reonbinstein

Used to be known as Tonbinnie! Ranges of fanfiction to read from! Building from scratch, enjoy!

[servingstein]

One Tomas Vrbada coming UP. I like this g, love his design and all. Might write a younger childhood to now story?

What do you guys think?

[servingstein]

Hello, I saw your Mortal Kombat post :) Liu Kang for me is really fun to write, I might be a bit biased since I love him so much but I'd honestly love to see more people write him & write x reader fanfics with him

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

AU: Maybe a angst! Fluff! Liu Kang

Warnings: None.

Author’s Notes: Sorry for the long wait! I am so sorry because I did not see the request as I didn't get the notifications, another thing: I hope it is not to angst! I know you wanted something soft!

Everything has been building up in his mind.

The maintenance of The Hourglass. (Despite Geras being given the role of Guardian of The Hourglass seems to not ease his mind as the Protector of Earthrealm.)

Watching over the Earthrealm's Defenders (mostly Johnny and Kung Lao) and Lin Kuei, ensuring that none are harmed and missions remain successful.

The over-worrying of his decisions and changes made on everyone's fate and history being rebuilt from the ground up.

Even if he resolved a handful of the dilemmas; there's still a myriad and countless amount of complications made from his previous attempts to solve the situations at hand. Those plentiful potential paths of suggestions lingered in his brain as his neurons tunneled ahead and fired its neurotransmitters against the synapses, leaving him with endless ways of dealing with future problems.

Liu Kang had been this way for days and nights, lost in the vastness of his mind. Currently, he is rigidly sitting on the edge of the disheveled bed, elbows to the knees and his fingers buried under the red headband he always wore. The calloused finger pads of his rubbed through his hair to his scalp. He was trying to find ease in the massage, yet he still felt on edge. Playing over the eons he crafted and rid off when it was not to his liking, fearing that he might have missed out on the tiny details that might explode in his face.

Watching universes be reset, reset and reset. The crushing weight of mistakes changed into trauma. Watching thousands of ways his friends died. Insomnia inching in, month by months after he abdicated from his role as the Titan.

'What if I made a mistake with everything?'

'What if I dealt with everything immediately?'

'What if I erased the ones who I knew in the past? Did I take away parts of what makes them?'

'What if I suffered the same fate as Kronika? Descending into madness and harming the people I lo--'

"Liu Kang?"

His questions had slowly faded away. Everything that he ruminated on had buried itself in his eigengrau of his fatigued mind. Hands slowly peeled away from under the headband when that soft-spoken voice murmured out his name.

He then felt it. The familiar fingers climbing the tense muscles of his spine. Stroking, kneading, pressing into his back enough for him to subconsciously let out soft, airy 'mmmh' when it slid and swam into his long luscious locks, nails scratching against his neck and splayed as he gently tilted his head to the side, his glowing eyes tiredly looking into the corner of the chambers.

The saccharine, fruity smell flooded his nostrils. He thought back to last week when you were feeding him multiple mandarins. You were offered a handful of oranges in bags by Kung Lao and Raiden when they visited Madam Bo at her tea-house for a week away from their duties.

"She sent her regards for caring for him since the time he refused to eat, also mentioned to look after yourself as you were overworking yourself lately."

You refused the gifts at first, feeling indebted with nothing to offer in return but the boys remained firm, holding the bags for you to take. You had to do it. Kung Lao and Raiden, those two are sweethearts to you but tend to be complete nuisance when things don't go their way. More to Kung Lao.

Days later after being handed the oranges, Liu regretted you being on your feet. Worrying about his health despite being the Fire God. He no longer gets human illnesses, much to his dismay when you convince yourself he is under the weather often when he is sat looking tired.

Those vocalised worries and look you had on your face every time he returned from The Hourglass or missions. It always ended in you sitting in front of him as he spoke what was on his mind and the exhaustion of it all. Every day was the cycle that ended with you digging your fingers into the skin, tearing it off to feed him the slices whilst offering solutions to his situation.

You never failed to give him terrible advice. He used them. It worked. It took the weight off his shoulders for days until recently his pesky 'human' habit of ruminating thoughts which carried over to his godhood seems to kick into gear once more.

"Yes, my heart?" He responded a few minutes later, slowly relaxing into your fingers. His voice was thick with roughness from his lack of speaking for hours.

"You are not resting." You murmured, moving towards him with your fingers still kneading the base of his neck. "You have been sitting on the edge of the bed."

A faint, weak smile stretched his lips. He turned his head, the white glow of his eyes staring softly into yours.

The divine shine in his gaze was not of the same he used to stare down the enemies that dared to cross him. It was soft, dimmed even. It casts a soft glow on your skin in the dark of the chambers with the Moon glowing through the curtains. He was tired. So terribly tired.

His body heat, one that was always warm, was also dimmed. When touching the skin of his neck, you felt lukewarmness which is so unlike him. Liu used to radiate heat that was hot to touch but comfortable when sleeping next to him.

"The Hourglass still haunts my mind." He muttered, his whole torso along with his legs turning to face you, pulling your fingers away from his head and gathering your hands in his.

His grip was firm with his usual Fire God's never-ending warmth, yet his fingers quivered a little. Liu was completely vulnerable to you, subdued eyes of Liu's looking into yours.

"It tells me something is amiss," He whispered, his voice becoming strained. "The worries, the doubts, the errors I must have missed… They reverberate endlessly, refusing to cease, refusing to let me close my eyes for rest. I have been cast back into the abyss. Those eons I spent building the universes I deemed fit. I feel like a slave to it all, my own reality, (Name). A slave bound to its reality until the mistake is no longer."

You were heartbroken. Your partner saying that he felt like a slave to his own universe, killed a part of you within you thought didn't exist.

You removed your hands from his large ones and pulled him towards you. His muscular arms came around your waist as you hugged his neck in return, with such tightness to ground him to this reality, in this bed where you both are on.

Liu's large hands gripped onto your shirt you wore, holding you tightly against him. He tucked his face into your collarbone, his hair streamed like waves over both of you.

"Liu, I am sorry that this has been hurting you." You uttered, so soft into his ear, thick and soft with concern and sadness.

Hands rubbed against his broad back, comforting him the way that he felt comforted and loved by you.

"You spent those years building the universe, building the earth, people and animals, yes. But you also built it to live in it, with the people you love. Not as you are a slave to the abyss that haunts you. You are not alone in that place. I am with you." Whispered, you moved your head to his neck, still stroking his back, feeling the warmth of his skin thawing under your touch.

"They feel loud in the silence." He muffled against your smooth skin, stripped of his usual personality he gave to everyone to stay strong and firm.

"Then, focus on me."

Liu felt your fingers pull away his hair to touch his face, holding it with so much care as you moved your head to the top of his.

"Let everything you fear and worry scream and shout. Let your stress of being the Fire God stay away. With me, you are Liu Kang, my love. You are deserving of love and happiness. You are allowed to rest in peace with me. I won't let the abyss pull you back with it."

That moment he heard you speak to him. So firm in the belief in him deserving of his own peace. His mind gently quietened not, erased but quietened.

He pulled back by a few inches, loosening his arms around you. His hands moved to your waist and stayed there as his eyes looked into your softly, but with something coming through. A slight spark that you know when he wants to change the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.

"I never knew you have such a hold over a God's mind." Murmured Liu Kang, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Liu Kang, you were a Titan before you were a God. You should know how I am already." You countered, poking at his chest gently.

"Perhaps you are right," Liu Kang fondly whispered, a wide smile that you know him for finally gracing his beautiful face. "But, I do not recall you being this demanding."

"It was because you weren't paying enough attention. Now, go to sleep."

He let out a half laugh and half yawn, finally feeling the heavy eyelids giving away and the sleep crawling into his vision. Liu finally felt that sleep that he always wanted to have. That one that had him sleeping in, cuddled up in the covers, body relaxed for the first time in one of the many eons.

Liu Kang collapsed into the pillows pulling you down with him into the covers with him. He had his arms around your waist, face tucked into the covers. You watched his face soften inch by inch as his breathing slowed. The surrounding within your vision darkened as you snuggled into his frame, feeling his arms tighten as you slept.

[servingstein]

Pairing: Majima x Reader

AU: Yakuza 0

Warnings: harassment, manhandling and dissociation

Author’s note: Hi! I tried my best with this story, was stuck in a really long writer block and was gaining and loosing interest in fandoms but Yakuza was the only one that still remained on top! Sorry if the plot was not clear nor it makes sense, I was just writing it on top of my head onto the Docs.

You resided inside the changing room, shared between your fellow working-sisters that you bonded over the gossip against the other rival cabarets and comforted when male customers became rowdy and groping parts of the frame that sent shivers down the girl’s spine. 

The table was a literal gutter. Torn packets of multi-flavoured tuna, chicken-mayonaise Onigiris; drop of juice inside the water bottles that was shared amongst everyone and as usual - the make up products that always remained shattered across the vanity table. You were bent over so close, craning your neck near the mirror to paint your lashes thicker and fuller. Bronzer, powders, lightweight, waterproof foundations – so many more items that were used to beautify your appearance.

The midnight, sparkling slit dress fitted so tightly over the curves, chest protruding out despite trying to over correct it by wearing full coverage bra but men still ogled and threw money on your thighs. The amount of times you were manhandled by these drunken, sailor-mouthed men is too vast enough to use your fingers to count. The pain is still there, yet you ignored it. Quick on your feet, you fluttered your eyelashes. Pout your lips to the mirror and show the most swooning, rewarded smile. The same broad smile that brought your boss to his knees when he combed over the horde of citizens in search of more workers to recruit and eye contact was made that very moment. He had chased after you across Sotenbori, pleading, kneeling and attempting to spoil you with things that would have caused the working class people to faint from such prices of items that were given to you.

Hesitation was what wracked you from within, you heard about these scams. These bosses would sell people this’ easy’, ‘luxurious’ lifestyle. What it is like working as a hostess under these businesses. 

The promises,

The money,

The fame of being the highest ranking platinum hostess in the whole of Sotenbori,

The amount of men that take you outside, dropping briefcase stacks of money in the boss' hand, to boast about affording you, spoiling you like you are new found treasure to them.

The ‘protection’ that you would get when bringing the most money to the business.

It was all a lie. Bosses didn’t care about the well-being of the hostesses. The male and female hostesses can complain about being stalked, molested; harmed to the point of being hospitalised for severe injuries all for rejecting advances then get physically abused by both the owner and customers. At the end of the as long as they piped down with bribery and the money raked in nonstop, the bosses could not care enough to worry about losing their exhausted workers. 

They can easily replace their workers with bright-eyed, desperate ones. They are better than the in place dishevelled hostesses as they are no longer able to mask and play the game of cat and mouse to reach their boss’ inhumane targets.

Somehow, you were blessed enough with the boss that went through thick and thin to hire you when you remained defiant and suspicious of him and accusations of working in such cabarets. 

He was the reason why paying customers got kicked out of his cabaret for reports of aggressive manhandling and dehumanisation. He indulged in everyone with a sufficient amount of money to live peacefully. You didn’t have to worry about money-hungry landlords breathing down your neck for not paying last month's rent with fees for extra resources. He hired body guards and securities with ties to the clan he worked for just to keep his girls safe. 

“Girls, are you all ready? Today will be a long shift and again, if there is anyone make you uncomfortable, you should–”

“Always come to Hanamura–san to let him deal with the problem as soon as possible!” The hostesses said in cheery unison as they rushed out to start their shift, bowing in respect when passed the threshold of where he stood; checking their appearance from top to bottom and making sure they are healthy and beautiful.

Hanamura Masato Junji saw the room emptied itself in the blink of an eye. He loosened the button of his collared shirt and walked in further to check for anyone before locking the door. He found you still standing against the mirror.

He watched the way your frame uncomfortably tried to accommodate the bruises from two days ago. 

It still hurts. 

So badly.

The way that disgusting old-working man squeezed your inner thigh so tight. The feeling of radiating pins and needles blooming about. His hands holding your arm down as he forcibly dug into your bra, pulling at your chest to yank them out and fondle with them. Your mouth was immediately covered when you tried to alert Junji. Eyes shut tight to accommodate those overbearing agony of the jaw and mouth being squashed inward.

It wasn’t long until he was yanked out the booth. Such violent slurs echoed into your ears. Glasses and bottles shattered at the velocity of everything unfolding right before your eyes. The table coupled over from him kicking it around, trying to throw a punch but too drunken to do so.

It was not real. 

This was not real.

It was as if you were watching a television show so realistic that you could touch everything within that moment. 

Your eyes were unblinking, your clothes torn and make-up smudged.

You didn’t remember two hostesses helping you. 

You don’t remember Junji actually actually calling the guards to escort him elsewhere where he can be dealt with. 

Couldn’t remember him actually checking on you.

Tucking you into his arms when placed on the couch. 

Comforting you came back to reality, sobbing and wailing in how much pain you were in. He had to place dozens of ice packs and give you pain-killers to placate the burning sensation.

You remained unblinking in the mirror. Fingers digging into the brown oak wood, creating a crescent of half moons indented to the vanity table. Thinking back on ways that you could have prevented everything, how you could have seen the signs that he was about to get aggressive. 

Junji touched your wrist and he watched you flinch at his touch, body language as if the prey was cornered by the large predator. 

“Hanamura-san! I am so sorry! I will l-leave the room!” You stammered, fixing your faultless hair and dress up to his standards vocalised on the very day you started work. 

Well polished, designed acrylic nails dug into the smooth, glittered fabric as the sound of high heels clattering echoed down the hallway, blending into the clamorous environment of the cabaret. There were bartenders stocking glasses filled with alcohol, waiting to be delivered to tables around.

You did not want to be sitting down, complying and giggling with the customers. The incident is still too fresh in your mind. So, you took it upon yourself to focus on doing the ‘cute’ waitress act. Kneeling, and looking like a doll when taking orders from customers. Slightly touching the clothes to feel the material, complimenting them when they are attentive, wiping away the leftovers of drinks on their chins as they get mothered is one of the quickest ways to get more bucks into the business without having to jeopardise your physical state. 

You kept doing it to multiple tables, stepping only for replacements of the empty bottles with new ones. It went on for many hours as you worked tirelessly in those high heels. The dress is clinging on to your frame even more. It is clinging in areas that are making them lose the focus on the girls serving them. You could feel the bile rising in your oesophagus. The swelling on your body flaring up once more. 

Your brain is bringing it back. No, you don’t want to recall every individual part.

You can’t. You can’t do this again. You ca–

“Honey! We have a customer in the back! He ordered for you specifically!” One of the sisters called, pointing her perfectly manicured fingers to the booth in the very corner of the cabaret.

It was a dimmed area. The music of the club fades the more you go further. Not a lot of customers want to sit there. The atmosphere has been dead quiet.

‘It is too far for me to get the hostesses’ they say, ‘The girls don’t like being in the dark’, ‘the area feels haunted and cursed’.

None of them want to tell the truth. None want to even sit in the era. None of them want to mention that the booth is only reserved for one person. One man.

“Hey, doll-face.” 

The smooth, yet raspy melodic voice flowed into your ears. Hais stood up on the back of your neck as you walked closer to the table with your notepad and pen, gripping with such effort as your hand became clammy.

Just like that you became shy. 

You couldn’t help it. 

Not around him.

“Welcome back, Majima-sa-san! Thank you for requesting me to serve you, please. What would you like to drink with me?” Softly, you bow in respect before kneeling down, the silky body-con dress showing every aspect of your curves from shoulders to thighs before him.

You pushed your hair over your shoulder, ready to dot down the orders from Majima. You didn’t make eye contact with him. Your eyes remained downcasted. You weren’t even near his proximity to the booth he resided in. It oozes professionalism that Hanamura-san trained you to be and combined with shyness. A combo that Majima didn’t know needed.

“Look at you, so formal. Get up from the floor and sit with me. I don’t need the girls at the knees to serve me.”

You clambered up into the booth next to him. You couldn’t help yourself. He is quite intimidating to you.

His body language radiated a brick wall that never faltered when talking to people. With you, it's like he is a different person. Attentive, eager to please when you were around. Still, you deny yourself that such a thing is impossible to see through with the Lord of Sotenbori. 

“Sorry, Majima-san. I can’t help myself. It is a habit that I can’t seem to get rid of when I am around you.” You spoke with conviction when you waved your hand in signal of the specific drink that Majima always ordered when with you. 

You did a ‘Y’ shape with your index and middle finger before going into ‘W’ with your index and ring finger.

It wasn't long until one hostess came over with a bottle of Yamazaki Whiskey and a glass for him, she poured him a glass of the alcohol before leaving, giving you the wink that seems to make your body temperature rise even further.

The conversations between you and Majima were not often but when speaking; it was like your shyness had disappeared. He was opening you up from within yourself to him. And he was doing it easily. His charisma and jokes make you laugh enough for you to cover your mouth to giggle before the bursting out laughing triggers. The outrageous stories he had experienced at his club is enough to have your stomach hurt.

He watched you through his other eye, seeing that you were comfortable with him and he kept going.

Because all he wanted was to have his stress relieved of everything happening in his life from a girl that made him warm on the inside despite his appearance making him look the opposite.

[lycheeluvaa]

gabriel rorke

[servingstein]

I am going through ittttt, the lack of written after few years is really kicking me and tearing me a hole!

I might have to start with something easy and a favourite character from MK1 and build up from there?

Until Next time!

[servingstein]

Forgot to mention! I need to get to writing mortal kombat one! I have been watching the whole reviews and play through and love the remake of characters that I need and must get to writtttitng!

Does anyone have characters to start with?

[servingstein]

New Friend (Brandon Breyer X Reader)

Pairing:RaisedWithLove!Brandon Breyer x BestFriend! Reader

AU: Not Indestructible BB

Warnings: mentions of bloods, bullying and abuse.

Author’s notes: I hope this is good! This is my first time writing properly after deleting my previous tumblr’s fan fiction blog.

Another day of the quietness in the town of Brightburn, Brandon was cooped up at his desk in the back-right of the classroom, pulling out all his books along with his worn out, flimsy pencil case he refused to replaced out from his bag.

His mother tried his hardest to replace it but he simply didn't like the looks of the cases she brought him — too 'plasticky' and 'bland', he stated repeatedly like a broken record. She just accepted it and let him stick with the pencil case that seen better days.

He tucked himself to the desk, back to the paint-peeling wall. Head against his left arm, book propped up in the direct angle his eyes can focus on the words. The same book he had found in the school’s since the start of school school.

‘Facts about Wasps and Bees.’

He memorised factual information based differences between the two Hymenoptera like it was the back of his hand. If one were to challenge him through exam papers on them, he would easily passed with flying colours.

Yet, it was the one of the things that got him made fun of. The others already had a list of things to make fun of about him.

Built with a small frame yet long lanky limbs. Skittish on his feet as ever, prominent eyes that roamed the room as quick as a cat pouncing to its owner for comfort. He embodied the look and aura of a greyhound in a human form.

They made snide remarks on his posture, the stutter he worked so hard to get rid off, his hobbies he wasn’t comfortable expressing in front of others to the teachers’ dismay.

It was bad enough that there had to be changes made to the seating plan. At first, his placement had been at the centre of the room, on the second row behind the first.

He paid no mind and focused on his learning with little sketching on the side when bored. He was considered the perfect student by few teachers. Always compliant, always answers questions when spoken to, did his homework and submit it on time. Took time to open up but when did, he was like an introverted sunflower, curious and eager to know everything about everything but at his own pace without force.

It wasn’t that long for small group of students in class to pick on him. Cruel as it was, he never gave in, he brushed aside the childish insults and behaviours and focused what on the pages.

Physical alterations came next.

Blood on his sleeves from trying to stop the blood flow from spilling from his nose. Discoloured bruises forever painted his skin, throbbing and hot enough he couldn’t rest comfortably in bed. Migraine never going away for a while due to being kicked and slammed to the head. Eyes sensitive that he had to wear glasses often, to not get overwhelmed by the Sun and artificial lights. Scars on his skin never healing correctly because he moved so much in bed when suffering from nightmare.

The changes were slow yet fast at the same.

Tori and Kyle had to watch their son come home, quieter, slower, trying to pathetically brush away pain he climbed the stairs, favouring one foot more than the other.

They tried to take it up with the principal but was stopped when Brandon said no.

The day came when Tori got the phone call, hearing words she wish to never hear.

“Mrs Breyer, I am calling to inform you and on the behalf of the principal that Brandon is on his way to the hospital on ambulance due to being found unconscious in the boy’s toilet. I a—“

The phone slid out and clattered onto the kitchen floor where she spent hours baking pies and cooking roast dinners.

Her hands shook, cold and drained of all colour. Tori’s voice wavered when she called for her husband. Weak and feeble at first, panicked and stressed the next. Kyle came in, quick on his feet, alarmed at the way her voice called for him.

His eyes went to the phone on the floor, to her face voided completely of colour, to shaking fingers covering the lips.

He thought of the worst yet to come.

“What is going on? I heard your shouting.”

Distraught she was, she sputtered out two and two together to formulate the sentences she wished to never say out her mouth.

“Hospital. Hospital. He is at the hospital. They called me. They found him unconscious in the toilet.”

Dread came crawling on Kyle’s back.

Brain went haywire.

Personal items were in his hands immediately and his adrenaline was fuelling him towards the Ute, shoving the key into the slot to start up the vehicle aggressive.

Tori, on the other hand, was dashing about on her feet, grabbed few items Brandon found comfort in, shoved it in her bag and ran towards where Kyle was seen gripping the wheels, waiting.

The drive there was not easy, the two were thinking of the worst possible scenarios. Outcomes which they couldn’t cope living if anything were to happen to their son. What went on the moment they got there warranted few months of back-to-back meetings with the principal, teachers and the parents of whose children that inflicted harm on their son.

Tori and Brandon regretted leaving the situation on the back burner. None of this would have happened if they stepped in and reported everything that they found on Brandon. But no, they trusted a word from a suffering child to not interfere and let him pretend that all is well.

A long few months of healing after, he was immediately transferred to another classroom on the other side of school.

A classroom similar to his first so far vastly different. The students of the class were more interested in their group of friends enough to not care about what he was made fun of before enough to be hurt.

A close few were nice.

They welcomed him, engaged with him in the conversations and left him alone when he wanted to be left alone. They enjoyed his informative conversations, sketch and read with him when he is quite open to join at times.

The others. He didn’t mind, but was grateful that he was left to his own devices without snide remarks, a shove or kicks to the leg when getting his attention.

They know that he is inside their classroom but didn’t care or want to rub him the wrong way.

Brandon was stuck inside limbo. Still on the tipping edge from the past abuse yet so open for people that care to be kind.

It all felt too much of what it was like before. Nice at first until they get nasty.

“Brandon?”

His eyes moved away from the page he was reading from and glanced at who ever was calling his name.

He saw you. Suddenly, his cheeks and ears started to feel warm. Wiggling sensation exploded within his abdomen.

He was no longer slouched but upright. It was swift as in a blink of an eye.

His hand which held his book was shoved into his bag pack and zipped up so fast from the force of his fingers that it almost got torn off.

“(Name)…”

Your name came out so softly out his mouth, so soft as a marshmallow being squeezed in his fingers. His eyes shone bright, attentive at best.

“How are you feeling? Heard from your mum to mine that you have been quiet when I am not around. Plus, sorry for not calling your house to let you know that I was sick.”

His mother will be the death of him.

Brandon wanted to dig a hole and die right there and then.

“It was nothing like that, didn’t feel the need to talk.” The words came pouring out as you sat down, plopping your bag to side and facing him.

“If you say so. So, what did I miss from last week?”

Just like that, you brushed aside his skittish fingers, legs bouncing every time you talk to him. Brushing it off as him being regulating himself and trying to not shut down, when it was just him trying to be as open as he can be to keep you as his friend.

He didn’t want to say something so weird. He was afraid you would stop talking to him. It happened many times before and he didn’t want to go through the pain again.

There was slip ups every once in a while and still, you showed him time and time again, you will not stop talking to him.

In fact – you wanted to embrace every part of him. The weird, awkward, strange sides of him which what intrigued you in the first place to be friends.

You didn’t care about his stutter or that weird extreme strength he would accidentally reveal in front of you. If it is going to take you ten years of slowly knowing about to what is his favourite food or games to play, so be it.

He sees it yet was in denial about it. Guiltily waiting for you to betray him. You never did, will not do had him stumped. He understood that you are not the one to mess him around and he could not help acting being confused to why you invited him over to your house to play video games, knowing when to hug him as he never tell you that he is feeling low for days.

Play with his slight wavy hair when it got too long that his mother insisted he needed a cut but kept it because you liked it.

His brain was still restricted at the stage of ‘I need a friend but I don’t want to be hurt again.’

It was oozing out of him so much, you can see it reflecting in his body language. Still, you were gentle enough to not touch those subconscious wounds and encourage hanging out every day to see his small smile widen when you run up to hug him, radiating pure happiness and excitement to run around the grassy field with him, playing ball games.

Laughing at things that are too stupid for adults to comprehend. Lying down on the grass, arms together, facing the sky and seeing shapes of the clouds moving as the daylight sky slowly started to diminish to night.

Staying goodbye, refusing to depart which extended to a hug that the mothers have to pry your arms off as the sky is pitch black out. Impatiently waiting for the weekends to arrive and spend all the time at each others’ houses, doing what is fun at the time: running, drawing, cutting out pictures of the magazine to clumsily make a disembodied shape out of everything you both could find.

All the things played out in his mind as the final answer to his denial that refused to ease is slowly melting. You saw his smile radiate like the sun flowing into the room through the window. He finally understood that he is safe with you and you just wanted the best for him.

“Nothing much, just glad to have you back.”

“Wrong answer dumb-dumb! I talking about what went down at home when I was sick and realised you weren’t paying attention to what I said.”

“I was!”

“Brandon, you were smiling at me like I made you your favourite food.”

“I did not smile, stop lying.”

“Then what did I say?”

He was silent, thoughts racking his brain for an answer and couldn’t find any.

“That what’s I thought.” You smirked as you shoved him playfully when he groaned and covered his face with his hand to hide his embarrassment.

“Thank you though.”

“No problem, we still hanging out after school?”

“Absolutely.”

———————————————