Summary: Yuta has used smoking as his mental crutch for as long as he could remember. Maki hates his horrible habit but eventually gives up when her scoldings fall on her boyfriend's deaf ears. On a random day on their apartment balcony, Yuta contemplates what's more important in the long run.
Pairing: Yuta x Maki | Jujutsu Kaisen
Word count: 1.5K
A/N: I have a silly headcanon that Yuta is a chain smoker so this was born. So excited about JJK Season 3. Enjoy!
Floaty white is pulled in for a moment before it shoots out an angled trail of smoke. Yuta does little nods as the nicotine settles in his system. Now that he was deemed The Strongest, these breaks were his mental lifeline.
Protecting society from high level curses & corrupt sorcerers.
Keeping the balance of Jujutsu Society.
Upholding his image as Japan’s golden boy.
Training the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers effectively.
Making sure he doesn’t leave his friends and Maki behind in the fast lane.
Since he was a teenager, he knew Gojo-sensei's burden seemed overwhelming from an outsider’s perspective. But now, he’s finally getting the full course of that burden. That boy who became a monster three years ago had no idea what he was talking about. It’s more than overwhelming; it’s damn near suffocating. He’s surprised Gojo took all of it in stride and didn’t rely on anything to manage his sanity. The only difference between his burden and Gojo’s burden is that he isn’t lonely.
As soon as Maki walks in the apartment her nose twitches, the acquainted scent of cigarette smoke registers in her brain. She shoots Yuta a scolding look when she steps on the balcony. “You’re still smoking?” She saw him lighting up his first cigarette before she went for a run a while ago.
Yuta nods without a word, bracing himself for another scolding. Maki puts her hands on her hips and sighs. She wants to let him have it but what was the point. She should be used to his chain smoking by this point.
Ever since the time she met Yuta, she would usually find him tucked away in a secret area with a bud in-between his fingers. She never asked why he needed a smoke; she just assumed that he uses it as a mental crutch. Given his problems with Rika and general anxiety, you couldn’t really blame him.
He never smoked around people, out of respect and need of privacy. His signature scent is always mixed with smoke layered in his hair and clothes. Despite the overwhelming scent, it fits with his slouched posture, his resting frown, and his grey eyebags. Like it was the final piece that completed the puzzle that is Yuta Okkotsu.
Knowing this, Maki still cringed whenever she saw him light up a cig. It just wasn’t healthy for the body in the long run. She was far from a prude, but she wanted Yuta to live long without any ailments punishing him for his youth. Those things were a one-way ticket to an early death. But no matter how much she gets on him about it, he won’t give them up.
Maki walks up to him and checks the box to see one cigarette left. She contemplates taking it and cutting it up, throwing it off the balcony, flushing it down the toilet, anything to stop him from lighting another. But what good would that amount to? He’ll just go to the gas station to buy another pack. Yuta was willing to heed her words about anything except his smoking habit. So why bother?
Yuta looks up to see Maki set the Seven Stars down and stares at him with a blank look. He expected another scolding but all he got was a long sigh and a quiet mumble of something he couldn’t make out. When Maki closed the balcony door behind her, he turns back to the city landscape and pulls the short stick from his mouth. Hot smoke rushes out his lips and curves in front of his face for the umpteenth time.
He wanted the quit ever since he gained his will to live but smoking felt too familiar to simply let go. Before he found his friends, cigarettes were his only comfort during the years Rika made his life difficult. After he set her free, he quickly improved his skills to the point where he was regarded second strongest after Gojo. That brought more stress so he kept the cigarettes around for mental support. But Maki never approved of them and she always left the room as soon as she saw the orange butt sticking from his mouth.
He hates disappointing her, but this was his only way to keep him from suffocating in the stress and pressure of being The Strongest. He always gets annoyed whenever he goes on social media and sees these “easy” methods of trying to relax the mind that just seem useless to him. Yuta didn’t want to downplay people’s coping strategies, but meditation, salt lamps, yoga, and supplements did shit luck when you were a sorcerer. This was his method and despite it being bad for you in the long run, it works for him.
But still…
Before meeting Maki, he didn’t care if he lived life short since he wanted to die anyway. But that was before she came into his life and gave him the motivation to keep moving forward. Now that they were in a relationship, that desire to get the most out of life grew stronger after each soft glance and tough love Maki bestows on him. Yuta’s mind trailed a daydream of a potential future.
Maki dressed in elegant white, contrasting with her rough skin and honed muscles. A big residence with the warmth of a small home. A couple kiddos who stole their faces running around, a boy like Maki and a girl like him. Growing wrinkles together while they bond over their irritations with the youth...
A loud car honking from the street snaps Yuta out of his drifting. The cigarette burns to the middle and pops the ash off, falling to his black pants. Despite the urge to perform another drag, he pulls out the cigarette and mashes it against the ash tray. For the rest of the day, his harmful familiar and his call to action to live long with Maki were out to murder each other in his struggling mind.
Two weeks later
Maki wipes her neck down with a towel after a successful 10k run. She closes the front door behind her expecting nicotine to ruin her fresh air but it didn’t hit her. Looking towards the patio, she sees her boyfriend sitting like he usually does during the evening. From a distance, Yuta seems to be lost in thought while he sits forward with his hands clasped. Maki usually gets settled before speaking to him but curiosity got the better of her.
Yuta didn’t seem to notice her sliding the door open. Maki give him a slightly concerned look as a faint scent of nicotine crept to her nose. It was significantly less louder than before. Maki reaches out for his shoulder.
“Hey.”
Yuta turns and his stoic expression brightens. “Home already?”
“Yeah, the run is getting easier. You’re not smoking?” Straight to the point.
“Well, I smoke two this morning.” Maki nods. That answered what was up with the faint scent. “But I’m trying to quit so it’s a struggle.” Yuta lightly chuckles, oblivious to Maki eyes widening.
“Quitting?” Her Yuta quitting something that had been so attached to his identity even before she met him? Aliens might as well drop down to Earth in a UFO. “What reason?”
“Just don’t want to slowly die young. I got a lot to live for now.”
It was a stupid question in hindsight, but Maki is just speaking off the fly. “Like what?”
“Let’s see...” Yuta rubs his chin and looks up. “Well, many are depending on me to keep jujutsu society balanced and fair. I don’t want to make my friends sad.” He gives Maki a soft look. “I don’t want to leave you.”
A new form of heat rushed through Maki’s cheeks, shaking her head to reject the vulnerability. “Stupid. Some smokers live till their fifty.”
“Yeah but you can potentially live another fifty years. I feel like fifty is still too young to die.”
“Where is all of this living talk coming from. You always seemed like the “If I die, I die” type of guy.”
“You remember our first mission together.” Yuta chuckles. “The one where I got us swallowed by a grade 4 curse.”
Maki drops her head down and cringes. “Don’t remind me.”
“Those words you shouted at me before you passed out gave me the motivation to live. Since then my will to live grew as a gotten stronger.” He goes to grab her hands. “I want to live long for you. I want to enjoy life with you. So I’m starting by slowly quitting the sticks.”
Maki gives him a long, loving look before giving Yuta a small smirk. “You are the cheesiest guy I ever met. You could have just said for health reasons.”
Yuta sits up and gives Maki an adoring smooch before heading inside. Maki lingered, staring at the bustling city of Tokyo. She accepted Yuta’s smoking habit as a part of him, a compromise she’s willing to give if it means she can love him. Hearing that she’s a major reason he’s willing to quit and live long brews that overwhelming weight that she will never get used to.
The weight of pride, reverence, and pure, unconditional love.
Summary: It's October 29th, 1983 and Michael wants to give you a thrilling night to remember. Now that you two were past the early stages of your relationship, the chance of growing closer sows light tingles in your stomach. With his charming personality, gentle spirit, loving tendencies, cool style, and dashing good looks, you don't know how your heart will survive the night.
Pairing: Thriller Era! MJ x Reader
Word Count: 5K
A/N: Enjoy & Happy Halloween!
October 29th, 1983 - Saturday
6:15 P.M.
Skirts, jeans, heels, and jackets fling across the room as frustration builds. So many pieces of clothing but none are speaking to you to wear them. All those hours of shopping seem to be in vain.
Michael should be calling soon, so a decision needs to be made. He had the patience of an angel, but you would hate to make him suffer the wait of your indecisions.
So far, you had a denim skirt that stopped just above the knee, tightened around your waist with a black buckle belt. Your hair was fluffed up by clouds of hairspray and rollers that were in your hair all day. Your earrings swing with every movement and your makeup felt incomplete with no shirt nor shoes to go with it. A quick look in the mirror made you look like a hooker.
The telephone rings on your dresser, sparking anxiety. You knew that was Mike, so you rush over and lift the phone from the switch hook.
“Hey.” You say cooly, hiding your rushing nature.
“I’m about to pick ya up. Just letting you know.” Michael's voice massages your eardrums.
“Okay, I should be ready when you get here.”
You can hear a light chuckle from the other line, causing a side eye. “What’s funny?”
“You’re never ready when I pick you up. That’s okay, though. I’ll just, uh, sit with your cat.”
“Of course you would, Snow White.” Michael’s laughter lifted your frown instantly.
“I should be there in about thirty minutes.” You question the timing since it usually takes him fifteen minutes to get to your house, but you don’t bother asking.
“Alright. See you.” You set the phone down and sigh when you see the messy state of your room. How the hell are you going to pull this together in thirty minutes?
By some October miracle, you found a striped dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, keeping the collars popped up. You ditched the desire of heels and settled for white sneakers with slouch socks to match. Bangles, bracelets, and a necklace were the cherry on top that complemented your makeup. You only had a minute to admire your stellar beauty due to the doorbells. You wanted to prove Michael wrong, so you snatch your purse and jacket and speed towards the front door. Your black cat quietly shoots you a look.
Opening the door, Michael greeted you with a rad red jacket, his gorgeous face, and his wet Jheri curls. You used to never understand the word breathtaking, until Mike being this close to you started squeezing the air out your lungs.
You mask your heart. “Nice jacket.”
“Yeah, one of my dancers got it for my birthday.”
“Oh really?”
“It was one of those he knew someone who knew someone famous, and he knows my favorite color is red.”
“That’s pretty bitchin.”
“Yeah, that word.” You laugh at his modesty.
You look to the floor and notice his red pants and signature socks and loafers combo. He lowers his head to get a good look at you. “You, okay?” He lifts your chin a little to meet your eyes with his dark ones.
The stare between you two is too much to hold for more than five seconds. You look away again when Mike softly rubs your chin. Overkill at this point. “I’m fine. Just got a lot going on.”
“Yeah, haven’t heard from you in a couple days.” He brushes some hair back. “I missed you like crazy.”
You look up, “I missed you too. I was so excited all day to see you.” You giggle. “It’s kind of embarrassing to say because we’re just going to the movies.”
Michael lifts a finger. “Ah. Out to eat first. The movie we’re seeing doesn’t start until 8:15.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Michael...”
“You wouldn’t even know if I told ya.”
“I still would like the know.”
“That’s your problem. I remember you telling me the other day that a lot of your days feels boring. That’s because you want to know everything. You gotta leave room for surprises, y’know.”
You roll your eyes, “Is this a lecture or a date?”
Mike does a quiet laugh then stares at you from head to heels. “You look lovely.”
Your heart screams, your stomach is full of feathers, and your brain tattoos his words. Instead of communicating that, you nod with a smirk. “Thanks. I just threw this on last minute.”
Mike can see through your facade as he reaches over to let you out first. His face gets close, putting those feelings into overdrive. “Whatever you say.”
7:05 PM
There were many booths of loud colors paired with white. A handful of single middle-aged adults and two handfuls of the carefree youth chattered with their clinging forks and small sips. A pop song that didn’t overplay on the radio announce its presence faintly amongst the clatter and chatter.
You try to ignore you and Mike’s knees getting familiar under the table. Looking at your date, he is clearly oblivious to the unspoken conversation your legs are having. Or maybe he does know and is putting on an act, Michael is a prankster after all.
He looks up with a small smile. “Food is good?”
You nod, “Yeah, it’s delicious. I never been here. How did you find this joint?”
“It’s been around for almost four years now.” He answers with a chuckle.
“That’s crazy. I never heard of it.”
“That’s cause you’re either at home or school.” He points at you. “I was lucky getting you out for this.”
You fake offense. “So not true!”
Mike sits back and crosses his arms. “When was the last time you went out?”
“I--
“For fun.” Mike clarified.
Your mouth was ready to fire back but your mind was frozen over.
“See? See?”
You adjust your posture to appear dominant. “In my defense, I’m not from here like you. Plus, school and work got me busy all the time. Not everyone comes from a wealthy family like you.”
“I’m not from here either, I just lived here most of my life. And you make me sound like some silver spoon spoiled child.”
“I’m not saying that, Mike. You’re the last person I would call that. I just want you to understand where I’m coming from.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m not mad.” He goes to rub your knuckles, his palm pressing against your polished nails.
You look to your plate. “But you’re right. I do need to go out more. I don't want to be those people who turn thirty-five and have nothing to look back on.”
“Well, we can start with tonight.”
“What movie are we seeing anyway?” You take another wing.
“A movie called, uh, Thriller. Came out a couple weeks ago.”
You look up to him with caution. “Is it scary?”
“Of course it’s scary, it’s called Thriller. You don’t like scary movies?”
“Not really a fan of them.” You shake your head.
“You’ll be fine. I'll be there with you.”
For some dumb reason that made your heart skip a beat. God, you were so easy.
Mike notices your third slice of pizza being half chewed. “You done?”
You nod, feeling guilty when you notice your slice of pizza and two wings still on the plate. “Is there any way I can take it to-go? I hate--”
“Wasting food. I know. I hate it too.” MJ sits back and thinks. “How about I finish it on our way?”
“You still have room to eat?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
“You won’t be hungry for popcorn.”
“I’ll just get a small bucket.”
“That’s if you’re still hungry! Your stomach is gonna pop, Mike!”
Mike chuckles as he waves down the waiter. “Girl, you underestimate my appetite.”
7:40 PM
White sneakers and black loafers walk east from the diner they left moments ago. The streetlights emitted their small spotlights along parts of the road. You look up to see a twilight of periwinkle bleeding in the corners of night and lingers of sunset. Mike throws the last wing in the to-go box and looks for the nearest trash can.
“I can’t wait for my car to get fixed.”
You turn to him. “What happened to it, anyway?”
“My brother took it for a spin and wreck it a bit.”
You smirk. “Which one?”
He gives you a look then laughs. He reaches over and softly pinches your cheek. “It was Randy.”
“I figured.”
“He wanted to use my car to impress a girl on a date.” He shakes his head. “Ended up looking like a dimwit.”
“When will it’ll be fixed?”
“Uh, the mechanic said it might be a few more days. I understand it takes time, but I just want my car.”
You rub his shoulder. “I feel you. Hey, on the bright side, at least we’re getting some exercise in.”
He pulls a couple of dance moves off the fly. “I already get enough exercise.”
“How can I forget, Mr. Dancer.”
Michael was one of the best dancers you ever seen. The way his body flexes and motions with whatever music you could put on, he always looked supernatural. It wasn’t bias either, so many folks request him to teach them how to dance and he even gotten offers to teach some pop stars a dance routine for their music videos. On the 31st, he had a zombie dance routine he was going to do with his dance club for a Halloween competition. You can’t wait to see what he’s been working on the past month and a half.
Your hand accidently brushes against his and your reflexes pull away, you don’t know why. You two been past the awkward stage yet you still do things like this. Mike notices the pull back and uses his fingers to swing towards yours.
It was a long brush. You look down.
Next time, his fingers sweep through the space between yours but doesn’t lock. You look at him. He keeps looking forward, pretending this isn’t happening.
His hand goes to softly grab four fingers, holding it like a prized possession. His large hand was the only thing warm during this nippy weather. His thumb spreads across your fingers, knuckles, and backhand; a blush follows. Mike takes a good look at you and forms a confident smile, knowing his effect on you.
Obnoxious bright lights were in the far distance, signaling that they were close. You touch your poking stomach. “I’m so full. I’m not getting anything, not even a drink.”
“More popcorn for me.”
“You and your obsession with popcorn.” You pinch his skinny arm. “Such a fatty.”
“I am not obsessed with popcorn. It’s just a nice snack.”
“You are obsessed. You refuse to watch a movie without it.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Yes, I don’t.”
“No, you don’t.” You slap his arm. “Hey!”
Mike laughs like a mischievous child and claps his hands. “Trick ya.”
You shake your head with a smile you can’t hide. “Can’t stand you.”
Mike looks ahead and stops in his tracks. His smile shapes into a surprised o. “Don’t tell me that’s the line...” You look ahead and see both lines on each side of the theater consisting of at least fifteen to twenty people, estimated by sight.
Mike grabs your arm and smoothly pulls it towards him. “C’mon. More people are getting in line.” You try to keep up with him, but you weren’t a track star. “We’ll get there, Mike. Slow down, will ya!”
8:15 PM
You and Mike are one of the last set of folks to come in. He uses his foot to push himself up to see any available seats for two. Surprisingly, a couple of seats near the front side were available so you tap Mike’s shoulder.
“Mikey.” He ignores you. You put more force when you slap his arm. He looks at you confused. “Ow! What’s wrong?”
You point to show him. He squints to see past the crowd of people. He brows raise and he grabs your hand. “C’mon before someone gets them.”
Thankfully, you two snag them and sit down after shuffling past a few people. After you settle, you look to your left to see Mike opening his Care Bear: Gummi Bears. The small bag of popcorn sat on his lap, white and yellow, hot and fresh, smelling delicious and tempting.
You grab a few and quicky pull back until Mike grabs your wrist. “I thought you were full?” You continue to move your hand towards your mouth and slowly chew in his face. He goes to grab your jaw delicately with his hand. “That’s gonna cost ya.”
For some reason that excites your stomach and a little further down, and it shouldn’t have. You hate how easy it was to stir a certain heat within you, especially from him. The guys before Michael had to put in work to get you like this but him, one touch with one look was all he needed. That’s the only thing you hated about Michael.
The room goes dark, so everyone’s attention starts to turn towards the screen. You pull your head from his grasp and poke his nose to ease the rising tension between you two. He keeps his stare for a long moment before his attention turns to the opening credits. You exhale quietly to control yourself; but that was really fucking hard when his hands caress your thigh for a quick moment.
A title card dripping with blood shows, Thriller! appearing on a black screen. You mentally prepare yourself for what this movie might put you through.
10:06 P.M.
Walking into the lobby, people attending late night showings stand in line, patiently and impatiently waiting in the concession stand. You notice the folks who was at the same showing as you and Mike leave out the doors, having animated conversations. Turning to your left, Michael was quiet with his thoughts, but his face was thrilled. You decide to start the conversation.
“That was tight.” “That was so scary.” You two say simultaneously.
You look at him, and he looks at you, both erupting laughter.
“It was too scary for me. I was closing my eyes for most of the movie.”
Mike rolls the arm you have been grabbing on for dear life the past hour and a half. “Yeah, I can tell.”
“Oh, hush.”
After Michael throws all the trash away, two walk out the theater.
“It’s dark out.”
“And it’s full moon...” he pops his eyes wide and form claws, “Maybe I’ll turn into a wolf and eat ya too.” He goes to fake bite your shoulder while growling. You squeal when he picks you up by the waist and spins you around.
“Mike, stop!”
You usually feel subconscious about people passing by, onlooking you and Michael’s PDA, but this time you it didn’t bother you too much. He imitates the werecat boyfriend in the movie and chases you around. You giggle as you run from him, accidently running in the street, towards a wide alleyway. You don’t know if this was the way home or not, but you needed to get away from him before he gets you.
You run out of breath, so you walk slowly along the alleyway with a small smile. Mike ditched the werecat bit but still wanted to play with you. He creeps up to you and walks sideways in an animated motion.
“It's close to midnight, and something evil's lurking in the dark! Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart! You try to scream, but terror takes the sound before you make it! You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes! You're paralyzed!”
Coming up with these lyrics off the fly, Mike performs various frisky actions like a theater kid. He did spins and dramatic turns around you, did a backward zombie walk, and grabbed your shoulders to psyche you up. You can’t help but roll your eyes with an amused smile at his childish nature.
He lifts a finger at you to let you know that he ain’t done.
“They're out to get you, there's demons closing in on every side! They will possess you unless you change that number on your dial! Now is the time for you and I to cuddle close together, yeah.” Michael goes to hug you, and you fit his side like a puzzle, hand on his chest. “All through the night I'll save you from the terror on the screen I'll make you see!”
You hang to his arm and you two walk past a foggy graveyard. Michael playful smirk distracted you from the creepy atmosphere around you two. You can help but laugh and shake your head at his singing shenanigans.
“Boy, you’re so silly.”
10:22 PM
You two are almost out the alleyway and the area starts looking familiar and signaling that you are close to home. In your right peripheral, you see a two-story house in a nearby park. You don’t recall a house ever being there. Squinting to get a closer look, you see people with torn clothes and rough pale skin. Your lungs feels like it’s compressing when your heart accelerates.
Your hands tighten around the red leather of Mike’s jacket. “Is that...”
“Woah.” Your boyfriend eyes widen like a kid.
“Michael, let’s go.”
“What!? Why?”
“Zombies! Do you see what I’m seeing!?”
Mike looks amused, “I’m sure they’re just actors for a haunted house or something.”
Looking back, the zombies seem to be walking in your directors, a couple has their eyes on you. Terror pokes around your heart.
“No, they’re real!” You yank his arm. “They’re coming! C’mon!”
Mike looses it and throws his head back for a laugh. You face gets tight with embarrassing heat.
“Everything is a damn joke to you.” You push him and run away until that house and the zombies were dots in your vision. Michael’s shouts were ignored because distress, fear, and shame were all stabbing your chest.
One sore foot is removed from your shoe, laying it across your opposite knee. You massage the thick muscles from your toes to your mid-arch. The tension makes you wince and regret not putting on more suitable shoes for all the walking you’ve been doing. All to look cute for a boy that isn’t even with you right now.
“Okay, don’t put too much fire on Mike. You were the one that ran off...” You thought to yourself.
When you move to the other foot, slow steps against the pavement told you that he chased you down. Should you expect anything less from him? Mike wasn’t the type of guy to leave you by yourself at night, even after you told him off.
You feel a hand gently lift your chin up to see loving concern. Gosh, he was the most handsome guy you laid your eyes on.
“Can we talk?” When no response follows, he rubs your chin. He calls your name in the tone that had no trace of annoyance.
It takes you a moment before slowly nodding. Michael sits so close that his red jeans sit inches away from your skirt. He grabs the foot you were tending to and works the muscles out the core. After a couple winces, you relax at his firm, large hands smooth through your foot. It’s nothing like another person getting the kinks out your lower feet.
“If I knew you were scared of zombies I would have led us on a different way to your house.” Mike glances over the direction he came from. “The local theater are planning to host a haunted apocalyptic house. They’re not real, baby.”
“It doesn't matter if they're real or not. They creeped me out ever since I was little and-” A couple tears slip. “I’m sorry if I'm making a big deal out of it but--” Michael pulls you to his chest and let you cry. Deep down you can’t believe your making fake zombies ruin your makeup and final stretch of a great date. But you can’t help how you feel.
Michael comforts your shoulder with short rubs. “Well, they won’t get you when I’m here.”
That made you smile a little. “You’ll fend them off for me?”
“If I have to grab the nearest stick and beat em down for ya’ then I’ll do that.”
“Wouldn’t you be scared though?” You look up to him.
“Won’t have time to be scared when I got you to worry about.” Heat burns your cheeks.
“Such a man.” You tease, but behind that was your painful need to kiss him so bad.
You two stay there, staring at the moonlight. Michael’s thumb caresses your upper arm while you snuggle as close you can get on his chest. A faint smile creeps when you feel a soft peck on your forehead.
In an alternate reality where those zombies were real, you would seek refuge in Michael arms over any shelter. His two limbs provided a warmth that can’t be replicated.
10:56 PM
Seeing the faux gold 72 on your front door brought relief that you made it safe.
“We arrived. That’ll be a dollar and ten cents.” Mike puts out his hands towards you with his fingers motioning back and forth to pay up.
You scoff. “In your dreams.”
Michael snickers like a kid as your key goes in the gold chipped doorknob. A few moves unlocks your sanctuary, and you push it just enough to crack it. You turn to see Mike giving you a stare with a lot of weight behind it. He wasn’t smiling but he didn’t look upset either, just observing. The hypocrisy of hating being perceived but loving his attention duels in your mind.
You tilt your head. “What?”
He doesn’t answer but instead goes to play with a piece of your hair idly. You usually hate making long eye contact but with Mike, everything past his eyes was a blur. Without you noticing, your chin was titled to Michael’s liking. Your eyes lower to his two-toned lips and his subtle mustache that was the cherry on top of his appeal.
He moves forward and you follow his lead, creating a kiss made of sugar, popcorn, and spices of sensuality. Both of his palms adjust your head so he can find the right angle to transfer his passion on your delicate, glossy lips.
You don’t care how time works; that moment in time froze and it was just you two. The kiss is a perfect portrait of your relationship, comfortable but not explicit. Funny enough, it can be compared to one of those mild chicken wings you two had at diner. A little heated to make an impact but not too spicy to handle. Feathers cover your stomach at the thought that there are levels above this one.
You pull away with a small spit line extending before popping off on Michael’s lips. Your lungs, heart, and lips had to recover that minute of eternity. Michael looks down with a shy smile. “Um...”
“Wow.” You interject.
“I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so beautiful and...” Michael rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry I should have asked.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just surprised. I usually initiate when we kiss.”
Michael lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, uh, I don’t know what came over me. I do know that I’m crazy about ya.” He pauses and looks up. “I hope this continues for a long time.”
Your eyes soften to express something unexplainable. “I hope so too. I love you so much.”
“I love you more.” He pulls you to his chest and holds you tight. Your two souls melt into one another. Everything feels aligned. Everything is right.
The worst part of this date is you pulling away and giving him one last loving look before heading inside. The last image of Mike tonight was his large brown eyes paired with a kind smile. A look that destroys any unpleasant feeling you had today.
After closing the door with your backside, you slide down until your butt hits the floor. Staring at the floor, you sit there for a couple minutes processing the whole evening. When that kiss encores, a high-pitched squeal erupts from your throat. Your feet kicks and you bury your head on your knees, releasing something that’s been stored and build upon with each interaction with Mike.
Settling in your bubble bath, your mind has no choice but to rewind the night like a cherished rom com. Your brain pokes fun of your heart for clinging on to these recent moments shifting into memories.
You had boyfriends and flings before Mike and even though half of them ended up being dickwads, the other half gave you good memories to laugh back on. But compared to Michael, the emotions they made you felt seems elementary. Like they were appetizers before the main course. A lengthy prologue before the real love story begins.
He vividly shows up in your mind unannounced. His smooth melanin skin. His cool red jacket. His juicy Jheri curls. His subtle mustache. His soft, wide eyes. His shy smile. His gentle but charming, playful personality. All of these little things that made your Michael.
You feel yourself getting sleepy, so you hop out the bath, pat yourself dry, then wrap your bathrobe around your damp body. Falling face forward on the bed, the dry, plump sheets made you too lazy to dress in your pajamas. Your eyes were getting heavier by the minute until the telephone rings, jolting you up to answer it.
“Hello?”
“I’m home.” That familiar soft-spoken voice tickled your heart again.
“Hm?”
“You wanted me to call you when I got home, remember.”
“Oh, yeah. Wait, why did it take you so long? We don’t live that from far each other.”
“No car.”
You slap your head. “Right. Sorry, I’m really tired. I’m asking a lot of dumb questions, huh?”
“No, you’re fine. I’m starting to get sleepy too.”
You release a long yawn. “I hate that I got work in the morning after nights like this. I had so much fun.”
You can feel Mike’s smile from the other line. “I’m glad. Go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Okay.” Your fingers twirl the coil cord as you look down at your dresser. You wanted to talk with him all night, but you just know you’ll regret it in the morning when sleep deprivation hits.
“Sweet dreams.”
“Bye.” The call clicks and you lay the phone down.
The last bit of strength you have manages to dress you in your pajamas and shut most of your lights off. You force your heart to stop making your mind think of Michael. You’ll never get any sleep if he shows up again.
October 31st , 1983 – Monday
10:20 AM
This was one of those rare days when you didn’t rush to go to class.
“Bye baby!” You tell your cat. The black cat’s meows gave you the motivation to get through the day.
Locking the door, you push forward with a small smile on your face. You can finally get a good seat on the bus--
“Rawr!”
“Aaah!” You scream.
Mike laughs mischievously. You slap his chest. “Michael! You scared the life out of me!”
“Your face was priceless!” He claps. “Hahaha!”
“That-That wasn’t even scary.”
“Oh please you screamed so loud the whole complex probably heard ya’. You were super scared.”
“I wasn’t that scared.” You put on a brave front.
He cocked his head to the side with a small smirk. His dark eyes track your features. “Yeah, you were scared.”
His proximity to your face was too much to deal with this early in the morning. You turn from him and pout. Mike’s humorous high settles down and walks over to wrap his arms around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek.
“Hmph.” You’re not budging.
“I can make it up to you.” He turns you towards him and peppers your face and neck with kisses. You melt with each quick smooch, struggling to keep a grudge. He pulls back and does a quick scan of your hair, makeup and outfit. “You look real pretty. Prettier than usual.”
You blush and look to your kitten heels to avoid his gaze. “Thanks.”
Mike lifts your chin and traces the outline of your jaw. “Pretty young thang.”
“You sound like a dirty old man.” You laugh.
He chuckles, “Be quiet.”
Walking together, you notice Mike wearing a fuchsia Mickey Mouse sweater over a plaid shirt with a bow tie and brown pants. You shake your head and smile to yourself. He must be feeling festive today.
Looking forward you see a familiar gingerbread brown 1978 Chevrolet Caprice parked close. You gasp and look to Mike who looked at you with a knowing stare. “Suprise.”
“Wait I thought it would be done--”
“A buddy of mine got it done early. He’s really good at fixing cars.”
You just stood there, too surprised to know what to do next.
“Well, get in! I’m taking you to class.” He flashes his million-dollar smile when he opens the passenger car door.
You squeal and get in. One of your favorite places is Michael’s car. There’s so many sweet and fun memories that happened in this Chevy. You watch Michael walk over to his side, your heart racing in anticipation. Mike looks at you when he settles in. “Ready?”
You reach over to the radio. “Mmhm.”
The Chevy rides across the stretches of hard grey like butter. The beach passing by perfumes its sea salt, waking up your brain. Mike hums along the song on the radio as his hand taps on the outside of his car door. He turns to you, risking a clear view of the road to see your hair blow majestically. It was too beautiful to ignore.
“The wind too much for ya?” He rubs over the stocking of your left thigh. You feel a heat that was slightly more intense than a couple days ago. It seems like the day you two become intimate is inching closer after small stuff like this. It makes you nervous just thinking about it.
You turn to him as some of your hair flies in front of your eyes and wide smile. “Nope. I love it!”
He nods and turns his attention back to the road.
The ocean in the distance speeds by your eyes just like those cinematic flicks. All This Love by DeBarge plays inside and outside the car cradled by the October morning breeze. Sugary, playful words and laughter sandwiched the warmth of our chest, shielding our beating hearts from the chills.
Summary: 30 minutes before opening The Beef, the crew was prepping for another long, busy, exhausting day. All Carmy had to do was cook some sirloin steak, but instead, his brother appeared in a daydream, alive, well, and the same ol' Mikey he painfully misses. Before reality slaps him awake, Carmy siezes the opportunity to talk to his brother again.
Word Count: 1.4K
A/N: Didn't dive too deep into the cooking details because I'm not too knowledgeable about that world and didn't want to write anything inaccurate. I just wanted to write about Carmy's daydream and how his deep-rooted emotions influenced it. But anyway, thanks for reading and stay safe out there.
The sirloin steak sizzles in the silver pan, soaking up the various flavors around it. The prodigy lifts the handle from the small stove fire every other moment to control the temperature. Staring at the brown lean meat, his mind becomes a stand mixer, whipping the prologue of another hard day with the idealism of a perfect scenario.
Carmy could hear Tina’s voice shouting, “30 minutes to open!”
When he turns to his left, he doesn’t see the short, sweet, but tough woman; it was someone taller and beefier with a curved white smile.
Before he can process who it is, the imposter hits him with, “That sirloin is gonna burn if you space out, Bear.” That deep voice invokes a warmth that Carmy hasn’t felt in a while. A warmth he was desperately trying to chase for the past several months. The same warmth a six-year-old feels when they’re wrapped with a bundle of blankets on a snowy December night.
“Mike?”
Michael shakes his head. “No, it’s Rich. Yeah, it’s me, silly. Now take out that steak.”
Carmy looks to see the sirloin steak seconds away from burning. He rushes to take it out and set it to the side. Cutting off the stove, he turns to see Mikey prepping an Italian Beef sandwich. This isn’t some sick joke his mind was playing on him. Mike is here and smiling and...
Was all that shit about being dead just some weird, fucked up what if? If so, then I should kick his ass for the emotional hell he put me through.
He tried to get angry, but he couldn’t. How when the one person he wanted to be around is right beside him. At this point, who gives a shit if it was all a prank or not.
“So Carm, uh, when is that inspector guy coming in?”
“Uh, I think around three.” He preps the sandwich. “Wish he’d just come earlier. I gotta jump through hoops of fire to make sure this place don’t go to hell until then.”
“Oh so fuck me then, huh?”
“What?”
“You act like you’re the boss here. I gotta deal with these punks too.”
“Mike, when I started working here, it was gross and had no kind of order. You need someone like me.”
“Which is why you’re my right hand. You handle the dirty work, and I enforce the authority.”
Carmy pulls a small smirk, “I thought Cousin was your right hand.”
“He is in his head. Don’t shatter the illusion, though.” Mike nudges his arm.
Carmy laughs as he finishes putting the beef sandwich together. Mikey pats him on the back, then goes to lay on his firm but playful feedback on what everyone else is doing.
The smoke fills the small sitting area outside; nostalgic chemicals wrapped in a black bow. Carmy lights his second cigarette while Mikey puts out the remainder of his first one. A beef sandwich sits next to Mike, one-third of it chewed. The older brother looks over. “You need to eat, man.”
Carmy lifts his cig from his mouth. “I am eating.” He blows out another round of smoke.
Mikey laughs. “Carm.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re gonna kill over later on.”
“Okay, give me your chips then.”
Mike throws the yellow party-size bag of Lay’s over. “Won’t really fill you up but at least it’s something.” Carmy lays down the cig to stuff a handful of salty fried potatoes in his mouth. Muffled crunching repeats in the inner walls of his mind. Mike shakes his head. “Not hungry, huh?”
“Shut up.” Carmy muffles.
The soundtrack of the city of Chicago plays as they eat. Carmy’s idea to remodel The Beef into The Bear rings in Mikey’s mind yet again. He always skipped around the idea whenever Carmy would come to him about it, but he entertained the idea in his mind a lot. This rebrand could bring more customers, and more customers mean more money. Something he and the crew need more than ever these days..
“Whatcha thinking about?” Carmy asks.
Mike lets out a deep sigh. “So, with this The Bear idea thing you keep telling me about. How will the vibe be?”
Carmy was about to answer until Mike filled the silence.
“Because Carm, I’m not really with turning this place into some soulless, pretentious, fuckwad place that’s nothing like The Beef.”
“It’s not gonna be like that, man.”
“Then tell me how this would go.”
Carmy sees the rare seriousness in his face. He puts the chips down and sighs. “The Bear is the old mingling with the new. Same traditions but with fresh executions. More to the menu, but it still has heart. It’s me. It’s you. It’s the family. It’s the neighborhood. The Bear is the heart of Chicago, with me and you pumping it to keep it alive.”
Mike face softens as his mind tastes the honey dripping from the words.
“All I want to do is fix up the place here and there. Get more workers and have them get some training so they can really throw down and give great service. That’ll be the main changes.”
“Everything else stays?” Mike asks.
“Everything else stays.”
A smile raises Mikey’s stubble yet again as he nods. “Doesn’t sound too bad.” He goes to finish off his sandwich. “Only one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“We keep Ballbreaker.”
“No--”
“Ah c’mon, Carm! Getting rid of it will break ol’ Fak’s heart.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll keep him away.”
Mikey laughs. “Such an asshole.”
Carmy can’t help but laugh along. His brother’s obnoxious laugh is too contagious. “Learned it from the king himself.”
After settling down, Mikey closes the to-go box and sits up. “Well, it’s almost time to get back to it.” He looks down at Carmy. “You’re really warming me up to this, Bear. Let's get the crew together later on so we can discuss it with them, yeah?”
Carmy forms a small smile. After every “We’ll see, buddy.”, every “I don’t know, Carm...”, every awkward silence that usually follows his idea, for the first time, he got a warm welcome to his dream. Soon to be their dream.
“Cool.”
Mikey leaves Carmy with a dried-out cigarette and salty chips. A dehydrating physical state, but with an ocean of possibilities splashing in his mind.
Carmy sits back, closes his eyes, and bathes in the loud quiet. A quiet that will drive a southerner and a west coaster insane. But this was his stillness.
“Jeff.”
“Not now, Tina.” Carmy whispered.
“Jeff!”
“Just a bit more time Tina, please.”
Carmy felt a rough shake on his arm, sparking irritation. The stillness is moving and he needed more time.
Blue eyes blink in a kitchen and turn to see Tina’s confusion staring back at him. “What’s with you this morning?” She says. Carmy raises his hand towards the office. “Go talk to Mike about it, alright!”
Tina's irritation shifts to quiet surprise. “What are you talking about, baby?”
Carmy’s daydream snuck off while reality slapped him in the face. He turns around to see Sydney, Marcus, and Ebra at their respective stations, doing their individual work. Richie walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You good, man?”
There is a long pause before Carmy turns off the stove and throws the burnt meat into the trash. “Yeah, I’m good. Just got sidetracked for a sec.”
Richie gives him a strong stare before heading back into the front. “Well, snap out of it and put the car in drive. Got a busy day with that parade shit happening.”
Carmy nods, then shakes his head at himself. Tina rubs his back as she passes by him, whispering, “Let me know if you need anything, honey.”
His mind takes a while to get back in the zone, focusing on the intricate details of the food, the layering of the meal, and the timing of everyone around him.
Lunch time rolls around with Carmy sitting alone outside. The rest of the crew was in the dining area – laughing, yelling, and eating cheesy lasagna. The only lunch Carmy had was a cigarette with no one scolding him to eat more.
Carmy’s mind convinced him that the smoke was making his eyes well up. Swirling white too strong for his ice spheres to withstand. They were slowly melting, and he did everything in his power not to let the water drip.
Summary: The Berzatto household is not for the weak. With a mother like Donna, it's no doubt that the three Bears had rough childhoods. But during the years of chaos and trauma, there were a handful of smiles and laughs, with uncouth wholesomeness sprinkled in. Moments in the Berzatto cubs' childhoods that contributed to the strong bond the three have (and had) with each other today.
Word Count: 4.1K words
Series: Cubs
A/N: So with the new season out, I wanted to release this since Season 2 made me obsessed with the Berzatto sibling/family dynamic. I haven't watched season 4 yet, so please no spoilers in the comments. We're starting strong with everyone's favorite crashout, Carmy Berzatto. Hope you enjoy!
This Al-Anon feels like mumbles of misery instead of a safe space it always sells itself to be. Some meetings Carmy listens, but he mostly stayed in his own head until it was his time to speak up. Ten minutes in, his phone is calling out to his boredom, but his self-control declined the appeal.
The leader of the meeting was some dude in his late 40s who had found his calling in counseling a couple years ago. After being tied down to his suicidal alcoholic girlfriend and doing a series of shitty jobs, he felt cornered to large walls until one of his co-workers suggested a meeting. One meeting out of curiosity became monthly visits which led to weekly visits, and the rest is history. Him and Cousin would have a nice chat over some beer and wings, Carmy thinks.
“It’s easy to excuse harmful behaviors from family or loved ones since we tend to prioritize that close bond over everything else. A lot of you mentioned before how it’s harder for you to recognize and handle these behaviors since you grew up with them. Is there anyone who had struggles separating the severity of those kinds of behaviors with your family or friend? And how did you handle it?”
Sugar and Mike flashed in his mind. They weren’t alcoholics like Ma, but they could still fit the bill. He rather think about them than her anyway. They filled the roles of mom and dad when his mother was in her own world while they’re dad... God knows where the hell he was. Older siblings as automatic friends and parents all in one package. Comrades in arms who endured the never-ending war of the Berzatto household. Ever since he could process anything in that little brain of his, two shadows have always surrounded him. The one in front of him and the one behind him. Mikey and Sug.
Growing up, Mikey’s shadow was colossal and overwhelming. It always swallowed him up, for better or for worse. There were many times it shielded him from Life’s scratches and bruises that the firstborn is sure the endure. Then there were times where it effortlessly overshadowed his dim light, oblivious to hiding any potential charm he can lay on family and friends. A perfect duality to wire Carmy to become the painfully quiet supporting character of his big brother’s story.
Sugar’s shadow swallowed his from behind, always ready to pick him up if he falls. Her protectiveness is more prepared, leaving him free to look forward instead of recognizing his sins staring at his back. This left him dependent for someone to always fix his bullshit. Broken vase? Sugar will quickly glue it back together, so Ma won’t notice. Twenty dollars short? Sugar snuck fifty dollars in his back pocket when he wasn’t looking. She was always there come in clutch whenever Life wanted to bully him.
Experiencing that, how the hell can he call out Sugar’s stressful people pleasing or Mikey’s addiction? Carmy always felt like he “owed” them something. They had to sacrifice a lot of their childhoods to make sure the house didn’t turn upside down. The last thing they need is their brother they did all of that for to tell them about themselves. Mikey would have probably react like Ma while Sugar (the old her at least) would deny, deny, deny then flip the arrow back on yourself, pointing out your flaws. Plus, given his position in the family, he would be laughed at if he tried to call out either of their behavior.
As the next person in the circle gives their emotional answer, Carmy looks to ground in deep thought. His mind drifted to the gallery of young, fuzzy memories.
Natalie
There was an imposter within the pink and creamy white painted walls, decorated with fairy lights and boy band posters. An annoying little brother lays on the vacuumed carpet while the annoyed big sister reads her cheesy teen magazines. Sugar brown eyes were too invested in Paris Hilton’s latest juicy scandal to lay down the iron fist and shut him out.
Carmy flipped through a cookie cutter cookbook one of her friends got her for her birthday, judging the boring recipes page after page. Mikey and Richie were out, so Sugar was next in line to cure his boyish boredom. Donna was shouting in the kitchen downstairs because one of her friends called her on the phone and Carm didn’t want to hear it.
Carmy kicks the bathroom wall, his nicotine withdrawals seeping in. “Fuck Sug.”
Everyone in this fucking family smokes, yet he’s always the target for the corny “think about your lungs” talk. What a load of shit! He can’t even pull out the orange bud fully before she snatches the box out of his hand and locks it away in her bra.
“You’re gonna get cancer, Bear. Don’t follow Ma and Mikey...”
“I’ll get cancer from second hand alone. Might as well join em’.”
“Carm.”
“Sug.”
“I can’t watch you smoke these. It doesn’t make you cool and there’s other ways to relieve stress. You’re fifteen anyway.”
Carmy gives her a look with his stubborn baby fat and sprinkles of poking acne. Sugar shakes her head, shedding the overdramatic irritation. “You see me as a bitch now, but you’ll thank me one day.”
Carmy closes his eyes and cringes at that conversation from yesterday. For someone who bitches about Ma, she sure inherited her “I know what’s best for you” attitude. The wave of nicotine withdrawal eats away his brain again, leading to another kick to the wall.
Carmy heads downstairs, bookbag hanging from one side of his shoulder. He looks around and basks in the rare pocket of quiet that happens before Mikey and Ma wake. He would make some breakfast but he’s already running late for school. He doesn’t even know why that matters; he’ll just sleep through or skip most of his classes anyway. But the last thing he needs is another lecture from Sug so he guess he’ll pretend to act like school matters.
Softly closing the front door behind him, he sees Sug in the distance, her dark purple cardigan facing him. Carmy was about to speak until he saw a small trail of smoke wiggling out of her frame. He squints his freshly woke eyes to confirm what the fuck he’s seeing.
She’s fucking smoking!
“Yo, are you forreal right now!” Carmy shouted.
Sug, the Liar, turns like criminal hearing police sirens. “Shit!” She drops the cig and stomps it in a pathetic attempt to delete the evidence. “Carmy, I--”
“You’re a fucking hypocrite!”
Carmy walks through the reconstruction site, taking a mental smoke break from the yelling and the business headaches. Sitting down with some ice-cold water, Sugar enters with a couple of brown paper bags in hand. Carmy keeps his focus on the chaotic calendar while shaking the ice in his cup.
Natalie gives a firm smile. “Hey, Bear.”
Carmy ignores her.
Natalie smile drops and her eyes roll up. “No way you’re still mad at me.”
April 10th is the most interesting date for Carmy to look at.
Natalie shakes her head. “Typical.” She sighs before faking a smile. “Well, I went out and got you something.”
“I’m good.”
Natalie fake gasps. “He speaks!”
Carmy goes mute again, hoping his eyes can erase her from his mind.
“If you want to be a jagoff and ignore me, fine. At least check the bag.”
Carmy keeps his aloof position for a long moment before shifting to grab the bag. He looks inside to see a bag of Cracker Jacks. His head does a push back as a initial quiet shock. A sore hand pulls the American colored bag out. Sugar leans to get a good read on his guarded emotions.
“Hmm. Haven’t had these in a hot minute.” He looks at Natalie. “Where did you get this?”
“You know that store next to Tony’s Pizzaria?” Carmy nods.
“I was just cruising around in there and came across them.” She chuckles. “I immediately thought of you throwing these down at fourteen.”
Carmy looks at the mascot sailor boy and his dog before pulling the bag apart. “Thanks.”
Sugar sits up and slowly walks towards the double doors, smiling from her mission accomplish. Carmy watches her while chewing on the caramel coated popcorn.
Hours later, Natalie’s finger rubs her scalp deep; the words of the paperwork starting to appear conjoined. Her eyes flickered at the 10:29 PM then sighed. Carmy stops at the entrance of the room, holding a bowl with one hand. “Hey.”
Natalie turns. “Hey.”
“Made this for you.” Carmy hands her the bowl of creamy chicken carbonara, one of her classic favorites. Natalie gasps.
“I was thinking about this all-day, how did you know?”
“Maybe I’m a mind-reader, I don’t know.” Carmy answers seriously.
“I’ve been trying to stay away from the childhood food for the baby but...” She pinches the air. “I can cheat sometimes. I’m just really fucking hungry, and I ate two hours ago.”
“Well, you’re eating for two now.” Carmy notes.
Natalie agrees while staring off to space.
“Plus, you’ve always been a fat-ass.” Carmy leaves before he can feel the polished middle finger burning his way.
Carmy forms a barely noticeable smile as he opens his locker, impressed to land an apology and insult within the same minute.
Michael
“C’mon Carm, don’t be a wuss.” A fourteen-year-old Mikey shouts from the shoreline. His whole body was drenched in salt water. The burning sea and dazzling sun influenced the squint his eyes.
Carmy, at the ripe age of five, shakes his head from the comfort of the beach umbrella. Its shadows protect him from a sunburn and attention from passing beachgoers.
Richie was busy tackling the sea, getting wiped out by the unforgiving waves every few seconds. Sugar’s hands are trying her best to stack another handful of sand on the left side of her royal castle. The ten-year-old could care less what her brothers were doing. Her sandcastle for her mermaid Barbie doll was way more important.
Mikey groans before trying again. “The water isn’t gonna bite you. Look at Richie.” He turns to his idiot for a best friend. “He keeps getting bitched by the water, but it isn’t killing him.”
“Fuck you ma--” Another wave interrupts his comeback.
Fear intensifies on Carmy’s face, shifting back on the large towel. Mikey notices this. “Oh boy...”
He jogs over to the family checkpoint. The young boy watches his big brother bend to his level and looks him dead in the eye.
“What about it scares you?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
Carmy looks to his knees to hide from his frank approach. “It’s so big and it keeps going.”
Mikey laughs, “Well most of the world is made of it. I can’t imagine how huge it is.”
“That’s what scary.” He looks up. “What if it swallows me like Richie but takes me away.”
“It’s not gonna swallow you, Bear.”
“Yes, it will. It’s gonna take me away from you and Sugar.”
Mikey leans in closer. “Oh yeah? The ocean won’t get you if we go together.”
The fear of Carmy’s face tames into curiosity. “Really?”
The confident pre-teen stretches his hand out to his little brother’s shoulder. “Come with me and find out.”
The little brother stares a moment before sitting up and following behind. Mikey flicked the back of Sugar’s head before leading Carmy to the shoreline. Unease tickled the boy as the foamy water greets his feet. “Mike...”
“Just follow my lead, okay?”
Carmy looks up to see his brother taking slow steps further into the shore. He positions behind him and takes tiny steps. “Okay.”
After a couple minutes of inching forward, the blue-gray water was up to Carmy’s chest and up to Mike’s mid-thigh. Mike smirks, “Would you look at that? We’re one with the water, Carm.”
Carmy chuckles and tries his best to keep his stance. He looks up when he feels a heavy hand on his head of brown curls. Mike looks down at his baby brother and nods in approval. “Let it rip.”
The little fear conqueror returns the gesture. “Let it ri--” A huge wave cuts the moment short, pushing both brothers back towards the shore with its non-stop waves. Carmy and Mike laugh it off after recovering from one of Mother Nature’s biggest bullies.
Carmy throws up a middle finger when he sees Mike and Richie make fake kissing noises. Bursting in his room moments before, they found a drawing of Claire Dunlap chilling on his desk. Perfect material to tease the ever-so-awkward fourteen-year-old.
“Guys, I’m not in the mood alright?” His puberty toned his voice to switch between pitches, giving Mike and Richie ears whiplash.
“Dude how long are you gonna be a creep and keep drawing her. Just tell her how you feel.” Richie says, staring at the details of the drawing.
“Because he’s a pussy and won’t walk up and talk to her. It as easy as 1, 2, 3.” Mike talks while chewing his food he stole from Ma’s cooking.
“Easy for you to say.” Carmy thought.
“Okay, okay.” Mike sits on the navy-blue sheets, looking at his brother with a softer look. “What’s stopping you from talking to her? You guys used to be friends at one point.”
“Yeah, but that was like 5th grade or some shit.”
“What happened?”
Carmy shrugs, “I don’t know. We just stopped talking to each other around 7th grade.”
Richie smirks. “Let me guess, she started cliquing up with popular girls and saw how lame you really are?”
Carmy gave him the finger. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t swing that way man, I’m sorry.”
“Cousin, chill.” Mikey raised his hand.
Richie rolls his eyes. “I don’t even know what you see in her anyway. I saw her a month ago and she needs to lay off the donuts and potato chips. She got four eyes too and that’s not--”
“Who cares if she’s hot or not. She’s too young for you anyway.” Mikey turns back to Carmy. “Carm, you can’t be shy if you want a relationship. Girls like when guys chase them and cut through their hard-to-get bullshit.”
Carmy looks to his carpet rug for a moment before opening up. “Every time she passes by, she gives me a smile, and I just lock-up. My mouth just opens and nothing comes out. I just look like some weird mouth-breather.”
Mikey chuckles. “Well I got a challenge for you then. Tomorrow just send her a wave. Don’t say anything, don’t do some corny move, just lift a wave at her and see how she responds.”
“What if she ignores me?”
“Then fuck her. I’m sure they’re prettier girls in your grade. It won’t be the end of the world.”
Carmy looks at his brother for a moment then nods, digesting his sharp advice. A small smile follows. “Thanks Mike.”
“A Berzatto man good looks can only take him so far. I gotta make sure you have the charm to back it up.”
“All I’m saying is that Mexican chick with the dimples is the one to go, Carm. Latinas are where is at, I’m tellin you.”
Mike sits up and pushes Richie towards the door. “Shut the hell up before you catch a case.” He turns his head to Carmy. “Rooting for you, Bear.”
Carmy nods before staring at his portrait of Claire. The television from downstairs and various yelling are heard in the back of his mind.
It’s been a year since graduating culinary school. Carmy decided to come back to Chicago for a week or so. He was waiting for his move-in date for his apartment in New York and the city was getting too expensive to just sit and wait. Staying with Fak, he decided to meet up with Mikey on one of his rare off days from The Beef. It was 2019 and the brothers were sitting on one of the stone picnic tables at the park.
“And why didn’t you come to visit for Christmas, huh?” Mikey roughly nudges Carmy’s shoulder. ”Ma constantly nags how you don’t come around anymore and shit like that.”
Carmy gives him a look. “After all that bullshit four years ago, is she really saying that?”
Mikey goes quiet and looks to his feet. “Yeah, a lot of that was me though, not just Ma. That old fuck just set me off.”
Carmy pats his back. “I get it. Lee sucks and likes to start shit. I was just mad at you in the moment because Ma was at the point where a feather could set her off and I wanted to get through dinner.”
“In my defense, I wasn’t the one who set her off.”
“It was Sug.” They say in unison.
“Fuck, why did she say something.” Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose, remembering the moment Sugar asked, “You okay?”
Mikey shakes his head. “I don’t know. She meant well but, god damn.”
“It’s whatever. I got over it so we’re good.” Carmy reassured.
They sit and people watch for a few minutes as nature substitutes for the silence.
“So, everything's taken care of for New York?” Mikey asks.
Carmy sighs, “You’re doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“That babying shit. I’m twenty-five.”
Mikey reaches over to ruffle his curls. “Oh really? I thought you were just a huge five-year-old. Thanks for clearing that up.”
Carmy laughs, “Fuck you man.”
The brothers share laughs in their familial bubble, providing great scenery for people passing by.
“I know your grown Carm. I’m still gonna ask. I’m programmed to ask about things and make sure you’re good.”
“Even when I’m forty and shit?” Carmy side eyes him with a smirk.
“You can be seventy in a damn nursing home and I’m still gonna hit you up and ask, “Aye Carm, you good on prune juice or what?”” Mikey confirms.
Carmy bursts out laughing and shields part of his red face with his hand. “I hate you.”
“Love you too, Bear.”
When Carmy calms down, he idly looks down with a small smile on his face. “Fak is hooking me up with some people that can help the move be smooth. I’m all good.”
Mikey nods with a satisfied smile. He goes to pat his baby brother on the back. “Good to know.”
“You want to say something, Carmen?”
Carmy looks up then nods. He ignores the curious, freshly awoken stares of his AI-Anon peers. Sitting in the navy plastic chair, he adjusts his hat before trailing his blues across the small rows in front of him.
“Um, my bad, what was the prompt or question thing?”
The leader let out a quiet chuckle then straightens in his seat. “We were talking about the phenomenon of excusing problematic behaviors from family or friends due to a sense of closeness you may have felt for them since childhood. I was asking if anyone had any struggles separating the severity of that behavior with your family or friend and how you handled that.”
Carmy nodded, computing the question in his brain. “Oh okay.”
“You’ve talked about your brother in previous meetings. Maybe you can start with him?” The leader raises his hand, “Only if you’re comfortable.”
The young chef gets up and walks to sit in the main chair up front, all eyes on him. He sighs as incomplete sentences zoom in his mind.
“Yeah, um, Mikey he... you know what I’ll get back to him. One day I caught my sister smoking through a pack of Marlboros, and it made me so fucking mad. All before that she acted like smoking was so bad for me and was always on my ass about it. Only to find her with a damn stick in her mouth.”
The leader expression raises, not expecting that opener. The others before him had to warm up to what their loved ones did that made them upset or sad. But Carmy just dived straight into it. Compared to how he tackled these questions a year ago, he made huge progress, more than others did in years of coming to these meetings.
“She cut them off completely about four or five years ago, but I remember her being on and off with em’. Like it was a guilt she criticized others doing but sneaked around to do. I used to think she was annoying as fuck for that, but I understand it now that I’m trying to quit. I never worried about her own addiction to them because everyone in our family smokes. Trying to avoid them would be like putting a bunch of rats in a pizza joint and expecting one of them not to eat cheese. I don’t know if that’s the right example.”
Some of the listeners give affirming nods while others keep their soft stares.
“When she denied a cigarette one day, everyone called her a prude. I even thought, “There’s no way she’ll last a month.”. But since then, I haven't seen her smoke. She’s always trying to undo a lot of shit that stuck with us. I’m actually proud of her. Don’t tell her that though.”
Some chuckle, some form a little smile at that last part. Carmy got a swig of water to hydrate his throat. He’s quiet for a few seconds before going back in the zone.
“And Mikey... hm. The more I think back on what went wrong, the more I recognize shit that I should have picked up on in the moment. I guess I was so fucking mad it made me blind to everything else.” Carmy fixes his poor posture. “But I think my main thing wasn’t even that. Imagine growing up with this dude who always took care of things, who always knew what to say. Who can take your shitty emotions and make them go away with one conversation. Can you blame me for having blinders to the bullshit going on with him?”
Carmy heard some soft agreements, giving him more assurance to keep going.
“I think the thing with siblings is that they feel like war buddies. We’re so focused on surviving whatever shit in the household that might happen that we ignore the things we should call out with each other. I guess I also understand why they are the way they are since I’ve seen them go through it.”
Carmy directs his attention to the leader. “Maybe I just don’t want to be that guy who sounds preachy and holier-than-thou since they know I got my own bullshit going on as well. Sibling shit is hard to explain, man. Like some unspoken thing that gets stronger with time. Get what I mean?”
The host gives him an affirming nod, whether it was for Carmy or himself to digest something like that. But he knew he had to come up with some type of response to not make Carmy feel awkward or unheard. Carmy got a quick glance to see a few hard nods, relating to the weird familial feeling he tried to define. Most give him looks of understanding which made him feel a little validated despite his journey through the words.
The leader clears his throat. “Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s okay if you can’t explain it. There are many things we feel so deeply but have a hard time labeling. Thanks for sharing, Carmen.”
Carmen sits back in his seat as the next one in the front seat (or the hot seat, he likes to call it) gave their go at the prompt. He listens until he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. Pulling it out, it reads: Sug. He denies the call then texts to keep her from hounding his line.
In AI-anon. Call you later.
A minute later, she responded.
Sug: Kay. I just wanted you to get me some formula before you get here. Please and thanks!
Carmy squints his face at the text, both confused and irritated from the random fetch request. He texts back.
Get it yourself.
Carmy looks up when he hears low gasps around the room. The man must have revealed something about his wife to cause such a reaction. The next buzz of his phone pulls his face back down.
Sug: For all the shit I had to deal with you, it’s compensation. Get it or else. *scared face emoji* *water gun emoji*
Carmy shakes his head with a tiny smile. He texts back the middle finger emoji and stuffs the phone deep in his pocket. As the rest of the meeting progresses, his memory bank continues to roam through the countless moments he shared with his two big Bears.
Fluttering Wings | Chapter 2 [Silent Hill Fanfiction]
Chapter 1
Summary: James slowly shifts back to his regular day-to-day life. This pushes Maria to find some type of daily purpose before insecurity chews her up into irreparable pieces.
Based on: Maria ending
Words: 2K
A/N: Thanks for the support so far. Enjoy the chapter!
A stubborn tightness lodges in the back of Maria’s neck, settling unease as her vision clears up. Rising from the pillow, she winces before noticing the bathroom light still being on. She looks down to see herself still naked under her bathrobe.
“Must have really been tired.” She rasps out, soothing her neck in circles. She hops off the bed and takes small steps to figure out what to do. Clothes were her first thought. Her only outfit was dirty.
Pulling the drawers, she came across feminine clothing of soft pastel colors. Maria lifts a white blouse with a small pink bow on the top. She flings it across her shoulder and goes to another drawer to look for something to coordinate. There were a lot of pants she wasn’t a fan of. There were a lot of over-the-knee skirts she wasn’t a fan of. Between the two, she would rather wear the skirt.
Her blonde and dipped pink tips were tamed into a small bun to finish the look. She scrunches her face when she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. The white blouse hid her girls, while the light pink floral skirt didn’t do her hips justice. Despite the dye of her hair, she looked like a woman safe enough to bring your mother to.
She looked like her.
Maria shakes her head and snatches the scrunchie out, the pink bun softly exploding into a disheveled mess. “Need to buy some more clothes. I feel like a young granny.”
Maria rolls her eyes when she notices the grimy middle-aged man burning his attention on the left side of her face. She adjusts her blouse and spreads out her skirt, eliminating any trigger for lust. She shoots him a mean look, but it fails when he boldly continues to stare her down. She scoffs, waves him off, then looks out the window.
This city was on a bigger scale than Silent Hill, and there were crowds of people everywhere. She gets off on the next stop, wanting to explore this new location.
Walking through the town amplifies a sense of ease when she realizes that people can see her. The smiles from passing strangers make her chest warm, even if it’s for a few seconds. A sturdy body slams against her shoulder, pushing her far to the right. She turns to see a mean mug of a man staring down at her inferior frame.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Maria ignores him and keeps walking. Not even that asshole can ruin these little highs she’s feeling. Across the street sit colorful neon lights, stealing her focus from any other store nearby. She looks up to read: Fallen Clouds.
“What could that mean?” She thought. Curiosity conquered the cat as she lightly jogs across the street towards the mysterious name.
Low chatter across the pocket space mingles with the soft slams of glassware and clinking from cutlery. Walking in with her modest outfit, many men deliver her unraveling lusts, trying to decipher the curves beyond the puzzle. Maria continues on, her eyes focused on the bar stool a couple of seats away from the older woman in her own world. It takes a couple of minutes before the bartender approaches her with an exhausted but friendly look on his face.
“Welcome! What are you in the mood for?”
Maria taps her fingers along the hickory surface, foreign seeping through now that she is the one being served. “Hmm, you got anything that isn't too bitter but isn’t too sweet either?”
“Sounds like you need a classic daiquiri.” The bartender suggests.
“I guess so. I just need something.”
“Want any food with that drink?”
Maria considered it for a second before shrugging. “I’ll wait and see.”
Sipping with a foggy escape, she scans the tipsy and drunk individuals across the pub. Some are here to get a quick buzz, some are married to the alcohol, others seem like they are somewhere else, their body is just here. Maria hums before turning to the approaching bartender, who was more stressed than he was half of hour ago.
“So you wanted the crab cakes, right?” He appeared with the steaming plate in one hand.
Maria lifts a brow, “I never ordered those.”
The bartender winces. “Right, right. Fuck. Maybe it was that guy down there?”
“Need some help serving? Seems like it gets busy quick.”
“Uh, I don’t know—Do you know how to serve?”
Maria nods, “I know how to bartend and serve. Let me help you.”
The bartender hesitates for a moment before a customer shouts at him.
“Dude, where the hell are my crab cakes!?” A young man sitting at mid row shouts.
“Coming!” He turns to Maria. “Fine you can help out, but you probably aren’t getting paid for this. Just letting you know.”
Maria finishes her drink and stands up. “Wasn’t getting paid at my last job.”
The bartender looks at her confused. “What kind of bar did you work at?”
Maria chuckles, the alcohol settling in, eliminating the negatives from the past twenty-four hours. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“And you ordered the Long Island, correct?” Maria lowered the cocktail with care and confidence, impressing the customer.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The customer pushed up his glasses to get a detailed look at the nice change to his frequent visits here.
“No prob.”
“You new here, sweetheart?”
Maria has her back turned to him while she sweeps up some broken glass. She contemplated for a moment, thinking of an answer.
“Maybe. I’m just working for today, so who knows?”
“Damn, I hope so. Need more pretty faces in this sausage party.”
The bartender approaches Maria, looking less distraught than he did several hours earlier. “Kevin is out today, so I can’t hire you officially, but I’ll tell him about you tomorrow and set you up for an interview. But that’s only if you’re down to do this after today?”
Maria gives him a half smile. “I’ll be down. Don’t know where else I can go for work without messing up badly.”
The bartender laughs, “I feel the same. You’re a natural here so it would be a shame not to have you here.” He reaches for her shoulder. “Thanks Maria, I would have drowned without ya.”
Maria nods, not knowing how to process this kind of validation. The bartender goes to leave before he turns his head again, “I’m about to shut down. See ya tomorrow?”
Maria does a salute with her signature smirk.
James mindlessly browses through the cable channels of his small rectangular television. The depressing news. Who cares. Kittens gone wild. No thanks. A basketball championship game. Not a fan. Some obnoxious kids’ show. Ugh.
Sitting up, he rubs the fatigue out of his face. Strained eyes check the clock: 2:45 AM. For the first time today, the spunky blonde blinks in his mind.
“Oh yeah... where is she?”
The front door open and closes, bringing in an exhausted Maria. Speak of the devil.
“Hey...”
Her outfit takes a pinch of his worry. His stare lingers on the floral embroidery of the pastel pink skirt.
Maria notices his gaze and scrambles for an excuse for why she’s wearing his dead wife’s clothes. “My, uh, other clothes were dirty so I needed--”
James raises a hand to stop her. “It’s fine. I just didn’t expect you to wear something like that.”
She raises a shopping bag in her hand. “I bought some new stuff today, so I won’t wear something like this again.”
“How were you able to buy that?”
Maria hesitates before answering, “I managed to snag a job today.”
James sits up from his slouch and completely faces her. “How--I mean... where did...” He pauses and faces down for a moment before looking at her again. “Where are you working?”
“You don’t think I’m capable of handling a job?” She claims, offended.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just... I brought you here yesterday and you already have a job. It’s just a little surprising that all.”
Maria gives him a hard glare before letting up. “I was just walking around the town and I came across this bar that needed some help. The bartender thought I was good help, so he offered me a job.”
James nods.
“I figured that you’ll need help anyway, and I don’t want to feel like some freeloader.”
James nods again, lowering his posture now that the air is cleared. He flashes through their interactions from the past day or, so then closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Maria knows what he’s sorry about, but isn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “About what. I need more than that.”
“About yesterday and really since we met. I’ve kept you in the dark and I’m sure that can be frustrating. I’m sorry making you feel... hm...”
“Second place? Some fun distraction you regret? A total stranger even after everything we’ve been through?” She bitterly exposes.
James avoids her burning blue but slowly nods. “Yeah...”
Maria lets out a breath of hurt, armored by resentment. Although it’s going to take more than a simple sorry to clean out the lingering grudge, but hey, at least he was man enough to own up to his shortcomings.
The burnt-out server goes to sit down on the couch, strictly on the opposite end from James. There was a measurable space between them, with the nature channel narrating a wild habitat in the background.
“How was your day?” James starts, watching the lions as his excuse not to face her.
Maria leans back and contemplates for a moment. “Overwhelming but in a good way.”
“Good way how?”
“Like I finally have something to look forward to. Like I matter outside of what I had to do back there.” He knew what “there” was; he’ll probably be the only person alive to know that reference without any elaboration.
“I see. Well, I’m glad you have something to do.”
“Where do you work anyway?” She faces him, realizing she doesn’t know much about her fellow comrade.
“I work at an accounting firm a few blocks from here.”
Maria narrows her gaze with her signature smirk. He notices. “What?”
“That was lackluster. But I’m not really surprised.” She yawns in a teasing way.
James lets out a little laugh that’s easy to miss. “What did you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know, maybe a gourmet chef. A construction worker, or hell, a computer programmer at the very least.”
James shakes his head with a small smile. “Sorry, I guess.”
Maria sees his lifted mood, her smirk shifting into something a little sweeter.
James yawns and checks the time. 3:35 AM. He sits up, looking down at, Maria who is recovering from one of his dry jokes. “I’m going to hit the hay. Got work in the morning.”
“Oh yeah, sorry for keeping you up.”
“You’re fine.” James walks towards the stairway before the one thing he wanted to say for the past hour slams the front of his mind. He stops and looks to the carpet steps to gather the courage to lay it on Maria.
Maria stretches her aching legs and arms. “A nice bath would be heaven right now.”
“Would you like to go get some ice cream?” James blurts out.
Maria stops and turns to him. “Huh?”
“There’s, uh... there’s an ice cream shop downtown. It’s not busy on the weekends, so I just thought it would be a nice place to relax and such.” The longer James talks the more he feels like drowning in hot water.
“I never had ice cream before. Is it good?”
James stares for a moment before nodding. “It’s really good if you’re in the mood for it.”
“Hopefully we’re in the mood for it then.” Maria tries to smirk, but a smile takes shape instead.
James exhales, glad for that to go well despite his lack of charisma. “Good. We can go sometime this weekend.”
Maria slowly swings her body and bites the corner of her lip. She avoids James's gaze like she was just asked to the winter formal dance. “Sounds like a date.”
Summary: The happenings that breeze toward Ven after school.
Words: 614 words
Series: Key Bros
A/N: I don't really have much to say but enjoy the chapter.
Since middle school, Ventus has always been “The weather guy”. Whenever his siblings were too lazy to check the weather app they would just ask Ven. Seconds after someone would ask about the weather, Ven would have his answer. He was so in tuned with the weather that he would have better accuracy than meteorologists and weather apps combined. He grew up to simply be: Ven the weather guy.
If he had to pick a favorite weather condition, it would be those sunny windy days. The kind of days where the wind was a few currents short of lifting your body towards the sultry sky. The wind had a profound connection with him ever since he was little. He always felt like it whispered secrets to him that it didn’t tell anyone else, like a best friend. His brothers used this as perfect ammo to tease him, making smooching noises every time he twirls with the wind. It didn’t bother him though.
On a cloudy Wednesday in the middle of September, the wind wanted to play with its friend again. School had resulted in a half day due to one of the teachers reporting a mass threat to the school written by one of the students. Sora and Roxas went to hang out with their friends and track practice was cancelled. The consequences of an all nighter began weighing on Ven so he decided to head home to take a nap.
Like the sea, the air gently announced its arrival for a moment before unleashing a gust against Ven’s left side. He lightly chuckles as his clothes and strong blonde move out of order. Looking up, the various objects with no backbone were influenced, rocking back and forth. The romanticism in Ven’s mind convinced him that he was in a coming-of-age film with a small budget but a lot of heart. The kind of film many love over blockbuster hits decades after flopping in the box office.
Adjusting the heavy straps of his backpack, a park waves in his line of vision. The park was less crowded than usual, and he doesn’t know when he’ll have it like this again. Fighting sleep, he skips the shortcut to home and jogs over to the vast of green grass.
“You’re a little crazy today...” Ven drops his bag, hoping the wind will reward him for shedding the useless weight. He performs a spin jump and for three split seconds he swore the wind picked up his feet and kept him there. His sneakers felt the load of the low-cut grass, waving away his hallucination of having wings.
“I did it. Holy crap!”
Pumping his fist in the air, he turns to see a kid staring at him with a kite glued to his hip. Ven awkwardly lower his arms and stands like a mature adult (or so he thinks). “Hi, uh, how long were you standing... there?”
The young boy shrugs then presents his rainbow-striped kite as a question. Ven points to himself and the boy nods in response. The teen chuckles and gestures him forward. “Well, c’mon then.”
It was the kite vs the world, its symmetrical angles overwhelmed by the gentle blows. Ven guided the boy’s arms so the kite can get some momentum. The boy smiles in surprise when the kite surfs along the warm air. “You got it!” Ven claps, giving the quiet little one a bloom of confidence.
The kite flies far, prompting the boy to chase it. Ven jogs to keep up, the opposite direction of the gust slamming against his face and sight. Boyish chuckles of different pitches ripples with Earth’s breath, floating up to the shy sun.
Fluttering Wings | Chapter 1 [Silent Hill Fanfiction]
Chapter library: Pending...
Pairing: James Sunderland x Maria
Summary: After leaving Silent Hill, Maria struggles to form a proper relationship with James that goes beyond sexual attraction. He feels something for Maria, but is struggling to move forward with her after his mental hell trying to find Mary. In order for Maria to gain her freedom and agency, James must realize who's beside him and not let grief dry up any love he has left.
Based on: Maria ending
Words: 1.7K
A/N: First SH fanfic. Love the chemistry between Maria and James and would have loved to see them together despite what Maria represented and James strong feelings for Mary. SH2 is a masterpiece both in the original and remake so I'm excited focus on these two past the canon story. Oh also, for James, I'm taking most inspiration from his Remake ver., while for Maria I'm taking most inspiration from her character in the original. Anyway, enjoy the story!
Maria’s throat feels cramped as another cough threatens to make the lack of conversation more tense. She fails to hold back the eruption and masks her small coughs by clearing her throat. James shifts a bit but keeps one hand on the wheel, flicking on the signal with the other. While he was distracted by the right intersection, Maria gets a quick look of the slight dread and fatigue resting on his quiet disposition.
“You better do something about that cough.”
Maria’s hot pink nails stab her palms, she’s tired of being quiet.
“You’re such an asshole.” The venom behind that snaps James out of his mind.
He stops at a red light. “Wha--” He shakes his head from the sudden jab. “...Huh?”
“Why the hell would you say that to me?”
James plays the oblivious card. “Say what? What did I say?”
“All I did was cough and you’re treating me like her.” Every time Maria mentioned her, her voice couldn’t help but feel an unexplained hostility. She knows very little of this woman, yet her emotions boil over every time she comes up. She hates that she has a vague understanding why.
“I didn’t... I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Sorry.” James tells her. He hopes she’ll drop it so he can return home with the little peace he has left. The light turns green, and he proceeds on the lax road.
Maria bites her lip and grabs her thighs tightly. Everything he said to her still sounds detached and formal. All the hell they been through together. He even took her away from that God forsaken town yet he’s still treating her like a stranger.
“Guess I should pretend being your little Mary.” Maria mutters. James grip on the wheel tightens. “Maria, please.”
“You’re right. I should do something about that cough if I want to live longer than her.”
James does a sharp right into the thinly populated parking lot. A handful of cars are scattered throughout the large space in front the supermarket. James brakes horizontally in two parking spaces, the abrupt stop makes Maria jerk forward. She turns to James with wide eyes.
“Are you insane?”
“You don’t know what the hell I been through these past few years! The countless times I clean up her vomit! Her piss and shit! Her damn blood! Have you watched someone grow weak and slowly die day by day!? No you haven’t! You know how many nights I debated whether I should have done what I did!? How many nights I drunk to forget everything I had to deal with! Hearing her begging me to kill her one hour then turn around and cry to never let her die the next! I was tired--” James chokes up. “So... fucking tired.”
Maria sat there simply staring, too much dumped on her to respond properly. James turns to the window when tears drip down his face. “I’m not dealing with another sickness. So berate me for wanting you to do something about your cough. I refuse to go through a pain like that again.” James's weeping fills the thick quiet in the car.
Tears roll down Maria’s face. She reaches over and cradles him in her arms. “I’m so sorry James.”
The heat he has for Maria ceases as he leans into her. He wants solace, from whoever, it doesn’t matter were. Even in a slack supermarket parking lot on a Sunday afternoon with a woman he just met a day ago.
Maria only had a few seconds to decipher each house as they pass through the tame suburbia. The rest of the ride home was a social nightmare. Nothing but restricted quiet and screaming thoughts of the elephant in the car.
Why did I get in the car with this man? Am I really that desperate?
She scolds herself but the truth sits in the back of her head. If talking surface level, James was handsome and easy to manipulate. Digging past that, he was her one-way ticket out of that foggy misery. No way she was going to past that up, no matter the consequences she could face. But, with that one-way ticket came a test that holds her agency hostage.
As soon as Maria stepped out of town, Silent Hill settled in Maria’s mind that James is still being tested. He figured out the truth of what he did to his wife but now comes how he handles life after. The town gifted Maria to be his second chance at love and moving forward from Mary.
In the town’s twisted fashion, it brought a light sickness down on Maria to test James. A trial of handling the pressures of a relationship without resorting to murder nor abandonment. The town’s final challenge to see if he deserves to love anyone again. Can he conquer his mountain of guilt and sin?
If he fails to love Maria for her and views her as a rebound from Mary, Maria sense of self and agency will vanish. The town will summon him back to torture him again until he learns his lesson or lead him to his death. If he passes the test and is willing to move forward, then both his and Maria’s ties to Silent Hill will be severed and Maria will officially become her own person. He has one month.
Maria bites her dark pink lip as her mind process the conditions of her and James's situation. She wants to have faith but after his blowup, insecurity tickles her heart. James pulls into the driveway of his two-story home, putting the gear into park. He sits back for a moment and sighs from his nose before he turns to Maria. He sees the worried look on her face and goes to grab her shoulder. Maria flinches.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re fine...”
“It’s just... we’re here.”
Maria looks up and sees a white house no different from the classroom of houses she briefly gazed at. The only striking difference was a bronze wind chime and a bed of daisies.
“This is you?” Maria asked, opening the car door.
“Yep. Home sweet home.”
The two get out of the car and close their doors. James looks down and walks to the front door while Maria slowly does a 360 of her surroundings. Kids are playing in one yard, playing a game to take up their last free day before going back to academic prison. A noisy wife is watering her plants while catching glances over at Maria, itching to know who James Sunderland brought home not even a week after his wife died. A dog sleeps on the cool grass while his owner is busy working on the engine of his 1979 Cadillac. Maria’s 360 concluded with James looking at her with a slightly impatient stare.
“You coming?”
“Yeah.” She walks along the pavement. “Just seeing what I’ve got myself into...” She whispered to herself.
“Not too shabby.” Maria comments, looking around the living room. Each photo of Mary was trapped in a square frame, some with her alone, many accompanied with James. The heat in Maria’s chest spreads after glancing at each shy smile glued on an average pretty face.
“Yeah, um, I need to clean up. Sorry for the mess.” James said.
“It’s fine. Leagues better than where we came from.”
James tenses from the nameless mention of that damn place. Maria immediately notices and was about to apologize until James takes flight towards to the stairs. Maria mouth closes when she sees James's back turn to her with one foot on the staircase.
“I’m really tired Maria. I just want to forget these past couple days, so let’s not bring up that place, okay?” James takes a few steps up, leaving Maria perplexed.
“Wait!”
James stops and turns enough that half of his face gives her attention. Maria huffs.
“Don’t you want me to join you? I’m pretty tired too.” A seductive smile crept on her now dry lips. “Or we could do something more exciting. Whatever you want.”
James sighed, “I think I just want to be alone tonight. There is a guest room on the far right of the hallway upstairs.”
“Are you kidding me? What was the point of bringing me here if you were going to be distant? Just admit you still haven’t gotten over her! Hell, you still have her pictures at every corner of this room. If you brought me here thinking I’ll just be your Mary then you made a big mistake!” Maria’s chest exhales the repressed heat that simmered since they left the town.
James looks at her for a few seconds before looking down at the railing. After a moment of silence, he turns his back towards her again. “I won’t blame you for leaving.”
Maria watches James walk upstairs, too exhausted to combat his aloofness nor decipher what the hell he just said. Once he was out of sight, she decided to give herself a tour of her new “home”.
Maria emerges from the shower, her soul exhaling in relief after getting that sweat, grime, and horror off her. She ties her bathrobe and adjusts the towel wrapped around her hair. Her increasing fatigue with her clean status made her fall flat on the fluffy, soft grey sheets. She buried half of her face in the cushion, a stark contrast to having a fever on the dingy, ratty hospital bed last night. The only thing that was the same was that James left her alone.
Stripped from everything that made her Maria, she was left with her glass fate and foggy future. What happens now? What she expected to be chapter 1 of a sequel turned out to be the next chapter of the story she left behind. A story she thought she left behind until earlier today. All she wants is to lay next to James and feel somewhere to belong. Not be someone’s afterthought nor a replacement for someone else. She wants the love, the passion, and everything in between. But James is somewhere else, and she’s a ghost glorified as a guest.
The cool air and soft sheets slowed down the dark room of Maria’s mind. Her eyes batted, her vision slowly stirred reality and sleep. It wasn’t long before her eyelids hid her tired baby blues from her nightmare masked as a dream.
Summary: Sora's hair is getting troublesome these days, so he goes to Kairi to get a trim. He ends up leaving with a new look that is "interesting" to say the least.
Words: 3.8K
Series: Key Bros
A/N: I don't want to dictate how to visualize the story but for Sora's new haircut, I was thinking of his haircut in the KH4 reveal trailer. Not really a fan of how his hair is styled in that, so I immediately thought of that when writing this. Besides that, I don't really have much to say but enjoy the chapter.
Sora’s hands struggle to comb through his coarse, tangled brown. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and thoroughly brushed through it. Just too much work he doesn’t have the time for. Thankfully, Kairi offered to take care of his hair. Hopefully she can prevent his hair from molding into a spikey bird’s nest.
Yellow sandals are guided by the familiar trail of cracked pavement leading to the boulevard. He pulls up his texts and quickly sent Kairi an “be there in a few”. He had three other notifications, one from each older brother.
Ben w/ a V: can you head to the store and get me some wayfinders?
Sora huffs.
Reply: why cat you get them?
Reply: *can’t
Ben w/ a V is typing...
Ben w/ a V: cuz i‘m at the library locking in for a major test tomorrow. i need you to drop it off at room 256 at the library. please sora... *prayer emoji*
Sora leaves him on read. Next text.
Meanie: I know you stole my fifty bucks, you little shit. You’re dead when I get home.
Reply: Can’t be dead if I never come home 😛*brain emoji*
Meanie: You not built for homeless life. Good luck surviving when the temperature drops tonight.
Sora rolls his eyes and moves on to the next text.
Pop Rox: *sends 8ball rematch*
Sora jerks when a car honks at him proceeding in the street. He quickly backs away and waits for the row of cars to enter into the neighborhood. Once the coast is clear, he jogs past the neighborhood entrance, vertically through the boulevard street, into the next neighborhood left from his. He stops in place when he reaches the grass and plays his turn in his tenth 8-ball rematch with Roxas.
Kairi aligned her tools at her workstation. She tied her short hair back with a hair band, forming a tiny bun with strands poking out. A purple “Princess” apron wrapped around her white tank top and denim shorts. She took her phone and hooks the aux cord from her stereo to get some music going. There was a minute of scrolling to find the song to kick off the mood until there was a knock on the door. The spunky fourteen-year-old looks up.
“About time he’s here!” Kairi jogs to the front door and opens to reveal her best friend. Sora greeted her with a silly face, smiling wider than usual with his pupils looking upward. Kairi giggles and softly karate chops his head. “The lazy bum finally arrives.”
Sora straightens his face and chuckles. “You live all the way in the back of this neighborhood. Took me ten minutes just to find your house, every one looks the same.”
“I told you that my house has a heart on the mailbox. How can you miss that?”
“I was in a rush and forgot you told me that.”
Kairi rolls her eyes, “We known each other since we were five and you still can’t find my house? Me and gran never moved.”
Sora rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “You come to my house most of the time. I can count on my hand how many times I’ve been to yours.”
“That’s cause your house is more fun. It’s always so quiet over here. I don’t have siblings to spice things up. But anyway, come in and get comfortable.” Sora enters and feels Kairi hand stop him a few steps in. “Gran prefers if people take their shoes off in the house. I can give you some slippers, hold on.”
Sora bends down and slips off his sandals. “I can’t imagine being an only child. Must be pretty boring.”
“It is.” Kairi hands him blue fluffy slippers her gran bought for male guest. She took Sora’s sandals and put them in one of the shoe cubbies.
“My brothers are annoying most of the time but I’ll be lying if I said they didn’t make every day exciting.” Sora walks over to the client chair and sits down.
“Sometimes I wonder why you bother making so many friends. I mean, if I had three sisters, I would have enough of a social life.”
“I try to make friends so that when my brothers get on my nerves, I have someone else to hang with. I love talking to people so I’ll never turn down making a friend.”
“Is it true that siblings are like an automatic friend? I heard so many people say that their brother or sister was their first friend.”
“It’s weird to think about it like that but sorta. It depends on how they make you feel that day. Some days I hate their guts, other days we’re all laughing at an inside joke. When we were little, Roxas used to make me watch him play videogames with him whenever Vanitas made me cry. Whenever Ven is pissed at Roxas, he usually comes to me with a stack of UNO cards. And once every blue moon, me and Vanitas would team up and prank Rox and Ven because we’re bored. It’s just how we are with each other.”
“Wow. So it’s either you all are out to cut each other’s throats or come together to have a fun time?”
“Yep.”
“That’s so extreme. I guess anyone growing up in something like that will turn out to be like you.”
“Honestly Kairi, if you think about it, you could see Riku as your brother. I mean we both have our jokes and fun times with him so it’s not too different than having a blood brother.”
Kairi goes to feel his hair to see what she’s working with. “Can I consider you as a brother too?”
“Uh...” Sora face went hot.
He didn't see Kairi like a sister, but he couldn’t explain why his mind won’t do so. His mind usually gives strict labels of people’s role in his life: brother, best friend, friend, teacher, classmate. For most of his life, Kairi had the “best friend” label stamped on her forehead. Since summer last year it was erased and rewritten to “!?!?!?”.
He didn’t see her how he sees Riku nor his brothers. Every time she locked herself in his pupils his heart accelerates, his palms are damp, his smile stretches wider, and his face gets hot. Even right now with her caressing his hair, he couldn’t help but lean into her soft, dainty hands.
Summer last year. Was it her short haircut highlighting her pretty face? Was it her bubbly laugh and smiles of sugar as they ate smores at the bonfire? Or was it the result of something planted since kindergarten?
It was weird, frustrating, and embarrassing, and one thing he wouldn’t be an open book about.
“Hello, anyone there?” Kairi said. Sora felt playful knocks to his head, he snaps out of it. “Huh?”
“I said that your hair is worse than I thought. It's tangled and unkempt near your scalp and you have some bad split ends. We’re gonna be here a while.” She admits.
Sora looks at the time. 12:24 PM. He had nothing else planned so it wasn’t a problem.
“Oh! I forgot the music.” Kairi walks over to her phone and puts the playlist on shuffle. The first song is an upbeat, bubblegum pop song that Sora has heard everywhere for the past two months. Heard from the local stores janky stereos distorting the instrumental. Heard from the girls in his grade shouting a poor rendition of the lyrics in the hallways. He heard some version of this song at least five times a week.
Sora groans as a black cape is flung around his body. “Really Kairi? This song?”
Kairi pulls him down to the wash bowl. “Hush. This is my house so you just have to deal with it.”
“Actually, this is your gran’s house.”
Sora flinches when Kairi uses the water hose to spray his face.
“Here’s the package, boss.” The duck said, pushing the box towards the chair. The maroon tall chair turns slowly to reveal a mouse character with a black hood on. The small mouse opens his eyes and lifts his hood over his cartoonish ears. “Open it.”
The tall dog named Goofy stepped forward with a box cutter and gave the mouse a salute. “You got it boss.”
As Goofy carefully opened the box, Roxas palm was overloaded with popcorn, stuffing his face moments after. Sitting on the couch of the lower den, he was catching up on the last few episodes of a show he only watches when he’s home alone. In a family like his, being home alone was like a blue moon so he made sure to prioritize his alone time to watch his guiltiest pleasure. Mouse from the Clubhouse. A crime drama about Mickey The Mouse’s fast, dangerous rise toward becoming the King of Disney Land.
“My god, Goofy, just open it!” Roxas shouted at the TV.
Goofy opens the flaps of the box and moves through the tissue paper. It takes a few seconds for the item to pull a gasp from Goofy’s mouth.
Donald Duck flinches, “What!? What!?”
Mickey The Mouse stays calm, “Goofy, what did you see?”
Goofy gulps when he looks up to his boss. “I should just let you see for yourself.” He pushes the box, causing Mickey to lean forward to look.
A thick block of cheese with a knife stabbed in the middle threatens Mickey’s calm behavior.
Roxas gasps, “No freaking way!”
The Mouse’s gloved hands squeezes the sides of the box, crushing it’s structure. Mickey grits his teeth as he’s says, “Pete...”
Donald, shaken up from the tone shift in the room, decides to break the ice. “What are we gonna do, boss?”
Mickey looks at him and says, “Donald, crank up Steam Boat Willy. We’ve got a playdate to attend to.”
The credits begin to roll for the episode, making Roxas jump off the couch. “Noooooo! Why end it there!?”
The “Next Episode” button loads, but Roxas clicks the option immediately. He has to know what happens next. The doorbell rings, making him leap from his chair. “Sora’s done already?”
He speeds to the front door and yanks the door open. “Just take a walk around the island and let me watch my show!” Roxas looks further out to see the delivery guy turn to give him a weird look. Roxas cringes when he sees the shipment truck parked across his house. “Dammit.”
He looks down and grabs the package. Closing the door behind him, he looks at the shipment information and sees that the recipient is Vanitas Key.
He tosses the package on the table dismissively and rushes back to the den. He resumes the episode and sits back down.
Mickey walks forward, his back turned to Donald and Goofy. “Let’s go fellas.”
Roxas pumped his fist, his excitement almost spilling his popcorn. “Let’s go!”
Kairi trims the last set of split ends to finish the look. A melodramatic heartbreak song ends, immediately transitioning to a song of a singer boasting about their cute looks. Sora sighs. He doesn’t know how many more bubblegum pop songs he can endure any longer. The only benefit from enduring three albums worth of cheesy lyrics and sugary beats was Kairi’s occasional sing along. Sure, she wasn’t the best singer, but she was still cute.
Sora wished he brought his portable game system or something else to occupy his mind besides his phone. He responded back to all of his text, even the ones he forgot about or left on read. He shot out conversation starters to his friends he hasn’t texted in a while. He bugged Roxas to play his return of their 8-ball match. Flicked his thumb over three social medias. He even watched his favorite show while eating lunch. Almost four hours have passed, and his mind is begging him to step out of this chair.
A cloud of hairspray surrounds his face, causing him to cough from some sneaking in his system. “Sorry.” Kairi said.
“You done?”
“Yes sir.”
“Sweet!” Sora jumped out the chair, some of his dead hair falling from his shoulders.
“Wait, let me get a mirror so you can see.” Kairi grabs her pink mirror and holds it up to Sora’s face. The boy looks at himself for a moment before blinking a few times to process his look.
“Wait, this is me?” Sora feels his new arrangement of locks, feeling like a totally different person. Kairi nods with a smile. “You like it?”
“Kairi, I look awesome. Thank you!” The green hair stylist raises a thumbs up with a wink. “No problem.”
She goes to unbutton the cape around him. Sora turns his head, “Hey, I’ll pay you tomorrow morning. How much do you want?”
Kairi shakes her head. “No need. Consider it on the house for your first haircut by me.”
“What? No, you did too much of a good job to not pay you anything. Just name the price.”
“Sora, you don’t even have a job. How would you get the money?” She asked.
Sora hesitated, feeling Kairi’s knowing stare. “Uh, I would have gone to the beach and spend the whole night searching for cash. People drop all kinds of things there. I would have found something.”
The redhead giggles. “It’s fine you silly boy. I like hanging with you so that’s enough payment itself.” Sora looks to the floor, that weird heat returning to his face again. “If you say so. But I’m definitely paying next time, whether you like it or not.”
“I know you will. See you tommorow?” The two walk towards the front door. Sora puts his sandals back on and nods to her. “Sure thing. See ya, Kairi.”
“Text me when you get home, kay?”
“Sure!” Sora waves goodbye. He throws her one last bright smile that will be hung in Kairi’s dreams later tonight. She closes the front door before he can see her flushed face.
The customer bell rings of Wonderland Sweets. The essence of every candy and pastry one can imagine hits Sora’s nose. He stops in his tracks and ogles at the various treats laid out on display. Paopu star cake, Royal Mouse brownie bites, Heartless chocolate, Sea salt rolled ice cream and last but not least, Wayfinder cookies. There are other delicious treats but those are the island’s most popular.
Alice, the owner’s daughter, emerges from the kitchen, surprised to see Sora on this slow Sunday evening. She wore her signature uniform, a blue dress with a white apron, her blonde waves decorated with a black bow. The girl was only seven or eight yet she often holds down Destiny Island’s only sweets and bakery shop. Although her age showed with her nativity, she was as sweet as the food she sold with her red smile.
“Sora?” Alice called out in a gentle tone.
Sora snaps out of his sugar drunk haze and walks up to the cash register. “Sup Alice. How ya doing?”
“It has been boring all day. We only had a handful of people come in. My father is in the back, sorting out shipments. Do you need to speak to him?”
Sora shakes his head. ”Nah. I’m trying to get some Wayfinders for my brother.”
“Ven? He usually gets them himself, does he not?”
“He has a test coming up and locked himself in the library all day. He’s making me fetch it for him.”
Alice nods, “I see. Well, I just made a fresh batch about an hour ago. Which one do you want?”
Sora looks down and see three versions of the cookies: Blueberry Ice, Forest Apple, and Sleepy Sun. Knowing his brother, he chooses Forest Apple 70% of the time. He points to the star-shaped cookie decorated with red crystalized sugar on top of green icing and a heart charm shining in the middle. “Six Forest Apples, please.”
Alice grabs the spatula and lifts the cookies out of the glass, one by one. She places it in a paper box decorated with cute card soldiers. She turns to Sora. “Anything else?”
Sora shakes his head. “I wish I can get something, but Ven only sent me money for the cookies.”
Alice closes the bag and rings up the order. “That will be twelve munny, please.” She looks up to Sora with matching baby blues. Sora digs in his pocket and gives her the munny. After Alice processes it, she hands him the box along with a discount.
“What is this?” Sora lifts the small piece of paper.
“A discount on your next purchase. If you buy one treat, you can get another treat for free. But it becomes effective next week so make sure to remember.”
Sora flashes her a surprised smile. “Really? Thanks Alice, you’re the best!” Alice graces him her signature red smile that can give anyone cavities. “You’re ever so welcome. Thank you for shopping with us.”
Sora turns as he push open the door. “See ya, Al!” The customer bell rings, drowning out Alice’s soft spoken “Come again!”.
Yellow sandals walks along the trail made of stone, the space in between filled with dirt and the sand blown by the wind. The sleepy sun hits it’s orange and gold all around the island, ready to retire this slow Sunday. Sora looks down and opens the box to reveal Ven’s guilty pleasures.
He found Wayfinder cookies to be delicious, but he hasn’t had one in a while. Taking one Forest Apple, he chews the first bite, his tastebuds exploding seconds after.
“Mmmfh...”
The frosting mingles with the sugar and soft, crumbly cookie, all melting within his mouth. Sora closes his eyes as the cookie kisses his brain and tongue, unapologetic of his thievery. He considers it a fee for making him be a delivery boy. Savoring each bite, he heads towards the local library.
Sora knocks on room 256, while the box weighs on his other hand. From the small window, he can see his brother zoned out with headphones blinding his surroundings. Sora groans and knocks on the door with more force. Ven looks up and smiles.
“Sorry.” The thick walls made the apology came out like a muffle.
Ven gets up and opens his door for Sora. His eyes went straight to the familiar box containing his favorite junk food. He waves for him to come in.
Sora closes the door behind him and sets the box on the study table. Study guides, homework assignments, and line paper lay against one another. His phone screen saver displays, showing a notification from one of his friends. His laptop probably has fifty tabs open and was overheating.
Ven opens the box and his mouth waters when the sweet smell of Wayfinders hit his nose. He wastes no time and chomps on the first cookie he lays his hands on.
“Mmmfh...mmm, oh my goodness.” Ven closes his eyes as he chews.
Sora scrunches his nose, “Jeez you’re acting like they’re your girlfriend or something.”
“Right now, they make me more happy than a girlfriend ever could.”
Ven opens his eyes and fixates on his brother’s haircut seconds later. His eyes narrow in. “You got a haircut?”
Sora runs through his hair and smirks. “Yeah, Kairi did it. My hair was getting too big and a lot of it was matted. It looks cooler this way, huh.”
Ventus took a good look at his hairdo. His spikes were tremendously cut and gelled down compared to his signature look. It was mainly spikey on his side bang and the ends of his backside. His more tamed hairstyle wasn’t objectively bad but it looked really weird on Sora. “Uh... yep, sure does!” No. No, it doesn't.
Sora smiles, “Thanks. Well, I’ll let you get back to studying. See ya.”
Ven waves as Sora leaves the room. When the door closes, Ven fake smile shifts into a mixture of disapproval and unsureness. He’ll always support Sora, but some things he can’t help but feel a certain way about. He just knows Roxas and Vanitas are going to give Sora a hard time back home.
Ventus sighs then goes back to his studying. He stuffs his face after turning his music back on.
Roxas is gasping for air, face red, soda dripping down his chin after spitting it out as soon as Sora entered the door. Vanitas pounded his fist against the wall, his laughter roaring throughout the living room. Sora stood there, irritated and ready to fight.
“You guys are just jealous!”
Roxas cheeks burst from the next wave of laughs. “Jealous of what? What are you doing with that haircut? Saving the world?”
“What was your girlfriend thinking? You look like a total dweeb!” From his distance, Vanitas points and circles the perimeter of his hair.
“She did her best... and she’s not my girlfriend!”
“Alright guys, leave him alone.” Aqua walks in and caresses Sora’s hair. “Kairi did this?”
Sora nodded, “Yeah, she wants to take over the salon since her gran gran is getting older. She’s trying to practice her skills.”
Aqua nods with a smile. “That’s sweet of her.”
“If that’s what she came up with then she has a long way to go.” Vanitas walks to the kitchen, slapping Sora across the back of his head. Sora frowns as he soothes the sore spot.
“Hush, Vanitas!” Aqua scolded.
“I can’t stand him...” Sora looks in the mirror and touches the edges of his hair. Aqua rubs his shoulders and gives him an encouraging shake. “Don’t listen to him, sweetie. Your hair is...” Sora turns to his mom, searching for any sort of validation. Aqua strains a pleasant smile with supportive nods. “It looks very nice. You look so handsome.”
Sora smiles, “Really? You mean it?”
“Mmhmm.” Aqua hums. Roxas shakes his head at her. Only a mother can love that haircut.
Ventus comes in with his backpack and a tired look on his face. “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late for dinner. I have a test tomorrow so--”
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Check out Sora’s haircut.” Roxas points to Sora.
Sora mean mugs him. “Let it go!”
“I saw it when he came to visit me earlier.”
“It’s funny, right? I mean, Kairi screwed him up. It’ll probably take months until it shapes back to normal.” Roxas chuckles come back, going to hold his stomach.
“It’s uh...” Ventus sees the embarrassed look on his little brother’s face, desperately wanting to leave the room. Ventus heart aches at the sight. He strains a smile with supportive nods. “It looks nice to me. You look cool, Sora.”
Sora frown immediately shifts to a bright smile. “Thanks Ven.” He turns to Roxas with a cocky smirk, “See Roxas? Both mom and Ven likes my haircut. You and Vanitas are just haters!” He sticks his tongue at him and proudly walks towards the kitchen.
Roxas shoots his twin a look. Ventus opens out his arms in defense. “What was I suppose to say? I don’t like seeing him look like that. One more hard truth would have broke him.”
Roxas sighs and shakes his head. Like mother, like son.
Grief trapped in blue sunglass lens [Gojo's funeral fanfiction]
Summary: Now that the students and Jujutsu associates healed their physical wounds, they have no choice but to face the elephant in the room. Satoru Gojo is gone and everyone deals with the void in their own way before the funeral begins.
Word count: 6.4k
Series: Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about
A/N: Made this because me and many other people didn't get to see a Gojo funeral nor the character's feelings on him being gone. This is one of my biggest gripes with the ending of JJK. I had no problems with Gojo dying but I feel that how he was handled physically post Yujo fight left much to be desired.
So I decided to write about (mostly) everyone's coping with Gojo's death and a funeral service for him. Forgive me if the funeral may seem culturally inaccurate. Hopefully, no characters come across as too OOC, but some of these characters are hard to get right when they don't have much room to shine their personality in canon.
Glossy nails trail the white engraved letters and numbers above the matte black. She forgot to give back his credit card. The last time she used it was Hallo--
Hall--
October 31st.
October 31st.
October.
That fucking month with that fucking day. Like an alarm that keeps ringing and a clock that won’t move forward fused together.
The month of horror, trick or treating, and bloody exploding eyeballs. The month were kids face real horror, not those stupid dumb skeletons, werewolves, and vampires. The kind of horror that will make someone either sample death or have it as their final meal.
31st should have ended with her rocking the clothes she picked up eight hours before that fight. Gojo should have been eating endless candy and telling them “Job well done!” in that stupid annoying comforting voice of his. Not boxed away and expecting his students to come out on top in the chilly wild.
She didn’t even see him die. She didn’t get to say her final words to him that just would have amounted to...
“If you die your card is mine forever. So die, okay?”
She couldn’t even say her fucked up, dark, cruel joke that was a mask of “Please don’t fucking die”.
Why couldn’t I move?
Why wasn’t I awake?
Why wasn’t I present?
Who wants to hear recollections of what happened between October 31st and December 24th? She wanted to help out with the Culling Games. She wanted to see the great battle of Sukuna vs. Gojo. She wanted to finally meet this Yuta kid and see everyone’s reaction to him coming back. She wanted to save Megumi when Yuji couldn’t. Picking up the pieces of Yuji’s mistakes. Being that deciding factor that could have prevented so much bullshit.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why wasn’t I here?
Her only eye stings, blinking two tears to fall on the muted black card. The heartache trails down to the 2754 of the four-part row of digits. Nobara quivers her lips as she tries to swallow down pills of regrets, exclusion, and despondency.
Residing dust forces a couple of coughs out of Inumaki. He waves off the floating particles and goes for the next book off Gojo sensei’s shelve. He grabs the spine of the book and slowly pulls it out.
He gave up being curious on the subject matter of these books once he cleared the first row. Just of bunch of thick, mind-numbing pieces on Jujutsu, Cursed Energy, or Autobiographies on retired sorcerers.
Turning from the back cover, in red bold letters his purple eyes reads: Learning Sign Language for your students. Written by... sounds like a random Japanese woman with some fancy doctor degree.
Narrow eyes widen as confusing experiences lingering in his memory begin to click and warp into sense.
On the third day of his first year, he remembers cringing at Gojo’s attempt to speak random rice ball ingredients to him. That was his “way” of trying to connect with him. Offended, Inumaki wrote him off and ignored any potential conversation to have with him at that point.
Around early June, he walked up to see Gojo silently greeting him with fluid movements of his hands and fingers. As fluent as someone who been signing JSL for several years. Was that the reason he stopped trying to conversate with him three weeks prior?
Taken back, Inumaki slowly signed back, leading to having their first full conversation ever. It ended with Gojo patting him on the shoulder and Inumaki turning to watch his goofy sensei walk off in a cheerful mood.
Inumaki caresses the book and notices the personal sticky notes poking out of many pages. He looks behind him to see Panda pre-occupied. Inumaki sets the book in his bag, setting it aside to read through later. He shakes his head and stares at the half empty shelve for a long moment before continuing his duty.
Panda was busy distracting himself with Satoru’s doodads instead of effectively cleaning out his office. Throw in the fact that it was a journey to simply carry things that would have taken him a few seconds to put away had he been in his original big body. But the funeral starts in a few hours so he has to stop monkeying around soon.
Panda frowned. There was barely any time to “monkey around” ever since Satoru died. It seems like when he died, he took the fun and security with him. Did most of his friends grow to be so powerful from the battle on Shinjuku? Sure, they’re practically monsters at this point.
But for a long time, Satoru’s level of strength gave them breathing room to take off the sorcerer mask sometimes. Now that he’s gone, there was no room to be a kid anymore. His friends are teenagers cursed with adult responsibilities; the rest of their adolescence stripped away like a bloody band aid.
He’s a panda so he doesn’t really understand that feeling. However, he sees it with the forced smiles he’s greeted one second with frowns pulling them down moments after. Desensitized responses they all show in public contrasted with the quiet weeping he hears going on late night campus walks. It will always give him emotional whiplash.
Life after Satoru was a canvas board of still grey with overwhelming dark blue surrounding it.
Panda opens a brown box to see a bunch of stuffing peeking out. Dropping down, he turns the box around to see in black marker: Spare stuffing for Panda.
Panda releases a deep sigh. He feels his stitches ache all over.
Loose blue strains spills over the wholesome photo of her and Gojo that day. A day where her biggest concern was not looking stupid in front of the cute, strong, funny teacher at the Tokyo campus of Jujutsu High. A day where her classmates bickered with coal still in their eyes. A day when Mai was cranky and alive. When Mechamaru...
Miwa shuts her eyes as her tears soaks her eyelashes. Blurry eyes open to take in the photo that seem like centuries ago, when it was only since September. Gojo’s peace sign and shared chipper smiles fill the holes in Miwa’s heart for a moment. Her thumbs zoom in on Gojo and lingers over his tall figure dominating most of the selfie.
A small smile forms behind the isolated blues. “Gojo...”
Kusakabe groans, rubbing the back of his head whenever his mind wanders to that blue eyed trouble maker. There were days he enjoyed the consistent stillness without that loudmouth breaking it. Then there were others where the silence was drowning; his cheery, obnoxious voice completely void to lift up everyone’s spirits when needed. Today was one of those days.
Twirling his toothpick, he remembers the countless times Gojo annoyed the hell out of him with his comments and pranks. There wasn't a day where he wouldn’t drag one of the Jujutsu faculty and staff in his shenanigans. So bad that one-time Gojo went too far and it ended with Kusakabe wishing he was dead.
Be careful what you wish for, I guess.
Kusakabe looks up at the passing clouds trailing through the blue. For such a day for Jujutsu High, the sky didn’t reflect the collective feeling. The man bats his eyes as the ambient nature lures him into a still mind.
“Kusakabe!? Are we serious right now!?” One of the higher ups barked.
Gojo shakes his head, “Is there ever a day you guys don’t bitch about--”
“I agree that sending me would be a horrible idea.” Kusakabe interrupted. Gojo turns to see Kusakabe wearing a “Yes sir. No sir.” attitude. He knew he was lying.
Kusakabe has been looking forward to a sorcerer mission like this ever since he met him. A mission where all you do is investigate and gather information, no risking your life, no fighting at all really. More like a trip out on Japan’s quiet grassy countryside with a side quest of being an undercover sorcerer representing Jujutsu High.
Gojo steps forward. “Kusakabe is our best grade 1 sorcerer. He’s no fighter and a nice guy for the most part. He would be better to talk to lame country folk than I am...”
The elders remain silent. Kusakabe can feel the tension rising. “Gojo, you don’t have to--”
“I got too much other shit going on to do some boring mission in the countryside. If you send me instead of him then you guys are more senile than I thought.”
“Gojo!” Kusakabe quickly turned to the many shoji screens hiding the higher up’s bodies. The fact that he had no idea how they were reacting put his worry in overdrive.
One of the elders sighs, “We don’t feel like arguing with you on this. If you truly think Kusakabe of all people would fit this mission then so be it. But if he fails this, he will suffer the consequences. His mistakes are not on us.”
“When is it ever on you?” Gojo bounced back.
“Dismissed.” The other elder said.
Once they left the room, Gojo wraps his arms around Kusakabe shoulders and bellowed out his carefree laugh. “Don’t forget to bring me back some gifts. You owe me afterall.”
Kusakabe lowers his head away from the blue and moving white to face the cracked, washed solid grey.
His heart didn’t ache for Gojo. Tears didn’t trail down for him either. But the crumbs of memories made him appreciate the little explosive highlights he gave his boring, uneventful life. Like those popping candies that felt like fireworks in your mouth.
Yeah, Gojo was those popping rock candies.
Hakari holds the stack of yen as the various fights go on the multiple T.V. screens. Licking his thumb, he counts through the overwhelming amounts of money from his lucky bets. Although he’s been hanging around Jujutsu High more as of recent, lately everything has been about Gojo, his death and preparing for his funeral. All of the mope and serious mumbo jumbo was getting to Hakari, so he retreated to his fight club.
“When does it start?” Kirara asked, her pink french tips gently caressing his ashy blonde thick hair.
Hakari shrugs, “Donno. Seems like everyone is too depressed to talk n’ shit.”
Banding up the yen, Hakari montages the times Gojo left him feeling the fever he often seeks out of many.
Training him so hard he puked the rest of that day. Pushing him to go after Kirara and teasing him about his crush. Giving him shitty relationship advice. That one time they did that silly pose where they flashed their teeth then flexed their muscles for the camera. Cheating Gojo out of thousands of yen over a wrong move during Blackjack.
Hakari traces the numbers of the yen, smirking over the fun times that crazy man with the blindfold gave him.
Two streaks of damp wet are noticed when the wind sway past Ijichi’s jawline. Another dam of woe threatens to burst until he quickly wipes his sore undereye. He doesn’t even know why he’s getting so emotional over someone who and still--
Not sill. Damnit brain, get with the program.
Someone who used to bully him relentlessly ever since they were kids up until just a few weeks ago. To him, Gojo was nothing but...
Why are you still here? Need me to punch you to get the message?
You failed you’re driving test again? You can’t even do that? Go join a local circus at this point.
Shoko is out of your league, man. You don’t even have the balls to talk to her. How can you expect her to like you.
Ijichi, don’t piss me off.
A guy like that doesn’t deserve his tears. Nope, not at all...
The only person I trust to catch me if I fall is me and, um, Ijichi I think.
Wanna go out for some hot cocoa? It’s freezing today.
Well, well, well. You finally took Shoko out for dinner, huh? I guess the world is ending soon. So, how did it go?
Look, Ijichi may be a wet doormat but he’ll get things done for us and the students. C’mon guys, give him more credit than that.
Ijichi huffs a stuttered breath. Nope. Nope. No. No. No--
You’re the man I trust the most. That’s the only reason I need.
Ijichi breaks down. A new coat of tears staining his dry skin. His wrung heart soaked again with a grief too complex to explain.
Cigarette smoke brush past Shoko’s dry, dull brown hair. No tears had nor will shed for her childhood friend. She wasn’t a crier, even when she was little. When her father died a long time ago, not one tear dropped.
Instead, there was heavy rocks that magically weighed in her chest. A weight too heavy for her slim body to carry. A weight she dismisses publicly but can’t ignore in private. So, in true Shoko fashion, she grabs a pack of ciggies and breaks her 11th vow to never smoke again. Looking out on the campus field, her eyes strain with stress and lack of sleep. Her heavy heart was to blame this time.
“Can’t believe I’m being peer pressured right now.” Gojo says in a jokingly nervous tone.
Shoko lifts up the cigarette, unlit and waiting. “I’m tired of being “The Smoker Chick” of our school. It’s always so lonely smoking by myself.”
“Regardless if I smoke this or not, you’ll always be “The Smoker Chick”.”
“Gojo please.”
Gojo sighs and contemplates the nicotine stick itching to ruin someone’s lungs. He was far from being a goody too shoes but smoking wasn’t his thing.
“You’ll look so cool doing it. It’ll just be between us.” Shoko persisted.
Gojo rolled his eyes and snatched the cig from her. He placed it between his perfect, straight whites and waited a moment before turning to Shoko. Shoko stood in disbelief until Gojo snapped his fingers in front of her.
“Well hurry up and light it!” Shoko quickly digs in her pocket and lights the white end. It takes a few seconds for the cigarette to burn before smoke waves out of the tip. Gojo inhales then blows out a line of smoke effortlessly. Shoko gasps, “How did you not cough?”
“Duh! Look who you’re talking to.”
“Oh...yeah. Right.”
The juxtaposition of Gojo’s divine-like aura and angelic appearance partaking in the trashy, commoner act of smoking was a sight to behold. Almost like he gave a middle finger to his reputation as the strongest sorcerer and decided to be a normal dude for once. Shoko remembers judging Gojo’s bougie attitude during freshman year. She saw his snobbish nature a mile away before he even introduced himself to the class. One thing about Gojo though, he never failed to surprise her with his willingness to bring himself down from heaven.
Shoko is dazed by Gojo puffing out a few quick smokes before she is presented a hit.
“This shit tastes awful. How do you smoke these every thirty minutes?” Gojo barfed his tongue out.
Shoko giggles and breathes in the loud smoke that always hugs her brain. “Helps me stay numb to the bad stuff in the world.”
Although that was Gojo’s first and last time ever smoking, their budding friendship springs tenfold.
Shoko was back at that same spot they wasted their youth a decade and so ago. Only there was no arrogant, annoying but funny classmate to secretly cast her judgement on anymore. What only remains is a cigarette and a woman who had an uneventful life outside of being a sidekick to Gojo’s adventures.
She takes another hit, her tongue recoils at the cigarette taste. Now she gets what he meant back then.
The drizzling rain show no signs of giving nature a break from the drab, cold atmosphere. Megumi lays against his cushioned but firm mattress, his brain refusing to move his body. Tears quietly drip down to damp the grey sheets, adding to the collection of wet dots on his bed. The air condition overpowered the pitter-patter behind the window. The dull sound clearing his head to reflect his whirlwind called life these past couple months.
Countless memories punched his mind. There was so many foggy, forgettable memories of Gojo growing up. His attempt to give them meaning and higher resolution gave him a slight headache.
First his sister then--
Gojo.
He saw it while being a few feet away; Gojo’s blood forming small puddles, leaving his body with his life tagging along. The tired whisper of “My bad, Megumi.” a few moments before his eyes went still. He couldn’t even respond due to that curse going on about some dumb speech after almost getting both of them killed.
Sukuna.
Heat overwhelmed his body as soon as the name rung. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Red and blue hatred evolves into purple flames the longer it sits, burns, and melds. Never has he felt so much rage off a name alone.
Blood on his hands without the purpose and maliciousness to back it up. Sukuna was gone but the damage will never fade away. It’s here to overstay it’s welcome and haunt him forever.
“Good riddance.” Maki lets the intrusive thoughts travel to whispers.
Alone in the tidy bathroom, she struggles to create grief over someone that just annoyed her most of the time. The only one she believes deserved her grief was her sister, Mai.
Don’t get her wrong, she respected the hell out of Gojo’s strength. But the only solid memories she has of him is sending her favorite junky snacks whenever it was her time of the month and excused her from class that week.
Other than that, he was like a gnat that wouldn’t get out of your face. Loud for no reason. Failed to read the room. Teased her about Yuta, even during the time he went to Africa. Pestering her about dumb school shit. Yeah, that’s the Gojo she knows. Not this revisionist history almost everyone on campus is crafting for him now that the bastard is gone gone.
Yuta and Gojo had a closer relationship than others students, which unfortunately, makes him stricken with the depressing “Gojo is gone” epidemic too. But compared to him and the Jujutsu High students and staff, he actually has good reason to grieve.
It’s just too overwhelming to deal with for more than an hour. She had to get a breather from seeing someone she cares about so defeated emotionally. She seen Yuta cry before but not to this extent, not this long either.
Another round of sobs scolds her indifference to Gojo as they breakthrough the thick bathroom door. Maki looks down and moves her toes against the maroon bathroom rug to build back her patience and tolerance. Letting out a short breath, she pushes herself off the sink and keeps her stoic disposition.
A blank, emotionally collected expression that means well beneath the surface.
Yuta cries drag out as he lays on the floor. Maki shifts when she places a palm against his back, not sure how to handle his anguish and piercing sobs.
Thankfully, Yuta’s dorm was positioned to be isolated at the end of the hall. The other male student's dorms are spaced out from each other so he didn’t have any direct neighbors. But still, his mourning was loud enough to hear muffles across his front door.
“Yuta.” Maki said.
She didn’t know what to say exactly. She, like many other Zenins, weren’t the best when it came to nurturing. Even though she feels nothing about Gojo dying, she feels everything seeing her best friend so ...devastated.
Yuta looks up at her for a long moment, tears trailing by the second, lips quivering, throat tight with words he can no longer say to his sensei. He hugs her waist and cries into her chest.
“I used him, Maki. He’s gone and the first thing I did was use him. It should have been--”
“Stop. Don’t finish that. It shouldn’t have been anyone else instead. He did what he had to do for us to win.” Maki comforted. Yuta shakes his head, unable to accept logical reasoning.
“I-I-I...” He sucks in his breath after every attempt to speak. "I didn’t even get to say--”
Yuta hurls, his mouth seconds away from bursting open. Maki quickly goes for the bucket and puts it under his head. He pukes for the third time today, projecting out yesterday's lunch and dinner that he ate too little of. Maki sighs and pats his back to get him to vomit it all out. Ever since he returned back to his original body, Yuta has been puking whenever he thinks about the most fucked-up stunt he ever pulled.
Once Yuta was done, he sobs tamed down to a string of lingering cries. He didn’t bother to change his shirt or wipe the corners of his mouth. Maki grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the small bits of vomit around his mouth. She heads back into the bathroom to clean out the half-filled blue bucket yet again.
Looking up, he sees a framed picture of him and Gojo during his time in Africa. Gojo had him in a headlock whilst making him laugh about something he hates that he can’t remember. Yuta heart swells, the picture clearly being taken off guard by Miguel. Another wave of sorrow drowns him the longer he stares at Gojo in his white dress shirt, sunglasses, alive and well...
Yuta face scrunches, a fresh sting of tears falling down. He lays down on the cold floor, allowing the grief to lure him to sleep.
Yuji rubs over his face, a stubborn migraine pinching his thoughts. Snot leaking to tease the tip of his tongue. Eyes in desperate need of a bottle of eyedrops to make up for the tiny streams it released the past few hours. His mind was active but his body was lazy, lying on his bed through the whole morning. But he had to get this eulogy done, if nothing else.
“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled...whether you were a man, woman, or child. He’d... He’d... He-- dammit!”
He turns on his stomach and picks up the paper again. He reads over the line again, then two more times to write it on his memory.
“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.”
Again.
“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Yuji groans.
“Don’t say hell, that might not fly well.” He scolded himself.
Yuji sets the paper on his nightstand so his brain can have a break. He read over his eulogy so many times that his mind is starting to slip with the constructed presentation he went over since last night. It doesn’t help that throughout this practicing, he’s been crying whenever he gets lost in thought about Gojo-sensei. Maybe he needs to cool down a bit.
On the edge of his window sits one of Gojo’s many blindfolds. Yuji reaches over with minimal effort and caress the fabric. Black cotton comforts his fingertips while Yuji gives this simple thing a soft gaze. The very first thing he noticed about that strange looking man on that life changing night.
Scenes of warm and fun premiere from his memory bank, each starring Gojo sensei. Smiles to laughter with jokes, ease, and good food in between.
Sensei steals a fry from Nobara’s--
Sliced open. Blood dripping down white baggy pants and black combat slippers. Torso on the ground. Harsh ice blue still yet soft. Live and unskippable. Live with no rewinds. Sukuna’s joy celebrated in the wrong body. No more rough ruffles on the head. No more boring lessons elevated by high-energy humor and multiple tangents of his glory days.
Yuji winces and attempts to rub out the migraine and horrible memories intruding the good. There is a knock on the door. “You’re not naked are you?” Nobara voice is heard from behind the door.
Yuji shakes his head as if Nobara could see. “No.”
Nobara walks in, remnants of rain dripping from her raincoat. She had a blank face, her usual energy turned down a few notches. “Hey.”
Yuji barely lifts up a wave, still smoothing out his nerves. “Hi.”
“So everyone is either busy or depressed so you’re my last hope around here.” Nobara confessed. Yuji lifted up the eulogy, “Can’t. Too busy.”
Nobara sucks her teeth then observes Yuji’s face. “You look like you’re more in the too depressed camp than the too busy one.”
“Yeah, that too.”
Nobara walks over and grabs the eulogy. Yuji lays back down, “Since you’re here, I need to clarify one last thing for my speech. Did sensei buy you those tampon things or those purple diapers?”
Nobara stops reading and shoots him a look. “Why are you broadcasting my period for the whole Jujutsu High to hear?”
“It’s supposed to be one of the many things Gojo did for us as students. I couldn’t think of anything else, cut me some slack.”
Nobara sighs, “He used to get me pain meds and a bunch of tampons whenever my cramps would go into overdrive. And it’s called pads, not purple diapers.”
Yuji nodded and formed a curve of a smile. “Thanks, Kugisaki.”
“I could go and hang out with some girls I know from other schools but it looks like the rain is getting worse. What time is the funeral anyway?”
“It’s in four hours, around two I think.”
Nobara nodded, “Guess I’ll just go back to my dorm and sulk like everyone else. See you later.” She gets off to leave. “Oh, save me a seat too.”
Yuji nodded with a frown, not having enough optimism left to give fake smiles. “Sure, see you.”
Alone again, Yuji picks up the worn white sheet with creases and wrinkles. Headache tamed, he decides to recite again. You can never be too polished.
“Gojo-sensei was a...”
Todo sheds single strings of tears while many games of ping pong against Gojo replays in his mind. Besides Mei Mei, Gojo was his common partner in his favorite sport. Now that he’s gone, he had no one to slam “cheating” allegations to in an intense game during the humid, long summer afternoons.
Ui Ui sniffles as he looks down, avoiding the blunt reality of the casket up ahead. He wasn’t the biggest acquaintance of Gojo but a few moments of the past built a friendly nature between them. His briberies of fried bananas to get direct access to Mei Mei. Being a one-man audience (he slept through his blindfold) for spoken word poetry he wrote about his sister when no one else bothered to hear. Gojo never failed to match his childish energy when other adults or big kids were “too busy” to entertain him. The boy’s quiet sniffles prompted a head rub from his older sibling.
The pointy ends of Mei Mei’s red nails pierce through her left palm. Her right palm comforts the juvenile emotions of her baby brother. Her face remains calm but blue fire bursts in her heart.
1.5 Million yen. All that rich fuck had to do is pay me 1.5 million yen back and what does he do? Fuck around and die. Hmph! He probably died to cheap his way out of his debt. Damn you Satoru Gojo. Damn him.
Ino stood with his ski-mask firm against his chest, looking forward with respect. Gojo was more like an older brother than a co-worker. Despite the pain he feels, he refuses to look away from the body.
Momo stands next to Miwa, people watching the many guests standing in line to pay their personal respects to the body. As soon as she came, she made sure to grab the nearest seat and keep her head down. Dead bodies always freaked her out. People always assumed she be fine with that kind of stuff since she gives “witchy” vibes but no way. It was the way the body just sat there, all sense of spark or fire vanished. Also, that silly fear that a dead body will raise and walk towards her. God, she hopes they close the casket soon.
Kirara hugs on to Hakari’s arm as she quietly weeps to herself. Hakari wasn’t the “comforting” type but all she needs from him was his arm and shoulder for support. During the time it was her vs. the conservative Jujutsu World when she decided to transition, Gojo was one of the few who had her back. She has his support from the moment she began dressing feminine all the way to the moment she began going by Kirara. It wasn’t a problem for Gojo to call her by her true name right away since he thought her dead name was forgettable as hell.
Sure, Gojo wasn’t perfect and had his moments where his views were a bit dated, but he was willing to own up to his mistakes and learn for the better. She’ll never forget the stereotypical girly shit he would buy her because he didn’t know her personal taste that well, not that she even knew at the time either. Corny gifts and unconditional support are why her mascara and eyeliner were messy all around her under eye.
Most attendees dressed in purple while others sulked in black. Ages from teen to end of the road mingled together within a pot of grief, visible respect, and reservation. Some felt internal relief that the bastard was gone. Some cried harder than they would if their actual father died.
Gojo lied still in a polished classic black casket, wearing a blank emotion that he would hate everyone to see. His cut, pieced back by Shoko, was barely noticeable. If you weren’t given the details of his death, you’d probably would question how he died. The line to view his body was beginning to reach its end, preparing everyone to mentally checkout for an hour and a half.
A collected Megumi stared at Gojo in a distracted haze. It was stupid, but he felt like Gojo was playing some sick prank and he’s going to pop out and yell some stupid shit any second now. The longer he stares at the body’s lack of movement, the confirmation rings hollow in his mind. Thankfully Nobara and Yuji kept to themselves, because he’s not in the mood to make idle small talk to take their mind off the obvious.
Yuta’s sorrow could be heard faintly throughout the large quiet space but not loud enough to distract from the ceremony. His tears took all of the moisture from his face, leaving him paler than usual. Messy black hair clashed with his neat tux that took forever to fit him in. It was a miracle for Maki to get him in that, let alone bring him here.
It was a tough sight to see as Yuta was now regarded as the strongest sorcerer of the upcoming generation. Yuta usually had a friendly, shy demeanor around his peers while being focused and stoic during battle. It was rare to see such a rock morph into glass, his pieces laid for the whole institution to see.
Yuta could care less, the repercussions of his public image being in an awkward, pitiful state wasn’t even a thought in the thick of his pain. He could repair that with time and his rapid growing reputation. This is the last time he’ll ever see Gojo-sensei and his heart can’t take it.
Throughout most of the service, Yuji idly stares at Gojo-sensei’s memorial card. A portrait of him wearing a bright, goofy smile placed above the December 7th, 1989 - December 25th, 2018 felt like visual whiplash. Yet, he kept staring at it until a microphoned call of his name lifts his head up.
“Itadori-kun, are you still going to read your eulogy for us today?” Ijichi directs, slightly confused of Yuji’s zoned out state.
“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just...” Yuji grabs the piece of paper from Nobara’s lap and scoots through the aisle. He walks up to the podium, feeling stares and invisible opinions hover over his back. He gently grabs the mic from Ijichi and sets his eulogy across his face.
Looking up, the stares feel more intense as the rows and rows of straight-faces set social anxiety in his stomach. It was weird, he usually had no problem speaking publicly to an audience, he was a social butterfly after all. Funerals love throwing everyone’s vibe off, even a generally confident one like his, he assumes.
“Um, hi guys—hi everyone.”
He quickly goes over the first line to trigger his trained memory to make the speech sound fluent and genuine. He prays to whoever is listening to not let his mind go blank at a time like this.
“Gojo sensei was a goofball.”
The silence screams for a moment as the opening line registers in everyone’s minds. A few chuckle, most keep their solemn unimpressed looks, while others are not even on this planet. Yuji clears his throat.
“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled you whether you were a man, woman, or child. Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you, only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Many students laughed at the last comment. Yuji looks up and chuckles along, a confidence block stacked.
“He wasn’t a teacher who sugar-coated things, his words were more salt-coated. It stings from being so blunt, but it was needed in order for you to have more flavor.” Yuji takes a quick scan and sees that more people are in tuned with his words. Second block stacked.
“Growing up, I only had my grandfather for family. So while I kinda knew what it was like to have a dad, I spent a good portion of my life taking care of him during his last years so I forgot what it felt like. Gojo reminded me of that feeling.”
“He gave life advice outside of teaching. He would take us out for ice cream after missions. One time, he bought those weird tampon things and sea salt caramel ice cream for Nobara during her...y’know.” Nobara gives him a look after he shoots a nervous chuckle her way.
“He would walk Megumi’s dogs on Saturday mornings. He’d crack a joke in sign that only Inumaki-senpai would understand. He was tough on me, Hakari-senpai, and Okkotsu-senpai during training because he wanted us to take advantage of the potential we couldn’t see. He was...”
Yuji looks up to see Yuta staring at him with teary but curious eyes, desperate to know what he’s about to lay on the crowd next. Yuji directs a small, sympathetic smile at him then looks down.
“He was our constant entertainment during the long, boring hours of our jobs. He unlocked the laughter and ease that we often hid to condition ourselves so we could endure the next mission. He made hell feel like home. He was our Gojo-sensei when the world just saw him as Gojo Satoru.”
Tears don’t hold back on some folks faces. What they expected to be a generic but appropriate eulogy turned out to be an off-beat, heartfelt, kinda corny eulogy written by a dude who loved his teacher. A rare case of a dude who isn’t clever with words evoking more emotions out of a crowd more than any writer ever could.
“I’m sure some of you struggle to move forward with this loss. Some of you may simply be here to pay respects and move on with their lives preferably without sensei. Or you may be like me, someone just going through the motions and may not know what to do, say, think, or feel. But Gojo-sensei is gone and all we can do is reflect on the echos of his existence.”
Yuji lets out a deep breath, satisfied to have gotten through his eulogy, the weight off his shoulders. His eyes flickers to see many nodding at his last statement. He scans through his last sentence and nods to himself to bring it home.
“Thank you, Gojo-sensei, for being the goofball with the blindfold and thank you all for listening.” Everyone except the elders clapped for Yuji, moved by his honest words and pure approach. Yuji didn’t register the applause nor Ijichi’s transition to the next segment since his heart was pounding against his left chest.
There was another wrinkle added to the eulogy when he goes to sits back down. He stares at his knees to contemplate his social triumph. Nobara looks at him and pats his upper back while Megumi simply gives him a blank look, jailing his “Good job.”. Yuji breathes deep through his nose and gives himself little nods, back in his own world to process those past few minutes.
The rest of the service goes smoothly, time moving quicker due to Yuji black flashing through the seemingly unbreakable ice. After the main service, many students and staff agreed to meet at the school yard where the funeral bonfire repast will be held.
While Gojo was being cremated, the bonfire turned out to be a lively celebration of life after so much grief wrung at the service. Snow trinkled down amongst the light conversations, coping dark humor, taste bud-rising food and drinks, and tear stains. Taking a break entertaining his peers, Yuji looked up to admire the floating ice. His irises went up and down, low right and high left, no different from when he saw snow as a kid. Laughter and smiles were behind Yuji, but all he can feel was the snow nurturing the child he locked away.
Ashes leave out of the hands of many, gliding above the flowers revived by spring. Cherry blossom petals dance with Gojo in the gentle wind. The early days of April was always Gojo’s favorite time of the year, it was only fitting that his departure was during its peak.
The new year of Jujutsu High begins without the blindfolded goofball to kick it off with overwhelming enthusiasm and junior high-level jokes. Second years, third years, and even the students that graduated are moving forward after months of mental detours. Now, there was a fresh set of first years oblivious to the horrors and traumas that awaits them. It’s a pity they won’t have that funny man in the sunglasses to help them endure their next twelve months of hell.
Summary: It's been a couple weeks since the Shinjuku Showdown and everyone at Jujutsu High has been shifting back to normal. Life is moving at a pace Nobara can't keep up with, leaving her frustrated with anger she doesn't know how to express properly. Maki stumbles upon her and lends an ear, blunt advice, and a space to be mad at the world. As Jujutsu Sorcerers, even things such as girl talk doesn't come easy for them.
Word count: 1.3K
Characters: Nobara, Maki
Series: Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about
A/N: I wanted to see these two have a conversation post-Shibuya so I made one myself. I have conflicted feelings about Nobara returning at the last minute in the story. I don't mind her not really being dead the whole time despite Gege not clarifying her status earlier. I just wished she came back around the time Gojo got unsealed so that she had time to reunite with everyone.
Her coming back around that time would probably be a couple weeks in real story time. It would have been a great character moment to explore how she feels missing out on so much in such a short time. Anyway, that's what my "Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about" series is for: to cope with my frustrations with the story. So if you felt similar to me then I hope you enjoy this!
Nobara dangles her feet in the bitter air. Located far left of the school was a large stone wall with a ledge and railing perfect for hiding from students and staff. Conveniently, a large tree leaned above the area, providing nice protection on days the sun becomes ruthless.
During the months she thought Itadori was dead, she used to come here often and cry for five minutes before she met up with Megumi to do their duo missions. God, that felt like a century ago now that she’s thinking about it. Since then, she always used this place as her emotional refuge whenever people burned her out. She calls it her “special spot”, although many other students come to isolate themselves here.
Maki walks up and the first thing she sees is that signature eyepatch. Instead of her standard outfit, she wore a coat, thick jogging pants along with a beanie. This was her “take it easy” day. At first, days like this felt alien until Nobara started making their hangouts in the city a weekend routine. She’s slowly getting used to the idea of doing nothing “useful” all day.
Maki greets her with a firm knock on her head. Nobara doesn’t give a reaction. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“It’s me.” Maki’s straightforward cadence turns Nobara around. Usually, Maki can bring out an excited reaction out of her but Nobara simply greets her with raised brows. When Maki throws up a wave with a slight smirk, Nobara settles back into her aloof state. That told Maki all she needed to know.
“Heard you raged on your friends.” Maki sits next to her, her legs still against the stone wall.
“I do that all the time. They sent you as a mediator?”
“Itadori thought I can dig the problem out of you. He said your outburst wasn’t a playful rage but more of a... rage rage as Itadori put it.” Maki explained. Nobara shrugs.
“I get you have shit going on but you probably shouldn’t take it out on those two.”
Nobara scoffed, “They sure sent the wrong messenger. You’re the girl who shouted at Okkotsu hours after he woke up. The same guy who, without him, all of us would have been nothing but blood and bones.”
“That’s...” Maki trails, not having a good defense ready to combat. She was a master of physical combat but verbal arguments weren’t her forte.
“Everyone’s telling me how to feel and it’s annoying as shit.” Nobara mumbles.
Maki turns to her, “Okay, so tell me how you feel.”
Nobara side eyes her for a moment before releasing a deep breath.
“I don’t know how I feel really. Some days I’m fine. Some days I feel pissed off for no reason. Other days I hate the way this dumb eyepatch looks on me. Then there are days where I don’t feel anything. I’m all over the place. You’ll just be confused if I try to explain.” Nobara shakes her head, feeling stupid for saying all of this.
A block. Maki sees what those two was talking about now. It’s been a week and a half since the battle on Shinjuku and Nobara has been closing her friends off when it comes to her deep-rooted problems. Maki didn’t even have a right to criticize the way she’s acting. She isn’t the best in expressing herself either and she’s no stranger to building up walls as a social defense.
Maki holds out her left arm, dragging her fingertip along the patches of dark red. “Wondered how I got these?”
Nobara takes her chin off her palm and faces Maki. “I heard you got burned by some special grade cursed spirit.”
“I let my guard down for a couple seconds and that volcano fuck got me. Can’t believe I’m still alive after that night.”
Chills run through Nobara every time October 31st comes up. Before 2018, Halloween was her favorite holiday. A holiday giving her an excuse to dress up, pretend to be a cool character, and eat as much sugary treats as you want? Sign her up. It’s crazy how one night ruined her fondness for a holiday that gave her so many happy, fun memories years prior.
“After I recovered, I went over to the Zenin estate to retrieve some curse tools and ended up killing my family.”
Nobara’s eye go wide. “Even your sister?”
Maki shakes her head, lips tight. “No. She...”
Nobara reaches to rub her back. “You don’t have to.”
“I barely had time to process her being gone. I didn’t even have time to reflect on that night in Shibuya, not that I want to think about it anyway. I don’t remember most of that night, but these burns keep taking me back to that moment.”
“How do you feel about your new look?” Nobara asked.
Maki sighs, “I don’t know. I don’t care about my looks that much but my short hair and burns took a long time getting used to. Regardless how I feel about it, this is me now, so it’s not worth sulking over.” Nobara hums in response.
“My appearance didn’t change too much but man I hate putting eyeliner and eyeshadow on one eye. It’s so weird and throws off a lot of my looks.”
Maki chuckles, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” Nobara laughs along. “No, it’s fine. Making fun of myself has been the best way to cope with my butchered beauty.”
Their light laughter dies down into the sounds of nature being their moment of comfort. Maki looks out on the distance while Nobara focuses on the skin of her arm, digging up more inner conflict to share. They’re already spilling their guts to each other so she has no more pride to lose.
“Seriously though, I get your frustration, but you got to realize that people process shit differently than you. I know it’s annoying to see someone who seems like their doing good and you feel like shit. Hell, that’s why I used to rag on Yuta a lot when we met. He used to make me sick with his soft outlook on life and his meek personality. He grew on me, although it took a while.”
“I just feel like everyone has already moved on from that night. I know I missed like two months of life but everything is moving so fast and it’s hard to keep up with reality.”
Maki stays quiet, she can tell Nobara has a lot to get out.
“I feel so left out in conversations most of the time. Fushiguro and Itadori would talk about something that happened during the Culling Games and I feel like I’m taking up space for five minutes straight. It’s not just them, my friend from home moved away in November and I just found out a few days ago. I can tell she’s been keeping some things from me and our conversations are getting shorter and shorter. She was my best friend since I was six. I’m being left behind and it fucking sucks.”
Maki stares at her, noticing her strong voice breaking into struggling vulnerability. Her eyes soften. “Life can beat our ass but the world keeps spinning. You just gotta find time to deal with your junk so it doesn’t weigh you down in the future.”
Nobara lips quiver before the tears came rushing without warning. She covers her face to hide her pain from someone she tries hard to look cool in front of. Maki was a cool girl so the last thing she wanted to do was look lame and give her a reason not to be friends with her. Yet, this cool girl reaches over and rubs Nobara back. Something that will surprise Nobara when she reflects on their conversation several hours from now.
Maki grabs the side of her shoulder and pulls her closer to her side. That gave Nobara the permission to weep on her chest. Maki continues rubbing her back, silently comforting a girl like her. A girl who got the short end of the stick in life. The two stay like this as snow floats from the tree above.
Their body warmth comforts each other against the cruel breeze of winter.
A/N 2: I don't like dictating how the reader should visualize my stories but in case anyone is confused about the visuals of the setting, I was inspired by the location of this picture but just with a railing. I hope you guys were able to clearly get what I was trying to explain with the location. I was feeling insecure that I wouldn't communicate it properly. Anyway, thanks for reading!
Summary: Collections of quiet, cozy, intimate moments you share with Sukuna, who thinks you two won't last a year. Someone who used to live a wild, fast-paced, loud lifestyle couldn't possibly be fit for a long-term relationship. But he doesn't know that you're the one he needed this whole time.
Word Count: 3.7K words
Rating: Mostly fluff with a little spice (sexual content) at the end, but no full explicit content. Mostly T with a little M.
A/N: Happy holidays y'all. This might be my last fic posted in the year so I hope you guys transition into the new year safely. Goodness, do I love writing my A.U. version of Sukuna. So fun and flirty that he makes me blush sometimes and I control what he says. But I guess that's a good thing, right. Sadly my next fic is dealing with a not so fun topic, haha. (It's Gojo-centric, so you might know where I'm going with this) Anyways, stay safe out there and I'll see you again in 2025. Enough yapping from me, enjoy!
Normal, quiet moments tend to bring discomfort within Sukuna. Dating trouble as a teen limited his time to sit and enjoy the small pleasures of life. He was all about the grand, overwhelming, taboo pleasures that one wouldn’t dare chase but rather daydream about. Or worse, make simulation games about and live out their guilty pleasures vicariously through fictional characters. But with taboo pleasures come consequences which landed him in jail for some time.
Within the year after his release, he met you which slowly inspired him to alter his fast, vicious lifestyle. You introduced him to things he never would have found himself participating in. Things he used to tease his twin brother for being a sheep for society for. A mom-and-pop coffee shop was one of them.
“How do you drink this shit?” Sukuna sticks out his tongue. Tanned liquid trapped in your mouth almost spills. Air blows from your nose, signifying your amusement at Sukuna’s first experience with coffee.
Swallowing down the first sip of your coffee, your eyes admire Sukuna’s childlike distaste for your go-to morning beverage. “Because I order mine with cream, sugar, and caramel. You’re pretty much drinking burnt black water.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
You give him a “really?” look. “I said you should start out with the caramel Frappuccino but you said, and I quote.” You notch your voice down several pitches lower. “The hell I look like drinking that sissy shit.”
“You could have recommended me any other drink but this. This was a terrible first impression.”
“I can order you another one to make up for it.”
Sukuna pouts. “I’ll pass. I fear I’ll be disappointed again.”
“Sukuna, you just drink straight black coffee, you can’t write the whole thing off just because you had one variation of it. That’s like saying “I hate potatoes” because you ate unsalted, lukewarm fries.” Sukuna scrunches his face.
“That’s not the same.”
“Yes, it is. It’s a perfect comparison.”
“It’s two completely different scenarios. You really thought you schooled me with that, huh.”
“Shut up. I’m ordering you a new drink.”
Waiting for his redemption cup, Sukuna stares at you typing away on your laptop computer. Your hair curtains over part of your face, tempting Sukuna to reach over and fix it. Yet the messy hair curtain highlights your beauty so effortlessly, he couldn’t stop adoring your natural radiance.
The strong smell of roast occasionally makes its mark. Ranges of chatter mingle with the loud cycle of brewing and baking. Quirky, cheesy posters hang all over, providing a drowning sense of positivity and relatability. Generic chill music slithers through the atmosphere, failing to chill Sukuna’s social anxiety. Thankfully, his new drink just came to save the moment.
Taking a drink from the flat white laced with sugar and cream, he sits back to allow his brain to register. His eyebrows raise with a small smack of his mouth, giving you some hope that coffee redeemed itself on the oh so great Sukuna’s tastebuds.
“Well?” You ask impatiently.
“Not bad. Could use more sugar but it’s drinkable.” Sukuna reviews. A pleased smile killed your worry. “I’m glad you gave it a second chance. I hope we can have more coffee dates like this.”
Sukuna narrows his eyes. “This is a date?”
Your eyes roll. “No this is a job interview.”
“I’m not one for customer service but if I get to look at you all day long and the pay is good then sign me up.” You hate that something as corny as that made you blush.
“Hush Sukuna, of course this is a date. This is like our twelfth time seeing each other, I like to think all of the time we spent together so far wasn't a waste of time.”
“Ooh someone’s no-nonsense.” Sukuna smirks, large arms crossed.
You sigh, “I’m just over the hookups and the flings. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just one-and-done me.”
“Eh, all of the one-night conquests and strictly sex ordeals were starting to get stale. You got a nice face with a body to match. You’re on no bullshit and are fun for the most part. You haven't bored me yet so I don’t mind continuing this.”
“Yet?”
“I tend to get bored with my women so I wouldn't hold hope of this lasting past a year. Just letting you know so the heartbreak will hurt a little less.”
You smirk, amused by his lack of filter. “Well, a year will be record breaking compared to my recent relationships these last few years. So bring it.”
Your polished nails navigate the grassy fields of dusty pink, natural hair oil inked on your fingertips. Your poor thighs are weighed down under his dumbbells for arms. Your other hand caress Sukuna’s right bicep, fixating on the jet black tattoos contrasting with his pale skin. He rubs your left knee as he rests against your stomach.
Sukuna releases a deep sigh, letting go of the temporary stresses of life. He’ll rather die than admit it but this is what he mostly looks forward to when he goes about his day. It took him a while to get used to you being positioned behind him, often side eyeing the first few times you two were like this.
Call it trust issues. Slam the non-medical diagnosis of PTSD resulted from a rough upbringing and life as a criminal. Or if we’re really getting psychological, throw out the fancy “internalized misanthropy” word. Re-fucking-gardless, he’s always been highly aware and on guard whenever people are in close proximity to him, ever since he was a kid.
Now, the more he allows himself to turn his brain off in your lap the easier you hear him lightly snoring within several minutes. You giggle as his resting figure emits loud snores thirty minutes in of scalp scratching and head caressing.
“Sweet dreams.” You reach down to peck warmth on his forehead.
Your wishes go unnoticed as child-like ease warps itself across face tattoos and a sharp jawline. A surprisingly dynamic clash.
Your laughter saturates the kitchen space accompanied by music from the vintage radio. Flour dressed your behemoth all over, making it the sight of the century. Sukuna frowns as he attempts to smooth the pizza dough with the rolling pin. Tears edge your eyes; the catastrophe he was causing was funnier than any standup comedy.
“Hush. You're breaking my focus.” Sukuna was struggling to knead the dough enough to be a thin foundation. It usually ends up shaping to be a deep dish or just a regular sized pizza. This was his third effort to mold the pizza, with two “epic failures” baking in the oven.
When your laughter demoted to light chuckles, you rub his arm for support. “You know I can help you shape the dough. It took me fifteen tries before making an objectively decent pizza.” Sukuna shakes his head.
“That’s because you were the one making it. It’s gonna be perfect this time.” Sukuna smooths out the dough and smirks at his “perfectly” thin pizza. You roll your eyes and walk over to gather the cheese and other toppings.
The pizza rises within the oven, gluing the toppings within the cheese. Sukuna watches it carefully from the kitchen island, like his life depended on whether this Thursday night dinner was great or not.
A marathon of T.V. commercial ramblings was bugging background noise as you tidied up. The other two pizzas sat on the cooling rack, being forgotten tasty mistakes. Flour ages his hair many decades, snowing down his chest with every tiny movement. He turns to see an unlikely troublemaker look down at him, a small hill of flour ready to be thrown from your palm. Sukuna narrows his eyes with a challenging look.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”
“Game on.” You threw it, igniting a two-man war.
The remaining time for the perfect pizza to cook filled with flour fights, spotting majority of the kitchen with white powder. The cooking timer goes off as you two lay across the table exchanging flour and zeal between prolonged smooches.
This epic fantasy was seducing your imagination during the mundane hours of the late evening. You sense Sukuna spying on you and your book from the corner of your eye. However, the clever arrangement of words trailing above your bookmark helps you ignore him.
“How do you read these things? That shit looks bigger than The Bible.” Sukuna pokes at the spine of your novel, trailing over the gold-engrained lettering.
“I don’t judge stories based on length. If it’s engaging enough then I wouldn’t mind reading three hundred-plus pages of something.”
“Where do you find the time to invest in a story that long?” Sukuna wasn’t even teasing at this point; he was genuinely curious.
“People watch 10 seasons worth of television or animes with more than 100 episodes.”
“Watching TV and reading are different no matter how much you try to make them feel the same. I can simply turn on the T.V. and watch 100 episodes of something without exerting much energy. You have to sit up, read so many words, and decipher hundreds of pages worth of story. It’s not the same.”
“True, I’ll give you that. I just find it funny that people draw the line at consuming a story through reading only because you have to put a little more effort in it.” You bounced back.
Sukuna rubbed his chin. “I remember being into poetry and haikus a lot as a teenager. But I started getting involved in other shit so I lost interest along the way.”
You snap to him, no longer being a silent witness to a passionate kissing scene. “You like poetry?”
“I suppose. I always liked how poets managed to craft thoughts so elegantly. Perfectly describing the complicated or unsaid.”
“You know the local bookstore down the street has a whole section of poetry books. What’s your favorite poets? I could buy you some of their latest work.” Your comforter became a temporary bookmark with your book lying face down.
“Hmm, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I used to buy a bunch of random poetry or haiku books and kept the ones that stuck with me. There is one writer that I really like though...”
You wait in anticipation as you witness him in thought. Simple things like racking his brain makes him a cutie. Sukuna snaps his fingers.
“Ahh, Yosa Takahama is his name. His work is usually written in Japanese but some translators re-publish them in their mother’s tongue. His work is hard to find around here though. I don’t even know how I managed to snag one of his books in the first place.”
Despite the challenge, you were determined to get it for him. “I’ll figure out a way to get you one. That way we could be reading buddies.”
“You don’t have to do all of that, doll. You’ll rip your hair out trying to find those books. I’m fine watching you ignore me in favor of a book that can knock your teeth out.” You chuckle.
During the rest of the night, you noticed the boredom on Sukuna’s face as he mindlessly consumes television. The least you can do is try to hunt down this haiku book for him. Dating him for some time, he confessed to losing touch with so many hobbies he grew up with over the last few years. You wanted to bring that inner child back to life, killed by proving to the world how tough he was.
Getting him to read something that actually interests him can be another way to embrace the innocent pleasures in life. You can tell he misses that wild delinquency some days, but you hope he doesn’t miss it enough to end this relationship over. If you can find it, hopefully it can be a building block that rebuilds his new path after leaving the old behind. Anything to help you be closer to him.
6 weeks later
Sukuna emerges from the bathroom. The odors of the food he cooked from his restaurant today were replaced with standard soap and his natural scent. Like every other night, you sat with your book, seemingly ignoring Sukuna’s lingering stare.
After dressing himself, he sinks on the mattress and attempts to lay against his pillow. His thick neck isn't met with the soft cushion but instead a hard surface in the middle area. He stares at his pillow, offended for it not providing comfort, so he lifts it up. A white hardcover book reveals.
“What’s this?” He asked, not turning to you yet. You shift from the words to your boyfriend’s confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. Maybe the book fairy paid you a visit.” You played dumb.
“You’re so corny.” He holds up the book.
“A corny girl you’ve been dating for almost a year now.”
“Quiet. I’m trying to see what this is.” Sukuna didn’t even examine the title, the pages of the book flutter until he lands on a random page. He reads aloud.
“Vindictive winter / A white, mighty rabbit looks / betrayed by the king / ...wait.” Sukuna looks at you and you copy his shocked expression.
“This is Yosa Takahama’s stuff. How did you even get this? This must have cost you a fortune.”
“It was costly and took me weeks to find a readable copy but the look on your face right now makes it worth it. I wanted you to read with me instead of being a T.V. zombie. Even if that means reading mind fuckery haikus.” You chuckle.
Sukuna grabs your waist from the side and unleashes many wet pecks around your cheek, neck, and upper chest. You giggle as you brush his hair and hug him back.
“I appreciate it.”
“No big deal.” You replicate his cool cat version of “You’re welcome.” that he usually throws at you. Sukuna smirks at the playful imitation.
The rest of the evening is spent with you two lost in your own worlds of literature. Your brains mixed imagination, broadened perspectives, and emotional intelligence from honeyed words inked against the white.
“I’m too big for this tub. You barely have any room to stretch your legs.” Sukuna commented.
He adjusted his position behind you, the bubbles shifting from his large body. Your feet rested on the tip of the tub to keep from smushing against the porcelain. You turn to him, offering a reassuring smile. He snickers at your ridiculous face mask, particularly the cucumbers concealing your eyes.
“No, you’re not. You say that every time you get in with me. You’re fine Kuna, really.”
Sukuna rests his arms around the top edges of the tub, leaning back to make himself comfortable in his slightly cramped soak. The warm water, Epsom salt, and meditation music playing from your phone kneads away the hidden tension that plagues his body from the everyday.
“Before I met you, I haven't taken a bath in almost fifteen years.” He confesses.
“That sounds so disgusting out of context.” You cringe. Sukuna chuckles.
“You know what I mean.”
“I can’t imagine going that long without a bath. Baths are way better than showers.” You admitted.
“Showers are for a quick wash. Baths are more for relaxation.”
“I shower for fifteen minutes minimum, thirty-five minutes max. I spend about three minutes just letting the hot water hit my body and think about whatever. There’s no way I can just shower for ten minutes or less.”
“Is that why you’re so smoking.” Sukuna flirted. You shake your head, “That was so corny, Kuna. C’mon you can flirt better than that.”
“You’re right. I just wanted to see your reaction.”
You two enjoy each other’s company. The heat protects you from winter and the sheet of bubbles float around and pop within. Sukuna arms lay over yours, rubbing over your wrist. Sukuna focuses on your face and develops a sense of mischief.
“Babydoll.”
“Yeah?”
“Turn around for me.”
You quirk a brow but obeyed by slowly turning his way. In a swift motion, Sukuna moves forward and bites off the cucumber sitting on your right eye. Your right vision sees Sukuna munching on your edible eye mask.
“Really, Kuna? You couldn’t resist temptation to eat that?” You scolded. You take off the other cucumber, abandoning your hopes to keep your eyelids nice and fresh. Sukuna steals the other cucumber from your hand and flings it in his mouth.
“You’re impossible to relax with sometimes.”
“Thanks for the snack.” Sukuna mumbles through chewing.
You sigh then lay against his chest and close your eyes. If he was going to interrupt your beauty routine the least he can do is be your pillow.
Sukuna big toe hugs your own after caressing your right foot. Both of your feet poke out from the thick blanket, suffering from the gentle lashes of the nippy air condition. You rest your head on his squishy but firm chest, goosebumps forming from his rough hands brushing your skin.
“We should light the fireplace.” You suggested.
Sukuna let out a lazy sigh, “What you really mean is that I should light it.”
“Yeah, you should.”
“I could but I fear I’ll turn into a popsicle.”
You giggle. “Hey, at least you’ll taste good.”
Sukuna smirks, “I already taste good. You should know out of anyone.”
You playfully shrug. “Eh, you’re alright. No fine dining though.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep.”
“How about you taste this then.”
Sukuna leans down and traps your lips in the moment. His lips were smaller than yours yet they managed to govern the heat stirring between each lingering kiss. The frigid air in the room is forgotten in your minds as you and Sukuna make out under the grey blanket. After a couple minutes of sensual touching and lip pulls, Sukuna goes for your neck.
“Well?” Sukuna lands soft bites inches under your chin.
“I was just kidding earlier but that was...”
“Better than fine dining?”
“I don’t know what’s better than fine dining but, yeah, better than that.”
Sukuna chuckles, “Glad to remind you.”
Sukuna “accidentally” lands a hard bite just above your collarbone, caging a pleasured groan within closed lips. Sukuna kisses the forming red patch, “Sorry baby, got a little greedy there.”
“I hope I give you a brain freeze.” You joked, trying to take your mind off the aching spot.
Sukuna hooks his finger around the side of your silk underwear, his other hand slowly appreciates your ass. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”
Your body slowly rocks on top of him, the yellow and orange from the fireplace illuminate your dips and curves. The aftershocks of your second orgasm calm down, giving you the signal to stop riding him. One hand caresses the trimmed hairs sprinkled across Sukuna’s chest. The other traces the small gold chain decorating his pecs. Sukuna squeezes the body fat from your hips then pats your left butt cheek.
You hop off and lay down on the blanket you set down for your second round. Sukuna pulls off the condom and gets up to throw it away. The contained fire warms your naked body from a distance, defending you from the army of white cold. You hum while the fire entertains you until Sukuna comes back. He’s wearing the boxers he had on earlier with the embroidered knife patterns. Where he got those kinds of boxers you may never know.
Sukuna drops the pillow he stole from the couch then sits down on the blanket. He pulls you towards him and you two lie down together. You perform his signature trait, pushing his hair back, enabling his wild look. Sukuna traces your spine, quietly admiring both how strong and weak one’s bone structure could be.
“I never thought I would enjoy silly things like sitting in front of a fireplace during winter.”
“It’s silly?”
“Not really. I guess I just associated this with Christmas activities. Christmas always seemed too cheesy to me so I associated things like this as silly holiday stuff.”
“Yeah, I get it. Sex in front of the fireplace, just silly wholesome Christmas activities.” You joked. You instantly felt Sukuna’s laughter rumble throughout his chest. After calming down he gives your arm a light pinch.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m just happy you allowed me to bring some mellow in your life. I remember when I met you, you were always in some crazy illegal trouble. It seemed like I could barely keep up with you and your fast-paced lifestyle.”
“Yeah, it was fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even getting caught had some sort of thrill. Now that I’m pushing thirty, I just feel over it.”
You chuckle, “Not a spring chicken as you used to be.”
“Yeah. I suppose every hot shot has their limit.”
“Well, I’m proud that you’re beginning to settle down. I know your brother is too.” You rub his cheek.
“I was surprised when he offered to help me set up my fight clubhouse. He’s usually against violence and shit.”
“Maybe he thought that it would be a nice distraction from your life with crime. Even if it meant supporting you doing something he also doesn’t like. Like a lesser of two evils kind of thing.”
“I never knew someone so predictable yet unpredictable at the same time more than him.” Sukuna said. You giggle then sprawl your hands across Sukuna’s abdomen, trailing over the ridges in a playful matter. Sukuna tender gaze studies your features as he softly pulls little cushions of your skin.
“Thank you for sticking with me.”
You look up to see the wild orange shadowing his strong features. His usual too cool-for-school attitude was replaced with a loving nature only reserved for you. A nature molded by small, seemingly insignificant moments sparked by a mutual agreement of casual dating. You plant a few kisses against his jawline then lay back on his chest.
Before your eyes close for the night, you slur a few words that gets a smile out of Sukuna. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”
A/N: This fic was inspired by a fanart I saw on Twitter after the "Sukuna is Yuji's uncle" reveal in the manga. Here: https://www.tumblr.com/innaillus/748749330107727872/v2-where-the-twin-is-turned-out-like-jin-due-to
Summary:
Sukuna is tired of seeing his brother, Jin, read his life away and not have a pretty girl by his side. Having time to fuck around, he drags Jin on a quest to find him his perfect woman with a small drug dealing trip on the side.
Sukuna walks towards the apartment door, pulling up the zipper of his black washed denim. Closing the door behind him, he shakes his head with cockiness creeping on his inked face. He stretches the muscles he put the most effort in the past hour.
“She’ll never learn.”
Cornered in the janky hallway, he pulls out his phone and swims through his messages. A social realm of desperate nudes, anonymous “oops wrong number” texts, and addicts with too much money to spare. But among that junk lies an unread text from his brother, Jin, one sent three days ago.
Four-eyed Fuck
Hi. Just saw a news report about the increase of deadly shootings in Sendai. I know you do your... stuff in that area so just be careful. Alright, bye.
Sukuna frowns and lifts a brow. Overprotective yet so clueless. He was a whole felon yet here was his brother telling him to be careful. It felt... condescending.
He was about to tell him off but his fingers halts over the keyboard. He hasn’t seen his brother in months and he had nothing to do until tonight. A mischievous idea faded into his mind.
yeah whatever. what you doin right now?
A nearby door cracks open to reveal his latest conquest, Yorozu. Dressed in an open white robe, her expression speaks that she’s still sex dazed, half-lidded with a satisfied smile. Sukuna turns around, his eyes magnets to her slim yet curvy body peeking underneath.
“Sukie, you’re still here? Want another round?” Her voice hoarse from projecting Sukuna’s name and the naughty things in between.
“No. I’ll see you when I see you.” Sukuna leaves. No kiss, no smile, not even a wave. That woman was just a nice fuck whenever he’s horny and he’s gonna keep it that way.
After Jin types the final words of his essay, the stiff library seat feels his back. He releases the stress from all the brain juice he poured into this paper within the past four hours. The essay wasn't due until two weeks from now but finishing this will give him breathing room for other assignments. Juggling six classes in one semester was not for the weak.
Heavy footsteps halt when messy pink meets refined pink. Sukuna shakes his head at the predictability of his brother. Jin was his twin, but even someone who wasn’t family could predict his whereabouts.
“The fact that the library is your go-to spot is pretty embarrassing, don’t ya think?” Sukuna triggers Jin’s attention immediately.
Jin spins around and places a finger in front of his mouth, silently shushing his sore thumb visitor. Sukuna rolls his eyes and takes a seat next to Jin. Propping his right arm over the back of the seat, his feet rests on the table, causing a loud sound to disrupt the silence. Surrounding library goers shoot Sukuna & Jin a look, leading Jin to shoot him one.
“Why are you here?” Jin whispers.
“I can’t check up on my little brother.” Sukuna ruffles Jin’s neat cut. Jin groans and quickly fixes it.
“Life must be slow for you if you want to spend time with me.” Sukuna frowns.
“Don’t be like that. What are you doing, anyway?”
“I just finished an essay for my World History class. I was about to take a small break before cleaning it up.”
Sukuna perks, “A small break, huh? That’s perfect because I wanted to do something for you.”
Jin side eyes him. “What are you gaining from this?”
“I’m gaining nothing. I’m doing it for you dumbass.”
“Baloney...”
Sukuna cringes.
Jin shakes his head, “You doing something for someone with no personal gain whatsoever. I’m not naive.”
“Can you at least here me out before writing me off. This is why I rarely talk to you.”
Jin sighs then looks over his essay. “Go ahead.”
“You only had one girlfriend and that was three years ago.”
“So?”
“So... since you haven't had pussy in centuries, I’m here to get you some.”
Jin stops scrolling and gives Sukuna his undivided attention. Sukuna snickers.
“Finally hooked you, huh?”
Jin turns red, his eyes trails everywhere but matching Sukuna’s. “It has been a while since I’ve been with someone.”
“Great. Let’s ditch this shithole.” Sukuna slams Jin’s laptop and yanks him from his seat.
“Kuna, wait--” Jin tries to keep up with his brother’s pace but fails yet again. Something he struggled with since they were kids.
The bar welcomes the brothers with its bright atmosphere, putting a spotlight on depression, lack of purpose, and future bad decisions. Strong alcohol reeks Jin’s nose while it tempted Sukuna’s. They sit at the stools taking note of the surprisingly busy environment during midday. Jin’s constant shifting prompts Sukuna to land a large slap to his shoulder. He flinches.
“Loosen up man. Women can snuff the bitchery out of you.”
“Did we have to go to a bar? I don’t even drink like that.” Jin whined.
“I find it hilarious that your name is Jin but you don’t care for alcohol.” Sukuna snickered.
“Gin is spelled with a g, not a j.”
Sukuna sighs, “You must be really fun at parties.”
Jin thought about his joke then let out a small laugh. “You right though. For once, you have a point.”
The bartender walks up to the Itadori brothers, copy and pasting her twentieth (or thirtieth, she can’t keep up anymore) greeting for today. Black pants hid her hips but a tight purple top paired with a cheetah print push-up bra sent instant sensation in Sukuna’s groin. Jin eyes flickered towards her chest but quickly looks away when she takes notice. Sukuna eyes lingered.
“Can I get you boys anything?” The girl was already tired of being ogled at like a piece of meat in the wild.
“Yeah, you could get us a couple things.” Sukuna joked, his eyes rising from her chest to her face. Her face was decent but her body makes up for it.
“Look, I’m not in the mood for flirting with sleazeballs. Just tell me what you want or scram.” She snaps.
Sukuna frowns while Jin shifts yet again, dreading the brewing conflict. “I’ll get a rum and coke and he’ll get a scotch.” The bartender writes that down then leaves without another word.
“I don’t understand how women wear the most revealing shit but get mad when guys give them the attention they're desperately seeking.” Sukuna complains.
“Just because a woman wears something revealing doesn’t mean she wants you to flirt with her Sukuna. Maybe she just wanted to feel sexy.” Jin defends the bartender. Little do the brothers know the bartender can hear their conversation from the back. The bar’s walls are thin and her hearing is like a dog’s.
“Always the nice guy. Whatever, I’m taking a leak.” Sukuna leaves, leaving Jin to look like some divorced father going through a mid-life crisis.
The bartender returns with both drinks, setting them down carefully against the solid brown wood. Jin repays her a small smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m sorry that guy is your brother.”
“I’m sorry he gave you unwanted attention. I know that gets tiring given a place like this.” Jin empathized. The bartender smiled as her gaze lingered on him.
“Y’know you’re a breath of fresh air from the typical guys that comes in here.”
“What kind of guy is that?” Jin’s delivery was more curious than flirty, but fuck it, Miss Bartender didn’t care.
“Put together. Sweet. The kind of guy all my friends say I deserve.”
Jin perked up.
“Well, what’s stopping you from getting with a guy like me?”
“No offense but nice guys suck in bed. They don’t have the dominance that assholes like your brother might have. You seem nice to date but I may get bored of you easily. Unless you can prove me wrong.” The bartender challenged, mascara fluttering.
Disappointment sparked within while Jin’s face remained. She’s clearly not looking to be in a regular relationship. Just sex and physical intimacy but without the build-up or solid foundation. No ill will to her but that’s not what he’s really here for.
“Who knows. I guess you’ll have the find out.” Jin mentally cringes trying to flirt like his brother. This wasn’t him but he didn’t know how to have a romantic back and forth. His brother was his only template to go off of.
Lack of flirting skills are evident since the bartender let out a patronizing giggle. “You’re not use to this are you?”
Jin doesn’t respond but breaks eye contact, hiding within himself.
“I’ll give you my number anyway. You could be a nice distraction whenever I’m tired of fuck boys.” She writes her number on a blank sheet from her pad. Ripping it off, she slides Jin her digits and tends to the new customer. Jin trails over the numbers ending with an uneven star symbol.
He sighs, winning a battle but not the war.
Sukuna returns, instantly noticing the piece of paper sitting in his hand. “You got her number?”
“What took you so long?” Jin shot him annoyance.
“Had to take a shit. Now answer my question.”
“Long story but she wanted to use me as a distraction from her dealing with...F boys. F boys like you.”
“That’s probably why she snapped on me earlier. I’m not even happy you landed your first number, she’s a dick hopper with no real commitment. Just a bunch of unnecessary stress that will leave you with a broken heart.”
“Maybe it could be nice just to have fun with someone. She’s not the type I’m looking for but she may come around if I prove to her that there’s more to relationships than sex.” Jin bargained, making the most out of the situation.
Sukuna shook his head. “Don’t be naive. I delt with women like her and all they want is good dick to distract them from their loneliness. Knowing you, she’ll just leave you being bitter and jaded about love and shit.” Like me.
Jin frowned. Sukuna took the paper from his hand and ripped it up. “She’s not even that cute to be frowning over. We’ll find you the girl you’re looking for. Someone whose pretty, sexy, and maybe even a dweeb like you. Tighten up, alright?” He roughly pats him on the back.
Jin does a single nod, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am. Let’s ditch this dump. I know where we can go next.”
The bartender comes back to see the brothers gone along with their drinks. Little pieces of her notepad paper inked with her number are soaked from the water sweated from the cups. No signs of currency either. The bartender squeezes her notepad, the sides of the papers fold out of shape.
“And here I was being generous to a fucking wet blanket like that. Bastards didn’t even pay.”
The brothers munch on grease-soaked street food as they wander through the park. A gasp stops them in their tracks then look at each other with confusion.
“Sukuna?” A soft-spoken voice called out.
Sukuna looks past Jin to see someone who looks unrecognizable from a distance.
Squinting, his focus clears to see a petite woman with black micro braids in a neat, stylish ponytail. Her white blazer paired well onto mahogany. Full lips lift her high cheek bones and green eyes glow at Sukuna with Jin being his forgotten sidekick yet again. Sukuna scrunches his face for a moment before his calm eyes widen a bit. “Mala?”
“Holy smokes did you bulk up. Hey!” Mala walks up and raises her hands around her head to comprehend Sukuna’s height and size.
“You make it sound like I was a noodle in high school or somethin?” Sukuna jokes. Mala laughs. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that.”
Sukuna chuckles, “Joke. I’m more physically active now so no surprise I got bulkier.”
“How’ve you been?” Mala takes out a cigarette and tries to spark it but the lighter is stubborn.
Sukuna steals the lighter and creates a spark on his first try. Mala mumbles a thanks through her teeth and leans towards the small fire. She takes a hit then exhales a puff of clouded nicotine. Mala offers a cig but Sukuna declines.
“Cruising through life. Got out of the pen a couple months ago.” Sukuna rubs the back of his head. Mala hums amusingly. “Isn’t this like your third time in jail now? I remember you being in and out of juvie all throughout highschool.”
Sukuna holds up two fingers, “My second time. It was over some drug possession shit too.”
“The risk of being a big time dealer. I’m trying to stay away from that hard shit but life tempts sometimes.” Sukuna does a quick look down and points to her professional outfit.
“Had a job interview or somethin? It’s rare to see you so dressed up.” Mala nods, blowing out another puff. “Yeah, the job market is crazy hard to get through so I had to made sure I made a good first impression.”
As the two conversate, Jin takes a good look at Mala. She packed a bit of weight and her voice matured but somehow, she’s still that innocent looking cool girl from back then. Her and Sukuna were that “unlikely duo” that would create some mischievous but wholesome memories to look back on. Jin wonders if she remembers him taking her to prom that Junior Year. Probably not.
Sukuna pocket vibrates, leading him to feel for his small money maker. “Hey, this is important.”
Mala waves him off, “Go ahead, got nothing else to do.”
Jin watches Sukuna take the call, scrambling his mind to fill the void his brother’s charisma molded. Mala chuckles after shooting out another smoke. “Quiet as ever, huh Jin.”
Jin turns quickly and laughs a little to ease the one-sided tension. “Huh? Oh yeah...it’s nice to see you, Mala.”
“I remember having the craziest crush on you as a freshman. Such a crazy phase in my life.” She reminisced.
“Didn’t we date for a bit after our first prom? It wasn’t long but we used to hang out almost every day that following summer.” Jin sparked up.
“Did we?” The surprised cadence of her voice poked a sting in Jin’s heart. Like before, he didn’t warp his expression to match the hurt. “Yeah, again it was really short. About four months so I don’t blame you for remembering but...”
“Hmm. Honestly the main thing I remember from the summer after Junior Year was getting high, bonfire parties, and going on night adventures with Sukuna.” She chuckles at the last memory. ”We- We would walk in stores an hour before closing and act confused about where something was. And-” Mala laughed. “ And... And we pissed off workers who thought no one would come at wee hours at night. It was kinda a dumb thing looking back on it but funny in the moment.”
Jin laughs along, struggling to make his lack of a wild teenage experience awkward for both of them. Fixating on her beauty elevated by her laughter, courage poured through to ask her out again.
“I don’t mean to sound like one of those “peaked in high school” people but I do miss the days where I wasn’t expected to do a buncha crap I really don’t care about. Feel me?”
Jin nods, “Yeah I get it.”
Silence falls between as the noises of the park surrounds them. Mala takes one more drag before flicking the ciggy on the washed grey pavement. Jin cringed inside from the littering but didn’t let it be a deal breaker.
“Hey, so, uh, I- I was thinking if I can- if we- if we can go out sometime? Just like the good old days?” Jin wanted to punch himself for what he was doing but he pushed through.
“Oh... Jin, I’m flattered but I’m married.”
The ring didn’t possess a crazy expensive diamond but the value can still be found within the silver bang hugging onto her slender, dainty finger. Jin beats himself up for just now noticing it. Mala’s evolved beauty hypnotize him from the silver truth.
“Okay, yeah, yeah, I should’ve...” Jin gestures her ring to finish his lame apology.
Sukuna comes back, oblivious to this awkward catch up. “Yo Jin, we gotta head to Sendai right quick.” He turns to Mala. “See you, Mala.”
Mala nods, “Yeah, whenever our lives cross again.”
Before Jin follows Sukuna, he gives Mala a final look of a silent farewell sprinkled with regret. Mala forces a lift of the corner of her mouth, gifting Jin a stale wave. Jin catches up with the pace of his brother and remains quiet throughout the car ride to Sendai.
Sukuna throws him a quiet judgmental look that masks his brotherly concern. “Gotten doom and gloom on me already?”
Jin doesn’t answer. Too lost in thought.
Sukuna slaps his forearm with the back of his hand. “Jin.”
Jin snaps out of his “should haves” and “what ifs”, fixing his glasses before turning to his brother. “What?”
“Stop living in your head. We got fishes to catch.”
Sukuna slaps his hand against Haruta’s, exchanging the wad of cash with the hot new drug on the market. One that Sukuna smooth talked his way in possessing. Sukuna nods at the junkie college student then heads back to Jin, who prefers to stay far far away from Sukuna’s criminal life.
Jin gives him a look, “You already know what I’m thinking but I’ll ask no questions.”
“You don’t ask, I aint telling.”
“You weren’t gonna tell me shit regardless if I ask or not.” Jin rolled his eyes.
Sukuna snored, “Shit? Looks like I’m rubbing off of you already.”
Jin had his comeback lock and loaded until an attractive girl walks up to them. He straightens up, eyebrows perking. “Uh, um, hello.”
Sukuna turns and goes from down to up, rebellious even with first impressions.
If your standard heterosexual man built a woman from scratch, this chick would be the first prototype. Jogging pants skin tight and plump in the back. Sports bra that lacked the athletic support yet presented a sweaty but shiny chest. Dewey face not budging a mask of light makeup. Dyed blonde tied back with an approachable smile. Cue the whistle.
“Sorry to bother you but I’m looking for the closest smoothie shop. I’m new in the area so I haven’t had the time to explore everything.”
Jin clears his throat, “Well-”
“I don’t drink smoothies, baby. But, there’s a bunch of food places a few blocks from here. Need someone to show you?”
She hums in a thoughtful way. “You and...”
Jin freezes when blue eyes and long eyelashes land on him. “Jin. His brother.”
“Oh, hello, nice to meet you. You and your brother look busy so I think I should be fine.”
“Well lemme get your number if case you get lost.” Sukuna smirks.
The woman giggles then turns away to leave his confident gaze. “I don’t just give my number out willy nilly. I could give you my socials though.”
Sukuna quietly hands her his other phone, forgetting that his brother was even there. The weight of the day pulled Jin’s mouth down. He looks at the detached leaves gliding along the broken concrete. The two’s surface level flirting faded to mush.
Muffled sounds. Clear vision with a cloudy mind. Still at square one.
Maybe some people are destined to be alone.
“I knew we were picking up chicks for you but I might hit up that last girl. She doesn't seem like your type anyway. That’s cool with you?” Sukuna scrolls through the girl’s social media, eyes glued to her thirst trap photos.
Jin doesn’t respond. He rests his head in his palm. Sukuna notices and sighs.
“Lighten up man, we’ll get you someone who will tolerate you yapping about shit normal people don’t care about.” Jin didn’t even react to that; he’s deep in the dumps. Time for serious action.
Sukuna looks around to find another girl. Any girl that could give his brother a crumb of hope. Young and approachable. Boobs and ass.
His eyes focused on a short-haired woman. She was standing in front of a book store, analyzing the front cover of the novel she just purchased. Her figure pokes beneath a dark purple V-neck paired with black denim and dingy converse.
First impression: boring, safe, and simple. Sukuna smirks. Perfect.
Sukuna yanked Jin and jogged across the street, ignoring the upcoming car that cussed him out with a horn. Jin looks at Sukuna like he just murdered someone until he approaches the girl giving them both concerned confusion. Jin gives her a quick scan and his heart flutters a little.
The pretty book worm gives a cautious yet welcoming smile to the two. “Hello, can I help you with anything?”
Sukuna tightens his grip around Jin’s shoulders, making Jin seem like he was being held hostage. Narrowed eyes with a cheeky smirk decorated Sukuna’s features, staring down at the nice-looking girl.
“Hey, sweetheart. I just wanted to tell you that my brother over here couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was wondering if he can get your number and go out for a bite sometime.”
Kaori is too stunned to speak. She steals a quick look of Jin. Hunched over trying to fix his crooked glasses, red colors the paleness of his skin as he looks everywhere but her eyes. A shy nerd is what it’s giving. Kaori starts to believe she is a magnet to this archetype. Her side bangs hide part of her face, releasing a husky chuckle.
“I’m flattered but I would like to hear that from him. Or are you the one using him as a shield to tell me how you feel?” Kaori challenged.
Sukuna snickers, “Nah. No offense but you ain’t my type.” Kaori nodded, no signs of offense shifting her features. “I figured I wasn’t.” Kaori looks him up and down, reading his preferences in women like a book. She has dealt with men both like each of the brothers before her.
Sukuna turns to Jin and slaps him on the back. “Well, you heard the woman, tell her how you feel.” Jin flinches from the impact yet quickly straightens himself before Kaori. He was socially drained from all of this matchmaking but this one was really cute and actually seem like someone he’d could get along with. He doesn't expect this to be successful but what the hell. If you’re already prepared to lose then is it really a loss?
“Hello my name is Jin Itadori. I’m not gonna lie my brother just lied about mostly everything...”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Wow, real smooth idiot.”
Jin continues, “But he didn’t lie about me finding you attractive. You don’t have to but it would be nice if we could go out for some breakfast...or lunch...or dinner I don’t know. I really suck at this.”
Kaori shoots him some sympathy. He wasn’t wrong, he did suck at this, but she can tell he’s trying his best. Jin felt like walking off to dig himself a hole and die there until he notices the book cradled in Kaori’s arms. He points at it.
“Is that Smile at the Angels?” Jin voice slightly raised with excitement. Kaori looks down and nods slowly. “Yes. Why? Do you read it?”
Like a kid in a candy shop, the pessimistic air around Jin dissipates. “I read that book last year and all I can say is that you’re in for a crazy ride. Hands down one of my favorite stories ever. And this is coming from someone who reads more than 50 books a year.”
Kaori feeds off his excited energy. “Really? This was one on my reading list for years and I was looking for some religious horror to get into. You’re like the fifth person I came across that hyped up this book. Is it really that good?”
“I read all six hundred pages within three weeks. It got so bad I read it while standing in a fast food line, I was that addicted.” Jin laughed.
“Oh wow and I thought I was the craziest bookworm. Where does it rank in your book list?”
Jin breaks eye contact to quickly rack his brain. “Out of my top two hundred books of all time I would say third place.”
“What’s your top two?”
“Heian Reign & Halloween Hell.” Kaori gasps.
“I love Halloween Hell. I remember almost getting the pages wet because I was reading it during my bubble bath.” Jin chuckles.
“Yeah, I love the series. I just wish the author didn’t kill off so many of my favorite characters.”
“I’m not the type to curse authors just because they wrote something I didn’t like, but man did I feel like strangling him for killing Jozo Gorou. I mean how can he kill one of his best characters like that?”
“Yeah, I understand why the guy remained anonymous. The amount of threats he received after releasing Kyoto Showdown was insane.”
“Yeah, that was uncalled for. I have my own one-sided beefs with the author but you can’t deny that the guy keeps you hooked with his crazy plot twist and nuanced characters.”
Sukuna simply blinks at the book nerds, zoned out from a mutual bond that sounds like foreign language to him. Narrow eyes keen on his brother’s sense of ease around the plain jane that he’s quickly warming up to.
A small smile crept above his chin tattoos. Cat-like eyes became tender for a few seconds while he was a background character in his brother’s blooming romance. For once, his brother wasn’t the side character in his life and the tables have turned.
About damn time.
Sukuna leaves his thoughts and was slow to notice Jin and Kaori walking in the coffee shop nearby. He shakes his head. “Been helping this fucker all day and he ditches me when he reaches jackpot.” He snorts then chuckles to himself.
Sukuna takes out a cig and lights it. He puffs out a smoke with ease and walks away from the small but modern bookstore. “You’re welcome four eyed fuck.”
The book store clerk ogles at the highlight of her boring day. The lewd allure of Sukuna’s backside made her not notice a broke bookworm sneak out the bookstore with a couple books stuffed in their bag.
“And that’s how I met your mother.” Jin chuckles, caressing Yuji’s little sister’s back as she slept on his chest. Yuji roared out laughter, slamming his hand on the table.
“So wait, Uncle Kuna was your matchmaker?! That’s too-” Yuji couldn’t even finish his sentence as the kitchen was occupied with youthful amusement.
“I didn’t think you would find it so funny, Yu.” Jin smiled.
“I just I never though you and mom would have met through Uncle Kuna being your wingman. I guess I should thank him for dragging you out the library.”
“Yeah, your uncle can be a headache most of the time but he has good intentions if you squint.”
Yuji stretched his tired muscles, the number four on his basketball jersey spreading across his body. “I wonder if he’ll ever settle down one day.”
“I wouldn't hold out hope. He’s not the type to stick to one woman.”
“Well, what about that plus one he came with at my birthday party last year. Unc seemed to be really into her.”
“True. She seems like a nice woman so I hope he’ll stick with her. I guess time will tell.”
Yuji and Jin have a quiet moment until Kaori pokes her head in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Don’t mean to be the party pooper but you should get some sleep Yuji. You got a big game tomorrow. It would suck if you had low energy on your big day.” Kaori advised.
Yuji nodded. “I know mom.”
“She’s right Yuji, being tired on an important day is a horrible feeling.”
“I know, dad, I just agreed with mom.” The parents share a laugh.
“We’re just saying Yuji. No need to play knight and throw up the shield.” Jin jokes. Yuji cringes.
“That was lame, dad.”
The family settles down for the night, leaving Yuji to clean off the dried sweat produced by hard-work and determination. Yuji lifts his hand above the hot bath water, rubbing his chin in thought. He stared up at the ceiling humming in contemplation.
“I wonder if I can get Uncle Kuna to hook me up with Jennifer Lawrence.”
Key Brothers | Family Cook [Kingdom Hearts Fanfiction]
Link to full series
Chapter library: Pending...
Story Summary: Every town has that fun but dysfunctional family folks can't help but keep track of. Well, the Key family is Destiny Island's. Four brothers. Contrasting personalities but all cut from the same cloth. They argue, they tease, they joke, but when the going gets tough they're willing to take a blade to the heart for their own. Follow the daily shenanigans of four colorful boys and their mother of blue. [Vanitas, Roxas, Ventus, and Sora are all siblings]
Chapter Summary: Roxas makes breakfast while the family rises and shines.
Genre: Slice of Life, Drama, A.U.
Word Count: 1.3k
A/N: A remake of a fanfiction I wrote a while back on FanFic.Net. Writing this story brought me a joy I didn't realize until after I abandoned it so here I am to revamp it. Expect (mostly) wholesome slice-of-life family-centric shenanigans between four boys and their (very pretty) blueberry mom. We're starting off strong with our favorite s8kter boi, Roxas! Being the family "cook" regardless if it's for breakfast or dinner can get pretty exhausting. Stay safe out there and enjoy!
Flips of the bacon hisses within the iron skillet. The thick smoky beefy aroma becomes Roxas's morning oxygen. Ghosts of bacon strips satisfies his appetite, the smell tricking his stomach that he was ready to take on the day. Roxas steps back and leans against the corner, the sizzling mingling with his thoughts.
Vanitas, the eldest and most obnoxious, slings his loyal gold necklace over the black bush stuck on his head. Strutting over, he steals two pieces straight from the pan then pinches a portion of scrambled eggs off his plate. His mouth motions slowly, the egg and bacon combo overwhelming his taste buds. Roxas shoots him a look that not just could kill, but eliminates. He throws a jab on Vanitas bicep.
“You can’t wait one fucking minute?” Roxas scolds.
“You look like a housewife.” Vanitas grabs his keys and heads for the door.
“Did you at least wake mama up so she won’t sleep in?”
Vanitas opens the front door, “Don’t have time for that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He muffles through his chewed-up food. The door sweeps close, Vanitas leaving with the conversation.
Roxas fixes the plates, a groan or a sigh leaves him, he’s too annoyed to decipher it. Once the table is set, he moves on to fixing his saving grace, lunch. The tediousness of it all sucks, but the mediocrity of school food gives enough determination to prep his own meal.
Turkey melted down by mozzarella cheese, all smooshed by white breads. Don’t tell his mama, she’ll just complain about buying the loaf of wheat bread for nothing. Four small chocolate chips cookies his mom baked last night, a sweet tooth impulse. Ten-dollar apple juice to wash it all down. It’s a shame that this apple Juice cost so much, he blames Ventus for influencing him to replace the watery cheap kind.
Ven. The other 50 to his 50. The orange glow from a candle that brings comfort to his empty, dark blank. His... He could give you an essay but his twin was eating at the table, giving him conscious concern.
Ven opened with, “You alright?”
“Yeah, just lost in thought.” Roxas lingo for “I’m Fine.”.
“When are you not.” Ven joked. Roxas shoots him a look. Ven doesn’t know how Roxas conveys it but it was a mix of nonchalance and annoyance.
“Taking the bus?” Roxas set all of his lunch in a paper brown bag with a marked “R”. He sets it on the kitchen corner hidden beside the microwave. Ven shakes his head as he savors the syrup-soaked waffles. “Someone from class is taking me.”
Roxas rolled his eyes, “We just started school two weeks ago and you already have new friends.”
Ven chuckles, “Sorry for wanting a social circle to help me survive tenth grade.”
“Whatever.” Roxas brushed off with a slice of envy. “You know, you could make more friends besides Xion and that redhead college friend. What’s his name? Allen? Alex?” Ven trailed.
“Axel. The redhead’s name is Axel.” Roxas corrected.
“Yeah, him. You only have one friend that’s our age. How did you even become friends with a college dude?”
“A long story I don’t feel like getting into. I only need two close friends to keep me going. I have other friends that’s close in age anyway.”
“Ah yeah that’s right. Skaters that disregard people’s property and smoke trees on a Wednesday.”
“Stereotype much. Skaters are chill, cool people who inspire me more than anything. They... forget it, you wouldn’t get it.” Roxas shakes his head as he shields himself from Ven.
“Rox, I’m just suggesting that you make some friends in our grade. I see you on the days Xion isn’t at school. It’s hard to watch.”
“People say that after graduation you lose touch with people you go to school with. What’s the point of having friendships that’ll last three years max?” Roxas challenged.
“So you can have fun memories to look back on.”
Roxas was ready to bite back but nothing of substance followed.
HONK!
A car horn cleared the tension left from the back and forth, snapping Ven out of his concern and out of Roxas’s cynicism. Ven stuffed the last bit of eggs in his mouth then goes for his green backpack.
“Just try, okay?” Ven muffled through the eggs, but the warmth was still there.
Roxas doesn’t respond, idly watching his best friend brother walk out the door. He fixed his own plate then sat down to scarf down his hard work. Ever since he become (somewhat) good at skateboarding, he didn’t need the crowded, dingy school bus anymore.
Sora bolts downstairs, hair more messy than usual (if that was even possible), mechanical pencils falling to the floor, shirt wrinkled. His homework floats out of the open zipper, alerting him to snatch the papers and shove them back in his cluttered bag. Typical shenanigans from the baby. He throws Roxas a look and waves his way.
“Hey Rox! Bye Rox!” Sora shouts as he ran past the kitchen. Roxas points at his food. “At least eat your food first. Why are you--”
“Okay!” Sora bounces from the living room to the kitchen island to the door within a few seconds, taking the plate of food with him. “Can’t chat or I’m gonna miss the bus!”
Roxas pinches the bridge of his nose, being a witness of Sora’s tornado left him with a headache.
“That dude is gonna be the death of me one of these days.” Roxas checks the clock and sees that homeroom starts in half an hour. He walks over to the stairway and lifts his hand beside his mouth to project.
“Mama, your food is in the microwave! I’ll see you!”
“Okay, be safe.” His mother had this magical ability to make her voice heard without shouting. Gentleness guarded by a firm shell.
Roxas walks out the door. The skateboard gliding against the concrete becomes faint the more time past.
Aqua walks downstairs with her silk blue robe flowing behind her. She heats up her food then consumes her breakfast, soaking in the silence that follows after all of her boys leave for the day. She didn’t need any entertainment nor any conversation. The quiet of the birds talking, the lawn mower in the distance, and the subtle creaks of the large house provided a pocket of peace that was all she needed. Worth enduring the chaos triggered by too much young testosterone.
Aqua hums as she chews her bacon, allowing emptiness void her mind before responsibilities cram it yet again. She takes a drink out of her teacup yet no warm tea bathes her body from the inside. She sets the cup down to see that she forgot to make the comforting morning beverage. She pouts.
“Fudge...”
“You think I should hang out with them after school?” Xion asks, hoping he objects to give her an excuse.
“Hell yeah. I think it could be good.”
Xion shifts, “I might be boring though.”
“You ain’t boring to me. So why should they?” Roxas challenged.
For a moment, Xion stares at her locker. She turns to him with small nods, registering his logic. “Okay, sure. I’ll give them a try.”
“You’re cool Xi. If they don’t vibe with you, it says more about them than you.” He reassures.
Slices of encouragement eases her social anxiety. Forming a small smile, she carefully closes her locker. “Are you standing in line for lunch?”
“Nah, I gotta get mine. I’ll meet you there. Save me a seat this time, okay?”
Xion nods, “I’ll try. That group can be really intimidating sometimes.”
“Screw them, that’s our spot. I won’t be gone long.”
Roxas goes upstairs then jogs through the second main hallway to finally reach his locker. Grabbing hold of the lock, he starts turning.
7, Right. 21, Left. 29, Upturn. 37, Pull. Click!
He wastes no time to pull back the locker, his mouth pooling with hunger. He scans for a brown paper bag tucked in the angled corner. Ragged notebooks, piles of textbooks, skate tools, and... an unfinished water bottle. Roxas blinks, delusionally hoping for the bag to magically appear.
No bag. No leftover snacks. Not even cash to settle for mediocre school food. Roxas slams his forehead against the cold, dull steel.
