believes it takes to win. You cannot voice these feelings aloud, even if they are true; you are to accept your fate and the idea of having a husband who is not guaranteed.
You are to live this life for the following weeks until he dies during the walk or returns victorious in rewards given at the wedding.
Something is making your heart swell, something that brings you to sifting through your drawers to craft a letter in return,
To Hank Olson,
I have to be honest in my words to you, Hank.
You've seen my face and maybe even my smile. I don't know what photo they've sent you or what you've seen of me, but you've mistaken it for softness. I am in no way soft. Ask and I've worn out for the people who've paid to see it. You talk of sacrifice as if it's noble, like bleeding for me is going to change the years upon years of suffering I've endured.
I want you to know that what you do now is nothing but a waste.
I've been used, Hank. I've never been loved or cherished. I'm like a cigarette that's been passed around, smoked, stubbed out, and ground beneath the shoes of those who have used me over and over and over again. They take turns spitting on me. And making sure I know my place in this world.
I'm under the assumption that you are to use me as well.
When I'm collected by your family and watch your fate broadcast for those across the states, I hope I don’t see you on the starting line.
That you take that back out date as your chance for a better life, with a better wife who is not me.
For all I know. This could be an illusion.
I'm honest in my letter. Because my time on this earth is not long.
I was brought here to suffer, not thrive. Either you will die at the hands of the major, or I will die at the hands of the world.
There is no way we can both coexist with ideas that contradict one another so greatly.
You may think of me as beautiful, loved, or cherished. That’s the bait. That's what they see before they strip me down and leave me emptier than before. That husk in my eyes that you see is nothing more than the eyes of someone gutted from humanity who has no chance to grow and thrive anywhere on this earth.
I won't allow you to ruin yourself with this fantasy.
And I won't allow you to lull yourself into this idea that this is all worth it.
Consider your choices,
Clementine
With the last line, you take a deep breath in. You didn't breathe the whole time you wrote the letter. There are angry groans and thrusts on the paper that show the chicken scratch, fueled by the hatred you have for such delusional thinking. You despise Hank for who he is, for his thoughts, his hopes, his ideology, that he believes he could make you better and change you from the world. The hovel that's only continued to make you this awful.
You believe their lies?
You bark out of laughter before clutching your mouth in hopes your family hadn’t heard your joy. You placed the letter in the returning red envelope that was also in the bag. It was meant for you to send an acceptance letter.
But this letter? It was to help him accept his reality.
Accept your reality.
Once the letter was sent, it only took a week before you received another in your hands from his mother, her gaze had dulled from the last time you had seen her and when you asked if there was a problem she spoke of her husband’s sickness that prevented him from this trip, you comfort the woman as she envelopes you tino a warm embrace. You wonder how people were able to comfort others so normally. In your mind, you’re disgusted by her tears, that she needed to pick herself up and go back home, but as you felt the dampening on the shoulder, your hand ran small circles on her back; you know how to do this, like the clients who have cried to you once before.
You dismiss her with a large smile and give you one in return, it’s genuine as it quivers as she hopes to return the joy you presented to her, even if it was a false hope.
Once the door closed, you're met by your mother's soulless eyes. The woman, just as drained as you, asked who it was. You explained to her that it was the Olsen mother, and your mother barks out a laugh. You flinch at the idea that you sound alike. And you make a mental note to never laugh again. “You know,” your mother starts. “I'm surprised he's doing the Long Walk. I've seen pictures of the boy, and he doesn't look very sturdy, if you will. It's more of a formality with the letters, a guarantee of the bond for the prize money.” You only nod in response. You know your opinion will only award you a smack to the face and a realization that you're stuck and bound to this family once more.
You think back to the shaving razors that you were given by your mother to make sure that your bodily hair stayed out of sight. You thought back to when you broke it open the first time with a rock you found outside, slamming your fists into it and making sure that you could still have even just a little piece of the razor, using the sharp edge to cut into the flesh of your thighs that had been kissed by unsavory individuals.
Your mother picks your face up. She uses her index finger and middle finger on one side of your cheek with her thumb on the other side. She's looking for the gum in your mouth again. Luckily for you, you spit it out before you open the door. Unfortunately, it still had all its flavor left in. You were embarrassed by the fact that you would dig through the trash later to go find it if you weren’t able to buy another pack soon.
You're forced to look into her eyes, a ritual she does every time you guys run into each other. She does it to your brothers as well, just to make sure that they understand what she endured for them to be in this world. You guys would stay there for about 5, maybe 10 minutes. You begin to daydream, this time thinking about what the letter would say. You wonder if he'd given up on trying to convince you that you'd be better off, and if he was just going to make promises to impregnate you or promise to keep you bound to the house to make sure that any freedom thoughts you had were to be shackled away, just as you were once before.
You continue to dream about the letter, wondering what curses in vile swears he's waiting to tell you. You're yearning for that moment to be proven right. For him to hate your guts and despise you and use you the way you'd always been used, and as you went through the day, going through your work, the day ends with your bath.
A prayer that your Father doesn't first open the door.
You're allowed another day to close your door and be engulfed in the sheets of your bed. You turn over, pulling the lamp's cord for the little illumination to allow you to read Olson’s next letter.
Oh, Clementine,
Please don't talk down to me like a child. I've had enough of that from my mother and father, and I don't need that from my wife, either.
You're waiting for me to wake up and realize you're not worth the fight. Well, screw that. I'm wide awake, and I'm not going anywhere. You're thinking that some loudmouth like me comes along talking about sacrifice and freedom like it's a damn fairy tale, and you think I'm delusional, and you think I'm chasing something that doesn't exist.
But I'm not here to play hero. I'm not here to play your savior. I'm not here to be the person who solves every one of your problems because I know I could never truly do that.
I'm doing this because I want to see you.
You could have easily not responded, easily sent a rejection letter, and simply said no. But you sat there and you told me how you'd been pushed aside, how you'd been squandered, and it's your own fault for allowing me to feel bad for you.
The one buried all the bullshit they piled on top of you is what I'm trying to do by digging it out and clawing through hell with my bare hands.
To take this walk is to prove that I am ready to die for something that matters.
I've got a plan, not some dream, I mean a real, calculated technical assault on every obstacle in my way when it comes to this. I'm building the strategy, the gear, the timing. I'm gonna walk that race like it owes it money, because it does. I'm owed this win, and I know I can do this if I just do it.
I'll win for you, for me, for every damn person. Whoever said I was nothing but a little boy.
My father is undergoing an illness. I must help my mother as much on the farm as I can. I hope that when we meet in the upcoming weeks, you will be able to come back to the farm and stay with my mother and help with this troubling time, to allow you a place where you won't feel the need to be under the people's expectations.
I'll win, so you never have to sell another piece of yourself. I'll win, so my parents can choke on their doubt when they see me being the last boy of 50 still standing with the fire in my eyes and your name in my heart. And if you don't believe me. Then you can hate me for it. But I'm gonna show you, and I'm gonna show everyone that I'm more than what they're trying to make me be.
You don't have to watch that broadcast of me. If you don't want to, and if you reject my marriage proposal, I completely understand.
I want you to know that what I'm doing isn't for pity.
It's for deep care and want and need to make sure that this does good for the people in my life, does good for you, my parents, and the future Participants of the walk.
– Hank Olson
What the fuck?
Why the hell won't he quit? I told him. Laid it out cold and clear. You gave him the truth. Everything that you have heard your parents lie about you, you've told him in that single letter. It should have discouraged him. It should have just led to him telling me what he was going to do to you.
You despise people like this.
People that come into your life and they tell you they love you and they care for you and they wanna do better for you, but all they do is let you down over and over and over again because they don't truly care for anything outside of themselves and what benefits them in that moment.
They'll say anything they can to be with you.
Hank Olson was just another stubborn, foul-mouthed idiot that you’ll deal with for the rest of your life. Still chasing some fantasy where I'm not broken. But you're not just a body or a price tag. He's planning, scheming, and racing like this is some damn movie where he wins the heart of the girl.
It pisses you off because he's living in such a delusional lie, that society allows him to live in this delusion, and that he’s delusively believing he’s trying to save you. A lie that's been allowed by this world and continues to allow people to think this is disgusting.
This is the hope that it makes you sad.
You're frustrated that people would think so stupidly.
Put trust in something so dumb, so frivolous, something not even guaranteed. He thinks you're worth fixing. He thinks he's willing to bleed for someone who's already been bled dry. You don't want to see him. You don't want to hear his voice–God, your heart aches.
It feels as if it's being crushed and, switched around, manhandled by the world.
You ball up your fist and you slam it into your chest.
You hope this feeling in your heart stops.
You hate that you're reaching for another piece of paper and the same pen you wrote the previous letter with, and that you're going to put him down once more.
You don't want hope.
Hope is a scam.
It's the first lie they sell you before they take everything else from you.
You know you need to stay cold. You need to stay detached. You can't allow yourself to believe in his lies because he'll only let you down. You cannot allow yourself to fall. You need to write this letter where you put him down, where you tell him he can't do this.
You need to do this.
You need to do this.
You need to do this.
You need to do this.
You need to do this.
To Hank ‘Ridculously Flawed’ Olson,
I choose not to believe in your savior complex and the raging hard-on you have for tragedy. You say you see me and want to help me, but all you actually see is some broken-winged bird that you’re just trying to fix and change into the mold of your perfect wife.
You think the Long Walk will bend at your will, ambitions, your dreams? My brother was gunned down on the starting line, and I’ll be damned to believe anyone else who becomes involved with me won’t meet the same fate.
You think these bleeding-heart felt letters make you different, but you’re dead wrong. I am not here to fall for you or any of the ideals you continue to try to shove down my throat. You are despicable as you are ignorant, and I won't fall for the bait that is a happy future with you.
If you come to my home, and I mean if, don’t be surprised by this lulled and dulled expression that brings your cock nothing but a softness, and the only ache you feel is when you’re forcing me to take it.
It’s vile to see men like you try to treat me like I matter when you and I both know I’m just your mail-ordered bride to help guarantee you don’t die in the relentless slaughter of young boys across the nation.
I can’t wait to see you crumble when all your work fails, when you’re met by my disgusting self that can’t be quelled by some random boy who thinks he knows better than I, when she’s ready to sacrifice himself.
Let’s see who you really are when your fantasy fucking dies in front of you.
You’re snapped out of your rage-induced writing by the few droplets of the dark blue ink on the letter, your hand is covered in the ink that is rushing out of the pen, and you quietly curse to yourself, “Shit!” You were quick to rush to the bathroom and try to wash off as much ink as possible from your hand. You feel the washcloth against your hand begin to itch with your scrubbing, your head is reeling as you think over your words and all the thoughts you’ve constantly formed in your mind over all those years, while you lie on your back, taking what you believed you had to endure.
Your pupils are dilated, nothing but small pokes into the iris that are buzzing around looking for something to harm you. You drop the washcloth and your hands begin to shake violently, you’re praying that your heart stops hammering into your rib cage, and you yearn for someone to bust through the bathroom door and put a bullet in your skull. “Fuh-Fuhh…” You wheeze, you grip the ends of the sink, your knuckles almost white as sheep’s wool, nails imprinting onto the wood like it's done time and time again when you’re cleaning out your mouth.
You feel it, in the pit of your stomach, it bubbles and gurgles, your throat feels like it's filling up, and the more you feel it, the more the rush of those fluids begins to shove through your esophagus and into the sink. You put your hands over your mouth in an attempt to hold back your vomit; unfortunately, you watch as it sprays through your fingers and onto the toilet seat, with a majority of it hitting the bowl.
You’re furious, you look down at the chunks on your hands and littered on the toilet, and you’re eveloted in yourself. You let him in. You let his words crawl under your skin enough for you to clamor at the thought of seeing him in person. Your heart doesn’t slow down; it keeps obliterating your chest, and you feel as if you’ll find a bruise the next day if you don’t steady your breathing.
You gasp–sharp, panicked. Your body is tearing itself apart as it argues against everything you’ve felt for so long, it puts you down and insults your body and the way it’s constantly failed you, and there’s this other side that does nothing but cry and scream in pain like a child as it continues to get put down.
He’s just another man.
He’ll take what he wants.
When he comes to my home, he’s gonna come into my room, and he’s gonna use me.
He’ll impregnate me right there
They want that
They always want that
You fall to your knees, your hands on both sides of the toilet seat as you feel another rush of vomit shoot out of your nose and mouth and into the bowl once more. You hope you’re not loud; if you awaken one of your birth givers, they’ll just put your head into the toilet and make you choke on it.
You feel the hot tears rush down your cheeks, and you put your hand over your mouth to silence your sobs. They sting your eyes violently, and you can do nothing more but allow your body to just fall to your side as you sniffle and huff on the floor, trying to conceal your crying in the best way you can.
You don't remember falling asleep, you're kicked on the floor by your brother's heavy work boot, you feel the tough leather rub against your back, and you slowly blink up. You feel the crust around your eyes and the heaviness in your lids, “...ey, you need to get up…” You hated his grumbly voice, you wished you had something to throw at him, but you only groan and roll over on the bathroom floor.
“Are you gonna make breakfast?”
You look into your older brother’s eyes with a glare before you bring yourself up. You turn back on your side and then on all fours. You look up at him with a glare in your eyes, and you watch his face as it doesn't change.
“Go make breakfast your fucking self.” You spat before you shot a luger out of your throat and onto his brown boot. It doesn't take a second before it's launched against your chin and you're first to stand up.
You're on your feet in minutes, clutching your jaw and groaning in pain as you look up at the big man. You weren't surprised that he just walked out of the bathroom without a care; you felt disgusted by the scene around you, and for that, you immediately began to clean up as you tried to distract yourself from the pain in your chin.
You go to your room, get your stuff together in preparation for the day, before you pack up your envelope, you did not sign off, you knew he'd known, and if that was any indication, you prayed he'd take it.
You waited for the next letter, you wanted to lie to yourself that you didn't care, and you couldn't wait for it all to end, for him to give up hope, for his parents to back out of the deal, for anything and everything to calm down. Once you were met by the same words and phrases that just resembled, you continued to write your hate for him. After every letter you vomited, your venomous comments were only hurting you.
Nonetheless, you persevere.
After many months had passed of waiting for his letters, it just stopped. Every time the mailbox opened and there was nothing there, this empty feeling swallowed your heart, left with this disgusting feeling that you're yearning for his next letter, you want to see what he was going to say to it, how he'd cuss you out, how he'd put you down, and how he'd let you down after getting your hopes up.
There is no way he got your hopes up, though, because you never had hopes on him to begin with, and as you open the mailbox to check three days after sending the letter, you're stuck with the same feeling as you see the empty mailbox once more.
It soon became a couple more days, soon enough it was a week, and you had almost felt like a dog, waiting for this grown man to send you a message back like an antsy teenage girl.
You're disappointed in yourself, and as you're cleaning up the kitchen once more after making lunch, you hear the doorbell once more. It wasn't any of your brothers; they'd slam their fists on the door when they forgot or lost their keys.
Unfortunately, you had to make your way to open the door with your mother still in bed, even if it was 3 in the afternoon and all the rest of them were at work or out of the house. Fingers lacing around the gold lock as it turns left with the soft click, allowing you to turn on the soft doe look in your eyes as you do for all the people that enter the abode.
You're met with the sight of Mrs. Olson and her son standing next to him, both of them wearing red turtle necks, a matching set with the initials sewn with white and in cursive on the left breast. You wondered if Mrs. Olson made them specifically for her family.
“Hello, Clementine!” Mrs. Olson cheered, the smile on her face large and toothy that spread her red lips across her face like a rainbow; you wanted to smile back with her, and you almost did when she embraced you in a tight hug. A very touchy woman, you assumed, you feel your heart ache at the warmth, and as her perfume begins to fill your nose, you feel as if you've been longing for this since you were a child.
You awkwardly bring your arms to try and hug her back, slowly but surely, your hands find the small of her back, and she brings you in closer as she buries her head in your shoulder.
Hank must have felt so loved. You felt this spark of irritation ignite in you as you realized how all the love he's felt in his life is trying to make its way into yours. Why?
Why do they think you desire their love?
They most likely pity you. She felt you falter in the hug, and she now knows how you are; he's probably told her how you put down any type of relationship between the two, and she feels bad for you.
When she pulled away from the hug, there was a closed eye smile on her face that awaited a return and was given to you to help you flourish. As if you needed her help. These two pity you like a dog that needs to be put down, you were just gonna be their show dog, extra help on the farm until the day you die, and they think if they give you all the love you haven't had them, you'll be grateful to them.
Few try this attempt with you; they bring you gifts like clothes, jewelry, and candy, but that doesn't change what they're here for. They think that they'll just pay for what they want from you, that this'll justify everything that's happened, and that they're thinking they're helping you.
That they love and care for you as an equal person.
“...Tine? Clem…? Clementine?”
You feel two hands on your shoulders, you feel the ragged nails dig into your collarbone, and you accept your fate like the feeling of your body finally shutting down. It's the same smell of perfume you've smelt since you were a child, it's mixed with the Newports your mother smoked when she first woke up. The room reeks of it, the house would reek of it if you hadn't scrubbed down every surface and sucked the built-up dust and debris in the furniture.
“I'm so sorry for my daughter, she seems to always be able to daydream, it seems especially when she's doing her chores!” Your mother chirps, an eager little bird ready for her worm that she's never worked for in her damn life.
A worm you've been feeding to her before you could even talk.
You look at both of them, their smiles large and your smile small, it seems as if you're the only one not putting on the normal performance.
That you have no choice in this matter, and you never will.
“I can go make some tea if you'd both like, we have all types and lots of cookies and snacks that I recently got from grocery shopping!”
The money you saved from whoring out your own daughter.
You all took a seat around the coffee table in the living room, and you remembered the time your father threw your brother into it when he spouted dissent against The Major. You pulled your eyes away from the crack in the table and towards the mother and son in front of you.
They looked so similar, the same eye shape with the same soft smile on their lips, they had the same face shape, and their hair was choppily cut and black. There's a beauty in their uniqueness. Their apparent love for one another, which you would have to be well acquainted with if he won the Long Walk. You wanted to ask how his parents felt about it, knowingly committing suicide for the sake of the big prize.
They'll give you anything, and you wondered what you'd do if you won, you thought for a moment, and then some.
You'd ask them to put a bullet in your head.
A swift and easy death.
You wouldn't have to bleed out from cutting up your body, or if you fuck up your overdose, you have to sit there and accept that this was your fate until you could acquire such an easily accessible death.
There's a silence that falls between the four of you. It seems your mother can carry the conversation with elegance, while Mrs. Olson looks at your mother with an intent gaze, caring for every lie that may ooze out of her cracked and chapped lips. You're disgusted by the sight before you, the suck up, the bitch who forced you out of her womb to suffer in this world just as she had, chopping it up with the people she just sold you to.
A husk you are, you stare at nothing as your mind drifts off to thoughts of dinner you planned for tonight, your favorite meal that there would be extras of, since nobody else liked it. You only have to make it once a month, “It's a waste of money if you're the only one eating it, and besides, you wouldn't want your body to swell in disgust at your eating habits.” The woman cried, as if she cared about your health.
“How about Hank and you head off to your room to go have some one-on-one time?”
You blink, brought back to the situation you had been unforgivingly put through once more, you're met by the warm smile of his mother and the diligent nod. You watch his hand reach for the basket filled with different gifts, trinkets, snacks, and many other things you were sure he'd bring up later when he's gutting you.
One-on-one time…
Your eyes become husks once more as you nod, and you lead him to your room; you close the door behind both of you. Your window allows the sun to hit at the perfect angle to help illuminate the room. The man hands you the basket, which was well decorated and filled with different types of things that you'd had your eye on before. Your hand forms a claw, it shakes violently as you reach for the basket in hope and fear that your hand comes into contact with his, you don’t know if you’re taking your time or it’s become obvious with how terrified you really are of the situation.
Though Hank says nothing, he watches you as his hands hold out the basket to you. The cradle is familiar to a baby; you feel this incessant crying begin to fill your ears, flinching at the noise as if the baby were screaming right into your ear. Your breath hitches as it becomes louder, you look at that basket as the ribbons form loose curls, and the amalgamation of treats becomes tiny hands that reach out to you, they plead for you to help them, stop their cries, and as your eyes dart up, you’re met with a soft, small smile of your captor. Eyes shooting back down to the basket, with the hands grabbing out for you and the wailing beginning a symphony as you’re nailed down by the sounds of your future.
The basket is slapped to the floor, and the clattering of the items skidding across the hardwood floor makes you realize that you’re stuck with a grown man whom you’ve been promised to, that your act of defiance will only fuel his hatred towards you. Listening to hear for any type of call or insult, you’re quick to rip him a new one.
“What are you even doing here? You can’t read my letters where I told you to leave me the fuck alone?” It's low and bitter; you intend to put him down and make sure he gets a direct telling from you about your feelings. You can't allow further miscommunication. “You don't love me, Hank. You just feel sorry for the fact that your family bought me. That's what this whole charade is.” Your heel is quick to land into a plastic wrapper, you listen to the way it crackles and becomes nothing but crumbs as you pray you're doing this to his heart.
There's a silence that lingers between you two; you don't even look him in the eyes, and you're not even sure if you can bring yourself to face him. You're just waiting for him to strike you, the back of his hand to bust your lip, or the snatching of your wrist just to toss you on the bed. Though he doesn't look that strong, a bit on the leaner and smaller side, he couldn't do much to you, but you knew you'd have to give in and allow him to believe he had the upper hand.
Sounds of muffled polite laughter drift from the living room through the thin walls. It's in that moment that you realize how close to the two of you actually are, and you can feel your breathing becoming heavier as you're awaiting your fate. The low hum of polite conversation impacts the silence between the two of you; it's a mutual understanding that whatever you both say next must not be heard in the next room over.
The man's voice is soft and defensive. He takes a muffled step towards you, and your leg is quick to step behind you in preparation to escape your situation. Eyes burning as your arms are quick to fold across your chest, you stutter to pick your head up, but you're holding a deep hatred for the man before you.
“You're just like the rest of them.” It's spat venomously, you hear him hiss, “Who the fuck are them?” “Them, the kind that comes to my life, shoving money down my parents' throats so you can use me for whatever you want of me.” Your eyes find him, quickly looking back down to his shoes as you dig your nails into your forearms in fear.
The sound of light-hearted laughter illuminates the living room, and you're praying he just takes you down and gets it over with, your head hung low as if you're accepting the guillotine.
Nonetheless, it's quiet between the two of you.
Hank sighs, it's exhausted like a long day of work, he puts both his hands on his hips as his hand drills into the back of your head. “Jesus, Clementine,” It's hushed, and almost pleading, he wants you to listen to him and look him in the eyes when he addresses you. “That's not what this is…I'm not here to fucking use you or–” “Bullshit!” You hiss at him, you back away as you snap up to meet his eyes, “You just want to fuck me, impregnate me and use me–”
“Stop with that shit! I'm not tryna fuckin’ use you!”
The man is quick to clasp his hand over his mouth, your furrowed brows raise in confusion as he listens out for the conversation in the living room, their laughter becoming more hushed as they delve into a different topic.
“It doesn't matter if she hears, she won't care.” You explain, it slips from your lips as if it's a preprogrammed answer to whenever a client asks. “She’ll just distract while it happens…” Hank raises a brow, his left hand rolling his wrist in an attempt to ask for your elaboration. You tilt your head like a puppy, and Hank tilts his head the same way, almost in awe at your mannerisms.
“...It happens?”
“When you fuck me.”
You beat your teeth at him, you can't stomach the phrase, you're allowed to be angry at the situation with him because he hasn't shown you how he's going to punish you…If he even punishes you.
“Well, that's not happening anytime soon–” “Oh, so it's going to happen?” The man is irritated by your quick response; he can sense the way you mock his poorly chosen words. Nonetheless, he collects himself to retaliate. “No. I'm not gonna screw you.” You scoff, “Not now, you mean, not right now, but when I come back to your little home you're gonna pin me down and breed me like a bitch–” “Jesus-fucking-Christ, Clementine, calm down.”
Hank can hear the snarls in preparation for your argument. He waits for you to do something as you hiss at him once more, “Please, you're not gonna disappoint mommy and daddy.” There's a clear change in his expression, his brows furrow on the frown on his face becomes a scowl that lets you know how to really get him to reveal his colors. You watch how the hand on his hips turns into fists, and he lets out a low huff, unsure of how to handle the situation.
Good.
“I'm not just doing this for my parents, I'm doing this for you and for–” “Oh, brother!” Hank’s eye twitches at your exasperation, wondering what in the world he should feel now that he's lost in how to talk about this. “Listen, I understand that it's not fair. I didn't ask to be married either. But I'm here. And I'm at least trying to be fucking decent and you're–” “What? What am I? I'm a fucking bitch? I'm making you mad?” You don't remember unfolding your arms as your palms slam into his chest, “Go on, call me a bitch, call your wife a fucking bitch like you've always wanted to.”
You launch yourself over to your drawers, taking out the envelopes and the letters that were sent to you during the past three months of communication, and you throw them at his feet in disgust as you've found yourself a great distance away from the man. It allows you some confidence, some breathing room, but his head hangs low as he then takes a knee to collect the things on the floor.
Hank's hands are gentle with what he grabs. He picks them up and inspects them for any damage. If they were damaged, they went in his pockets; anything that wasn't went right back in the basket. You say nothing as you watch him pick each item up, you bear your teeth, anger pumping through your veins, and before you know it, the tips of your heels are flying to knock a hole into the basket.
However, it's only met by the clothed forearm of your husband; you watch as he doesn't even look back up at you. Your lids are heavy as you slowly bring your foot back to the floor in embarrassment. He continues to collect the items, and once he's fixed up the basket to the presentable way it was before, he moves past you and places it on your bed before turning back to face you.
“You done?” Hank's voice is low, quiet, and steady; you feel like a child being reprimanded, and you almost stomp your foot in retaliation. “Don't talk to me like I'm a child. You think that you're high and mighty above me when you have to pay for a bride?” Hank doesn't even respond; he looks at you with those same soft brown eyes that you saw in that photo you kept near your lamp.
You watch with your jaw clenched, hating the way he moves with such gentleness and precision, as if none of this is beneath him. With your voice slow and bitter, you continue, “You’re pathetic if you think that playing house with me will make me spread my legs in gratitude.” There's no chance in his facial expression, and you only grow more furious, “Fuh-Fu-Fuck you. Fuck you and you're fuh-fucking little martyr act…” You're huffing and puffing, you feel your eyes becoming hot and sweaty.
“I'm not trying to be a martyr. I'm trying to keep us from falling apart.” You bark out a laugh, “We were never together. This is just a stupid arrangement. A deal. You get a wife and all I get is–” You feel your throat tighten, you think back to the basket and how now you were standing in front of the door while he stood near your bed making sure the basket stayed beautiful.
You despise that he doesn't fight back, that he'll allow you to sit there and hurt him like the pathetic weasel. You heard of marriages like those in the media, on television, where the man hates his wife but listens to her incessantly nag at him over and over again. Neither of them leaves, though, and you wonder if they're just going through exactly what's going on right now.
The voice that crawls from your parted lips is beaten down; you remember your place in this world that is portrayed in every aspect of your life, how you were doomed to take this road. “You're gonna do the Long Walk, huh? March your ass into glory and drag me along like a fucking trophy?” The venomous tone no longer laces your words; you're in front of the door, and you can leave at any moment.
There's no one making you fight but you.
“You think I'm just another asshole with a savior complex? That's completely fine. I won't lie to you that I'm as terrified for this shit as anyone, but I planned every goddamn step of this. Every move. Every fucking compromise to guarantee the future I want.” You roll your eyes at his words, you don't believe him, but you don't even want to say anything anymore.
You allow him to continue.
“I've mapped out a way to survive this shit storm. How to win the Long Walk. How to make sure won't rot in this dead-end life our parents signed us up for by bringing us into this world.” Your eyes find him, throwing your lashes, and his eyes crease at your expression, “You think I'm doing this for kicks? I'm choosing to do this shit for nothing?” “I think you're doing it for control. For the fucking ego trip like every guy that signs up for it does.”
Hank inches towards you, “Please, I'm doing this before I'm sick of watching the people I care for get chewed up and spat out by society. You don't think I don't see what this arrangement is doing to you and how I'm trying to help guarantee you a future where you're not stuck here?” The young man speaks with his hands, you watch as they move almost like they're dancing, and you can only hang your head low at the situation, “I don't need your help. I don't need you to pretend to me that you care when you're just another guy who wants to just manhandle me…”
You find your hands at your sides, finding the ends of your top as your fingers hook at the seams and tug it up above your belly button. Yeah, let's just show him what he wants… You grumble before you feel the heavy-handed grip that causes your wrists to stutter to raise the shirt above your breasts. Hank's breath hitches as he pushes your hands down, your fingers tighten their grip on the shirt as you continue to try and pull it up, and you feel the tears brimming in your eyes.
“Puh-Please,” You mutter, feeling the hot tears rolling down your cheek in pure exhaustion. Your body was stuck in this fighting mode, always on pins and needles around anyone who could overpower you. Wanting to try and be nice is only a fear response, and bearing your teeth allows those to understand that you won't go down without a fight. “Just ge..Get it over with.” You whimper, Hank watches as the tears fall on your wrinkled shirt and his hands.
You need him to just fuck you already.
“Wha–What the fuck are you doing?” Hank surges; he's trying to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt her wrists or leave any bruises. He just wants her to stop. “Clementine–Fucking–Stop.” He struggles with your hands, tears blurring your vision, with your body as sturdy as stone. “What's the matter? I'm too ugly for you to fuck? You're gonna put a paper bag on my face? Cover my mouth so you can imagine it's someone else?” You only sob through your words; they're muffled and melted together as if you're just slowly becoming a puddle.
Hank is trying his hardest to be gentle with you; he's forcing your shirt back down, and he fumbles with his hands, shaking in fear, like touching you too long would cause you to shatter in an instant. “I'm not here to fucking hurt you–Just, calm down–” He tries to hush your sobs as he listens out for your parents in the living room, “I'm not trying to break you–I don't want this–Not like this.” The man feels you snatch your wrists away from him, he lets go of you quickly, your disheveled state illustrating your mental state. “Then what the fuck do you want from me?” You scream, “What's gonna happen when I get your home–Am I for your father!? Which one of you is gonna fuck me!?”
There's a silence that falls between the two of you, out of pure shock, there's nothing said for some moments as you both listen out for your parents in the other room, there's a pause before you hear footsteps making their way over towards your room. You quickly wipe your face with your palms, and your mother is quick to open the door, “Is everything alright in here, Hank?” Your mother doesn't break eye contact with the young man; he quickly nods, “Everything is alright, ma'am, just us having a heated discussion about…our children's names.” Hank moves in front of you, it's almost instinctively, and you shrink behind him with your head falling in between his shoulder blades with a quickness to start up your dissociation as you await your mother to berate you.
Your mother wastes no time putting a smile on her face, “I'm glad you two are getting along on that front. I also debated with my husband about names, especially when it came to my little Clementine.” Your mother coos, you pray she would just dig her nails into your forearms once more instead of allowing her to plant the candy trail to her sandal that awaited your arse. Your mother closes the door, you listen to their conversation continue after she reaches the living room, and you pick your head up, disappointed that you almost wasted a good daydreaming session on such a fickle moment.
Hank turns around to face you. He puts both of his hands on your shoulder, and there's relief on his face to find your defeated expression meeting his exhausted eyes. The man takes a knee, and soon enough, he's on both knees, his posture still on point as he balances his body on just his shins. “Clementine, I'm gonna be honest with you here, I just want you to listen. Can you please do that for me?” There's a plea in his tone, you look down into his eyes, and you watch as the sun shines through those ebony eyes to show those deep pools of honey you had been yearning for since you saw that Polaroid of him.
You only nod absentmindedly. If he tried to hurt you, there was an easy way for you to scratch up his face or punch him in his mouth with enough strength to knock out a tooth.
“I've trained for the walk like it's war. Calculated every route, every supply drop at the goddamn variable. I'm going to win it. Not for the glory, or some bullshit legacy, or the wish that could change the world. For my family.” Hank pauses, waiting for your pessimism, another way to put him down and snatch the rug beneath his feet, yet he's only met by your furrowed brows and your bottom lip folding under your top one. “Like it or not, you're a part of that family now. You don't have to be a part of it, though, if you wish that maybe you don't want to be with me even after I won, and I understand if that's so. We don't have to have kids if you don't want to; we can always adopt or go through surrogacy because my parents want grandchildren, and I'm willing to give them that.”
Your voice is quiet, “You sound so fucking sure…” Muttering out a quip that only gets shot down with a quick enough calculation on Hank's part, “I am. Because I've done the math. I've done the work. I'm not going to let your fear—or mine—burden my chances before I even get the chance.”
Silence falls between the two of you. You can hear from the other room how your mother is beginning to run out of conversation topics. You're not surprised, given how long it's been since we both were in the room and how now and must have tipped them off that you guys have been arguing about something. You sigh, you crumpled against him, not out of trust—but exhaustion. He spends all your harsh words in those letters that you sent over and over again, just to be met by the same phrases. You were surprised that they were all handwritten, and he hadn't used a printing press.
Hank freezes in confusion; he doesn't know whether to hold you or give you space, until slowly, you slide to the floor. Your knees against his ass, you feel your chin get caught on his shoulder, you can feel the way he trembles beneath you, the fact that you could scare him the way you had been brought you great confidence, but that pride only left your heart with an emptiness that nothing seemed to fill.
“We won't ever have sex?” You muffled into his shoulder, feeling his shoulder slouch a bit in relief at you being able to communicate with him. You can feel his head bob before his hands find your upper back, rubbing it soothingly. “We'll never have sex.” Hank’s hushed whisper lulled you into the nap that awaited you after it all.
That was all the acceptance he wanted from you.
From that day on, the wedding was to be planned, you allowed his mother to choose it all, and he, just as you both came to understandings of what you two made up with one another. You and Hank stopped exchanging letters after that day; instead, he would make the long trip alone to your abode, dropping off gifts to your mother, and the two of you would enter your room. The two of you did not do much talking; in fact, he’d just tell you about all the gifts he brought you and the wedding traditions that would be done on the day of the wedding.
“My mother would like you to join her as she and the rest of my family get together to watch the Long Walk.” You only nod, “As is my duty.” The man only blows a low raspberry before he begins to take out the fits from the basket one by one, explaining what each of them represented, who they specifically came from, and so on. Your family would be making their way to the venue of their choosing. Honestly, you were grateful to get out of the house when you could. Now that you were promised to another, your father stopped his awful comments; he went back to using your mother, which you suspected, as her words had become harsher on you during the days leading up to the wedding.
When putting on intricate pieces and patterns that made up the fengguan xiapei that Hank’s mother had worn to her wedding, she was in awe of your beauty as she did your makeup for the day. Your mother stayed in the room with you, as you were lulled into this make-believe wonderland where Mrs. Olson cradled you as if you were her own. You cut your mother out of the picture because after this day, you would be staying with Olson’s family and driving up to where the Long Walk’s starting line would be in the next week.
You knew in your mind that this could not be a permanent arrangement, for the Long Walk only guaranteed one winner amongst the 50 boys across the states walking alongside your husband. You try not to doubt it, to hold your head up high as you lead down the aisle and towards Hank. Your eyes half lidded, you try to imagine yourself as an actress in a movie performing a scene to please the audience that's followed you around your whole life, their boos, their laughs, and their criticisms now etched into every move you make.
The ceremony went on, without any hiccups from the constant training and rehearsals you had undergone with Hank and his family; you were almost overjoyed to not have made a fool of yourself in front of his and your family. There would be the end, though, you remembered those scenes in the movie where the bride and groom look to one another with their loving gazes as they slowly brought their lips together and skipped their way into their Happily Ever After.
You would be helping your husband to his grave.
The look in your eyes, from what Hank could tell, was the same mediocre expression you shared whenever presented with the reality of your situation. The young man kept track when your eyes lit up, when your eyes glazed over or softly lidded, showing you were stuck in the back of your mind, escaping the situation once more, and the look on your face now that showed him you were already over this ceremony. You find your hands on the back of his neck, his freshly chopped black strands soon engulfing your fingers as you find a place to grip the back of his head, and you feel him mirroring your actions. You feel the way his warm fingers slowly ride up the nape of your neck and find themselves cradling the back of your cranium.
You don't look him in the eyes, but you can feel those large black pools filled with hope and honey begin to call and beg for you to meet their stare. You feel your heart pang, you need to satisfy the onlookers once more, you begin to pull his head towards yours, pushing it harshly, but trying to play it off in a playful manner to those who were viewing the ceremony. You want them to believe you’re both playing coy, two young teens falling in love with each other and finally able to spend the rest of their lives together.
However, Hank puts a stop to your plans.
Hank knew it; Hank always knows.
With that, you feel his knuckles glitch around your skull; they keep you in place as you pull his head closer to yours. You're disgusted by his newfound strength in preparation for the Long Walk, you're embarrassed he's able to overpower you, and you're in fear for the ways you'll have to manage through the pain during the wedding night. There's a warmth that finds your forehead. Two petals that brush softly against the center of your dome with the gentleness as if you were a newborn child. The hand begins to loosen its grip, causing your eyes to flutter open, your gaze being met by your husband's chin as he imprints his lips into your skull.
Some thoughts flood your memory, the ones where they shove their tongues down your throat, and they bite at your flesh. You've never been kissed on your forehead, even those who brought gifts just waited for you to accept them with a smile before their hands wrapped around your torso and forced you down into the mattress.
You're overwhelmed by the feeling, your eyes dazed as you're engulfed in this newfound love. Your eyes begin to water, your throat closes up, and you try to make sure you can collect all the oxygen in the world before you pass out. Fingers loosen on his scalp, and they find themselves sliding down to his shoulders as they graze against the material of his outfit. You feel heaviness in your lids, the brimming of tears as they begin to slowly but surely make their way down your cheeks like a child who's been lost for so long.
The world is silent in that moment, as you feel his hands slide from the high point of your head and allow the soft yet calloused fingers to find the sides of your face, he drags his index fingers along your jaw, and his thumbs softly wipe away the tears as if you were a porcelain dish. You feel his lips slowly pull away; there's no spit to connect you both, and you're wondering how something so mesmerizing can come from such a vile creature.
The world around you plays, the cheers are loud, and the claps signify the end of the ceremony. You find your eyes heavy with more tears following down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering, and your whines almost like a stubborn puppy fighting sleep.
\
Hank's thumbs continue to clean up your eyes, ignoring the makeup that may smear off; he just wants to guarantee that you're no longer covered in tears. His eyes are on you once more, they're coddling you in the deep dark pools of honey that thickly surround you and beg for you to soothe your aching muscles.
In an instance, you feel your knees buckle under the weight, you stagger to his body, and with open arms, he allows you to take the plunge into his chest. You're met by the smell of his cologne, it's strong but soft, he doesn't smell like the woods or bourbon, but hints of vanilla and floral arrangements that lull you into the idea that you're just a child being cradled by your mother after just fighting for your life coming out of her womb.
As you lay side by side in your wedding bed, still in the clothes you wore from the altar, with a look of anger and frustration eating you alive as Hank disrobed. You prayed that he remembered what he promised you; alas, you assumed that this meant you had to mirror his actions. Were you surprised? No, you had been dreading this day since you were first betrothed to him, and as you slip off the garments and the clothes gather in a heap on the floor, Hank is quick to put his hands over his eyes as he turns his body to face you.\
“What are you doing?” He demands, “I beg your pardon?” “What?”
“I mean, like, what do you mean?”
“Just say what do you mean, the fuck is beg your pardon?”
“I'm just speaking respectfully to my husband,”
“Clementine, please…”
“If you're expecting us to have sex, then I'll put out, not because I want to, but because I have to provide you with children, as is the contract.” “The ceremony was overwhelming for you, I understand. I saw your dazed expression over and over again throughout it.” You rolled your eyes at him, “I mean, do you really expect me to give a damn?” “Oh, so you don't care.” “I never cared to begin with.” You hiss before you go back to taking off the clothing. Hank huffs, “Would you like me to get changed in the bathroom or would you want to?” You tilt your head before scoffing at him, trying to play off his perversion, “Please, let’s just hurry up and get this over with.”
Hank stops, you hear him freeze in place, and you listen to the low mumble that leaves him, “I don't want that.” You turn your head to look at his covered face, and you see he’s standing there in a white tank top now untucked from his black pajama bottoms. You grimace at the sight of his exposed collarbone, you see a bead of sweat from the embarrassment of just being the same area as a naked woman,, Hank feels your stare begin to peel him away at him and the only thing he can really do is just await your response, you know it, you hold the cards in this exchange but it won't be like that for long, he'll eventually force you.
Eventually.
“Oh, please, that's all you want.” “No, that's-” “That's why you're taking off all your clothes, you're signalling me to do the same, and if that's what you want then just say that–” “I don't want that–” “Don't lie to me, just say it.” “No-” “I won't be into this regardless, just hurry up and get it over with–” “No—I just fucking—Give me a second”
You’re suddenly cut off by him uncovering his face and looking at the floor, quickly rushing over to the bathroom connected to his room, the door unintentionally slamming behind him. You stand in your underwear, conflicted about what to even say at this moment. You stand there dumbfounded for justice a few moments before you yell, “Hiding your fucking boner, you pathetic fucking–!” Hank's voice is booming through the door, “In the third drawer I have shirts you can wear and in the fourth I have sweats you can wear as well, or large shorts if you’re more comfortable in that!” A silence falls between the two of you. It's as if he's waiting to hear your feet against the floorboards, and you give in. You make your way over to the brown drawers. You see above it a large fish tank with one lonely beta fish, it's a bright red, and her fins are large and flared, you’re amazed by her appearance before Hank cuts off your daze.
“Three down, four down.” He clarifies, you scoff as if you didn’t understand him before, regardless, you slide it open and collect a random shirt, and in the lower drawer, you pull out some basketball shorts. You slip them over your underwear. “You gonna let me get some socks as well?” You hear a groan, ‘Fucking, Christ’, “Sure if you need to borrow some.” You roll your eyes as you close both the drawers and make your way back towards the bed. The springs bounce as you sink into the mattress, allowing your legs to hang off and kick softly as you await your husband.
He’s clearly mumbling something to himself, a mantra to allow him to overcome whatever he is trying to overcome. You just wait there like all the other guys who have gotten soft in your presence.
Soon enough, the bathroom door clicks open, you don’t move from the bed, and your legs continue to sway whilst you hear his bare feet smack against the floorboards as if he was terrified of him bothering you, even though his presence had already done that. You listen for him making his way around the bed, his slowness just making it more noisier, you don’t comment though, you know he’s fully aware of the ass he’s making of himself.
It almost brings a smile to your face.
As his body hits the bed slowly, you feel yourself sinking a bit more into the mattress; your eyes don't meet each other as you both stare at the ceiling fan that continuously goes in circles. You’re both fixed on it, making sure your limbs don’t come into contact with one another. You allow this noise to drown out your predicament with an awkward teenage boy, one you were unfamiliar with, as many of your clientele had been older men with the money of their own. You were surprised by how shy he was acting around you and how he softly fidgeted in the bed, making the sheets quiver a bit beneath you.
“Can you teach me how to blow gum?” Hank asks, your brow quirks up in confusion before you turn on your side to look at him with the same dull look in your eye from the altar, “Is that a euphemism for sex?” “What?” “Like popping your cherry? My mother lied to you. I have no cherry to pop. It’s okay if you’re a–” Hank lets out a frustrated groan, “No,” He exaggerates, “it’s not a euphemism for fucking.” You bring your hands to your side to pick up your upper body, your husband turns his back to his side to face you as well, he doesn’t pull himself up to mirror your pose, but his eyes find yours under the warm light of his ceiling fan.
“During one of my visits, you were smacking on some fucking gum like crazy, like everyone was loud in the living room when your brother and father were there, but all I could hear was you on that piece of gum just going crazy.” Hank then sighs, “And you blew it, everyone can do that, and they'd explain if I just asked, but…” “But what?” Your posture slouches a bit. “You're too much of a man to admit that you need help.” Hank’s eyes begin to widen a bit, he brings himself up to your level as he gives you a coy smile, “I know, right? So fucking pathetic.”
There’s another pause between the two of you; it seems you’re both lost in what to do now, you can hear his heart pound against his chest, and he can hear yours, but you both wonder if your own hearts were the actual ones being so loud. You can't help but stare at his eyes, portals into the soul which only shone a baby deer yearning for you to grant your wisdom of blowing gum.
Had you missed out on this in high school?
You don’t even remember schooling, your grades were great or your arse would’ve turned black and blue, but those ties after school when you were put to work by your mother continued to stay diligent nightmares that were slowly beginning to diminish after you got your period. Hank’s eyes creased a little, his large black pupils took up so much of his eye you wondered if your eyes were just an inferiority to his, they darted left to right like a cat clock before he cleared his voice.
“So, uh, will you teach me?”
“Y’know, vulnerability doesn't get you pussy anymore, man.”
“Just teach me how to blow the fucking gum.”
You snicker before he rolls over to his nightstand, pulling up the small drawer that reveals different types of snacks, and he pulls out some bubble gum after digging for a while. He hands you a stick, and you both pop it into your mouth. Step by step, you take your time explaining the trick. You both know why you're here, and you know why you both exist, why you're stuck here tonight with each other, and as you both lie there, you two do nothing but pray for the night to end. You were selected by his parents, a tradition that's carried on and on, and now here you are, teaching your husband how to blow a bubble.
Your jaws ached into the night, your tongue getting tired of swirling around, and the gum losing its flavor as you kept trying to teach him how to blow the bubble.
Although Hank never got it, it didn’t stop him from trying every day.
You’d help on the farm, little things like collecting eggs from the hens, tossing the seeds, and checking on crops. You weren’t too fond of the work, but anything beat having to be under some sweaty pig as he pinched at your sides in hopes of hearing songs about the symphonies. As the days passed, you learned many things about the Olson home, such as prayer before dinner, the name of his beta fish that turned out to be a he named Astro. You watched as Hank’s mother would disappear after prayer to feed her husband dinner, who had become bedridden in the following months.
The upcoming spring allergies had been eating him alive; that’s what forced Hank to learn how to drive, to get his license. You followed alongside him; in fact, he was the one who taught you. It seemed those days with Hank only became fleeting memories; it seemed like days passed by in seconds when Hank left for training, while you took care of the farm alongside his mother. The woman was soft and kind-hearted; you felt the relief in your feet when you were forced to wear boots.
You longed for this day, the heels that had crushed and forced your feet into the small shape that kept you on pins and needles, now you were allowed to slouch on the porch with lemonade. A warm meal that you didn’t have to do all by yourself, his mother admires your readiness to help, but she knows she cannot allow you to do all this work when you were supposedly supposed to be spending your time before the call date happened.
You saw the letter; it was pinned above where his clothes were picked out for the day he was to take the Long Walk:
Dear Mr. Hank Olson,
Congratulations!
Your military submission to participate in the Long Walk has been accepted through a lottery.
You now have the rare honor of representing your state as a symbol of Hope in these economically desperate times.
The entire nation will be watching the live broadcast with admiration and awe.
If you win, unimaginable riches and a single wish await – a chance to break free from today's financial struggles and inspire the nation.
Please report to the starting line on May 1st by 8:00 a.m.
Good luck to you, Mr. Olson.
In the following days, some of Hank’s extended family came; they didn't see him much, as you did, he was too busy guaranteeing his victory. Though every morning you'd wake up before him, he'd be up at 6 AM, and you'd pretend to be asleep, bundled up in the blankets. It was instinct; as soon as the weight of his presence left the bed, your eyes would snap open. There you would hear how he reached for a piece of gum from the nightstand on your side of the bed. You'd then feel him push back whatever was in his way, and he'd plant a soft kiss on your forehead, the first few weeks you stayed up all night waiting for him to do something to you in your sleep if that's what got his rocks off.
Soon enough, you exhausted yourself waiting for him to hurt you. You ended up falling asleep right after him, as soon as his body hit the bed, he'd make sure the blankets he used were separate so as not to disturb you, and in fact, thought about getting another twin bed so you two didn't have to be so close. You only shook your head as you stared at him in the moonlight, his features highlighted as through his window that blinded you whenever you first woke, without his body there to shield you, it was the first thing to wake you.
Hank's family was very positive, they did prayers, and you joined in hopes to help guarantee his safe return to his family. You remembered having a big feast on the back-out date; you had been reading the rule book when Hank was in the shower. You looked at the calendar to see the date of the walk, and in your mind, you marked a big red circle in hopes of convincing him otherwise that maybe this wasn't what he needed to do. You're reading through the book once more, and when you hear the water stop running, you quickly rush away from it and make your way towards the bed.
Watch as the water drips down his thin black strands, allowing you to graciously look at his face that has been sculpted so lovingly, and you're lost in the beauty that is your husband. He doesn't stand out in a crowd; in fact, you're sure you'd have to look for him, but when he opens his mouth, you're sure of the fact that you'd find him in an instant. “What are you staring at?” His voice is joking; there's a cautiousness to it, regardless, he's just toying around with you. When he looks down, you smile, and when his eyes come back up, you're quick to remove it. “I just want to do something with you before you go…” Your voice is sultry, you bring yourself on all fours as you make your way over to the end of the bed towards him.
The tone in your voice is unfamiliar; you're trying to coax him into something as your voice drips with lust, but the young man stops you, though.
“I'm sorry?”
“Y'know, I want to give you one night of…passion, before you go to the Long Walk and maybe after we can talk about some things.”
Hank can see the look in your eye, it's as dazed as it was on your guys’ wedding day. He doesn't take the bait and instead sits on the opposite end of the bed.
“We can talk now.”
Oh, so that's how it's gonna be.
“Hank, the back-out date is tomorrow...”
“And?”
“And, I want you to back out.”
There's no hesitation in your voice; in fact, you're demanding him to stay with his family, “No.” “Yes.” You coo, it's grating on Hank's ears as he winces away from you, “No.” It's stern, and the relaxed look on your face becomes hardened. “I know that you're desperate to help your family, but—” “But?” “—This doesn't make you noble! It just makes you—it makes you selfish.” You spat at him, “You have a great life, a loving family who just wants to see you alive each day, although there are things wrong, you're happy. And you want to throw everything away for a 1 in 50 chance you get your wish granted?” Hank rolls his eyes, “This isn't about the wish, it's about what this could mean for the future of my family, to allow them something to fall back on for when my father does.” You scoff at this, “If you think burdening your mother with the death of her son and her husband is helping, then you're twisted in the mind.”
A silence falls between the two of you before Hank takes a deep breath, puts both his hands on his knees, and picks himself up off the bed. “Listen, if you don't think I'm gonna make it, just say that, I'll quell those fears and show you all the notes I've taken down and all the work I've done—” “That doesn't guarantee shit!” You snap at him, your pupils pounding in rhythm with your heart, before you find yourself hunching over on the bed, “I'm doing everything I can to make sure that I can do this, and you doing this the day of my back-out date isn't going to change anything.” You feel your heart swell in disgust, that he's willing to die for this, to die in that stupid outfit he's prepared–You only got your brother's body because he was at the starting line, everyone else's is scattered on the route–Not even a guarantee for a body in his casket.
“You're gonna die, you're gonna die for something that's not even guaranteed, your odds are slim to none.” Hank is quick to snap his head away from you, he can't look into your eyes and see those pleading puppy dog’s that are just needy for the chance to be chosen once, he can't give you this now and with the care you're still holding back from him you can't imagine him giving in to care for you anymore than you do himself.
A suicidal man, preparing his death without a care in the world for those in his family who love him, his mother who'll weep for him, his father who will have to die believing his son made it, and a family grieving the loss of another loved one.
You can't allow yourself to put hope in him; you have no hope in him, and you never have.
You will never have hope in him.
Signing, you accept this fate before you, a man who won't even look you in the eyes just for fear of folding in your embrace and crying like the little boy he was. It wasn't his job to sacrifice his life for the sake of his family; he knew that more than anyone, he resented the system that forced him to go.
Lambs to the slaughter.
Nonetheless, his feeding into a system did nothing but help it thrive. There was no real way for him to fight, even if he rejected and backed out right now, another boy would go in his place, and what if it was someone he knew, another random young man taken away from all he's ever known to go die off in some places far away from his home state?
It wasn't just about him.
It was the future that not only impacted him but everyone around him, especially you.
Both of you slept in silence; you couldn't turn to face him once you bundled yourself up in the blankets. He called your ‘name’ though. “Clementine…” A soft hoarseness of his throat, you feel his body bounce in the bed as he sobbed, his last night in his bed, “Clementine…?” The tone held no restraint in emotions, almost like a child. You could feel your heart swell. You wanted to turn around, to coddle him and tell him how he would make it, how he would come back safe to his family, and he'd be able to help everyone the way he always wanted to.
But you couldn't.
It was his choice to do this.
You can't give him what you want because you knew it would never be returned, your cruel fate in this world that awaited you over and over again.
“Cle-Cluh-Clementine…?”
Nothing, pure silence, before his sobs began to become louder. You couldn't dissociate this time the sting of the tears in your eyes, now consuming you once more as you buried your face into the pillow to muffle your cries in hopes the sun would rise once more.
When the day finally came, you were the one to drop him off; his mother would stay to watch over his father, and his family wished their farewells. You stayed outside near the car, a pack of gum in the pocket of your jeans, and you absentmindedly chewed it with hopes it would allow you to forget what was awaiting you.
The door closed; however, it was the last time he'd leave his house.
You both make your way into the car, you stare at your shoes, unable to look him in the eyes as you start up the car, and he makes his way into the passenger side. You watched the road like it was the only sure thing you had left in this world. You didn't blink when he glanced over you; you could feel those soft and wet eyes yearning for you to return that soft glance to reassure him that he was doing the right thing. When he was met with nothing, he went back to studying the rule book. The road stretched on forever, and the space between them only became bigger and wider. The radio wasn't on, neither of you reached for it, and you decided to bask in the silence as if it was both your punishments for being so cruel to one another.
Hank was torn. You look like the stranger wearing the face of someone who used to be ready to put him down, to put him in his place, to tell him exactly what he was doing wrong so he could fix it immediately. Hank was sure he'd return, sure he'd make it through all the trials and tribulations, even this one happening between the two of you. Hank knew that it wasn't even guaranteed you'd stay with him in the first place when he won; in fact, he offered to help you move along with your life if your plans did not have him in the picture. Though he wasn't sure what hurt more: that you said nothing the whole ride over, or that he understood why.
Your husband took a nap; you had hoped he'd get all the rest he could in, but knew he would want to be by you as he headed over, another reason he was going on this one-way trip. You needed to have faith in him, that he would make him, that all those months of waking up in the morning and all those long nights of preparation would allow you to kill yourself in the security of his future, that he may return to you.
Alas, as the soldier asked for Hank's ID and they did not return it to your hand, you felt as if his fate was sealed. Your heart sank once more, and as you pulled up to see a few other cars, most likely having to make the same long journey over as you did. You wondered who was there to see their sons off, their friends, their loved ones. You unlocked the doors, and you both stepped out at the same time. There were a few boys already there, and there were hugs and cries that surrounded the two of you as you both looked at one another with the same glazed-over look.
Hank had put stuff on the hood of the car, sifting through his possessions about what he was going to leave and what he was going to take. You did nothing but idly watch as you leaned on the car door, you watched as the sun that had just awoken bathed your husband's features in a loving warmth, and prayed that it'd stay consistent with the weather. You prayed it wouldn't rain, that he was warm enough in the outfit he had chosen, that his baseball cap would shield him from the sun, that the others on the trail wouldn't irritate him, that the walk wouldn't take too long, and that the boys who had also been walking would take sympathy on your husband.
Hank can feel your gaze; he doesn't know if you realize that your eyes are glossed over with tears that you're holding back until he leaves. He's always admired how you were so in control of your emotions and how spineless he was to his. How could you stand with your head held high even if you were wrong? You were built up by this world in a way that he wishes would rub off on him. If it were you on this walk, there would be no doubt you'd make it through. “Are you raring to rip?” You had joked during the grand dinner, his family asked, and you told them how he kept mumbling it to himself while he slept. Cousins continued to utter the phrase whenever they saw him zone out, “Are you raring to rip, son?” His mother cooed, leaving you all in awe as she smothered her son in kisses. “Yeah, you've got to be raring to rip.” You snickered, causing his cousins to join in alongside you. His mother would pinch your cheek as she planted a kiss on your forehead as well.
You continued to watch as Hank collected his belongings, and you wondered if he was also thinking about hopping in the car and driving out of the state. Escaping and never returning. You knew that even in his selfishness, he still had this desire to return home, to grace his mother and father with the fruits of his labor. You admired it. You watch as Hank slung a satchel over his shoulder, and you slowly make your way to the front of the car where he stood. He froze in place upon hearing the familiar clacks of your heels against the concrete.
The two of you needn't say a thing, your arms wide open as your forearms wrap around his neck. You slowly but surely feel his arms snake around your waist, and you're sick to your stomach as you look past him to those before him. There was definite competition, and you could do nothing but just watch those boys from afar in hopes they'd all drop dead at the finish line. It was an awful thought, you didn't wish harm to the people who didn't deserve it, but God, did you just want him to turn around and stay with you? As you feel this gnawing feeling in your chest, you wrap your arms around his neck, and the tighter your embrace becomes, you feel your eyes begin to strain.
Hank could feel the tears on his shoulder that began to soak into his shirt. You hoped that you'd be able to snap his neck in your grip, and a guard would shoot you dead for interfering with the walk. Your ribs close around your organs, a tight corset made to keep you in place as it pinches you away from him. You pull away from the hug, you don't wipe your tears in hopes he wipes them for you, but if he wiped them, you'd remember that he wouldn't be able to wipe your tears anymore. You two stood in front of each other, with Hank's eyes just as puffy as they were the night before; you mirrored it tenfold with the tears rushing down your cheeks and staining your skin.
“Cle-AHEM-Clementine,” The clearing of his throat is what brought your head up from your shoes to face him once more. You looked at your husband's sobering expression with the aching of a fool. You only nod, you know if you dare utter a word, you'd break out into a sob that snowballed into pleading for him to stay, you couldn't do that to him now that he was here.
Hank lets out a soft sigh, yearning to hear your voice but basking in his punishment for uniquely hurting you this way. “Can I, uh, have a piece of gum?” The way he rubs the back of his neck as his eyes dart around to keep himself from also folding in your presence eats away at your exterior. You only nod as your hand begins to quiver as you reach for your back pocket. You know you can't take too long; if he keeps standing, he'll lose his energy.
You struggle with the flap, plucking out just one piece of the gum before you hand it to him. You make sure there's enough room between your fingers from the tip of it to make sure he wouldn't be able to feel your touch again. It wasn't for him, it was for you. If you felt him one more time, you'd grab a soldier's gun and light the whole area a blaze.
Though you know that wouldn't solve anything.
Not now.
Hank reached for the gum in your hand, his index and thumb barely latching on, almost missing it through the sea of his tears that blurred his vision. You just wanted to shove it in his chest, but you couldn't touch him.
You couldn't touch him.
You couldn't touch him.
You couldn't touch him.
You couldn't—
“Get back to the house safely.”
Hank puts the gum in his pocket as he turns away from you. He adjusts his baseball cap as he pulls it down to hide his eyes, and you quickly make your way into the car.
You two part ways, separate journeys that required trust in one another and yourselves. But you could never trust yourself, trust another not to hurt you the way you had hurt yourself today.
As you pull out, there's only the radio to fill the gap that Hank's presence left, as you turned the dial, Jeff Buckley began to play–
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ An assortment of smutshots for the dateables that have piqued my interest!
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Kissing | Cam Love route | Cursing | Throat Fucking | Cum eating
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ This ending has really stuck with me.
Cam pulls out a positively ancient cucumber, a devilish glint in his brown eyes, you question how long it’s been there only to be silenced by the wrinkled cucumbers on your lips...
“Nonononoo shhhhhh…” Cameron hushes you, a moment ago he was with you on the floor, not now though, as you look up into his dark and soulful eyes, you know in that instance the dynamic between the two of you has most definitely changed. You prepped yourself for a joke, thanks to your SPECs, you were as ready as ever to diffuse the situation with humor–“Mmmpgh!” You feel wetness against your lips, “Cam-!? Mmpgh-?!” You allow its entrance, the moment you call out to your newfound lover, he's quick to put something in there to shut you up.
Your mouth reconstructs itself to coddle the tip safely, it's almost instinct to allow him to put it in, you look up through your lashes with your lips now fully covering the head, the wicked smile on his face only fills with determination as he begins to pat your head, “Look at you, finally shutting that big fuckin’ mouth of yours!” He chirps, there's about as much positive energy as you expect from your grungy lover.
Regardless, you're only allowed this moment to reflect on your situation before he begins to go back on the prowl.
It's weird how wet and cold it is, it's able to slip past your lips and safely onto your tongue thanks to the carpet you lay out over your teeth, it almost makes Cameron hunch over and explode in your mouth right then and there, but he couldn't allow you to make fun of him for busting too quick when he finally had you beneath him like this.
To see you, who just only seen him as a trash can, take whatever he gave to you, like you had done to him all these years.
In fact, he's tickled pink by the situation; he does nothing to hide how satisfied he is by this and desires to push you to your very limits.
You feel the way your mouth slowly widens up for him, the length seeming never-ending as he continues to take his time to shove his dick down your throat. It takes a while before you feel him graze the back of your throat. Your eyes have only become more watery now that you're stretching your mouth so wide for Cameron. Honestly, you're bewildered by the feeling of a few tears rolling down the sides of your cheeks as you feel him just playing around with your gag reflex to get more saliva bubbling out of your mouth.
“Shit, how deep does it go?” You muffle something in response, your eyes half-lidded with the feeling of his large cock just taking up space, you're unable to respond and you fear if you move your tongue you might trigger something.
You hate how high you got your fucking SPECs…
“What was that?” Cameron puts a hand to his ear to help hear you, "You're just as eager to find out how far my cock goes down your throat?”
Your eyes quickly shoot open, and you shake your head a little bit, but Cam is quick to start petting your head heavy-handedly. There's this sadistic smirk that comes back up, “Yeah? You'd love to?” You try to shake your head, yet the only thing you're given is Cameron’s hand on top of your skull, just forcing you to nod before he bares his teeth at you in a seething grin.
“Glad we were able to bond, human.”
Cameron wasted no second making sure that you were kissing the base of his cock, he's fully engulfed in all your mouth has to offer and there's nothing for you to do but take it as you gag and muffle some moans and grunts while trying to accommodate the rest of him. You weren't able to get a good look at him, your eyes now directed to his mons.
Luckily for Cameron, he still had the front-row seat to watch you take everything he was gonna give you.
There's a forest of dark brown hair, it lightly coats Cameron's belly button but gets thicker the more you go down his pelvis, and soon enough, your nose is in a sea of his hair as your chin is met with the heavy smacking of his balls.
In these moments no real words are being said, you try your hardest to cancel out your moans and whimpers every time you feel him kiss the cervix of your throat, regardless, you listen out to hear his grunts as he begins to ruthlessly fuck into your throat. It doesn't seem like he's listening to you just savoring the feeling of having you in this position, the feeling of your head in his hands is almost dizzying and now here you were getting your face fucked by him?
God, he was reeling…
You feel your throat closed around the tip of the appendage, there are soft gurgles that you'll say you were trying to fight back against it but you could stop him at any time with the Dateviators, you know it and he knows it, and yet, here you are just allowing him pound into your needy throat and praying he fills your throat up with his cum.
It's almost a mind fuck for you, you just confessed your love to your trash can, and you were still getting the hang of the glasses but you could've never expected something like this to happen…It's shocking! You could only allow yourself to bask in the bliss that was this moment, skin slapping against skin, with those hard and rough grunts as he slams his cock down your throat with a hope that he isn't going to break your jaw while he's searching for more of the power he's gotten high on.
Cameron needs this.
The way he grabs your skull and slams into you with reckless abandon in the middle of a kitchen with no care at all, it's almost thrilling for him, and before he allows himself to release his hot cum into your desperate throat he'll tear his cock out of your throat. You're quick to gag and choke from the sudden oxygen before being forced into your lungs, you gasp as your hands dart for your throat and pray that this won't kill you.
Your eyes are watery, a bit puffy from what Cameron can tell, but there's only a joyous grin as he's met by your heavy breathing and wet eyes. Trust me when I say, there's nothing he's ever admired more than that fucked out look on your face.
“Got a good break?”
You couldn't even pick your head up to respond,
Cam is quick to palm your scalp and pull you right back onto his dick, your lips right around the appendage once more as he began to
“I felt bad, thinking you wouldn't be able to breathe while you took me?” You don't respond, you only allow your skull to be thoroughly fucked as the heat between your legs becomes a slick mess that you'll most likely have to change out of before you talk to any of the other dateables.
“...the thought of you dying ‘cause you're choking on my dick?” You flutter your lashes unintentionally, you look uncaring in Cameron's eyes for a moment as if what he was saying was being dismissed when in reality you were just unable to hear anything besides the sound of wet skin slapping against skin, the sound of the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat and the sound of your whimpers and gagging.
Cameron stops, and you watch as his face twists into anger, he's peeved you'd even try to act above him when you had his cock in your throat. “That turns you on?” You tilt your head, wondering how in the world he wants you to answer this question when he's shoving his dick down your esophagus with the proficiency of a racehorse.
“Go on and rub yourself.” You feel your head lazily fall into Cameron's grasp, the willingness only made him tighten his grip on that scalp of yours. You put all your energy into slipping your hands into your undergarments and going for your genitals. You feel the heat on your cheeks is only second to Dante’s inferno. The man barks out a laugh at you, “Go on,” You slowly pull your hand out, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna get it on Florence!” Your eyes widen, and you're quick to try and get rid of it, but it doesn't even make it an inch before Cameron snatches up your wrist.
You gasp, flinching at his touch, your eyes shoot up, and you straighten your posture as you feel all the saliva build up around the bottom of your lip and chin, you feel a drop leave your chin, and you're flooded with embarrassment as you think about the mess you're probably leaving.
You can't even think of it anymore once you are presented with the sights and sensations that await you, as Cameron’s nails dig into your wrists you feel that fat plump pink tongue roll out of his lips and makes its way around your hands, collecting as much fluid as he can with just his tongue before he slowly begins to suck each and one of your fingers.
“How many licks do you think it'll take for us to get to the center?”
You feel him on your pinky, you doubt there's something, but you can't even focus on that thought with the feeling of him going back to pumping into your throat; however, he's taking his time, just like he is with your finger…
“You're a little fuckin’ freak.”
Cam spits at you whilst his lips glide up and down your ring finger, you dig your teeth into your lips, only to forget the tip that was right there. You watch as Cam’s face scrunches, and he winces, but this whimper of pain only sounds more filthy than anything. You watch as he's quick to abandon your ring finger for your middle.
“Argh! Fuck!”
Cameron's quick to bite you back, taking his time on the middle one since it's collected the most of your fluids, the two of you only return to your positions with a split-second glare between the two of you before divulging back into the pleasure that left the two of you melting in the kitchen.
It doesn't take long before you feel him begin to quicken the pace once more, he's going, and going, and the feeling of his heavy balls practically whining at the touch of your skin almost made him empty them in seconds. Cameron's lucky you can't tell how ready he is to blow, your blissed-out expression only allows him to be more immersed before he allows this feeling to take him over once more.
The rush of his seed flooding your throat leaves you only half a second to respond to make sure you don't choke to death on your trash can’s cum.
You watch once more as he slowly pulls out of you, there are thick ropes of cum coating your esophagus as he makes his way out and you try your best to keep your closed to contain all of it, you feel his tip slowly leave your mouth and your quick to pucker to make sure none of the fluids escape.
Cameron’s head is rolled back, only low grunts and pants escape him, and as his jaw slackens from the feeling. He turns down to look at you with a softened expression. It felt like the Devil was looking down at you to grant you this one gentle bliss from what your jaw was just put through.
Lowering himself just a bit and roughly tugging you up to kiss him, you feel his thick pink tongue around yours in an instant, ignoring the cum he just filled it with just to make sure you could feel the little muscle around yours. Your face flushes as you moan into the kiss, and your lashes close in seconds as you hiccup into the kiss, his tongue takes yours down in seconds and takes the time to explore the cavern his cock was once in.
This kiss doesn't last long though, he just swirls it around yours, takes your tongue down in seconds, and wastes no time to turn away from you to face the setting sun that highlighted the smooth vanilla skin that Cam was blessed with.
You smack your lips together quietly, there are hints of you in there, but it doesn't overwhelm his taste, but you feel as if it almost complements it all, just knowing it's both of you willing to mix yourselves.
Your eyes flutter open, and you're met by the hard gaze bestowed on the brunette beauty before you. You feel his hands instead cup your face, you hope it's another kiss, and as you allow your eyes to close once more, your mouth is only met with something familiar in texture to a Kiwi.
Your mouth is now around one of his balls, one of the ones he was able to put in while he tried to stifle his laughter at your hopeful expression. Unfortunately, he lets out a snicker at the sight. You don't know how much your ego can take! “Look at you, got me turning into fuckin’ chuckles.” That's when his eyes, mixed with lust and frustration, landed on yours: “You can take more.”
And you do.
“Ugh, you got all your slobber on that fantastic red shit of yours, guess I'll have to take it off and get you changed?” You only nod meekly, you're unsure if you could imagine him fucking one of your orifices after the way he handled your mouth, but here you were, “Well since it's already dirty, we could cover it in more stuff and make it filthy .”
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ Song descion was super hard, I can't write for this next chapter!
It has been the two most miserable months of your fucking life.
You’d wish this on your worst enemy tenfold, and luckily for you, he was there alongside you suffering just as much thanks to the decommissioned Captain Curly—My apologies, just Curly, it was Captain Jimmy who now manned this vessel alone, since he decided that he was the most fit captain, in his fucking dreams. You’re overjoyed to have a front-row seat to watch as he’s disillusioned by the rank. In the first couple of weeks, he was enthralled by the situation, taking leadership when it was announced that Curly wouldn’t be able to do much of anything.
After the crash, Curly was practically unrecognizable; he was missing everything that made Curly…Curly, to be completely honest. There's no smile awaiting you anymore when you walk into the room; his eyelids, dressed with intrigue and hanging low, which expressed his relaxed and confident attitude to everything, were now eviscerated. You couldn't hear that booming cheer that escaped him and a hearty laugh that told you all you needed to know about him.
All those features were incinerated away, and his body, now wrapped in bandages and dressed in a hospital gown, awaited the nurse of the Tuplar.
It's crushing to look at him, you find yourself staring at him longer than you should, and he takes notice since his eyes are still moving around, well, eye. Curly’s mouth is fully exposed, but nothing leaves it besides noises. You try to tell a joke, a simple knock knock that only leaves him to just stare at you blankly, “I hope you can still feel the humour of what I said, y'know, it's hard to talk to people that don't talk back, much harder than when you talk to someone that can talk back since you don't…really…” You notice his eye isn't on you, it's drifted away as you monologue.
You follow his eye, finding your newly appointed captain towering behind you.
It's almost exhausting being drained that fast, it felt like having your first time and blowing your load before you could even savor the feeling. A one pump chump, “Ah, Jimbo, what's poppin’?” The man takes his time to address you, “Where have you been?” The clear anger in his voice caused you to roll your eyes at him, and he snapped at you in response, “Oh! I’m sooooo sorry, Co-Captain F/N, that I inconvenience you with your job. You act like I can do this job alone!” You flinch at him yelling, getting irritated by the fact that he was already tired of his situation.
That first couple of weeks were just a grace period that fell rapidly, you won't lie that as much as you really did hate being around Jimmy, it brought you so much joy to see him do so much for a group that still saw the relationship as transactional.
Jimmy needed that status, that pompous dick needed that title to make him feel better about it all. You believed that he truly lost his marbles in that crash, you think everyone has, everyone's on edge for the soul fact that a company, who's just fired all its members, has crashed and they won't spend anyone to come and retrieve this band of useless employees that just sucked money out of a company that constantly demanded more and more work. You sighed, watching as Jimmy crumbled underneath the pressure, and he turned to you with this sorrowful look on his face, “Please, F/N, you know I need your help in what Curly's left me with…” You scoff at him, “You decided to take responsibility, you could've let Swansea take over, but no! You needed to be just like Curly, it's honestly fucking–” You watched as the man shrinked before you, and you almost felt bad for this everyman with nothing ahead of him besides this job, it's pathetic and yet you find yourself sighing as you try to muster up some advice for this man so he doesn't drive this group into the bigger hole that you'd already been dug into thanks to Curly.
To say you were shocked by Curly crashing was most definitely not on your bingo card for whatever the hell happened after firing, in fact, it made no sense as to why he would even want to crash in the first place when he had so much going for him after it. You're not surprised, given that Jimmy and he were friends, but to go this extreme? “Oh, Jimmy. It's okay, it's going to be okay, you're going to do an amazing job as Captain and I heavily doubt you're going to fuck this up worse than Curly has but then against you can't crash the ship again.” You snicker only to be met by Jimmy grabbing the collar of your uniform, you hiss as your hands look for Curly's bed for stability and you look up into Jimmy's eyes whose hair covers bits of his eyes as he just stares at you, “You need to treat me better if you're gonna work alongside me.”
The glazed-over eyes were thanks to the exhaustion of his self-appointed position. They're hollow and soulless, the once-pity you held for him now washed away by the realization of what he actually was. “You get that? Don't you? Y'know what you're supposed to do and what's going to happen if you don't do it?” The grip on your collar makes your eyes widen, and you feel the tips of your toes hold onto any feelings of the floor as you're dragged up to Jimmy's eye level. “Let fucking go of me.” You bare your teeth at the man and he does the same back, “When you fucking understand what I fucking need from you, do not pity me like some fucking child, you have to support me not coddle me.” You roll your eyes at his behavior, “Oh, please, tell me how hard it is to the job you've been watching Curly do for fucking years!” Jimmy drops you instantly, and you find yourself stumbling, reaching for support from Curly’s table before you hear the door open.
You gasp for air and you feel the imprint of Jimmy's fist on your throat had most definitely left some type of bruise, you reach for your collar and hiss, “You stretched it, asswipe!” “Oh, F/N, you're in here too?” You perk up, making your way from behind Jimmy to see Anya with a smile on her face, but her eyes wide and in shock, you're embarrassed by the scene before you, and quickly shake your hands. “Hey, Nurse Anya!” You giddily make your way over to her before Jimmy grabs the back of your uniform and pulls you back, you stumble a bit, and you only meet her halfway before Jimmy speaks up. “Anya, I was just about to call a meeting for us, I wanna discuss getting to the cargo.” You look up at Jimmy with a raised brow, “Why didn't you tell me that?” “Guess you just got too busy running your mouth to listen to me. Next time, if you're quiet, someone will take the time to learn about your opinion on things.” You cross your arms, “Oh? What's that supposed to mean?” Jimmy sneers, that same fucking sneer he's been doing whenever he says something so ignorant and has to explain the more stupid ideals that support his illogical statement.
“If you were more like Anya, I would've taken you more seriously.” You bark out a laugh at him, “Like I'd give a shit if some sorry excuse for a captain doesn't see me as the model worker. At the end of the day, you appointed me your co-captain, so let me know when you need your so-called ‘support’.” You spat, waving him off as you made your way out of Medbay, “See you at the meeting, Anya.” You muttered, not with malicious intentions, but Jimmy’s existence did nothing but make you irritated…besides, Anya would ask one of you to feed Curly his pills if you stayed longer…
That experience alone tops all your beatings from childhood.
It doesn't take long before you're all summoned to the table, Jimmy wraps up his argument, "Anyone else would do the same thing." It comes to no surprise that Swansea doesn’t agree, “We ain’t touching the damn cargo. The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.” Anya interjects, "But it could be something useful. I think–” “Could be what? Hopes, dreams, and marzipan? Hah!" You speak up, “Don't knock down Anya.” The group directs their attention to you, “There's most definitely something in that cargo that's going to help us out because I strongly doubt I'm ready to die for this piece of shit of a company just because you can't see beyond the pay.” Swansea argued, “Of course you're not worried about being paid, some of us are adults with their own families to worry about, you don't even call your mother–” “I'm so sorry? Who the fuck told you all that?” The older man clears his throat before crossing his arms, “Captain Curly, he said you were having a hard time and to let you breathe! But from where I'm lookin’, you're nothing more than a pessimistic broad.” “Bite me, old man!”
Jimmy slams his hand on the table, drawing the attention of the group. Anya mumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms, “You don’t have to…” “If it helps us survive, it’s worth it.” Daisuke playfully groans at the thought, “Man. Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh?” The young man then turns to the older one, with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen, you feel your heart swell ten times its size as you look away from the scene to hide your flushed face. “C’mon. A quick look won’t hurt.” Swansea scoffs at the boy, "How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?” Anya lets out an exasperated sigh, and you join her, it felt like talking to a more bearable Jimmy, it seemed like Daisuke was the only one who was willing to work along with everyone. “Oh, right here, boss!” The young man then gestures to himself, flipping his hair with a coy grin, "You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team!” Daisuke then turned his body towards you, the seating arrangement was apparent to the group as you sat closest to the person you worked with, well, not you and Jimmy, since you both sat at the opposite ends of the table with Anya and Daisuke sitting at either side and Swansea sitting next to Daisuke.
“You remember when I straight up corked a kid, F/N?”
The look in his eyes felt off You probably looked too deep into it, but you missed those honey colored orbs that shined like the sun. You rolled your eyes at his behavior, just trying to hide the grin pulling up on your face, with you planting the lower half of your face in your hand. “God, that kid’s black eye must’ve lasted him months.” Daisuke smiled, “Exactly! If I got ahold on that utility axe and–" Swansea immediately shut shit down, “You were goddamn born fully corked!” Jimmy lets out an exhausted sigh. "That’s enough, Swansea.” The man pinches the bridge of his nose, “There has to be an 'in case of emergency' way inside.” There’s a moment of silence in the group before Anya immediately perks up, “If I remember correctly from the safety protocols…The doors should have an alternate access code. But it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.” You smacked your teeth, “Curly’s the only one who had that scanner.” “Of course! Go ahead and ask him all about it then. Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too!” You and Anya let out another shared sigh, “We don’t need him if we find the scanner, get the code, and open the hold. For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You and Anya looked at each other. “I’ll figure it out.” Jimmy notices your held gaze and quickly snaps his hand to gain your attention, you're mad it works, “The co-captain and I will go search for it, two heads are better than one.”
“I can help too!”
Everyone’s attention is turned to Daisuke, they look to him, awaiting for someone to say something, you hope it’s you, “I don't think so, Daisuke. I think both of us got it handled, don’t we?” You want to disagree, you really, really, do, but when the insult was conjured in your mind, you immediately thought back to what happened in the Medbay.
You look to Daisuke, “Captain’s orders.”
With that, the group dispersed.
You look around the lounge area, and the sleeping areas established by the group were not the worst, better than the blankets from the quarters. You didn’t mind Swansea’s snoring or Daisuke’s video games, honestly, the company has been keeping you from officially going nuclear. You’re thankful for the background noise that awaits you, and you were overjoyed to find everyone confiding in each other, well, except for Jimmy. You were his personal diary and punching bag. Verbally or physically? Who's to say? “We should probably check in on everyone after such a frustrating meeting, don't you think?” Jimmy raises a brow, “We should just go look for the scanner and see what the hell we’re lifting.” “Y’know, Captain, it’s hard to provide support to make you a better captain when you don’t follow it.” “That’s advice…” You almost snap at him, “Support is advice? Have you ever had anyone be genuinely nice to you in your life?”
You’re not surprised if not, with the way he just beat you into playing his PR, “Fine. Who do we talk to first?” You head begins to head over to Daisuke, “Oh, you wanna talk, Daisuke?” “You’re the one who told him he couldn’t come with us, it’s best we do damage control for that before we do anything else, you failed excuse of a captain.” Jimmy immediately brings his large hand to your forehead and flicks it, his rough hands from working the job and weightlifting on make the impact hurt more and those scraggly nails nick it just to leave you with a sting for you to remind yourself when you wanna talk shit.
The two of you make your way over to Daisuke, who’s sitting next to the screen. Daisuke perks up at your sight, but his tail sways lowly as he notices Jimmy by your side. “Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner. You guys wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?” “I called that shit yesterday so watch ya’ mouth.” Daisuke snickers, his cheeks heighten to make his eyes smile lovingly at you, “How much food do we have left?” Jimmy asks with Daisuke answering with the uncertainty as his eyes stay on you, “I’d say like, 4 months-ish?” “Damn, what’s the air supply left on us?” Jimmy hums, “Less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last. In theory. We’ll be starting to poke new holes in our belts pretty soon to pull that off.” You scoff at that, “Damn, sorry about your bulking.” Daisuke rolls his eyes, “Man. My mom will straight up stuff me when I get back. I’ll look like Swansea!” You hold back your laughter with a big, toothy smile, “We’ll have a rad story to tell though. They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Silence fills the air, and you elbow Jimmy immediately as Daisuke tilts his head, awaiting a response, "Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too." You fake gag at the two, “What a couple of sluts, looking for the attention of women.” You snicker, and Daisuke’s quick to interject, “If I make it out of here, I’ll be so popular–Someone on my arm to comfort me after all this.”
You're beating down newfound feelings like Jimmy’s taught you.
From what you gathered in Swansea and Daisuke’s relationship, it’s obvious he’s just a follower looking for his mentor. Daisuke is proud to be around Swansea, that he could single-handedly fix the ship if you guys find spare parts. You find it adorable, and you admire him for his expression, whilst he admires his old man.
After parting ways from Daisuke, Jimmy is quick to comment, “You two were chummy.” You scoff, you can’t believe he’s pulling that bullshit when you just did what he asked. You smack your tongue against the roof of your mouth as the two of you walk off, “Let's just go look for the scanner.”
The first clue to finding the scanner came from Daisuke, who tells you that Anya’s been on that manual like it was her holy scriptures. As you walk your med by all that surrounds the area, all the forms fill around the area, giving you the grim reminder of how close you all were to death. As the medical door slides open, your mat with Anya standing near Curly's body as he lies motionless on the cot. You notice the vent that's been covered up by the blue medical dividers, Jimmy’s quick to lull you, “Swansea says the vent is fried.” You roll your eyes before finding the smile on your face upon seeing Anya, “Howdy Nurse Anya, how's the patient?” You chirp, your giddy expression almost tears her down with a small twinge in the corner of her lips as she's met with your colorful face. “Well, Co Captain, [L/N], he doesn’t want to keep still anymore." "What about the painkillers?" Jimmy interjects, "He – It just hurts him so much. I can’t stand the noise." Anya sighs, and your face falls with hers. "...You did make it through nursing school, right? Pony Express sure does know how to cut corners, if nothing else." You elbow him, and the silence in the room fills the area.
You're embarrassed by Jimmy's existence, you're sure his mother feels the same way. “Do you think you have any idea where the scanner is?” You ask, you try to save face, but with Jimmy, all you can do is bare your teeth and accept your fate. "Um, I was thinking... we never went back into the cockpit after we dragged him out." Jimmy is quick to cut in, "It’s almost entirely foamed up. Kind of a miracle Curly didn’t end up fossilized. But it could still be unstable." "I just think, well, it’s the only place the code scanner could still be." You nod your head, “Anya’s right, we're shit out of luck if we don't at least check.” Jimmy crosses his arms, unsure of your certain decision making, nonetheless, Anya is thrilled you listened to her. "I know you’ll both figure it out. You’re both so capable!" You feel this large smile on your face, "Oh, also… well, uhm…” “Whatever it is, Anya, we gotcha!” You chirp, Jimmy gives you a harsh glare, before Anya continues.
“I was hoping one of you could help me with Captain–" "Curly." Jimmy sneers, Anya’s reaction is obvious, and you look concerned for a moment before turning to Jimmy with a glare, "Right, sorry ...w-with Curly’s medication?" You feel this feeling begin to build up in your chest, and it's similar to swallowing cement; you couldn't fathom doing something like that again after the first time when Jimmy faked being asleep, you're pained by the idea, and you couldn't face her. "People have to be worth their titles. Don’t you think, nurse Anya?" You look down at your shoes, you feel the hurt in Anya’s voice as she replies, "...Y-yeah. Forget I asked."
Jimmy notices you both with your heads down; he's embarrassed by the sight of you not even speaking up, but when it came to cussing him out and telling him what to do, you were all over him. The man lets out a disgusted sigh, “I'll take care of it.” Anya’s head perks up, you hear her breath hitch in relief, and your head stays down in embarrassment. "A-are you gonna feed Curly his meds? He really suffers without them…" "Yeah, yeah." Jimmy grumbles, you hear his footsteps begin to soften as he snatches up the painkillers on her desk, they’re the only remnants of medicine that's left on the Tuplar, he makes his way over to Curly’s body, "His bandages are also looking… wet.” Anya sighs, "I know…We’re out of fresh ones." That's when Jimmy’s footsteps become louder, you feel his presence all around you, and you're assured that it's him the moment he puts his hand on your shoulder, “I believe it's your turn, Co-Captain.” You can feel your heart drop to your arse, you pull up your head from the floor to face the man as he looks at you with a small smile, “Remember, I did it last time when you got scared at the noises.”
Jimmy reaches for your hand and opens your palm, and plants the pills into your hand. The rattling doesn't do you justice, as it only knocks down any confidence you had before. You feel your pupils dilate, the dash from Jimmy to the pills and Curly, your hands begin to tremble, and Jimmy's smile only becomes wider at the sensation.
“Well, get to it.” Jimmy breezes past you and out of the Med-Bay. “I'll be looking for the scanner.”
There you are, the pills in your hands and Curly's eye just staring you down, Anya doesn't even lift her head to look at you, you know it sickens her, and you feel your heart come to a stop with the only sound filling your ears is his labored breathing. As you pop off the cap, the sound signals to Anya, like a gun being shot to start the race, to leave the area with urgency. “Excuse me, sorry!” You listen as her shoes become a distant thought, the adrenaline that spikes in you doesn't even allow the memory of her comfort, you take out the pill and open up Curly's mouth. The skin is like leather. Instinctively, he closes his mouth, and you feel his jagged teeth run across your skin, you feel your stomach about to leap out of your throat, but you continue. You use your fingers to slide the pill down his throat, as you listen to him choke and his gummy mouth surrounds your fist, the soup begins to clog your throat, and your pursed lips are its only barrier against it.
You wouldn't allow yourself to hurt Curly more by vomiting on him.
Once you were done with Curly, he stared back up at you, you don't know if he can blink or if his eyelids have been burned off by the impact, but the look in his eyes was enough to make you weak in the knees. You're planted still, the vomit that surrounded your feet was similar to cement, and as Curly looked up at you when you looked down at him, you could do nothing more but accept your fate. You buried your teeth at the idea of having to see Jimmy, and he couldn't fathom being around anybody who would make you something like this. “Why did you do this, Curly?” You spoke, your cough up noodle chunks and wipe your face, “I just–I just don't see why you'd do this to me? I have to go with that fucking psychopath everywhere, then I can't even talk to one person I want to because of him, and now I can't even stand being in the room with my one and only friend on this ship because of you.” You feel the hot tears in your eyes begin to build up, they're scorching, and you try to blink them away, but you know these tears aren't meant to coddle you through this. You begin to wipe against your face, these tears continue to burn, and they continue to run like a faucet, and it leaves you with nothing but to continue wiping your face, your palms press deeper into your sockets and you find your nails grazing your skin as you try to get them all off. You claw away at your face, the exhausted sighs that left you once before now turned into noises filled with anguish and resentment, you're starting to yell before you bring your hands onto the bed that held Curly, and slamming your fists against it.
“You fucking did this!” You shouted, Curly had no choice but to bear witness to the redness in your eyes, the spit that came flying, and the anger in your face as he looked at you. “I'm fucking stuck here because of you! It's all–” You slam your hands against the bed before your foot, then kick at the legs that held it up, you repeated these actions with heavy grunts, leaving you before you let out a sharp grunt and backed away from the bed. You looked down at Curly, he felt the shadow over your face contradicting the light that shines above it.
You look away from the man in relief. The door is left wide open, and in your view, you can see Anya huddle up on the floor, shaking from the sounds. As much as you feel for her, you also hate the fact that you had to do this, that it had to come to this. "Why do you think he did it?” Anya’s voice shakes, "I have to believe that our worst moments don’t make us monsters, [F/N]...I have to. . .Even in his case.” Anya hears your labored breath, the exhaustion from the noises that emanate from you left Anya with this gnawing feeling that you were just as sick of doing this as Jimmy was.
The sounds of you wrestling with inanimate objects left her with sharp pain down her spine as she's met with your anguished gaze.
Even though you said nothing, she pulled herself up, "...I’m still feeling nauseous." The woman fixed her posture and spoke, "I need a minute.”
With that, you were left alone.
You make your way through the hallway and then down the stairs. You pass Anya, who stands in front of the door that bears the cargo, and you watch her head fall to avoid eye contact. You feel the pain in your chest as you continue to walk by, your words stay in your throat to try and explain your situation, let her know it's not her fault, that all this stress has gotten to you and you were about to reach your boiling point–Those fearful brown eyes looked to you like a fawn. You could do nothing as you breezed past her and found Jimmy and Swansea speaking. “You think I’m letting that knucklehead in here after the crash roughed it up? Our so-called nurse nearly skewered her leg when the vent hatch was open during maintenance. And that was before the crash.” You feel anger from the way Swansea talks about people, he's almost like your mother in that regard. The way he complains about everybody's ignorance while holding himself higher than anyone else, it disgusts you to be around him when he talks about people that way. You think back to your mother talking about the dead-end job she's worked just to keep you and her afloat, how tirelessly she works for people who don't care about her, and so on.
You can't stand him.
Yet, you do enjoy when he picks on Jimmy, you believe that all those on the Tuplar share that experience with the engineer.
"I warned her, but it’s in one ear and out the other. Same with your little Co-Captain, we all gotta walk on eggshells ‘cause you and Curly practically worked them half to death.” The man then groans, “Then there’s that teeny bopper thinkin’ only with his downstairs longnose. Just like my useless kids back home. So, no. Ain’t lettin’ anyone mess around in here." Jimmy goes silent, as you make your presence known, the two look at you with a dismissive stare. “You feed Curly his pills?” You nod, “Silent? What? Mad I made you do your job?” You can't even fathom putting any energy into Jimmy’s thought process; you just answer him, “No, just tired is all.” Jimmy winces at your breath, “Jesus, you need to learn how to keep it all in when you have to do your job. You're practically just wasting food. Nobody wants to follow behind a co-captain who can't even get through even the toughest times.”
You look at the two and straighten your posture, “Of course, Captain.” There's a silence that falls between the three of you, and in response, Swansea perks up, “Still on my break. Bad back and all, yeah? Don’t need any supervision, Captain.” Jimmy begins to make his way from Swansea, and you follow behind just like you were always intended to, and with one sliding door and another and another, finally find yourselves back in the cockpit that started it all. You both are quick to find the code scanner, a blinking purple fluorescent light that fills the small area, and you see the way it highlights the vomit on your shoes.
You pick it up and show Jimmy, who takes it from your palm hastily, he examines it, then looks at you, “How long were you standing there?” “Not too long.” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “What's wrong with you?” You look into Jimmy’s uncaring gaze, and it only hardens at the way you respond to him, “You giving me the silent treatment for making you do your job?” “Nothing's wrong.” The man’s tongue smacks the roof of his mouth, “No, it seems like there is, I don't need you holding some type of grudge like a child, you're my Co-Captain and when I tell you to do a job you do it, I don't need you on my back alongside everyone else.”
“Oh, Captain, please feed Curly his pills! Captain, what are we gonna eat? Capitano, I'm not letting you in the utility room because you're never gonna be as good as the actual captain. Do any of you appreciate what I'm doing? No! I do this all for the ship, and for the last 2 months I've been doing everything! The one time I asked my Co-Captain to do something, they shuddered, and got scared, they put their head down and thought “Oh, I don't want to do it, guess I'll make Captain Jimmy do everything!” That's when Jimmy smacked the code scanner against the back of your skull. You had put your head down and closed your eyes in hopes your imagination would make you feel better. Your hands rush to cradle your skull only to find Jimmy’s hands fly to where he hit you and, while clenching the back of your scalp, pull you up to face him. “I don’t like doing this, but it seems like you guys don’t know how to act without me having to be like this? You, Swansea, Daisuke, Anya–It’s like you all don’t see how hard I’m working.”
Your breath hitches, groaning and sniffling at the pain. “I've been doing my best to make sure you haven't had to do anything, so I could be nice, caring, and respectful–Unlike Curly–He tried to take us all down with him, [F/N]. The way I see it, there are two reasons to keep him alive at this point. Guess the important bit is that we all agreed to it. For one reason or another.” The man huffs, “It's one thing to get him wrapped up and then give him the pills he needs so badly to make sure we don't have to hear him crying and wailing out from something he did to himself…to us.” Jimmy let go of your head. You reach back to cradle it, and you look at him with these sunken eyes. He knows you're tired of this treatment, but he knows you have nothing to do outside of it.
You are stuck with him.
The door then slides open, and you follow him. There's a silence that surrounds the two of you as you make your way back to the cargo hold and find the rest of your crewmates surrounding the door. They notice the code scanner, and Daisuke is quick to ask about what's being shipped. He continues and explains that if you guys had parts, then Swansea and he could fix the ship and be home free.
Swansea tells him to ‘Quit Yapping.’
You're irritated by Swansea's dismissive nature, nonetheless, there's nothing in you to fight right now. Swansea is quick to tell you both to get it started already, and Anya is alongside him in that regard. With that, Jimmy's off. You feel your heart race at the sea of boxes that await you. Jimmy points to the boxes, “Go get one and open it.” He commands you, like a Pokémon. You just nod and make your way over to the box; it's a lot heavier than you expected, and you pray it's some canned food or water or anything to get you out of this mess.
Your breath hitches, the sound of the cardboard rubbing against each other kills you, and the sight before you continues to penetrate your wound. You pick up the blue bottle and are met with…mouthwash? Your voice box falls out of your mouth, your hands shaking as you hold the bottle in your hand, your other hand comes to cradle it, and your head tilts in confusion.
“[F/N]? What is it?”
Silence is the only answer. The group makes their way over to you, and they're just as shocked as you are. “It's... this is…” “Mouthwash?” Anya and Jimmy are flooded with fear, Swansea is irritated, “Un-fucking-believable.” Daisuke is in awe, his head rises to see the hundreds of other boxes in storage, “There's gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here! This room looks freakin' endless!” You continue to look at this bottle, the smallest part in your mind prays this is just a fever dream and that you'd wake up back at home in your bed from such a nonsensical thing. “This is what they'd have five people hauling for over a year? All of this…” “For fucking mouthwash?!” The group flinches away from you.
Anya looks at the back of the liquid while you shiver in anger, “The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” “Disinfectant? What are you- Let me see that!” Swansea snatches the bottle from Anya and looks over the contents, “14% Ethanol–Hahahahahah!" You all lift your heads to look at Swansea, Daisuke awkwardly shares in the laugh, “Aaaha...ha? I s'pose we'll smell good at least...?”
Swansea smiles, a rare sighting to you all as he turns to Daisuke, “That's right, kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” The old man wastes no second as he brings the mouthwash to his lips.
Anya immediately freaks out, “W-what are you doing?! Stop that!”
You're all in awe as he takes down about half of the bottle, with a satisfying pop. Swansea holds a look of relief on his face, “Whew-whee! Ohhh, shut up. I'm just an ol' codger taking care of his dental hygiene. You hear that? That's the sound of 15 years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red-hot cyst! Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!” Daisuke tried to lighten the mood, “Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff, heh.”Jimmy shoots it down, “Yeah, and kill you in the process.” “This can't be real. I - There's no way…” Anya buries her face in her palms, “Now we can go out in style!” Swansea cheers before turning back to his intern, “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach ya how to drink like a man?”
The commotion is nothing more than blurred background noise to you, it slowly falls in and nothing, and as you go, cradle that bottle of mouthwash, you think back on everything that's led you here. From those late nights studying, those extracurriculars, dressing up to appease your mother, the parties you missed, the friends you were forced to make, the people you had to be around–You look to this bottle and it's glow become bright, it emanated like the sun and you try to pull your eyes from it, but you couldn't. Its shine had this unnatural hold on you; you looked to Swansea’s hand, and it glowed as well, and the whole box became a pillar of hope for you. Your dominant hand finds its Way to the top, pushing down and twisting the white cap off with a satisfying pop. You think back on those responsibilities you once had.
Your purpose on Earth was to work diligently for your mother until the day you died, doing everything to appease her as her second chance at not being the disgrace she was in this world. You think back on all those memories, and in each bottle there was you dancing, screaming lyrics, sneaking out at night, going to concerts, getting tattoos and piercings, dying your hair wild colors, and being with people that made you happy. Those memories got louder, and louder, and louder…You look at the mouthwash once more, and with zero hesitation, you take the bottle and begin chugging it. You try to take down the drink faster, your heart Anya winces in response, and Swansea cheers for you, “Drink! Drink! Drink!” Jimmy shouts at you, “[F/N]! Stop!” The man lunges at you and knocks the drink out of your hand, “[F/N], that stuff is going to kill you!” You choke and gag, coughing a bit before going back to the peppermint burning your throat.
“What the fuck, Jimmy!?” You snap, “You're Co-Captain, you need to take responsibility in situations like this, just because Swansea’s turning his back on this team to go get drunk doesn't mean you can too.” You roll your eyes, “Aren’t we fucking fired? Who gives a shit other than you?” You stumble a bit in the split liquid, and Jimmy takes the time to degrade you, “Look at you, you can't even take responsibility for your position, immediately running to get drunk! You're pathetic!” You bark out a laugh, “Me!? Pathetic!? You're the one needing to hold onto a role like some desperate loser! You're the pathetic one!” Swansea smiles, putting his bottle of mouthwash up in the air, “Yeah, you tell'im, kid!” “I don't have to sit here and do whatever you tell me–I never needed to do that in the first place because…who am I to…you for you to be demanding all this of me!” You're a bit embarrassed by your thought process, you wonder how long it's been since you've had alcohol, and you think back to your talk with your mom that led you down this path.
You fix your gaze on Jimmy, his eyes are almost the same as your mother's, that creasing his eyebrow and that disappointed scowl only fueling your thoughts of annoyance and irritation, you hold the stare down. It doesn't last long, your perception of time conflicted with your feelings, as he's quick to fix his posture, all he can do is cross his arms and make his way out of the room.
“Have fun drinking yourselves to death!”
You watch as he leaves, your body feels lighter, and all this gray haze turns into this right red that's been awaiting you. Your life all viewed in the third person now allows you to take full control, you turn back to the group with Anya with a disapproving look, “[F/N]...” You look at Anya, the smile on your face staying glued to your face as you reach for another bottle, “Anya…” You match her shallow tone, you take off the cap and begin to go to town on the bottle, Swansea is quick to cheer you on once more, whilst Anya makes her way out of the cargo hold. This drink fills you in ways that contradict its taste, with Swansea egging you on and Daisuke slowly easing his way in, you find the comfort you were looking for in this internship once more…
Nothing could break the thick tension of a young, emotionally detached adult being with their equally emotionless and distant family members—well, maybe everything but a mysterious illness outbreak. As the virus begins to spread like wildfire, you struggle to progress through sudden grief and loss, kissing all normalcy goodbye.
With life, as you know it, crumbling in shambles and danger continuing to lurk around each turning corner, you're forced to reconcile with your estranged family and survive with an unlikely group of survivors. Learn how to navigate through the end of the world as you know it.
content warning:
Graphic depictions of violence, injuries and blood, death, trauma, body horror, explicit language, references to assault, mental and physical abuse, drug and alcohol usage, and sexual content. Suggested for mature +16 audiences.
what will remain?
Agreeing to be dragged along to some boring town in the middle of midwest butt-fuck nowhere, forced to leave the exciting college life behind—your friends, your freedom, your childhood home—all because your mother fell head over heels with some new guy. You loathed even the thought of it all: no bustling malls, the constant silence, the small-minded people.
Yet here you were, stuffed in a car with your life in boxes, with your little brother in the front acting like nothing in the world could bother him, and your mother clinging to the steering wheel as if it might help with holding her broken life together.
You were supposed to start working at your new job, your brother was supposed to start school, and your mom was supposed to be happy again.
None of that happened before you could even really settle in.
A bloody cough. A sudden scream. A neighbor is missing his arm, turning feral and bloody before your eyes. One moment, you were rolling your eyes at your mom’s hopeful smile, the next you're bashing head's in with a wooden fence picket.
Suddenly, you’re no longer just the angry kid dragged to a new life you never asked for. You’re the only one who can keep your brother safe, scavenging for the bare necessities, navigating panic-stricken streets, passing through overcrowded quarantine zones.
Now, you have to take lead. You have to make impossible decisions. You have to survive—for your family, for new allies, for yourself. With every horror you face, every life you take, and every moment earned through blood and grit, you start to feel something shifting inside you.
In the end, the question isn’t just whether you'll survive…but what will remain left of you.
STORY FEATURES.
Choose your character's name, pronouns, sexual identity, appearance, and even survival style.
Form stronger or ruin the current and new relationships that you have.
have the choices you make throughout the story effect your survival experiences and significant plot changes.
Figure out just how far you're willing to go when it comes to the safety of your family and allies.
Customize your favorite melee or ranged weapon of choice.
Engage or escape—looter or shooter. Learn which fighting style truly fits your character.
Decide who you should indulge your trust in: family, friends, or the government.
ROMANCE OPTIONS.
Along the way, experience unique character routes depending on your section of RO's and your relations with them:
.ᐣ Cal/Cass ( F/M ) — A brooding, hard headed, easily annoyed firefighter with useful survival knowledge due to their career, an expected natural born leader forced to carrying too much on their plate, the type of person that you learn to tolerate or want to strangle.
5’11” Short/shaved ginger hair, light eyelashes and light blue eyes, muscularly toned figure, tan white skin adored in brown speckled freckles, with a light scarlet blushed cheeks.
.ᐣ Ezra/Ellie ( F/M ) — A inventive, easily overwhelmed, chatter mouth journalist intern with an encyclopedia of seemingly random knowledge especially about conspiracy theories, weird legal loopholes, and old physical media, frantic note taker, a nail biter who has the knack for problem solving and being resourceful.
5’9” curly long black hair, dark brown eyes like boba, mostly torso, lengthy awkward looking figure, golden brown skin, thick rimmed black glasses.
.ᐣ Saint ( F/M ) — A scarily observant, quirky, sly trouble maker with a smiling klepto addiction due to being in and out of cuffs, has a odd hobby of exploring abandoned places and trespassing restricted areas, knows a lot of “urban knowledge”.
5’7” unkempt shaggy short black hair, brown eyes, slight lean muscular figure, tan olive skin, has tattoos on both forearms and hands, silver eyebrow piercing on right side.
.ᐣ Ray ( M ) — A rational, strong hearted, nurturing mechanic with a protective nature over his daughter, an ex-police officer with a troubling pass that he can’t seem to shake, can talk to anyone as has if he’s known them for years, a sharpshooter even with partial vision he falls back on instincts and muscle memory.
6’2” buzzed coily hair, blind in one but the other open eye is light brown, in shape dad-bod, deep brown skin, has a scar that travels from the right side of his forehead to the top of his cheek.
OTHER LINKS.
RO INTROS
ALLY INTROS
KOFI
....dedicated to all the apocalyptic loving losers like me and most importantly @anya-dev and her inspirational interactive novel scout :)
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ This chapter I mainly wanted to focus on other things, but mainly I wanted the crash to be a completely separate chapter from the 2 month skip after the crash. I REALLY can't wait for this next one because I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLLY just miss Daisuke. I think this is where the story for me is going to become more unhinged, with the mouthwash, and spirals, and acting out. I CANT WAIT!!!!
In those dark nights, those moments that make you bring your blankets under your legs, you feel like a child being whipped by your mother's cold and sleep-deprived gaze. A long day of work will do that to you, she’ll complain on the phone to how you sucked the life out of her, how your eager expression only exhausted her more. You look at that woman, just a child needing their mommy’s comfort, but you look up at her and know more than anything that what’s really exhausting her is that bitter resentment she’d always had for you.
Jimmy's words echo through your mind as if he were sitting right beside you, scolding you, they're never satisfied. When are they ever? You continue and slave yourself to fit into what they want from you; you’ve done nothing but put them first, regardless of what’s in your best interest.
The times you leave your room to go do your job you're only met with that smile on Captain Curly’s face that feels more forced than ever, he tries to save face now, and for everyone's sake they're cordial, but you're conflicted on how to feel by his attempt to still put on a brave face in the field of all the tragedy–What are you even talking about? He doesn't even have to try. He knows he doesn’t have to do anything, but he chooses to be this way, and for what? What does he gain from this? It’s done, it’s over, why is he so happy when everyone’s so miserable? Is it because he still has a job after this?
He's most likely got another job after this; the company will absolve him from this situation. You all still get paid at the end of the day, so what does it matter as long as it’s delivered, and you return on schedule? Even with this knowledge, everyone still looked to Captain Curly for all the answers, they handled him with care and consideration, and for people like Swansea and Daisuke it was just another thing to brush under the rug, while Anya would be up at night just stressed by her situation and she began to make more frequent calls home. Jimmy eased off of you. After the birthday, he noticed your demeanor changed as you became quieter. He would make small jabs, “I don't see why you're so mopey. Mommy can't wait for you to get back anyway.” He mocked, yet this wasn’t like the usual one-liners he’d shoot at you for your behavior or the smile you lacked while on the job, that sickening ‘Capitano’ that escaped his lips before he would tell you that you were only training for the future that would never come. This time, however, Captain Curly shot a mournful look at Jimmy, leaving you to look at the two with confusion, “I’m sorry?” The blond cleared his throat, accepting that you obviously knew he knew something, “Well, I noticed you hadn't tried to make contact with your mother since we had begun our descent, and while I don't know your situation, as Captain, I intervened and told your mother the situation and your change in behavior.” “And why would you do that?”
There's a silence that falls between the three of you while you all stand in the cockpit, Jimmy's quick to say, “I noticed your change in behavior since the news was told, and you hadn't really been active with the rest of your coworkers, so I asked Captain Curly here to contact your loved ones to let them know the situation. Standard Pony Express procedure.” You find your eyes twitching with the frustration building up, Jimmy shakes you violently and can't wait to have Captain Curly open up that can, but you can’t give him that satisfaction. You replace the loud groan that's built up in your chest with a cool exhale as you gather your thoughts and emotions before you speak up, “Well, I don't see why you two would do something like that without me knowing–” “Standard. Procedure. Besides, they were bound to find out anyway.” Jimmy cut you off, you bite your tongue with a quickness before Captain Curly spoke up, “I do, apologize, for not speaking to you about it but from the way Jimmy explained the situation it seemed dire, you hadn't contacted her since we departed, and it's better to ask for forgiveness–”
You smack your tongue against the roof of your mouth, scowling at your superiors like you were Squidward, having to deal with another ignorant situation between the yellow-colored fool and the bumbling idiot with the crude voice. Was it now that you had begun to realize how bad these two sucked? I mean, obviously, Jimmy was corrupted from the start, and the switch-up did nothing but confuse and frustrate you. Captain Curly, though? “Captain, I don't see how that would concern you. You know, since you're not even really my captain anymore.” You looked up into their eyes, you searched for any change in their stature, and yet, you're met with nothing, “I mean, we all got fired and you're just still trying to play Captain? For what?” “Because it's a Captain's job–” “No, I asked you, why are you doing this shit to me? You call anyone else's parents?” “Well…no,” You then scoffed, “What am I a fucking child to you?” Jimmy sneers, crossing his arms dismissively, “You're acting like one.” You put the palm of your hand up in the brunette's direction, “If I wanted the opinion of the spare, then I would've asked.” Captain Curly is quick to cut in, “F/N, please, you don't need to act so hostile to us, Jimmy was only looking out for you.”
You raised a brow, “Me? Hostile? Can I just tell you how I feel? Since you care so much about my feelings, I'm assuming you wanna be some school counselor, go and contact my mother ‘just in case’ like I'm some goddamn liability.” Captain Curly reached out to you and stepped back instantly, his hand flinches back away from you before looking back up to you, bringing it back to him without hesitation. You fear it's disgust that guided your body back, and you know it’s Captain Curly’s reaction that helps you realize it, “Jesus, you think I'm some fickle thing that's going to crack? You think being fired and going back to Earth is gonna make me fold?” Jimmy then cuts between the two of you, “You've been nothing but insubordinate since you got here, constantly needing to say something–” You bark out a laugh, “I know the fuck not! All you do is sit there and wallow in your self-pity when you're not belittling me for every little mistake.” “How are you supposed to get better if you can't even take constructive criticism?” You find the anger bubbling up inside you, but you just clench your fist behind your back as you try to keep a cooler composure when addressing the two.
“I mean, I've tried to be nice to you and accommodate whatever clear mental issues you have, but it's hard to work with someone who's just constantly regressing and challenging me. You need to understand we're your superiors, and what we say goes.” You look at Jimmy through your lashes, praying this obstructed view of him would make you wanna punch him less, as you turn from him, they land on Captain Curly's gaze, whose arms are crossed. “I’m very disappointed that you're being like this, F/N,” Your eyes widened at what your dear Captain just dared to utter to your face. “You know how hard Jimmy has been working to not let his issues get the better of him, and instead of working alongside him and understanding you both are going through the same thing, you instead are constantly lashing out and hurting those around you who only want to help. It's disheartening to see, and it's no excuse to just completely shut yourself away from the rest of the group just because you can't control your emotions.” Captain Curly then sighs, “I understand that everyone's under a lot of stress right now, just the other day Anya had a moment of weakness just like this, and I’m not surprised if Swansea is dealing with Daisuke, so I don’t have to, you know, Anya said, ‘Your worst moments don't define you.’ And I hope you take those words into consideration.” You look at the two men before Captain Curly looks at Jimmy and then back to you, you clear your throat before you speak, “Oh, Captain Curly, you're right…” Both men’s eyes widen. “I shouldn't be taking it out on my superior when they're just trying, but I'll be honest when I say that my superior isn't as great as you are, Captain Curly.” Your eyes flicker between the two, but they hold on to Jimmy as you continue to speak, “Honestly, it'd be better if I trained after you, like I'm supposed to, under an actual captain.” Jimmy’s face stays straight but his eyes call you a slew of phrases that demand an ass whooping, unfortunately for you, Captain Curly looked between the two of you and he cut in with a bit of annoyance in his tone.
“You're dismissed for the day.”
You nod, “Aye aye, Captain.”
Your hands clenched the thin sheets of your bed, the place you've reported to whenever you stopped training with Jimmy ever since the talk with the two, actually, since Curly's birthday party, of course, you had to leave and do your job, but you became curt with a lot of things. You’ve done nothing but just been in bed since you’ve been dismissed, like a child in time out, you feel this embarrassing feeling wash over you that Jimmy was right. Acceptance is most likely the right word. As you lie in bed with nothing more than a disgusting amount of guilt consuming you after you've done that, your thoughts are loud, and you try to tune them out with the familiar sounds of Tuplar’s only way of communication. You listen for creaks, footsteps, hissing of pipes, and so on. You focus on the door opening and closing in the next room over, you're not surprised since Anya’s always been a night owl. You think back on her frequently during the night, embarrassment floods your face as you think back on you just mindlessly cussing into the wind.
Your knuckles are white, and while your mind drifted away from the sounds and back to your consciousness, the words of your co-workers' echo throughout your mind as if they'd all surrounded your bed just to dissect you. You lay there, unable to move, as they cut you open and critiqued all the things you had done. You think about how Captain Curly's disappointed by your performance and had to call your mother like a 5-Year-Old, how's Swansea barely even acknowledged you unless it was to snicker at something you said as if the sound of your voice didn't matter unless it was to elicit laughter out of him, you would pray on you would talk to you but since the birthday party she's been so distant from you you're scared to reach out and you remember the times you'd go knock on her door to find no answer, you could obviously hear her in there shuffling or moving around, and you'd call out for her, but she never answered, and for you, that was your answer. And then there was Daisuke. It was even more embarrassing, the idea that he was so enveloped in himself, sure, you had to make the effort to talk to him, but he hadn't done it yet either. Was it a stalemate to see who would break first?
You prayed that you would talk to you first, though; The idea that Jimmy was the person you would be stuck with, that he was the only one talking to you, that he was the only one paying attention to you, disgusted you beyond belief. You couldn't believe that somebody like him would want to be around someone like you, you wanted to change your appearance, and how you were willing to go a complete 360 just to make sure he wouldn't acknowledge your existence the way he didn't do others. Sure, you would have to join neutral coworker terms, but God, it felt like being around him was his chance to indoctrinate someone into his pessimistic lifestyle. You're not surprised that he was able to pick you out, but it scares you that he knew exactly how to do it. You shiver in your bed, and you wonder if it's your blanket or the reality of your situation.
You find your mother's face when you close your eyes, it's most likely the reason you've been going to bed immediately after work, the exhaustion allowing you to completely forget about everything. “You can't keep running away,” she'd say, a phrase that clung to your skin like wet clothes. There's a comfortable silence that fills the room, and your most desperate attempts to lull yourself to sleep go through your phone. However, it doesn't take you long to open up your Messenger, and while your finger hovers over the conversation, you already know what you're looking for. You hold a gaze as the light reflected from your phone makes your eyes squint, you focus in on those familiar messages, and the depression consumes you once more as you're laid out all the times you could've said something, explained the situation, and gone back to his embrace.
Your thoughts flicker to the relationships you tried to build after Daisuke. There were other people, but God, were they awful. A lot of them are just your mom's friend’s kids: A-Plus Students, most definitely going into STEM, family-oriented, and their futures perfectly crafted by their own families. In those moments where you hold their hands and put on the display of affection for your mother and their friends you just thought back on Daisuke's laugh, the way it dribbled like a basketball before he let out a satisfying sigh after you said something funny, the smile lines on his face were apparent as always and in that face you couldn't believe that a rainbow could contest it.
What was it about him?
You huff and put your phone back down on your bed, you can't escape this though, your form of self-harm was efficient as you closed your eyes to be met with those beauty marks that decorated his face and those distinct honey brown eyes that sparkled at the sound of your voice–The ship's hull creaked again, and the sound of metal scraping against mental center jolt through your body. You shoot up, the sounds loud but distant, only for them to make their way down in an escalating manner.
The alarms blare wildly, they're tearing your eardrums apart, and the sound of the shop groaning under the strain of its descent wasn't easing its way in but instead shoving itself through your hands and into your ears. The red glow of the alarm bathes your body as you're left with nothing more than the thought of your life this far. This unforgiving world was finally taking you out, and you could do nothing more but accept this. You prayed in your room to anyone that would listen, a God, or multiple, someone who was higher than you in the universe, that could guarantee you that whatever was causing this ship to be shaken so violently would kill you swiftly.
The sirens wailed louder, their shrill pitch blending with the sound of the wind rushing around the ship and creating a vortex of sound that sounded like a symphony made to distort and overstimulate you. Although overstimulation is an understatement. With those sounds, those moments flash before your eyes, the risk you never took, the places you never went, the people you've never met, and the people that you did meet, you failed.
Over and over and over and over.
Your hands are now scraping at your head, you feel the tears rushing down your face as all that surrounds you feels like it's falling apart, the ship shakes violently, and it only adds to the destruction of your senses. You would never go out after things that made you feel alive; you only took this internship because your mom wanted it, and it was the only way you'd be able to escape that wretched woman for just a year. You couldn't even escape her in college, now that you were accepting death just to avoid the idea of having to deal with anyone anymore. The red glow from the warning light colored your face as you squeezed your eyes closed. Maybe you'd never really know what it was truly like to be happy; this ship felt like that start, but now that it's over, why would you even care? It feel familiar to the feeling when you had to tell Daisuke your mom wanted you to go home, keeping you irritated the rest of time you were hanging around Daisuke, he'd try to quell your frustrations and sympathize with your situation but all you could do was hold a bitter resentment by the reminder that this wasn't forever.
The speed of the ship's convulsions only continues to grow to terrifying heights as your stomach feels like a blender, you don't remember having motion sickness, but it does feel like you're about to cover the area in your vomit. Maybe you'd never know what it'd be like to be truly happy, and maybe this was the price you had to pay for not living your own true life. The ship hurdles downward, and your thoughts are back to being filled by the people who take up that space happily. A chair awaited them as they waved and called for your attention. They could quell your fears if you listened. You look around for anything, your body flings back into the wall, and you let out a loud grunt with a slur of curses escaping your throat as your back aches from the exposed pipes that slammed into your back. Even in this pain, you knew that you deserved it.
In some way, shape, or form, you knew this needed to happen.
It was all strange, a better discomfort knowing that the end was coming. There's no more pretending. No more should-haves or must-haves or have-nots, just acceptance. And as your head continued to slam against the wall and you closed your eyes, you took a deep, shaky breath and waited for impact. You couldn’t imagine being stranded on this ship, as it plummeted towards the unknown, you only prayed harder that a pipe would come shooting down from the ceiling and crush your skull into minced meat.
Unfortunately, what awaited you was far from what you had wanted.
❝ BUT THOUGH I MAY NEVR BE FREE, FUCK YOU AND YOUR MONEY. ❞
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 4k
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ Learning how to pick and choose your own battles
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Overthinking | Cursing | Daisuke pining | Song: Drunk Walk Home - Mitski
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ two chapters, just hours apart, making this writer's block my bitch
You all shuffled around in the lounge area, wondering for a moment if he was coming or not, and you all just tried to hush your giggles. Mainly you and Anya. Daisuke joined in alongside the two of you, you found yourself a bit conflicted by the feeling as you remember Swansea coming to complain about him to you and Anya in the med bay. Everybody was trying to keep themselves low. Nonetheless, as you guys slipped on the hats and got yourselves prepared in front of the door, you guys could hear as heavy footsteps beginning to pound against the floor.
As the door slid open you immediately blew into your noise maker, everyone clapped with smiles across your faces. “Surprise!” Jimmy cheered with Daisuke getting more eager, “Suuuurrrprise! Look at your face!” Anya and you giggle, “We gotcha!” You chirped. There’s a quiet, ‘Cheers’ that laves Swansea thus commemorating the moment.
Curly’s face, however, was more than just shocked by the party.
“Uh, wow…What’s the, uh, occasion?” You raise a brow, “We only get one communal birthday party per trip so we can have it whenever–” Jimmy then explains, his voice more bombastic, “Only one person can really be surprised birthdayed per trip. We did Swansea last haul, don't you remember?” Daisuke perks up, “No way! I can't believe that.” Jimmy doesn’t even acknowledge what Daisuke says, “You were next on the list. So, congratulations.” You decide to break the news though, “Congratulations! Surprise, you also need to make the cake!” You let out an awkward laugh while Daisuke laughs alongside you, “Aw, Dude, that’s like totally balls.” Anya laughs alongside the two of you, “You’re the only one with clearance, you better hop to it, Captain!” The three of you continued laugh while Curly just sighed jokingly before making his way over to the kitchenette.
You all made your ways into your own areas, You looked around for a moment, a bit conflicted on what to say, until you saw Anya start talking to Swansea and now you wonder if you should interrupt them or not. You grab your index finger, twisting it around in your hand before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see Jimmy, “This was a really corny idea.” You hush him, “You’re just mad it’s not about you.” The man rolls his eyes before Curly makes his way from Anya and Swansea to the two of you, “We’re sorry for jumping you, Curly.” You scoff at his phrasing, “I’m not, the celebration of reaching new heights is nothing more than exciting.” “You’re a lot more chipper today than usual, F/N.” “Well, of course, it’s a birthday party, I love birthday parties!”
You don’t know where it started, but just going to somebody's house and being free of your mother to be able to eat as much as you want and play as much as you want, it brought you so much joy. You listen in on their conversation, but it's one ear and out the other as you see Daisuke just standing around by himself, you're most definitely staring but you try to hold yourself back and restrain yourself from any feelings you might have felt before. You don't know where you stand with him and as much as you want to say something you hold yourself in.
You think back on those time with him, there was this one time where the both of you were alone your mother had this big birthday celebration and it honestly killed you to do it because you hated it was a big grand birthday with all your extended family members meant for her to dress you up and brag about you to everybody and you felt so pathetic about it. You didn't invite Daisuke for the same reason you never invited Daisuke because your mom hated him and not even just that they would be so embarrassing and belittling for him to see you put into such a misconstrued character.
You shot out of the passenger seat of your mother's car, you're so embarrassed by this woman, she made such a big deal about this party, but this party is never for you it's for her it's always been for her, and you just look at your family and you're angry. You're in front of your house and it's raining, any semblance that was once held together now washed away by the evening’s events. You quickly rush to the door and your mother rushes behind you even more angry at the fact of what you had just done.
“F/N!? F/N! You get back here and you come tell me what the hell that was about!” You struggle with the key, and you almost break it inside of the lock before your door flies open with your weight on the door and you fall forward onto your living room floor, “Fuck!” You shout in pain as your mother comes rushing over, “Oh my God! Are you drunk!? Is this why you're acting out!?” You immediately hiss in pain as your mother steps over your body and slams the door on your feet, causing your knees to come to your stomach as you clenched your already damaged foot. The heels your mother was forcing you to wear only added onto the pain as you slowly got up from the floor and put pressure on them. You let out another curse in pain that caused your mother to pop you upside the head, you immediately clutch the spot and glare at the woman.
“What the hell was that!? You had one job, sit there and stuffed your face like you wanted, like I've done for you every year, you had no business to say all that to your family!” You immediately spat at your mother, “That's such bull!” You quickly shot up and adjusted your posture, trying to hold your ground against your mother, “I've been forced to do everything under the sun! I just wanted one day we did something low-key like staying home, I didn't want to go all the way out there, and I didn't want to see all my family, and I didn't want to wear this dumb outfit!” You tried to tear the dress off you and your mother immediately rushed over to stop you from ripping the dress, “You stop! I spent money on this! The nights I worked to afford it-” “Oh! Like I forced to you work those hours!? I'm not gonna put on a show when you can't even do your motherly duties!”
Your mother growls at this, “What the hell do you mean? I've been nothing but an amazing mother to you, working to the bone for you since your ungrateful self was born!” You gasp at this, “I ask you to come to my one event, a public speaking event that I told you I needed you to come to! I even told you what I told you the night before after work and I told you how much it meant to me, and you said you would be there!” Your mother rolls her eyes at this, as if the idea of even treating like an equal is something she'd actually do, “Oh, please, F/N, I was just tired-!” You immediately yell at the woman, “Tired my ass! You were with your boyfriend all yesterday and when I got home you were all up and ready to go!” You then felt your voice crack, “You didn't even ask me about it!”
Your mother scoffs at this, “I don't even remember what you're even talking about.” You're looking at this woman with this crazed expression, “What I told you!? The reason I'm going to therapy now?” Your mother then scoffed again, “You're mad at me for what? For something I missed months ago.” “It was last-fucking-week!” Your mother then just puts her hand in your face, “You’re not crying for any reason, cussing me out then crying to make yourself look like the victim won't work on me! you're not properly conducting your feelings around your mother, and you can't make me feel bad for all the hard work I do. I suggest you go back to your therapist with all this because I'm not the one.” You didn't even know you were crying; you thought this wetness was from the rain and you just felt your chest expand as your mother then pulled her hand down, “You better get your shit together, F/N.”
You let the air come out of you, you sigh and adjust your posture before you nod to your mother, “Yes, ma'am.”
It's embarrassing to think about now, not the way you acted but what you wasted on such a woman. You made your way up the stairs and found Daisuke sitting there on your bed with your favorite flavor of cake, some candles scattered around the top, and the way it was decorated was emanating the energy Daisuke put into it. It's a love you miss, as you look back down at that cake and you listen to him slowly sing happy birthday to you feel your heart about to tear out of your body you're embarrassed by it all and now here you were exposed completely and in clothes that didn't represent you, a part of you that you only had to show to make others feel better and one that Daisuke was all too familiar with, but with Daisuke you allowed yourself to become carefree and being clear about not wanting to be that way around him.
Yet here you were in front of him, in the worst state you could possibly imagine, candlelight reflecting on your wet face and back onto Daisuke's warm one. Two of you knowingly look at each other, there's hidden grief in his face as you look to him for comfort from everything, a fireplace after a blizzard, and he looks to you like a child looks to an injured baby bird.
“Happy birthday to you…”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, beginning to hiccup as you feel all the bottled-up feelings inside you slam against your psyche like a poorly made dam, at the scene with your throat clogged with your laughter
“Happy birthday to you…”
Daisuke looked at you, an awkward laughter left his throat as he looked at you with wide eyes.
“Happy birthday, dear F/N…”
The both of you began to burst into laughter, snorted and howls echoing from the room as he continued.
“Happy birthday, to you!”
Your laughter slowly fades out, and so does Daisuke, he lets out a satisfied sigh as he prayed it was just your laughter but as it continued you immediately clutched your stomach and felt the sob ripping from your throat.
Daisuke quickly put the cake down on the desk near your bed and ran to comfort you, he wrapped his arms around you head on and you tried to pull away only for him to pull you closer, your hands rushed his back, and you clenched his hoodie as you soaked his shoulder in your tears.
You found yourself staring at Daisuke a little longer than you should have. In fact, it got to a point where even curly called to it, “Lost in the sauce?” You blinked before directing your attention to Curly, “I'm sorry?” Jimmy groans, “Don't listen to him, Daisuke said it to him and now he says it whenever people are zoning out, he said it to me and Swansea the other day.” Curly makes his way over to Daisuke leaving you and Jimmy alone, “Y'know, guys don't like it when you just stare at them.” You roll your eyes at this, “Oh, please.” The silence between the two of you is all knowing and you two comfortably sit in it before Curly summons you all the table, you take a seat next to Jimmy with Anya across from you and Swansea next to her, Daisuke eagerly sits next to you, smiling softly at you, “Seat buddies!” You feel this warmness; you feel your stomach swarm with butterflies, and you feel your gaze never breaking from him before he turns away to turn to face Curly.
It was almost like he knew you were staring, he let you savor that big dumb smile that showed off his teeth that were sculpted by braces in 4th grade and the Invisalign he wore later. You hated it, you knew he knew, and it killed you to even be around him as you smell that tropical breeze body mist, he's adored since 8th grade. It fills your nose and feel even more on edge than you did before, you’re almost embarrassed by the situation. Your head is clouded with fragments of memories and familiar sounds that do nothing but puncture your heart tactfully for the greatest pain. You’ve drowned out most the conversation between the group until you heard Swansea’s gruff voice hit your ear, “Pony Express finally kicking the bucket, huh.” Your head immediately perked up, everyone expresses their grievances with the situation, and you feel awful for those deeply affected by the loss.
Jimmy wasted no time in criticizing Captain Curly, the group is wrapped up in their own self-pity to even realize what Jimmy is saying. “Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real.” Your foot goes flying to Jimmy’s under the table, his breath hitches, and he shoots out a slur of insults to you, “You bitch!” “You’re the fucking bitch!” You both glare at each other as he continues, "You're only acting out because you know you don't have to do anything. That this is it for you, and that this was your first time even coming on this fucking ship, spoiled just like Daisuke, you’ll both be fine since you can both run back to your parents but what about me and Swansea? How many employments years Swansea got left in him?" You try to hold your tongue, "But you."Jimmy directs his attention to Curly, "Headed for bigger and better, right?" You yell at him again, “We’re all out of a fucking job! But you won’t just lump everyone’s problems into your fuck ass pity party!” Jimmy scoffs at your behavior, but Curly’s quick to step in. “Look! We all just need to fucking calm down! I'm just…” An exhausted sigh escapes him, "I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape!" The snap causes Anya and Daisuke to flinch, “That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor-” “We're the ones you're trying to escape!” Jimmy needed this, something the belittle somebody is as great as Captain Curly was to him. The fact that he could even think they were both on the same level with something so unfathomably disgusting to him, you could tell from Jimmy's voice that he was just frothing at the mouth praying Curly would slip up in his wording.
“Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean.” “That's not what I meant.” “It is what you meant. You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. abandon the crew but remain the model captain.” it pains you to say this but as you notice everyone around you just look at curly for an answer there's a gnawing feeling that Jimmy's kind of right, even if it's the most pessimistic view of it, Curly would be going on to better things and you would all be let go while he soars. It's embarrassing to see Curly say nothing, you wonder if he even cares enough to argue with Jimmy at this point given the fact it won't actually impact him in the long run.
Swansea scoffs at the display, he's disgusted by Jimmy's actions but even more so by Curly having no rebuttal, "Unbelievable." He spits out in disgust.
Anya is filled with existential dread at the situation with no funds awaiting her and no job willing to accept her in this low level of her medicine field she wonders what she's even doing here "What... what am I supposed to do?" She chokes out in hushed whispers as her eyes drill into the floor.
Daisuke’s silent, you're almost shocked by it and when you turn to look at him, you're met with nothing more than a hollowed-out expression, all the feelings of the party sucked dry from him that leaves the two of you to just look at one another with differing expressions.
Jimmy is thrilled by this, successfully tearing Curly’s chest open and shoving away anything in his way to get to the heart. Successfully, he'll slam it onto the table in front of all those aboard the Tuplar leaving Curly to stare at it motionless from across the table. "Let's have some fucking cake, hmm?" Jimmy's hands shoot up, "Props to the twilight cruise of the Tulpar." And they then drop a gesture to Curly, "Props to our Captain and his new prospects!” There's no one with as much joy as Jimmy, while his voice makes him sound scorned inside, he's as giddy as a thief getting off on a Diamond heist.
You cross your arms, unable to accept this situation you slam your hands on the table, “Stop beating a dead horse, Jimmy.” The man rolls his eyes at you, “It's not my fault I actually feel something, it's only your first trip and you're acting like you're actually part of the team of established members.” “You're the one acting all negative, putting everyone down to your level because you have no skills to begin with, Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke are perfectly capable of finding jobs with the skills they have because they don't sit there and rot in their self-pity in the shadow of their Captain.”
The man looks at you with a disgusted glare as he then gestures to the rest of the group, “I don't even see why you're saying all that when no one cares, look at this group,” He gestures to Anya, head still buried in the sand, Swansea not even acknowledging the two of you, and Daisuke silently looking down at the plate before him. The only one who acknowledged what was going on is Curly, and he has this worn-out expression on his face that you remembered looking up to whenever you needed something from your mother…
You turn back to Jimmy, finding yourself a bit conflicted on what to say next, you sit there silently as Curly struggles to cut the cake, everyone gets a slice and after that you all split to your separate workstations. No one's bothered to say anything, eating in silence, returning to work, and going back to square one. You're heading to the cockpit with Jimmy, you find yourself quiet around him and as you continue to make your way alongside him, he speaks up. “Y'know, no one is defending you, just like they didn't defend you then,” You scoff at him, “I thought you weren't going to defend me anymore and let me just live in my ignorance.” Jimmy facepalms, “Look, I get it, you wanted to be better, and you wanted this and that and your whole family has been pushing you to be this since forever but that's not how it is in the real world.” You stop in your tracks as you turn to him with a worn-down expression, uncanny to Curly as Jimmy would put it, “I just–I don't see why you're doing all this for a group that hasn't cared about you besides me!”
You turn away from him, “Yeah, right! What about Anya? I still have Anya.” Jimmy bites back at you, “Oh yeah? You have Anya? Well, where's Anya? Huh? Where's Anya been this whole time? When was the last time you even talked to her?” You think back for a moment, since you dropped her off at her sleeping quarters, while you guys were giddy about early, it had been a while since she had officially talked to you one on one, but that was really only one on one. Whenever you had to work with Jimmy or he came to collect you, Anya would clam up in an instance and usher you out of the Medbay. You're embarrassed to admit that you really don't remember the last time you went on you had a long conversation, she found herself staying up nights now, and she was more cautious about anything you'd bring her since Jimmy would just give it to everyone.
It was like she'd gone solo, and you could do nothing but respect her wishes.
“I mean, she didn't even defend you when you defended her during that bullshit of a party, not even the little twerp you admire so dear.” You felt your face become inflamed, “Yeah, trust me, he's not staring at you the way you think he is.” You roll your eyes at this, “Yeah, like I'd listen to you, Mr. Pessimism.” “Is it pessimism or am I just being honest with you? It's not my fault you can't handle the fact that Daisuke is just constantly thinking with his dick, just like Swansea said, all he's worried about is girls, parties, and whatever other superficial shit he's been spoiled with his whole life.” You want to cover your ears, Daisuke has always been a good friend to you, right? I mean he even texted you after the whole situation, but he didn't really keep trying, did he? I mean it was your fault for just ghosting him and leaving him, but he should have known that your mother is just an awful woman. Who knows what she would've done? If you're honest with Daisuke maybe he'll understand, and you can apologize, and you guys can try to rekindle what you guys had before–
“Trust me, F/N, look at how Curly fell, once he realized he no longer had to put up with us he completely turned us out because he knew it was beneath him…We're beneath him.”
You think back on that withered stare; there's nothing in his face I could tell you he cared and furthermore just the idea that it reminded you of your mother. When she got home from that long day and those awful things happened to you, you'd beg her to quell you, rub your back, coddle you like the child that came from her but that exhausted look that told you all you needed to know allowed you to understand your situation in its truest form. It felt like a car accident; you couldn't rip your away from the gruesome site of one's nonchalant attitude to the devastating impact it would have on you as you yearned for a better life for everyone.
As much as you tried to get rid of it from your mind you couldn't help but just internalize it.
You turned away from Jimmy to the opposite direction of the cockpit where Jimmy then called out to you, “Where are you going? We have work to do?” You couldn't even look at him, you continue to walk back to your sleeping quarters as you felt the hot tears of anguish began to scorch your eyes, he wasn't as bad as the others were in showing their uncaring attitudes to you it killed you that he wasn't nicer about it. Was it petty of you? Of course it was, but you couldn't get over how he tried again and again to make you feel so small just like how he felt. You couldn't allow yourself to feel that hopeless, never again, you were escaping that for at least a year before you could have enough money to move out of state and escape that wretched woman.
❝ I DON'T WANNA BE A CONCEPT THAT YOU PUT EVIL THOUGHTS INTO. ❞
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Daisuke x AFAB! Reader
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 4.3k
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⋮ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ How NOT to mend your relationship with your mentor
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted on AO3 | Jimmy Centric | Overthinking | Cursing | Song: I know - Girls Ritual
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ Its the writer curse fr fr but imma fight 👊🏽👊🏽👊🏽
You were glad to have Anya, someone to allow you that sense of freedom in expression, where Curly wasn’t suggesting, Jimmy wasn’t bossing, and Swansea wasn’t commenting. Alas, you had to remember Daisuke and the dimple that tore away any nonchalant that Daisuke had been using to mask the feeling. You couldn’t face Daisuke, when you left your tasks, you always found Anya, it worked in your favor most of the time as Curly would come talk to Anya, and Jimmy would want to find Curly, and you were always with Jimmy.
On and on it went.
It brought you joy because it was almost like a cycle. That at the end of the day, you'll finally be able to be with somebody you can finally be happy with. And you weren't sitting there hearing all this hullabaloo and all this bullshit that continue to eat you alive having. Jimmy tells you which is wrong and what is right. Never in a way to suggest or make you feel better, but in a way to just sit there and bitch and moan about a situation. He was so racked with self-pity he was honestly disgusting how much he couldn't see outside of himself.
You hated training under Jimmy, but you'll be honest, at least he'd get the job done, you know?
Working with Curly was almost like having an English teacher a drill sergeant. He's such a yes man that it was honestly hard to get any true information out of him because he's trying so hard not to step on your toes. But at the end of the day, it's his job to tell me what to do, isn't it? You and Anya often joked about it, you’d tell tales about him to Anya which you knew she enjoyed, in their little moments of complimenting you wondered about them.
Your time on the Tuplar has been all right. It was definitely a grand experience, something you'd longed for, loved, and even wanted for the rest of your life. In fact, there was nothing bringing you more joy than staying away from home forever.
God, it kept you up at night.
It's where you'd be looking up into your ceiling, in the quiet hours of your sleeping quarters. You just wonder if that's all you'll be doing for the rest of your life. This desperate need to escape from that situation, to be your own person.
Is it really you, or is it your desperate attempt to not be like her?
You don't call your house often, and honestly, you're not really looking forward to calling them in the first place, most of the Tuplar workers talk to their parents around once to twice a month, it’s nothing you try to think about since you’re stuck with Jimmy during that time. “You’re not calling your family, Jimbo?” It rolled out your mouth with an ease, no care to what he might snap back at you as you’ve become accustomed to being a snitch, there’s a flicker of anger in his tone and it almost blows up the conversation as he tries to contain it.
“I'm sorry, there's no Jimbo on this ship,” You laugh profusely. Alright, come on, Jimmillini–” “There’s no one here by the name of that, if you want to address me it’s Jimmy.” You roll your eyes at the situation, “I’ll have to report you for not being warm to your intern, Jimmy.” You smirk; he scowls before rolling his eyes back at you leaving you both to bare your teeth behind a smile as Curly made eye contact with the two of you.
“But for your information, I don’t really have a reason to talk to them.” You nod in agreement, “Yeah, I get that.” There is a silence between you two that leads you both back to the workstation, learning and memorizing controls alongside some small quips. This time around Jimmy isn't as mean in fact he hasn't really said anything belittling since the last time Curly told him to chill out.
You wonder what Curly said for him to be like this though? The corner of lips turns up as he puts a hand on your shoulder and tells you, “Good job.” You look up at the man, worry flooding your face leaving Jimmy's eyes dilated. “You're getting awfully touchy feely there, Jimmy.” The man just smiles at you, “It's just a pat for good luck, you're doing well setting the course and I admire your hard work and dedication.”
Your eyes crease in confusion but you turn back to the screen willingly in hopes you wouldn't have seen the pearly whites he tried to shine at you. You're grateful to anybody who could have really gotten him to stop being such a jerk to you. You welcome this change with an awkward toothy grin, your lips wobble to maintain any type of confidence you may have had before. You walk this uneven path unable to really trust Jimmy.
You two work hand in hand it's almost shocking that you two even were against each other at some point, and this turn around allowed you to finally learn more about Jimmy. What he told you it's just him and his mom, Jimmy's really all alone in this world and he thinks back a lot about how we could have ended up differently, he's vulnerable to you as he mentions how lonely his life had always been, even with Curly.
“He’s practically the sun to everyone that's around us, the light shines out of his fucking ass, and they kiss it like he's their God.” It was a late night in the control panel, just doing a late-night check before heading off to bed which you offered to do for Curly. The two of you had sat in the room alone, looking over the route plan. There's a softness in the situation that leaves your heart aching for more, “Are you envious of that?” Jimmy chuckles dryly, “Who wouldn't be? Being around someone who's just always been that bright? Everyone's constantly praising them for all the things they can do and how amazing they are?”
“Yeah,” You sigh, “Like they're all his friends and you're just there because he wants to be there?” Jimmy listens intently, he says nothing, but you just look into the endless sky before you, “And you're only there because he's there, he and people to bring you along. There's always disappointment in their face when they meet me and they realize I'm nothing like him.” Jimmy nods somberly, “It almost kills me when I'm around the others, Swansea always goes to him for help, Anya constantly dismisses me, and that spoiled child is just scared that there's someone who's there to tell him what he needs to do.”
You turn the chair in confusion to face Jimmy, “I think you're just overthinking it, especially Daisuke, he's trying his hardest with the life he was given, like we all are.” The man rolls his eyes at you and now you're starting to wonder if you should even be here listening to him talk, “Why even defend him? You constantly avoid the boy, it's obvious you two are just contesting each other.” You scoff at his words, “Oh, please, just because I don't talk to him doesn't mean he's not at least trying to be better–” “I don't even see why you'd go through all this trouble to defend him when he hasn't even defended you in the same breath.”
You find your eyebrows are now furrowed, “I'm so sorry?” His tongue smacks the roof of his mouth, “You see, you don't even know this kid, you think all these people on this shop are here for your best interest and want to be with you, and friendly, and nice, when in actuality they're all just trying to do their job.” That's when Jimmy crosses his arms, “I'm the one who has to explain your work to others, Swansea tries to make it a competition so he can be the best of the best when in actuality he's just some whiny old bastard with nothing left when he gets on Earth. I'm the one defending your efforts, I don't see Daisuke saying that you're doing just a great job he just says, ‘Golly Gee! You really think that?’” The voice sounds squeaky and joyous, it sounds nothing like Daisuke, and it's only meant to emasculate him.
You find your eyes fall back into your lap before Jimmy pinches his nose bridge, “Look, I didn't say that so you could sit there and mope about some kid who's probably been in thousands of women before you.” He clears his voice before straightening his posture, you bring your head up to face the man, “I'm telling you because I know you're better than him, better than this, that you can do better, and you shouldn't focus on those naysayers who are doing nothing but allowing some ignorant fool to speak ill of you.”
That's when his hand lands on your shoulder again, you feel curious this time, no disgust in you as you look up into Jimmy's brown eyes in search of hope and comfort. “I won't let that happen. I was angry when Curly passed you off to me, he thinks that just because I'm co-captain that I'm just there to do all the things he doesn't want to do.” You think back on some of the tasks Jimmy has had to do, you always think about how lazy and arrogant he was until you think about those times you've accompanied him on side quests to go see about this, that, and the third.
Your eyebrows soften and you listen earnestly, “He just thinks that you and I aren't really doing what we need to do, even though he helped me get this job I know that he just sees me as someone who needs to be told what to do and when to do it like I'm just another puppet that rises and falls at his will but I'm more than that, and you are more than that.”
Were you the puppet?
“There’s so many other people that can do the job, like being around someone who always has their phone constantly buzzing when you guys are around each other because he wants you to know you're expendable…”
Are you expendable?
You remembered the phone covered in stickers buzzing violently whilst you both hung out at his house, you asked him to mute it several times but...
“They're his friends, he can't just stop talking to them, he doesn't prioritize you because he knows there are others to go for when it's all said and done.”
Jimmy then sighs, “We're the last ones he talks to during check in because he always wants the good news before the bad news, because he can't handle anything else…” you don't know what to say and honestly you don't even know if you should say anything you're embarrassed by the fact that he might be right about all this about everyone and you hate it because you don't want to believe this. There's no way in this whole wide world that everyone thinks less of you and that even Daisuke is doing better than you, there's no way, right?
You shake your head at this, “Jimmy I don't think that's true I just think that maybe you're spiraling about this and it's okay, people will like us, you and me, I just think that maybe–” The man lets out a groan, he makes his way out of the cockpit in a hurry angered by the fact you disagreed with him. “I won't foster such ignorant thinking, you wanna believe they're out there defending you like I am, being there for you outside of needing something then you can meet that awakening by yourself.” You look down into your lap and look down at your shoes and sigh
Grateful you were when the next ‘day’ finally rolled over, nothing brought you more joy than when the psychiatric reports had to be done. It had been 147 days since you joined the– “Oh I'm so sorry, around 5 months!” You nod thanking Curly with a soft smile, “Yeah, the days thing always freaks me out, feels like they're numbered, y'know?” You try to hold back your laughter looking up at Curly as he puts both hands on his hips and squints at you, “Yeah, it does kinda sound ominous doesn't it.” You groan, “No, Captain, I mean, like my days are literally numbered…” Curly then raises a brow before it clicks, “Ah!” There's a hearty laughter that leaves him.
Was your joke really convoluted or was he just not listening in the first place and he's laughing to save face or is he only laughing because he doesn't think it's funny and he just wants to get rid of you?
There's a stifle laughter that leaves Swansea.
What the hell is he laughing for? You weren't that funny. Swansea never laughs at anything, not even Daisuke’s jokes that had you clutching your stomach back in high school we're getting to him. Was he just laughing at the situation? Does he know how unfunny you actually am and he's laughing alongside him just to get rid of you, or is he just laughing because he understands completely that clearly doesn't even think I'm funny and that they're both just laughing out of embarrassment for you that this is humorous that you're just a fucking joke to these people–
“I think that's the first time I've ever heard you laugh!” Daisuke chirps at the man before Swansea ushers Daisuke out of the area, you two make eye contact and it feels like the knife that's tracing your heart has applied pressure to your skin. The way his brown eyes find you instantly through a crowd almost kills you and you never admit how much it's truly affected you.
You wonder if that look is an actual look of care, that even if you actually do care does, he really? Is he looking longer knowing that we have history? Is he looking at me because the last time we ever saw each other he had sex with you? It's not like you really care about what he thinks he's just some spoiled child who hasn't had shit to do since high school. Your nose crinkles at him as you think back on everything, he hasn't even really made the time to even come visit you or talk to you and yeah sure you were avoiding him, but he hasn't tried it all that whole time he was talking to you. Was he only talking to you because he got bored of you, and then now he's just trying to come back and talk to me because he thinks you're some easy lay?
You take a sip of the coffee Jimmy got for the group, most likely Curly’s advice to make the man more palatable for them. “I'll take this Anya since I got my psychiatric report today,” I explain to Jimmy, he nods, “Yeah, I heard she's trying to burn the midnight oil since we had that little slip up with some parts falling loose because of you know who.” That's when Jimmy uses his thumb to point in the direction of the engineering and his little Internet leaving the room. “Yeah, not surprised he's fumbling so much since his little hot streak for the first couple of months on this ship.” You nod, saying goodbye to Jimmy before making your way out the room leaving both Curly and Jimmy in the lounge area.
You open the medic door to be met with Anya, she gives you a warm smile and you take it in with your guarded heart pulling up to shield too quickly to allow the feeling to linger before you pull up that fake smile of yours. You breeze through the questions, and you feel a lot better answering them than the first couple times as you've developed this small relationship with her. You answer them honestly though you know Anya has to do her job and you won't stop her from doing that and fulfilling what she believes is right.
You think back on what she had the first time around: “I need you to be honest because I need to be better at this, I need to know that I'm actually learning and growing from this.” It was after you made too many jokes about your mental issues, she going tired as much as she was trying to be as lenient with you as she could as a friend and it's become exhausting to hear you constantly talk bad about yourself in such a joking way as if it didn't affect you when it's so clearly and obviously did.
It brought something else in her, this, a deep sense of insecurity as she wondered if they were even taking her seriously as a real nurse as if she wasn't really doing anything and if she was so underqualified that everybody had just been looking down at her, had she always been just belittled to just don't take it seriously it's coming here and joke.
“Y'know, I'm glad you were honest this time around, F/N, I was beginning to worry I had another Jimmy on my hands.” You cock your head to the left, “I beg your pardon?” Anya sighs, “He just comes in here and makes jokes, feels like talking to a teenage boy and I have to get Curly to do it and it's so embarrassing!” The way it shot from Anya’s mouth in such a flustered manner left you bewildered, as if she was really just fed up with Jimmy to begin with. That's when she took a sip of the coffee you put on her desk, she let out a satisfying sigh before thanking you, “I'm glad someone on this ship thinks of me.” I smile before shushing her, “Oh, no. Jimmy made some for everyone.” Anya raised a brow, “Everyone's up right now?” You nod, leaving her to sigh before going back to work.
You stay in the room for a little while as she finishes up some last-minute notes, she slowly looks up at you from her desk and develops a giddy smile. “Y’know, we haven't spent a lot of time together in a while and honestly, I really do miss you coming over and watching dumb reality television.” You scoff at this. Thinking back on everything and you just roll your eyes, “Y’know, you don’t have to say dumb it’s reality television.” The two of you share a warm giggle, the both of you make your way out of med bay and towards the resting quarters to go watch some more reality TV.
As the two of you make your way over to Anya's room, there's a sort of stumble, a bit of a trip, and suddenly Anya's hand lands on your shoulder to support herself. You question if she's all right and she tells you that she's good, but you don't believe it. The woman smiled warmly at you, and you clutch her body as you direct your way into her area, you stumble a bit as you knock over her needles and yarn kept in a small basket next her bed. I quickly curse myself and apologize before Anya mumbles, “It’s okay…Everything…okay…” You sigh; a bit frustrated by her exhaustion as you help her lay in bed. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself Anya, you don’t have to overexert yourself, it’s just a small group and we can all do this even if you need a break.” You smile sweetly and she smiles back, tangling her fingers in your hair, “God, you’re like gorgeous, an angel sent from above…” You feel your face flushed before you watched her eyes flutter close.
You lightly shook her just a little bit just to see if she was even a bit awake, you were in awe that she was knocked cold. ‘I hope she stops overworking herself.’ You were still in awe nonetheless; you were concerned on where to go from here. It was most definitely late; the yawn that escaped your throat was deafening and you tucked her into bed as you made your way out the room. “Goodnight, Anya…” You say softly before turning around and making your way over to the door only to be met with a solid form that caused you to take a step back. You rubbed your head, and you looked up to see Jimmy.
“Jimmy?” You're so confused by what the hell you could be doing over here at this time. You cock your head a bit and Jimmy raises a brow as he causes his arm, “what are you doing all the way over here isn't your room a bit farther from Anya's?” You hesitate but you still crease your eyes as you look at them a bit confusingly, “Yeah, we were just hanging out in the med bay before she invited me back over but then she, like, fell asleep. I think she's just working herself.” You share this grief with Jimmy who only rolls his eyes, “She shouldn't be overworking herself; she's acting like this is being a real nurse. No wonder she's never good, if she just put that time into studying instead of taking care of dumb and dumber than she'd actually pass.” You immediately hushed him, putting your hands on him and pushing him back out the room allowing the door to close behind the two of you.
“Even then she's still trying, you shouldn't talk about people like that, that's rude, Anya's one of the few people on this ship who can really see the good in everybody, so I'll be damned if you're about to be that way about her.” There's a silence between Jimmy, he scoffs at you, “like I said before if they were really caring about you and they really saw you for your best interest and why did it take so long for Anya to hang out with you until today? I'm just saying, F/N, I personally don't even see why you defend somebody who's so…” Jimmy catches the look on your eye, you're growing irritated and his eyes dart to see the balled-up fist you have with your nails digging into your palms.
The man looks back from your hands and towards your eyes, the harshness in your gaze leaves him hurt, he sighs as he clears his throat. “Y'know what, you're right.” Jeremy then changed his posture, and you subtly fix yours but still hold your irritated expression, “Listen, you were right about everything. I don't even know what I was thinking saying all that stuff about somebody who you still considered a friend. Who am I to judge who you keep in your circle when I completely trust you.” Your features soften, “Trust?” Jimmy nods before sighing, “I guess you could say, I was a bit sad by the fact that you left to go to your psych eval. We’ve gotten to be around each other, and I know last night I got angry, and honestly it was just kind of rough being without you, maybe it was being jealous of your other friends, and for that, I hope you can forgive me.”
You raise a brow, there's no universe where he feels this way genuinely, you're on edge by the feeling but then you look into his face and there's this kind of expression like a beating down dog. It felt like you were rereading Shiloh back in your 3rd grade classroom, and you remembered that dog's distressed look as it prayed to have that type of special attention. You change your wording, “Listen, I don't mind us being friends getting to know each other and being on better terms, but that was completely unacceptable. I don't want to be told that I'm just the runt of the group, I got really in my head earlier and it was hard for me to be around Curly and then when we were in the lounge. "You then sigh to yourself, “I could tell from the way you talk that you were just looking out for me but that's not how you do it. I'm not mentally ready for that type of rejection, as pathetic as it sounds.”
Jimmy laughs, “Yeah, I know a lot about being pathetic.” “Your self deprecation rubbed off on me to a point where Anya pointed it out,” The two of you looked at one another with a conflicted look before letting out an annoying sigh, “Oh brother, she can't take a joke.” You then spoke up in defense, “Can't take a joke when you're making a mockery of her career, you can't just give someone coffee as offering you gotta apologize like you're doing with me.” Jimmy then gives you a smile, it's awkward and crooked like it doesn't belong, it's eerie and you try to get rid of this feeling for the sake of having a more positive relationship with your trainer.
You smile back, “So, uh, why were you out here?” just as awkward as his before you try to think about what you want to say, “Just a mandatory check…Making sure you're all here and safe, even in space you could never be too safe as Curly says.” You chuckle, “Yeah, not surprised there.” The two of you share a laugh, the dark chuckle that escapes his throat feels even more terrifying, you quickly dismiss yourself to get back to the comfort of your enclosed space, “Well, I'll be heading back.” You say, you turn in the opposite direction and wave him off, Jimmy nods, his smile falling, “Goodnight, F/N.” You feel a shiver down your back, turning around to wave awkwardly back at him, it's hard to even emit any joy with the darkness of the area just shadowing his face and only highlighting the dead look in his eyes that tore you apart.
I am Momen Al Mdhoun, a graphic designer and a father to 2 adorable kids, I need your help to get my voice heard and amplified by sharing my family's campaign?
Your help may save us from genocide and famine 💔
Please reblog my post and donate if you can 🙏🏻
✅Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #291 )✅
