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A possible one shot where the reader is injured(knee, ankle, arm) and gets in trouble with a villain(your choice) and finds out her crush peter is Spider-Man who saved her. Love your writing! You're amazing!

Hiiiii! I’ve just finished writing your request. I hope you like it and I hope that I have at least somewhat met your expectations. Thank you so much for requests and for all the kind compliments. If you ever have another request, feel free to send me an ask. :)

I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths.

Everybody at this school had a thing for superheroes. If it wasn't Iron Man they were talking about, it was Thor. If it wasn't Thor, it was Captain America. And so on and so forth. One particular superhero that seemed to have piqued everyone's interest was the new and recent Spider-Man.

Achilles and his gold, Hercules and his gifts, Spider-Man's control, and Batman with his fists.

He was one of us, they said. He was glorious, they stated. He could do anything, they would call from the rooftops if they could.

Me? I said he was no big deal. Why? Because he made the boy I loved feel inferior.

And clearly I don't see myself upon that list.

It hadn't taken me that long to find out Peter's secret identity, mostly because the kid was shit at being covert. Sneaky Pete, yeah right.

Peter and I were friends. We could have been more, but to be honest, I never quite knew where I stood on that front with Peter. Sometimes it seemed like he reciprocated my feelings, but he never did give out any clear signals or did anything about it. We could have been closer friends too, but there were times when he seemed to be too shy to even speak to me.

Gradually, though, I had noticed him disappearing from school, sneaking off when with friends, making excuses… And so once I had followed him and lo and behold found him changing into the Spider-Man suit. He didn't see me and I didn't say anything about seeing him.

See, the thing with Spider-Man was that all the girls wanted to be with him and all the boys wanted to be him. And I think that got to Peter. On one hand, he felt loved and appreciated and on the other, he felt unloved and underappreciated, because Peter Parker didn't have the same reputation as Spider-Man, despite being the same person.

I could see it in him whenever I snuck out and watched him do his thing as Spider-Man. He was more confident, he believed himself more, and he didn't let anyone mess with him. He was more... Peter. At least more of what Peter could be if he wasn't always hiding in the shadow of a superhero.

No matter how many times I tried to hint at the fact that I didn't see Spider-Man like the other girls did, that I wouldn't fall right into his lap, Peter never seemed to get it. I would try to hint that he could be exactly like Spider-Man, but all he got from that was that I liked Spider-Man more than him and that I would prefer Spider-Man over him. When it came to Spider-Man the kid had a huge inferiority complex and frankly it was driving me nuts. However, it didn't seem that there was anything I could do short of telling him I knew he was Spider-Man. So, one day I decided to do just that.

I was walking into the cafeteria to find him when he rushed past me, not even taking note of me. He went by so fast that by the time I had managed to call out his name he was already out of earshot. So, I decided to follow him. I didn't know what mission he was on, but I knew that I would find out soon enough.

I ran after him, hardly keeping up, because the boy had superpowers and despite the fact that I was on the track team I couldn't keep up with something like that. Finally, he stopped in front of a jewelry store in the midst of a robbery. I leaned against the wall of a building opposite the jewelry store to catch my breath. I opted to wait for Peter to do his thing and then get his attention somehow and have a talk with him. I hadn't figured out my plan of action yet as I was still light-headed from all the running.

As soon as the robbers caught sight of Peter, though, they sprinted. And that's when it happened. As soon as I knew it they were running right toward me.

I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths.

It all happened too fast. I tried to move out of the way, but one of the robbers pushed past me and as soon as I knew it I was falling. I collided with the pavement, my shoulder taking most of the blow. Suddenly a pain rippled through my shoulder and I let out a yelp as I rolled onto my back. The pain had put me in a state of confusion where for a few seconds I didn't know where I was or what had happened. But apparently a few seconds was all it took.

The testaments they told, the moon and its eclipse.

When I came to, I found myself on top of the building I had fallen next to. Spider-Man's face was right above mine. He was close enough that I could take Peter's mask off, but I wasn't a jerk, so I didn't and plus my shoulder hurt too much to even try the feat.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worry seeping into his voice.

"Just dandy." I laughed, trying to raise myself from the ground, but winced in pain as I had moved a lot of my body's weight on the arm where my injured shoulder was located.

"Stay here." Spider-Man said, helping me to a sitting position. "I'll be right back. I just have to get those robbers."

And Superman unrolls a suit before he lifts.

And off he went. I leaned my head against the wall of the rooftop garden, thanking God that this rooftop had a garden, and hoping to God that Peter wouldn't leave me and my aching shoulder alone on the roof for too long, and that if he did that the door leading to the building was unlocked.

Just as I was finishing up with my list of worries, Peter clambered back on top of the building, by my side in no time.

"Are you okay? How badly were you hurt? Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked quickly. It was kind of endearing to see his superhero persona break down, so that I could see hints of the Peter I knew from school every day peaking through. I wasn't sure whether on a subconscious level he was doing it somewhat on purpose to comfort me or if he was completely unaware of it.

"Can you sit with me for a little bit?" I asked.

He seemed taken aback by the question, but obliged anyway. He sat down next to me, closer than he had ever dared to before without the mask.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Not you. But maybe Peter can."

But I'm not the kind of person that it fits.

"P-Peter?" And suddenly he was a bumbling mess. "Peter? I don't know a Peter. Do you know a Peter? I have no idea-"

"Take off the mask." I said softly, cutting him off.

All of a sudden he was quiet. Then softly as if almost in a whisper he said, "I can't reveal my secret identity."

I smiled affectionately. "Here. Come a little closer."

Surprisingly, he didn't fight it. He just a moved a little bit closer to me, now his face in my reach. Using my uninjured arm I slowly took the mask off to reveal his face and unruly curls. I moved my fingers slowly and affectionately down his face. He looked away from me.

"How long have you known?" he asked, his voice so quiet that I could barely hear him.

"It's been a while." I said, using my fingers to lift his face so that he would meet my eyes again.

We spent a few seconds just looking into each other's eyes. I could sense his uneasiness and I saw him fighting to look away.

"Peter, do you know I'm in love with you?"

His eyes widened and he froze for a second.

"Y-you are?"

I nodded. "I'm in love with you. Not Spider-Man. I've never understood why you seem to think of yourself better if you're Spider-Man. I never wanted Spider-Man. I always wanted you."

"I always thought…"

"What? That I was like all those other girls that only wanted Spider-Man, because he was Spider-Man? Well, you were wrong, Peter." I paused for a moment. "Actually, I do want Spider-Man."

His face fell.

I smiled softly at him and then continued. "But I don't want him because he's a superhero. I want him because he's you."

I saw a glimmer in Peter's eye before he smiled and looked away shyly. "I'm in love with you too, (Y/N)." He looked back at me, inching closer, so close that I could feel his breath on my skin, causing goosebumps. "What do you want exactly?"

She said, where'd you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody with some superhero gifts. Some superhero, some fairytale bliss. Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss.

"I want something just like this."

And with that I kissed him. At first he seemed surprised, but soon enough he eased into the kiss, kissing me back lightly and then feverishly as if he couldn't get enough. We pulled away, out of breath.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted to kiss you." he said, blushing.

I smiled. "I promise I'll kiss you some more, but first you have to have someone get a look at my shoulder."

"Oh, right!" he said, jumping up, immediately looking embarrassed as he picked me up from the ground, ready to save my day and my shoulder.

I giggled and placed a peck on his cheek. "You'll always be my hero, Peter."

He smiled and looked into my eyes, but this time there was no trace of uncertainty in them. And with that he took me back down to the ground, finally at ease with being both Spider-Man and Peter with me. I buried my head in his shoulder and smiled, pulling myself closer to him, finally knowing that I could. My smile got bigger as I breathed in his boy scent. There was a whole world out there for the two of us and we were finally ready to explore it.

I'd always wanted something just like this.

Thank you for the request and the kind words! Keep requesting! You know you want to and you know I want you to. :)

Okay, my lovelies, I’ve recently started accepting Peter Parker imagine requests and I have got ONE more to do of those, but seeing as I do those with the amount of inspiration I have for one, you are welcome to request more.

However, that is not what I wanted to talk to you about in this post. I also started a Peter Parker Fan Fic, which is actually a texting/dialogue humor fic. If any of you follow my Wattpad account you will know the style of fic, because I have two completed ones in my series of texting fics with The Vamps.

It is called “Stars and Constellations” and clicking on the title will take you to the story as I have linked it.

Also, how amazingly cool is this cover that my friend made for me? Click on that link to go to her profile and check out her amazing stories, because apart from being an amazing cover-maker, she is also an amazing writer and her stories are on her Wattpad account, which the link will take you to.

A/N: Okay, so I would have posted this yesterday, but first Tumblr wouldn’t let me log in and then I couldn’t find the right gif, but now that I have - because look at it, that’s the look - I can finally post it. This was so fun to write and Peter is such an innocent puppy in this one (let’s be honest, Peter is an innocent puppy.) and so is (Y/N) and it’s just cute and fluffy, really. Anyway, I hope you like it. Like, comment, share and keep requesting!

It had been at least 5 hours since it happened and Peter was still thinking about it. He lightly knocked his head against his headboard, squinting his eyes shut.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could he be so stupid?

He sighed and leaned his head against his headboard, rubbing his neck. Anytime he closed his eyes the event seemed to replay in his mind and he immediately felt himself blush.

He assumed that it had happened because he had practiced saying it. He couldn't help it. She was so pretty. She was so smart. She was just… perfect. It was no wonder that he had had a crush on her ever since they'd become friends. He had always thought that she was pretty and he’d always been attracted to her, but ever since he'd gotten to know he had fallen for her.

They shared a history class that neither Ned nor MJ took, so Peter sat next to (Y/N). They had a pretty good friendship going. They bantered with each other; mostly she teased him and he blushed a lot, but he joked around with her sometimes too. They talked about movies and books and superheroes. It was fun and light hearted. Until today when he had managed to somehow ruin that.

They were working on an assignment together when it happened. (Y/N) was looking down at her paper, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Peter, what does this question even mean?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Which one?" Peter asked, leaning closer to her, so that he could see over her shoulder.

Her hand brushed against his.

It didn't help that Peter had imagined and fantasized about this exact situation before either. Well, sort of. In his fantasies he was leaning down to give her a kiss and her hand wasn't merely brushing against his, but it was on its way to connect with his own. He had imagined this situation in countless scenarios.

"This one." she said, pointing at the question.

Peter leaned closer. He couldn't focus on the question. He read the words, but he wasn't understanding what they meant. But the fact that she smelled like lilies was completely obvious and completely prominent in his mind.

If this were one of his fantasies she would probably ask him if he wanted to cuddle and watch movies tonight and he would answer with "Sure, babe."

Babe. Love. Sweetie. He wished he could call her those things. But he didn't have the courage to tell her he liked her. He really did like her.

"You know what? I'm too tired to think about this right now. I'll just do it for homework."

He looked up at her again, catching her eye and the sparkle in it. A smile enveloped his face. It always did whenever he looked at her. He really liked looking at her.

"Can I call you tonight so that we can discuss the answers?"

"Sure, babe."

He didn't realize what he had actually said until about 3 seconds after he'd said it.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

He felt the tips of his ears heat up and he was sure that he was blushing. He couldn't look at her, but if he did he would have known that there was a playful grin on her face.

"Babe?" he heard her ask as if her voice were underwater.

Thankfully right then the bell rang. Peter grabbed his backpack and his stuff off the desk and ran out of there, not looking back. All he heard as he hastily exited the classroom was a surprised "Peter!" from (Y/N), but he didn't look back.

And now 5 hours later he was still thinking about it. And he probably would have continued thinking about it and driving himself nuts over it if his phone hadn't chimed with a new message.

As soon as he saw who it was he felt his cheeks blush again.

(Y/N): hey babe!

(Y/N): can i call?

(Y/N): Peter?

(Y/N): i know you're there, Peter. I can see you reading these.

Peter took a deep breath and typed out his reply. He said that sure, she could call, because what else what he supposed to say?

His phone rang and he didn't have time to feel like he was flying because of her name on his phone screen.

"Hey, babe!" she chirped as soon as he answered.

There it was again. He wasn't sure whether her teasing him about the event that shall not be mentioned was a good or bad thing.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" he said, trying to sound cheerful, light and unembarrassed. "You wanted to discuss the answers for the history paper?"

"Actually, I wanted to discuss you. Napoleon can wait. He's been dead for years anyway."

Peter's heart stopped in his chest.

"Um, y-you want to discuss m-me?" He mentally scolded himself for stuttering so much.

"Yeah, babe, you." Her voice was light and breezy, but what Peter didn't know was that humor sometimes tended to be her defense mechanism.

"Um," was all that Peter said, because suddenly his mind had gone blank and he seemed to have forgotten how to use words.

"Listen, Peter, I know that you like me. MJ told me last week."

Peter made a note to himself: Kill MJ. Or at least, give her a good talking to.

"Oh." Peter said, because apparently one-word replies that didn't even consist of actual words was the way he had chosen to handle this.

"I didn't know how to broach the subject, because let's be honest, it's kind of an awkward topic."

"Yeah." An actual word. That was an upgrade.

"But you calling me babe today kind of did broach the subject, so here I am talking about it. Rambling more like, because I'm not sure how to ask."

"Ask what?" Her words had started making sense.

He heard her sigh and shift a little over the phone. "Well, um, the thing is…" she let her words drift off into space for a couple of seconds and then he heard her shift a little again. "I kind of like you too?" her voice rose up into a question as if she wasn't sure of the fact. Then she let out a sigh of relief and giggled nervously. "Wow. I can't believe I actually said it. Even though I sounded really unsure of it. Although, I am sure. I am totally sure that I like you. It's just… It takes courage to tell you, you know?"

Oh, he knew. And he found her babbling really endearing. He felt himself smile again.

"What I'm trying to say is… Will you be my babe?" she paused for a second and then continued in a rushed and hurried voice, "I mean, let's just start with one date, of course, and see how it goes, and-"

Peter made a note to himself again: Thank MJ.

"You are such a dork." Peter said, laughing.

"Uh, which one of us called the other 'babe' by accident, you dork?"

"You’ve called me 'babe' at least three times now."

"I'd like to continue calling you 'babe'."

"You are such a dork."

"You're the dork, babe."

He really liked it when she called him babe.

"Does this mean that if I ask you out on a date you'll say yes?" Peter asked, the smile evident in his voice.

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'll have to think about it." she laughed.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious." she laughed again. "Ask me and see what I say."

She was such a dork. And that was probably what he liked most about her.

"(Y/N), will you be a babe and go out with me?"

"Now, how can I say no to that?"

Her laugh was like music.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8?" Peter said, his voice rising up in question as if he weren't sure of his words.

"Yeah?" she answered, her voice rising up in a question as if she weren't sure of his words.

"See you then." Peter said, now completely sure of his words.

"See you then, babe." (Y/N) said, now completely sure of his words.

Peter hung up and leaned his head against his headboard, closed his eyes, and smiled. It had barely been a minute since it happened, but Peter knew that he would be thinking about this for a while.

#peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shots #peter parker one shot #peter parker request #peter parker requests #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shots #tom holland one shot #tom holland requests #tom holland request

I have recently been obsessed with “Spider-Man: Homecoming”, so in light of that I thought I would write a little about it. So, how about requesting some One Shots that I could do? Maybe I can do headcanons as well. I’ve never done those before, but it would be fun. Request away, Spider-Fans! (I accept both Peter Parker and Tom Holland requests.)

Request for a Two-bit imagine where you have to tutor him but he hits on you the entire time :)

This one has been written and posted. :)

I choose you. And I'll choose you over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I'll keep choosing you.

***

"X can't be negative 7."

"Why not? What do you have against negative 7?"

"I don't have anything against negative 7. We're talking about the length of a side of a triangle and the length can't be a negative number."

I leaned against the back of my chair, looking into the eyes of the student I was tutoring. We'd been sitting here for at least an hour now and we weren't really getting anywhere if I was being quite honest.

"So, it has to be a positive number?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"How about we just ditch that number and you give me your number?"

I rolled my eyes. This was at least the 5th time he had insinuated something like that. This was the reason why we weren't getting anywhere with this tutoring session.

"Keith, first of all, you already have my number. Second of all, your test is tomorrow and we are getting nowhere. Re-do the problem, please."

He held my gaze for a moment before returning it to his notebook. The action gave me shivers and I had to look away from him.

I should not be here. my head told me.

Shut up. my heart said.

"Would you go out with me?" He was looking at me again. I could feel it.

"Keith…" my voice drifted off, not being able to fill the silence that ensued.

Silences like this didn't used to be uncomfortable.

"So, what's the answer?"

"The book says that it should be 30."

"That's not what I meant. Can the answer be yes?"

I looked up at him and his eyes immediately met mine. My heart swelled.

Don’t let this happen. my head said.

Let it happen. my heart retorted.

"Keith…"

"Do you know that you're the only other person besides my mother that calls me Keith?"

That's because you're my Keith. my heart said.

Were my Keith. And shut up. my head argued.

"Keith, why am I even here? I'm not even that good at Math. Why did you ask me to tutor you?"

"Why did you say yes?"

I didn't have an answer to that.

He sighed and stayed silent for a second, looking down at his notebook. "Read me a problem." he suddenly said.

I was caught off guard due to the previous conversation, but I was also thankful that we didn't have to have that uncomfortable conversation yet again. So, I did exactly what he asked me to do. I read him a problem. And then he asked for another. So, I read him another. And then another. And then another.

Fifteen problems later, he slid his notebook toward me, keeping his gaze steady on mine before I looked down at his answers.

"They're all correct." I realized, looking at him suspiciously.

He only nodded.

"I don't understand."

He sighed and clasped his hands together in his lap. "I don't need a tutor, (Y/N). I need you." he paused. "It was a year ago when we sat at this very table and you broke up with me. Do you remember?"

I couldn't speak, so instead I just listened.

"It was a year ago that we sat at this very table and you told me that you needed space. I gave you space, but it's been a year, (Y/N)."

I shook my head. "Please don't do this."

"Why?"

"Keith…" My voice broke.

"You say my name, but what are you really saying?"

"You know why we broke up."

"I know. You think the life I lead is too hectic and you don't think you can handle it. But the thing is you make it less hectic, you make it brighter, and you make it better and I think that if we both worked at it, we could make what we have work. Because I think that what we have is worth fighting for."

I bit my lower lip, refusing to look into his eyes, because I knew that if I did I would cave. His gaze was like magic to me, a spell that I couldn't refuse, and he knew that very well.

"Alright." I heard him say after a few moments of silence. "Let's make a deal. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that what we had didn't mean as much to you as it did to me I will leave you alone forever and we will never speak of this again. All you have to do is look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me the same way that I love you."

I looked up at him and he locked eyes with me.

You don't love him. my head said.

But you do. my heart conceded.

The words formed on my lips, but no sound came when I tried to deliver them. Because no matter how hard I tried I couldn't deny my heart what it asked for. And what it asked for was him.

"No matter what, I choose you. And I'll choose you over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I'll keep choosing you. Do you choose me too?"

A few silent moments passed as my head and my heart waged a war, fated to be won by only one, one that I hoped would be right.

"Can the answer be yes?"

My head finally giving in to the desires of the heart I said it, "I choose you and I will choose you each and every day until choosing you is so natural that it is no longer a choice I have to make."

His smile was so wide that I thought his face might break. But I could feel my own smile too and when he kissed me nothing else mattered and I felt it in my heart then. We could make it work and all of it was worth it, because we had chosen each other and we would keep choosing each other over and over again without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat each and everyday.

A/N: So, there you go. I saw this quote and then I had this idea and I couldn’t resist. Thank you for the request and keep requesting in my ask box! :)

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #two-bit matthews #dally winston #johnny cade #dallas winston #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders one shot #the outsiders one shots #two-bit matthews imagine #two-bit matthews imagines #two-bit matthews one shot #two-bit matthews one shots #the outsiders requests

phoenixyfriend

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

Requests

Hiiii! Okay, so how would you, guys, feel if I started writing for "The Outsiders"? Send me some requests. Imagines/One Shots, Headcannons, Moodboards, Ships, Edits, and anything else you can think of?

#the outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #dally winston #two-bit mathews #imagines #one shots #headcannons #mood boards #ships #edits #requests

I'm in love with your James Franco imagine. Keep up the good work 😘💋

Thank you! I’m so glad you like it! That one will have a third part eventually, so keep an eye out for that. I’m just busy with a project that’s really important to me at the moment, so this blog is partially on hiatus at the moment. :D

Stories

And the world is a beautiful place for having so many different stories. Also, never let anyone tell you that the only education is typical education. There are so many things I know and so many people that I feel know because I've read them in a book or seen them in a story, no matter if the things were intertwined in the story or if the people were fictional. Sometimes just reading about a fictional person can help teach you something just as much as talking to a real live person would. The world is founded on stories. The world is made up of stories. Never think otherwise.

#personal #stories #about writing #outlook on the world #i may lose track of it sometimes but it's always there #thanks world #thank you

Thoughts about the Self

I once said that every writer leaves a part of themselves in their characters and their work.

This got me thinking. One of my main characters in my own novel is kind of messed up. If this is true, am I just as messed up as him?

What’s even more fucked up is... maybe I want to be? Maybe I want to be an anarchist, somebody who answers to nobody, somebody who walks among the chaos and feels no need or desire to make it right, a wild card in the deck.

Or maybe... like him I’m just in need of saving. Maybe I don’t need it. Maybe I just want it. Maybe I want to be saved. Maybe I’m just asking no one in particular, “Can you pick up the broken pieces of what once used to be me and put them back together again?”

But maybe... it’s not even that. Maybe I never used to be whole. Maybe I was always chipped, pieces always missing. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do.... not re-build, but build myself. Not for anyone else, but for me. One day I want to know myself, who I really am, and what I really want. Maybe that’s why we, writers, write different characters, characters that are unlike us, characters that are like us... Because we’re trying to find out, we’re trying to build. Everything and everyone else in life is fleeting, temporary, uncertain.

Except for me. I’m certain. If I’m going to be with me for the rest of my life, I at least want to like the person that I choose to become.

#thoughts about the self #midnight thoughts #this is not just about me though #everyone feels like that #who is that we really are #who is it really that we want to be #maybe who we think we want to be isn't the person that we want ourselves to be #what is it that we really want from life #these are the hardest questions to answer and yet the most important ones to answer

Times passed,

Things happened,

Strangers became friends,

Friends became strangers,

And somewhere in between it all,

Somewhere between one moment and the next,

We grew up.

All of them ephemeral moments in a vast universe.

All that I ask for is that we hold on to them

Just for a little longer, a little tighter, a little bolder,

Hold onto these fleeting moments,

Before they pass us by again without us noticing.

#fleeting moments #poem #free lance poetry #poetry #photography #i took that photo #tumblr photography #poems

"Life's a game, Maynard. And I play to win."

***

The eve of Friday, July the 24th. Ibiza.

That was the time and place. That was the time and place when he met her and when his life took a course with which he could not so easily cope with.

He was a sweet-talker, a charmer to whom everything came easily. All that generally worked for him, because he had all that. There was no one he couldn't sway with those words of his. The problem was she wasn't affected by all that, because she didn't fall under the category of all that. All that simply wasn't enough for her. She played by a set of different rules, a set of her own rules, and her own rules were ever changing.

The summer night was balmy and the air was salty with an ocean breeze. The atmosphere was romantic, but he hadn't come for romance. He had come for fun and for an unforgettable experience. What happened on holiday stayed on holiday. It was a world set apart from the world and that was why he was searching for the unknown, the untasted, and untried. And she was all of those things.

She was intrigue, mystery, and danger wrapped up into one. He should have known better and perhaps he did know better, but to be quite honest, he couldn't have cared less.

He leaned toward his friend, trying to be heard over the pounding music. "Joe, have you seen her around here before?"

The answer was immediate.

"She's out of your league, mate. Don't even try."

"I wouldn't say she's out of my league. Why do you say that?"

"She's just not for you. Don't get involved with her, Jack."

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What do you know that I don't?"

Joe sighed, knowing that his friend wasn't going to back down until he got the answers he was seeking. "Look, I don't know her personally, but I know that her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and that she comes here on holiday every summer." he paused for a moment, mulling over his next words. "She has quite a bit of a reputation." he continued. "No one really knows much, but there are plenty of rumors. She's complicated. There isn't a person on this island that doesn't know that she's bad news."

That was probably the point... That was probably the point when he should have listened, the point where he turned away no questions asked and walked away. But I would not be telling this story if he had.

Truth be told, the prospect of danger intrigued him. Truth be told, the prospect of bad news excited him. Truth be told, he wasn't thinking straight.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps it was the aura of the night. Perhaps it was none of those things but sheer stupidity, but as soon as he knew it he was walking toward her.

That first conversation he could not forget years after the event. At the time it had seemed effortlessly cool, she had seemed effortlessly cool, untouched by anything and everything. She was an illusion, a riddle, a puzzle that couldn't be figured out. That pulled him in, an inexplicable energy that kept him bound to her, leaving him wanting more.

"Come here often?" he asked the minute he had approached her.

She turned toward him and took him in. Blonde hair, piercing blue eyes filled with a look she knew all too well. Nothing she hadn't seen before, nothing she wouldn't see again.

"I guess I appreciate the lame pick up-line. Or lack thereof." she said, a sly smile playing at her lips. "But yes, I do come here often."

"I thought it would be better than the fallen angel line." he answered, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Perhaps it would have been better." she said, taking a sip from her drink.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked.

She looked pointedly down at her drink and raised an eyebrow.

He laughed. "Right."

She just sipped her drink wordlessly and turned away from him. She wasn't a fan of wasting her time.

"Who hurt you so much to make you so cold?" he found himself asking without thinking too much about it.

Now it was her turn to laugh. "I don't get hurt a lot."

"How so?"

She looked at him and that light mysterious smile not leaving her face she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm long gone before anyone ever has the chance to." And then, leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear. "The secret is, you leave before anyone gets close." And with that, she had already started walking away.

"And if someone were to get close?" Jack called after her.

She stopped for a moment as if thinking about it.

"What's your name?" he asked after a few moments of her not answering.

"I assume you already know that." she answered over her shoulder and without turning back walked away and out of the club.

Jack sighed and walked back to where Joe was standing, pretending not to have seen the whole thing.

"Don't." Jack said before signaling to the bartender for another drink.

"I told you so. You can't win her over."

"I highly doubt that. I can win anyone over."

"I don't know, mate." Joe said, taking a moment to look down at his drink as he swirled around the liquid in its glass. He then looked back up at Jack. "Perhaps you've met your match."

And perhaps he had.

***

The afternoon of Saturday, July the 25th. Ibiza. The beach.

That was the second time he saw her. She was lounging on a sun bed, listening to the waves of the sea hit the seashore, eyes closed. Nobody was around her. A few people sneaked a look at her now and again, but no one dared approach her. No one except him.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" he said, standing right in front of her. "Lovely day, isn't it? Nice and sunny."

"Yeah, except you're blocking my sun." she said, opening a single eye to glare at him.

"No greeting?" he teased.

"Yeah, hi, guy whose name I don't know. You're blocking my sun."

"Jack Maynard."

"Okay. Jack, you're blocking my sun."

He took a step to the side and looked at her as she settled back into her comfortable position. After a few moments, surprisingly, she was the one to speak.

"I see you have found out my name."

"No. You were right. I knew it from before."

"Everybody does."

"That's rather vain."

"It's a fact."

She kept her eyes closed and fell back into silence.

"Mind if I sit down?" Jack asked.

"Yes." she answered tersely.

Nonetheless, he still sat down on the sun bed next to her. And that moment he could swear that he heard someone nearby gasp.

"What is it about you that has everyone acting like that?"

She opened her eyes and her gaze fastened on the clear blue eyes of the boy sitting next to her - or rather the curiosity written in them.

"Haven't you heard?" she asked, disdain in her voice. "I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"Are you now? I've been told that I am too."

"Watch it, Jack. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

And with that she picked up her stuff and walked away from him yet again.

***

The morning of Sunday, July the 26th. Pool bar.

"Why do you keep walking away from me?"

(Y/N) set down her drink and slowly turned toward the boy who had now started to become a regular occurrence in her life.

"Why do you keep stalking me?"

Jack grinned playfully at her. "It's not my fault that we happen to be staying at the same hotel."

She scoffed and turned away from him again.

"Seriously, I can show you my room key if you don't believe me."

She didn't answer, but instead just sipped her drink, completely ignoring him. Jack felt all eyes on him and the feeling of anticipation in the air.

"That was the same drink you had at the club. You like 'Sex on the Beach'."

"And you say you're not stalking me?" she asked, still facing away from him.

He laughed and took a seat on the bar stool next to her. "I can't help being a good observer."

"Of course you can't." she answered sarcastically.

"So, going to the beach today?"

She didn't answer.

"You're supposed to answer. And then I'm supposed to say something. It's called a conversation." he said teasingly.

"Does it really matter? Whether I go or not you're going to show up where I am, anyway." she retorted.

"Ha. Ha. Funny." he answered in the same tone of voice. "Come on, talk to me."

"Why is it so important to you that I talk to you?" she asked suddenly.

He was rather surprised at the question, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Why is it so important to you that you don't talk to me?"

"Because I don't talk to anybody. And nobody talks to me. Maybe we shouldn't wreck the equilibrium."

And that was the third time she stood up and walked away from him.

***

The afternoon of Sunday, July the 26th.

"What are the rumors?"

"The what?"

Joe was currently lounging on a sun bed near the pool, scrolling through his Twitter, only to be interrupted by his friend asking him stupid questions.

"The rumors. About (Y/N). What is it that makes her the way she is?"

"How should I know?" Joe asked. "Maybe she's just crazy."

"Then why is everyone so afraid of her?"

"I don't know. Maybe because she's crazy." Joe answered, completely uninterested.

"So, you know nothing?" Jack asked, bewildered.

"I know that apparently she got arrested and that ever since then everyone's been watching not to step on her path. She's considered dangerous."

"Do you believe any of that?"

Joe stopped scrolling through his phone and looked up at Jack. "Frankly, mate, I don't care. It's her business. Why do you?"

Jack didn't have an answer to that question.

***

The evening of Sunday, July the 26th. The moon-bathed beach.

"I didn't think I'd see you here."

"Honestly, how do you keep finding me?"

He sat down on the sand next to her. "I'm not. I kind of just run into you."

"Yeah, such a coincidence." she answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Seriously, I'm not trying to look for you. I hope I run into you, but I don't follow any type of logical path to find you. Hand on heart." he answered and put his hand on his heart. He was being honest and he wanted her to know it.

She looked at him for a second and then let out of a light chuckle. "You really are something."

"Something good?"

"Something."

"I guess I'll take it."

"Take it or leave it, I don't care."

"You don't seem to care about much, do you?"

"Caring is fatal."

"But not caring makes you cold."

"Are you here to be my therapist?" she snapped.

He looked at her for a moment in the moonlight before shaking his head. "No... I'm just here to... hang out. What are you doing here?"

A few moments passed before she answered. That always seemed to happen whenever he talked to her. She seemed to like leaving some space for a dramatic pause. It was as if she thought she was in some sort of movie or book.

"I come here sometimes."

"Because?" he prompted.

"Because I can and I want to." she answered.

"And you want to because?"

"You want to know too much." she said.

"That's probably because I don't know anything. I literally know nothing about you."

"And you're not supposed to."

He sighed. "Why are you playing this game?"

"Life's a game, Maynard. And I play to win."

She stood up again. But this time it was different. Before she walked away, she turned to him and she gave him a smile. It was something. It was certainly something.

***

The evening of Wednesday, July the 29th. The club.

For three days he didn't see her. For three days there was no trace of her anywhere. Perhaps she was deliberately avoiding him, trying to ignore the little slip in her mask that evening on the beach. Nobody seemed to question it, though. It was just a thing she did. She was the mysterious personality that floated in and out of existence, the inexplicable phenomenon everyone was awed by and too afraid to ask about.

It wasn't until three days later that he saw her where he had first seen her. It seemed like someone had hit the rewind button on time and everything had returned to the way it had been on that first fateful night. Everything was the same.

Nothing was the same.

He caught her eye just in time. It was only a glimpse before she looked away and then walked away. He followed her. Neither of them spoke until they reached the seaside. A couple of minutes later they were still walking along it, silence between them.

"I saw you look at me." he finally said.

"Must have a been a trick of light." But he caught the light smile that gave her away.

"Could be."

"You're a very interesting person, do you know that?" he asked, breaking another spell of momentary silence.

There was a different note to her smile this time. Something he couldn't explain. "That's only because you know nothing about me."

"I'd like to."

She turned to him with a curious look on her face, as if she were analyzing the very essence of him.

"I mean, I'd like to know things about you."

"Wouldn't that just make me uninteresting and ordinary then?"

A small moment of laughter. But she wasn't laughing. It had been a serious question. He composed himself.

"I doubt anything could make you uninteresting and ordinary, (Y/N)."

"Mystery is what makes things interesting and extraordinary."

"I don't agree with that."

"Maybe you need to reevaluate some things then."

"Why are you like this?"

"Why am I like what?"

By this point they'd started walking in the opposite direction, back to the club. He hadn't noticed that she'd turned him around. He had been too mesmerized by her to notice what was happening.

"Like... this."

An entertained smile painted her lips.

The music resounded beneath their feet. The club was merely a few steps away. A crowd of party-goers was right in front of them.

"Perhaps you'll never know."

And with that she disappeared in the crowd.

"But maybe I will!" he called after her, but he could no longer see her. She had gotten lost in the crowd. Whether it was a deliberate move or a stroke of luck, he could only guess.

***

The sunset of Thursday, July the 30th. The pier.

Joe had just gone to his room and Jack was left alone on the pier. He played with the bottle cap in his hands and looked up at the fiery red and orange sky. It was like someone had taken the sky as a blank canvas and began to paint all that they felt on it. If it could be described as anything, it would be feeling. The feeling of passion, the feeling of desire, happiness, tranquility, euphoria... It truly was a beautiful sight.

Someone sat next to him.

He turned to see who it was and was surprised to find that it was... her.

"Well, this is a strange turn of events. I thought I was the one stalking you."

"I had to return the favor." There was an obvious note of a smile in her voice.

"Any reasons why you've sought me out?"

"Perhaps."

"But perhaps I'll never know?"

She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned to look at him. "And you say you don't know anything about me."

He shook his head, but couldn't help the smile that came as a reaction to her words and her demeanor. He wanted to push the matter further... She had come looking for him. The formerly thought of as forever uninterested, elusive, enigmatic girl had for once come to find him and she had a reason for it. However, she didn't give him the chance to say anything more on the subject.

"This has always been one of my favorite places. This pier at both sunrise and sunset. It kind of shows you the meaning of both beginnings and endings and how both of them can be beautiful."

"Why are you telling me this?" he couldn't help but ask.

She turned toward him and looked at him for a second. "Because I think that it is important for you to know that."

"That being that both beginnings and endings can be beautiful?"

She just smiled in response and turned away from him to look at the sunset. He just kept looking at her, an aura of confusion settling over him. She was trying to tell him something; he just wasn't sure what.

"Jack, do you understand that sometimes you shouldn't ask about things? Some things should just be left a secret."

"I guess I'm just a curious person."

"Curiosity killed the cat." She turned toward him and locked eyes with him. He hadn't noticed it, but she had sidled closer to him, so close that now her face was only millimeters from his and he could feel her breath on his skin. "But in this case it may just break your heart instead."

Her lips were on his. Her touch was sweet, soft, divine, all the colors in the sky... It was nothing like the girl he had thought he'd met. But in a paradoxical way it just added to what little he knew about her. She was more elusive than she let on.

It took less than a second. The moment she pulled away from him he was in shock. He was suddenly longing for her touch. He was longing for the touch of this girl he barely even knew. Perhaps he should have questioned it, this strange behavior, this strange feeling, but instead he just slid closer to her and leaned in, but she gently pushed him away.

"I'm leaving today." she said bluntly as if she felt nothing... as if nothing had ever happened.

"What?" he asked, not completely registering her words. Did she just tell him that she was leaving after they'd kissed, a kiss that she had initiated? This didn't seem right. It didn't seem like something people did.

"I'm leaving today."

She had repeated that same sentence as if it explained everything... as if it explained anything at all.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I felt that you should know."

"Where are you going?"

"Back home."

"Which is where?"

There was a moment of tense silence. "You know better than that, Jack."

"Maybe I don't. Tell me. Why can't you? Or course you can. Why do you make it seem that it will be some catastrophe if you tell me anything about yourself? What was so terrible that you did that you can never talk about it?"

She didn't answer. She just stared down at her clasped hands in her lap. Somehow he knew that she wasn't going to answer.

He sighed. "How are we supposed to keep in touch if you don't tell me where you live, give me your phone number, or any form of contact for that matter?"

She looked back at him then and that look said more than words ever could.

"You were never planning on staying in touch with me, were you?"

She touched his shoulder. "Jack..."

"I don't understand. But- you- we-" He was grasping at straws now. He knew that nothing he would say would get his questions answered let alone get her to change her mind. "You kissed me. Why did you kiss me?"

She sighed and got up. It was a slow movement. It was as if she was preparing him for the weight of the words. "Because... I felt like you deserved a beautiful ending."

And with that she turned away from him and walked away. He could have followed her. He could have caught up with her. He could have continued this conversation. He could have asked - demanded - for a clearer answer. But he just... didn't. He knew that no matter what he did it wouldn't make a difference.

So, he couldn't win her over. Perhaps Joe was right. Perhaps he had met his match. But it wasn't even about that anymore. Most of all what disappointed him most was that he hadn't gotten to know her.

What eluded him most of all was the question of why he wanted to so much.

***

The late morning of the 1st of September. Local cafe shop.

Jack was in a local cafe shop. Well, at least it was local to the people who lived around here. He had been around Joe's house to film a video with him and then he had decided to just... wander. He hadn't been sure where he had been going, in fact he wasn't even sure where he was. All that he knew for a fact was that one moment the sign of "Gabbie's Local Cafe Shop" had pierced through his reverie state. And then he went in, not because he didn't have anything better to do, but because he didn't feel like doing it.

What happened next some people would have labeled as 'fate' or 'destiny'. He'd always been a firm nonbeliever when it came to 'fate' and 'destiny', but now he wasn't so sure, because there she was in the flesh, a smile on her face, saying "One cappuccino with cinnamon. Enjoy!"

She hadn't seen him yet. In fact she wasn't looking in his direction at all. Her full focus was on her costumers, showing them a smile, asking them about their days, and melodically repeating their orders when they were finished along with a cheerful good-bye remark.

It was so not (Y/N) that for a moment he thought he was mistaken. He must have been for this girl standing at the counter, an obvious friendly and cheerful countenance enveloping her, could not have been the same girl, all wilderness and mystique, that he had encountered in Ibiza.

And then something happened - something that in his mind proved that this was not the same girl. A customer approached, a girl about her age, whose presence seemed to evoke something he couldn't explain within this person he never knew.

"Jackie!"

The excited call for what seemed to be her friend was followed by an embrace. At this point all the noise in the cafe seemed to fade out... He couldn't hear anything, nothing but the high-colored laughter that was (Y/N)'s reaction to whatever it was that Jackie had said. And then he was sure if not by anything else but the way it - she - made him feel. It was her.

He waited as (Y/N) and Jackie made plans to see a movie that same evening and then as (Y/N) took Jackie's order, while filling her in on what had happened at somebody's-name-he-couldn't-catch's party a week ago, and then while Jackie told (Y/N) all about some guy that had texted her and then while (Y/N) excitedly told Jackie about a pair of twins they had both known back in middle school. Finally, Jackie took her coffee, embraced (Y/N) once more and left the shop.

After what seemed like an eternity (Y/N)'s eyes met Jack's and her face expression completely changed from one of cheerfulness to one of complete confusion, then worry, and finally a face expression he couldn't interpret laced with an emotion he couldn't describe.

"A latte, please." he said as he approached the counter.

It took her a few seconds to reply, but then with that perfectly friendly and cheerful smile she said, "I'll get right on that." Then she yelled the order over her shoulder and someone in the back told her it would be ready soon.

"The last time we talked you didn't have a British accent." he said. He hadn't meant for it to sound accusatory, but nonetheless that's how it came out.

"Right." she said after a few moments and then added no further explanation. The wait for the coffee seemed like an eternity.

"I don't work here." she finally said. "I'm just covering for a friend."

"You seem to know everyone very well."

"I come here sometimes when she's working a shift, so I've met some of them."

"Right."

"Actually, I think it's just because she's just really friendly. She's possibly the friendliest person I've met." The voice belonged to the guy who had just approached the next counter. He was wearing the uniform as well, so Jack assumed he worked here too.

He didn't answer anything to that, but just looked at her. Yet again he wasn't sure if he recognized her.

She seemed visibly uncomfortable at the remark of her temporary colleague.

"Latte."

The drink was handed to her without another word. She took it and put it in front of Jack.

"One latte." she said, the cheerfulness back in her voice now, but it was so obviously put there as a defense mechanism that even her colleague glanced at her questioningly.

He looked down at the coffee in front of him and then back at her. It was as if he were expecting something and she seemed to know that. Finally, he took the drink and turned to walk away.

"Have a nice day, Jack!"

The call was one of protocol or something she just did - he wasn't sure - but he saw the meaning in it. He turned around and looked at her for a moment. Her eyes were searching his.

"Do you know each other?"

The moment was put to an end by her colleague. She opened her mouth to answer, but he beat her to it.

"No. Not at all." Jack said and then turned and walked out of the cafe.

***

The late morning of the 5th of September. Gabbie's Local Cafe Shop.

He'd once been told that curiosity killed the cat. However, curiosity was not what was fueling him right now. He needed answers. In fact, it felt like he deserved him. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know so much, but he was in so deep right now that it didn't even matter anymore.

From a psychological point of view, probably none of this was normal. No person could just completely change their personality, right? So, she must have been playing some kind of game with him again. And now he was on a mission - if not to stop the game than at at least to learn its rules.

It was around the same time of when he had last visited. She had said that she was covering for a friend and that sometimes she was around for her shifts. If it was fate, she would be there.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The question was more or a warning. He assumed he looked more flustered than he actually was. He quickly composed himself and looked up at the girl at the counter and gave her a quick smile before looking around. She wasn't here. Apart from him and the girl at the counter the cafe was empty.

"Hi," he started, approaching the counter. "I'll take a cappuccino." He gave her one of his charming smiles.

"With or without cinnamon?"

"With."

"Cappuccino with cinnamon!" she called over her shoulder and got a signal of approval.

"Thanks." he said, wondering how to pose the next question. "Listen, I'm actually looking for someone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I was hoping she might be here."

"She doesn't work here." Her answer was plain and uninterested.

"Yes, I know. Do you know where she might be?"

The girl just gave him a bored shrug of her shoulders as a response just as her colleague approached behind her with Jack's coffee.

"One cappuccino with cinnamon." he said, handing the steaming cup of coffee to the girl before looking up at the customer.

"Oh, Jack! Right?" It was the same guy from last time.

"Yeah, hi, um..." He was suddenly embarrassed that he didn't know the guy's name even though he shouldn't have been, because honestly did he even know this guy? Lately, he'd been having a lot of strange interactions with people he barely knew.

"Derek."

"(Y/N) doesn't work here."

Why did everyone keep telling him that?

"Yeah, I know. I just hoped I might find her here."

Derek gave him a smirk. "I know you two had something going on."

It was certainly something, but it definitely wasn't what he thought.

"We don't."

"I won't tell. I promise." That and the unrelenting smirk. He wasn't sure which was more disturbing at this moment.

"Listen, do you know where she is?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. She should be at UCL. She's an assistant there. Hey, you forgot your coffee!"

In an odd way, it all felt too familiar. It was Ibiza all over again. It was like chasing shadows. It was looking for something that didn't want to be found. In fact, it was the same game, except a new level.

When he got there he wasn't sure how to proceed. He should have stayed at the cafe and gathered more information, but the moment he had heard where she was it felt like a pointer, a pointer on how to play this game. For one moment he had felt as if he had had the upper hand. Now, he just felt stupid for how was he supposed to find something that did its best to hide?

However, just like back at the beach when she disappeared into that crowd he now too got his stroke of luck, because as soon as he approached the building he found her. There she was just like the time before not having registered his appearance.

"Jonah, look, I appreciate your opinion and I know that you are the professor and I'm just the assistant, but I think I have a say in this, because I've been a student - not just a student, but a student here who has taken this class. These students come here with hopes and dreams and a zest for knowledge. Do not enforce some stupid system on them. Let them learn, don't just teach them. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? I know that you are a person who listens to reason and that is why I am telling you this."

Jonah nodded and said, "Your opinion is always appreciated, (Y/N). I will think about what you have told me." And with that he turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

"So, I've met the one that doesn't care about anything, the one that cares about everything, and the one that cares about the right things. Have any more up your sleeve?"

His voice startled her so much that she swiveled around to find its source. As soon as she set eyes on him her face changed into that same unrecognizable face expression that he couldn't explain the last time he saw her. But that only took a moment, because it was gone as soon as it had come only to be replaced by what looked to be a trained expression of professionalism.

"Jack, hi." she said plainly, ignoring his former comment.

"(Y/N), hi." he repeated in the same tone of voice.

"Are you mocking me?" she teased, beginning to walk forward. He was quick to follow.

"No, just trying to understand you."

"I'm a hard person to understand."

"Clearly. So, what are you doing here?"

"I work here. Judging by the fact that you knew exactly where to come, I would have thought you'd have known that. Who told you?"

"Derek."

She chuckled. "Of course."

"He told me you were an assistant."

"Yeah. English and Literature. I used to study here and they kept me as an assistant."

"English and Literature."

"English and Literature. I like adventures."

"Uh-uh."

"You don't seem that convinced." she looked at him and smiled.

"No, I am. I just wondered how that ties in with last summer."

"It doesn't." she answered tersely. He opted to drop the subject for now as the reply had had a hostile note to it.

"Are you single?" he suddenly asked.

"Depends on who's asking. For some boys, I am. For others, I'm in a serious relationship. And to friends, I tell the truth."

"I thought you and I were friends."

He spotted the smile, but there was no verbal answer.

"Okay, then, what would you say if I asked to take you to dinner?"

"Jack..." That one word conveyed more meaning than anything she could have said.

But he couldn't stop. He knew that it was cruel of him, that she should have left her alone, that he should have forgotten about this whole messed up situation, that he should have just said "Well, nice knowing you." but he just couldn't stop. He had come this far. He didn't want to lose this game.

"What? Finish your sentence."

And that's when... something broke. Something in that rock solid interior gave way. He could see it in her face, the eyes that refused to look at him.

"You're not supposed to be here. It wasn't- It wasn't supposed to go this way."

"What wasn't supposed to go this way?"

"You. You were supposed to be... Ibiza. Not this. Not now."

"What are you talking about?"

But she didn't answer. She just shook her head. "I should have known that one day it would catch up with me. It couldn't go on forever."

"What couldn't go on forever?"

An exasperated sigh. And the shield was back. The air of professionalism in full force.

"Don't you understand, Jack? The person you met in Ibiza wasn't me."

"I'm not sure this is you either." he said, taking a step back. "(Y/N), I don't understand."

"This wasn't supposed to happen. You and I... It was only supposed to be Ibiza. You weren't supposed to encounter me anywhere else."

He was in shock. Suddenly the game was dropped, the rules didn't matter anymore, the controller he'd thought he held in his hand vanished. "You mean, you planned all of this?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"I just..." She ran a frustrated hand through her glossy hair. "It's just people have different opinions of me and I react the way they expect me to."

"Like in Ibiza everyone thinks you're dangerous and mysterious, so that's the way you act?"

"See, you get it!"

"I'm afraid I don't." The reply was bitter, emotionless.

"Jack..."

"Tell me, are any of those stories about you even true? Apparently you got arrested, you're someone to watch out for, you're dangerous..." he let the words drift into time and space.

She was silent for a second. "I told you... they-they're just rumors." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

"And the friendly cashier who talks to everybody, the professional who works at this school? Which one is you, (Y/N)?"

She didn't answer.

"That's what I thought. I'm sorry I overstepped my boundaries in this funny little game of yours. I'd just thought I'd met an actual person, not someone who changes personalities to keep life fun for herself. I guess one thing was right about you're Ibiza personality. You really don't care." He took a deep breath. "I was only supposed to be Ibiza? Life's not a book. You don't get to plan its plot. But okay, don't worry. I quit the game. Find yourself another player."

And with that he walked away, ignoring her calling his name one more time.

It turned out that Joe was right. He had met his match. And this match, he wasn't going to win. So, he might as well forfeit before he lost.

***

Late afternoon of October the 1st. Hyde Park.

The thing about life is that it's never going to go according to plan. As much as he thought that that was her biggest mistake it was his too.

He planned on never meeting her again. He planned on never speaking to her again. He planned on never thinking about her again.

But life is strange that way. Our plans never seem to turn out exactly the way we want. And perhaps it's for the better.

He was sitting on a bench with his roommate, Josh, as they were both waiting for his friend to show up and give him back the camera he'd lent her. Jack was scrolling through his phone as Josh stood up and waved to someone, calling them over.

Suddenly a silence fell over them as the person in question failed to acknowledge Josh, but stepped away from him and directed her eyes toward Jack, who still hadn't looked up from his phone.

"Jack."

The voice sent a shiver down his spine and he immediately looked up.

"(Y/N). What are you doing here?" he asked, an evident shock lacing his voice.

"How do you know (Y/N)?" Josh asked.

"I don't." Jack said before (Y/N) could say anything. "Nobody does." The hostility in his voice was tangible. She cowered into herself, her gaze hitting the ground.

"I just, I want to say I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you." she said to Jack, pulling the camera out of her bag quickly. She thrust it into Josh's arms, looking completely ready to bolt.

But then she seemed to change her mind and turned toward Jack again, who was now looking at her with a surprised kind of curiosity swimming in his blue eyes. "Really. I am." she said, touched his shoulder, turned around and left without saying another word.

"Where have you met (Y/N) before?" Josh asked his friend.

"In another world." Jack answered, still staring after the retreating figure of the girl who cared about nothing, cared about everything, and cared about all the right things simultaneously.

***

Noon. October the 15th.

Sometimes the situations we get from life seem like too much to handle. Sometimes we struggle. Sometimes we even give up. But sometimes, despite everything that's happened, life deals with them for us.

Jack was alone in the apartment. His flat mates were all out somewhere and the quiet was if anything strange. The apartment was usually filled with a hustle and bustle and without it it didn't seem much like home anymore.

Trying to ignore the unnerving silence, Jack tried to focus on the task at hand which was editing last night's video. But it seemed as if something wouldn't let him focus. If he had been as absorbed as he usually was in his work he might not have heard the doorbell ring. But he wasn't and the sound came as a welcome distraction from all the other distractions that seemed to be keeping him from his work.

What was behind the door was... less than welcome.

"Josh isn't home."

Set rewind to the summer and he would have been both overjoyed and awed at her presence. Now he was just annoyed and bored. Or at least he tried to put off a vibe as if he was. But the fact still stood. (Y/N) was just a regular girl with all her flaws, insecurities, and strange tendencies. And he hadn't the energy to deal with her. A promise is a promise. And he had promised himself that he would forget about her.

"I wasn't looking for Josh. I was looking for you."

"I wonder why." he said, stepping aside and walking back to his laptop, leaving the door open. "I barely know you. In fact, I don't know you. Tell me, which (Y/N) does Josh know? Is it any of the ones I've met or a completely different version that I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting?"

He expected her to argue with his statement. He expected her to retort with an equal kind of sarcasm. He expected her to try to excuse her actions. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if he had ever known what to expect from her. That was what all of the versions of her he had met had in common. They were all unpredictable. And the fact of the matter was, no matter how much he tried to ignore and deny it, no matter what 'version' of (Y/N) it was that he came across he couldn't get the picture of that high-colored sky and the sound of that high-colored laughter out of his mind. She was all of the emotions of the sky. All of the colors in her laughter. She was high-colored. In her purest and most basic level, he felt he knew her, or at least gotten a glimpse of what was her.

"I'm not going to argue with you." she said and then paused, took a deep breath and continued to speak. "I'm not even going to apologize to you. I've already done both of those things. But I do need to tell you something. And after I have, you can decide what to think of me. But not before."

She paused and waited for his response.

His curiosity piqued, he said, "Go on."

"The thing is, I don't really like 'Sex on the Beach'. I prefer champagne. I don't think I'm a force to be reckoned with, although people on Ibiza seem to. I never got arrested, but I went along with the rumors because I thought it would be fun. I wanted to see what it was like to be wild. I am not as nice as I pretend to be. Far from it. Although, I'd like to believe my heart is good. I am terrified of roller coasters. I like long car rides, but I don't like driving. I think Beyonce is overrated. I love classical music and I wish I played an instrument. I have hidden talents in business, although I think economy is the dullest thing ever invented. I have no problem with blood on TV, but in real life I faint at the sight of it. I'm not very good at drawing, but I do it anyway. One of my proudest achievements is getting over my fear of public speaking. I don't like the color brown and I hate wearing all black. I oddly like wearing black and brown together. I like color, but not too much. The sound of thunder gives me goosebumps, but I like the rain. I have an odd fixation to the villains in stories and I like to believe in the good in people. I have an unreasonable fear of heights, but I pretend not to. The reason I don't let people get close is because I'm scared they'll hurt me, so I push them away before they do. I read too much poetry and not enough prose. I dramatize everything, so that I can pretend it has any meaning, because otherwise I'd be completely lost." She breathed in and finally finished her speech. "The truth is I don't know anything about myself and now you know as much as I do."

She took a step toward him. "You were right, Jack. You don't know me. Nobody does. Not even me. But if I know one thing is that I'd like to. I'd like to get to know me. And for some odd and strange reason, I'd like you to know me too. And I'd like to know you too. The real you. The real me." They were face to face now. "What do you say?"

"I'd like to know us too."

She smiled. And for the first time since he had met her it was a full and honest smile. A smile full of color.

***

The eve of Saturday. July the 30th. The following year. Ibiza.

"Do you think they'll ever stop doing that?"

"What? Staring when they think we're not looking? I doubt it. I have a reputation."

Jack and (Y/N) walked toward the bar. The way was paved for them as no one dared to step in their path.

"What do you suppose they're thinking?" he asked her with an amused grin.

"Well..." she started, chewing on her lower lip in thought. "Either they think you're the guy who tamed the beast or I'm the girl who turned you wild. Take your pick."

He laughed. "They're entertaining stories. Even though they're not true."

"You know, we could just tell them the truth."

"I doubt they'd believe you. Everyone likes to daydream. Leave them their fantasies." He reached down to take her hand in his. He was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the laser beam of eyes on their intertwined hands. "Besides, I can see the thrill of doing this. This make-believe story is exciting. We might as well have fun with it."

"Whatever you say." she said, laughing at his amusement with the whole situation.

"Let's give them something to look at, shall we?" he said as they reached the bar. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. He could taste the color that she was on her lips. And for that single moment, she wasn't Ibiza's mystery girl anymore. She was his girlfriend, the girl of color. As entertaining as it was to play along in her world of make-believe, he would never trade knowing her for who she was for any amount of mystery. And everyday he was happy to get to know her even more.

They pulled apart and he turned toward the barman. "A 'Sex on the Beach'." Then stealing a glance at her next to him, he turned back and said, "And a glass of champagne."

She laughed at the fact that he's remembered and shook her head.

And as he looked at her then, he realized something. She had been right. Life was a game. But it was much more fun playing together instead of against each other. Request in my ask box!

#jack maynard #one shot #jack maynard one shot #jack maynard imagine #buttercream squad #buttercream squad imagine #buttercream squad one shot #buttercream imagine #butter cream one shot #buttercream #mysterious #i loved writing this one #it turned out a bit longer than i expected #but i love it #i love how it turned out #i hope you like it

I’m Not a Stranger Anymore

Life doesn’t make sense in the same way anymore. Either the world has changed or I have. Progress feels good. Getting to know yourself feels good. I’m not a stranger to myself anymore. Or at least... I’m getting there.

#not a stranger #self love

I Guess We Weren’t the People We Thought Each Other to Be After All

How strange is it that someone you used to call “one of my best friends” and “forever” now only gets a simple “Happy Birthday!” on their Facebook wall once a year? Is that all we were worth? Is that really what our promises of “forever” and our declarations of “You understand me more than any friend ever has.” built up to? One message as if we were strangers to each other? A friendship that blossomed so quickly, faded even faster. I guess we weren’t the people we thought each other to be after all.

#thoughts #things change #people change #we evolve #ex-friends #it's okay #we were friends when we needed to be #life took us on a different route #we need to learn that life's changes are opportunities and changes for the better #for the best

“You see, Rush, the truth is all of us have dark tendencies. The question is which of us give in to them.”

Not much ever happens to small town people who were born and raised in their small towns. I mean, what could happen to a person who grew up in a good family, went to a good school, and socialized with good people in a dull good little town on the lakeside? Born and raised in Burlington, population of 175,780 good people, Haiden Rush never once in his life though that he would end up in this situation. The rope, tightly tying his hands together, burned his skin as he once again struggled against it and for the first time in his life, Haiden Rush wasn’t sure that he would ever have another first time of his life. When had things gone so wrong?

The start of it all was barely something noteworthy. Perhaps it was curiosity that had drove him to it. Perhaps it was desperation. Perhaps it was just the adventurous spirit of a youthful boy… or perhaps, and more likely so, it was his own sense or - more accurately - lack thereof.

There was nothing on the day of to show that there was anything foreboding or in any way menacing about what happened. Maybe if there had been he wouldn’t have done what he had done. However, looking back on it now, he wasn’t sure that even if there had been anything to show him that what he was about to do would put him in mortal danger that he would have listened. Haiden Rush was stubborn. Haiden Rush didn’t know any better. Haiden Rush wanted what he wanted and he would do anything to get it. Haiden Rush was utterly and irrevocably unprepared for what awaited him.

It was unusually warm that October afternoon as he headed out of his last lecture at the University of York and onto Heslington Lane for a second shift at work at a nearby café. He wouldn’t say that he was in a bad mood. Not at all. It was a beautiful day, he was done with lectures for the day and he wasn’t scheduled to work the next day. No, not a bad mood. He was just… stagnant. He had felt like that for a long time now. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. Nothing was getting worse. But nothing was getting better either. It was just the feeling of motionless that got to him. This was not what he had planned for himself. Was this really what his life had become? Lectures, work, course work, lectures, course work, work, holidays with the family, lectures, work, course work… Some may argue that he could have changed things whenever he wanted, but he actually liked his lectures and to stay in those lectures he had to do well in his exams and coursework in order to keep his scholarship and he had to work some shifts in the café for life’s other necessities. So, the way he saw it he was stuck in the cycle whether he liked it or not.

Suddenly he heard a string of curse words and then an angered, “Haiden!” behind him, which made him stop in his tracks.

“Haiden Rush!”

Reluctantly he turned around. The voice belonged to Quinn Vogel and right now she was looking at him with a scowl on her face, holding a phone that most definitely wasn’t something he had ever owned out to him.

“You dropped your phone. I almost stepped on it.” she explained, her voice monotone, losing the shrill quality that everyone associated oh-so-much with Quinn Vogel.

Quinn Vogel was one of the most opinionated, loud, and annoying individuals that he had ever come across. She had a question to everything and an answer to anything. Quinn Vogel was always right and everyone else was always wrong. Annoyingly smart and painfully clever, she thought that she was everything and more. In short, Haiden Rush couldn’t stand her.

He was about to tell her that the phone didn’t belong to him, but then he thought better of it. The less he had to do with Quinn Vogel, the better. Instead he just nodded and took the phone from her saying a curt and emotionless, “Thanks.” before quickly turning around and walking away from her.

He heard her say something else – something along the lines of him being an ungrateful something incomprehensible – but he ignored the comment and continued walking.

He didn’t look at the phone until later that night. In fact, he had forgotten all about it. Most likely, it would have been a few days until he finally remembered it if it hadn’t started ringing. It was a sharp shrill sound that tore him out of his blissful slumber like an unwelcome guest on a Sunday morning. At first he thought that it was his alarm and that it was time to wake up, but then as he blinked his tired eyes at the clock next to him he realized that it wasn’t. It most certainly wasn’t.

His next thought was that it was his best friend, Ryatt Lake, calling him from some bar, too drunk to drive his lazy self home. But then, as the clarity started seeping in, he realized that that wasn’t his ringtone. And then he was fully awake, throwing the covers off himself, rushing toward the sound. The sound was coming from his backpack.

It took him less than a second to find the phone and to click the answer button.

“Dude, I realize that you lost your phone and that you probably want it back, but it is 3 o’clock in the morning! Couldn’t have you waited until a more decent time like – I don’t know – 11 AM when pretty much every normal human being is awake?”

The outburst was answered by silence. Then there was a click and the line was cut. Haiden pulled the phone away from his ear with an intention to call right back and give whoever was at the other end of the line a piece of his mind when he realized that he couldn’t. The call had come through from a private number.

He meant to put the phone on silent and then go back to bed – he really did – but then Private Number along with a message popped up on the screen.

You have been chosen.

Stupid pranksters, he thought to himself just as another message popped up.

Want to make a deal with the devil? We will give you money in exchange for a few favors. Each favor is worth 1000 dollars, directly deposited in your bank account.

Yeah, right.

To prove our claims we have deposited a starting sum of 500 dollars in your bank account. You have 10 minutes to answer this message with a yes or no answer. It’s simple.

This couldn’t have been more pathetic. He had pulled off better pranks than this in middle school. Who were these people trying to kid? However, curiosity getting the best of him, he grabbed his own phone off his bedside table and quickly checked his bank account. As soon as he had, he was sure that his eyes had popped right out of his head, because sure enough his balance was higher by exactly 500 dollars.

The phone buzzed with a new message again.

Whatever you choose, there is no going back. If you do not choose to participate, we will take our money back. If you do, you are required to accomplish the favors. If you fail to do so, there will be consequences. It is your own choice. Yes or no.

Perhaps it was his sleep-deprived state. Perhaps it was the fact that it was 3 AM. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps the sheer note of danger and untrustworthiness in the messages didn’t strike him as something serious. Perhaps a part of him still thought it was a prank. Perhaps he just wanted to be adventurous. He didn’t know why he did what he did. He wished he hadn’t. He really did… because if he was thinking straight, if he had noticed how sketchy this all was, his life wouldn’t have gone the way it did. Perhaps he still would have been boring old Haiden Rush. Boring but safe. But instead he did exactly what he shouldn’t have done.

He typed:

Yes.

“So, let me get this straight, you said yes?” An expression between ‘dumbfounded’ and ‘horrified’ on his face, feet perched on the table, Ryatt looked at his friend.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Haiden answered, shrugging his shoulders. “And put your feet down. My boss is going to kill me.”

Ignoring his request Ryatt continued, “What’s the worst that could happen? What’s the worst that could happen? I don’t know… You could get killed?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Haiden said sarcastically, pushing his friend’s feet off the table.

“I’m not kidding, Burlington Boy. Toronto is not Burlington, okay? It can be dangerous.”

“The Big Bad City. Yeah, I heard it all from pretty much all of my relatives before I moved here.”

Ryatt paused, playing with the strings of his hoodie nervously for a moment before speaking again. “For real, though, do you realize how sketchy all those text messages sound? What if the favors are something like, ‘Kill this person.’?”

Haiden scoffed. “Would you calm down? Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m just going to get some extra money and you for one should know that I need it.”

“What is it with you and money?” Ryatt asked, his face suddenly turning serious. “It’s like you would do anything for money.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You actually have it. You can afford things. I can’t. Therefore, I need some extra. What’s wrong with scoring some extra money?”

“Then get a job!”

“I already have a job!”

Ryatt didn’t say anything in answer to that. He wasn’t sure that he was getting through to his friend. All he had been trying to do was warn him.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.” Haiden repeated as if to reassure him. Looking back on it now, he wasn’t sure if he had been trying to reassure Ryatt or himself.

“See, the reason you think that is because you come from Burlington where literally nothing bad ever happens!”

Haiden gave him a pointed look to which Ryatt answered with a defeated sigh.

“I swear, Haiden,” he said, getting up from his seat, “sometimes I think that you’d sell your soul to the devil if you could get something materialistic out of it.” And without another word he sulkily walked out of the café.

Curious. Sell your soul to the devil. Didn’t the message ask him to make a deal with the devil?

The first favor didn’t come through until a few days later. When the phone jumped to life so did his heart. He felt his heart clench with anxiety as he picked up the phone, Ryatt’s words still in his head. He quickly shook it off before clicking on the message. He didn’t need to be doubting himself now. It didn’t even matter anymore, now did it? The message had been clear. You’re either in or you’re out.

Angel’s, 00:00. Talk to Doug.

He was out of the door before he even had the chance to think it through. As it turned out that hadn’t been the best idea for avoiding the dark cloud of doubt that had settled over him, because as he was walking down the streets – following his phone’s GPS – toward Angel’s his mind worked in overtime. Talk to Doug? What was that even supposed to mean? What was he supposed to do? Who even was Doug? How was he supposed to find him? Assuming that somehow he did manage to find Doug, what was he supposed to say to him? Hey, Doug! How’s it going? Nice weather we got, eh? Even if it was the truth that he told him what was he supposed to say? Look, man, some anonymous person sent me a message to talk to you and they said they’re going to pay me a thousand dollars if I talked to you, so hi?

By the time his mind had convinced him to ditch the phone and turn back around, it was already too late. Angel’s was already looming into view.

It turned out that Angel’s did not live up to its name. It was a lonely looking bar on Queen’s Street. Certainly sketchy. Ryatt had been right about that. But there was no turning back now. He was already here, so he might as well go through with it.

He walked into the bar, feeling a little bit lost. For a few moments he just looked around awkwardly, trying to figure out how he had exactly gotten himself into this mess, but then a voice startled him.

“Can I help you?” A big brawny man was standing behind the counter, looking at him suspiciously.

“Uh,” he stammered, “I’m looking for Doug?” he asked, his voice rising up in a question as if he wasn’t sure if the guy’s name was Doug or if he was actually looking for Doug. It was pathetic and he half expected the man to either laugh at him or to tell him to beat it, but instead he just turned around and called, “Doug! Delivery time!”

Haiden didn’t have time to question his words because just then a short and stout man came out from the back, holding a box with what looked to be bags of flour. He closed the box so that the bags were no longer visible and he thrust it at Haiden.

“Don’t let anyone see them bags, got it?” the man asked, his words lilting with an accent that Haiden had never heard before, riddled with the marks of the slang of an illiterate man. It seemed so cliché-gang-movie that Holden suddenly found that he wanted to laugh out loud.

But he didn’t have time for that. He didn’t have time to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation or the time to ask what in the world he was supposed to do with this box and these bags, because he was being pushed out of the door by the big man and the door was being slammed in his face.

He stood in the night air for a few moments, feeling the cold on his cheeks, as he tried to assess the situation. But then the phone buzzed and it turned out he didn’t need to.

Intersection of Jane Street and Steeles Avenue. Vincent will be waiting for you.

After that, favors started coming in almost every day and at each beep and buzz of the phone, Haiden tugged on his shoes and ran out of the door. Each favor done, the money kept pouring in. It took a few more favors for him to put the pieces of the puzzle together and realize what kind of ‘favors’ they actually were. It was when he was doing the fourth favor that he realized that for the first favor he had actually dealt cocaine, but by then he was too far in to even think of going back. Why would he? It wasn’t like he had gotten caught yet and so far he had scored 4000 dollars.

By now it was routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night to ‘run an errand’ for the unknown number and by now it had all gotten so easy, so sterile that he didn’t even think about what it actually was that he was doing. In a way, he was the ‘get me coffee’ kind of guy to these people – whoever they were. He delivered drugs, lugged around guns, brought encoded messages from sketchy people to different sketchy people… The scary thing was that it had gotten to be so normal that he never even questioned it. He had even stopped peaking into the boxes being given to him. Sure, sometimes he still got a bit paranoid, thinking there was someone following him in the shadows of the night, but that had gotten to be part of his normal too.

It wasn’t until around the tenth favor when it suddenly all felt wrong. That should speak about a person, shouldn’t it? How none of it felt wrong until then? How none of it even mattered until he had to kill someone?

It was 4 AM when the phone buzzed. Haiden jumped out bed, putting his shoes on that he had gotten into the habit of putting by the bed now. As soon as he was done he merely glanced at the phone expecting another ‘bring me coffee’ task, but then he froze.

The message flashed across the scene, cold and menacing.

Terry’s Old Town Tavern, 4:30. Kill Carl Cavenough.

He could hear his heart beating in his ears as he read and re-read the message over again, hoping that he had somehow in some way read it wrong. But the text stayed there, plain and placid as if it was something as simple as We meet at the cinema at 5:30, right? from a friend.

He didn’t know who Carl Cavenough was and what he had done to upset these people – The Devil, but he didn’t care. There was no way in hell – ironic that that was the precise phrasing that had come into his mind, wasn’t it? – that he was going to kill a man.

Time seemed to simultaneously stop and speed up. He paced his dorm room, trying to think of something to do, a way out… The problem was there was no way out. That was part of the deal, wasn’t it? You can’t get out from a deal with the devil. You’re in or you’re out. Yes or no. It’s simple.

His mind drawing a complete blank on solutions, he ran out of the dorm room, as he was, panic coursing through him like electricity. He ran for the full 2 kilometers, not stopping to take a single breath. It was 4:32 in the morning and he was running toward the other side of where the message was supposed to take him, running away, running toward Ryatt’s apartment.

Out of breath and shaking, he knocked on the door, which opened just moments afterwards. That should have seemed suspicious. The fact that he was still holding that stupid phone that had started it all should have rang bells. But at point he was so exhausted and terrified that none of that registered in his mind.

“Ryatt,” he breathed out.

And then it all went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came to was the fact that he couldn’t move his arms and legs. At first he thought that he had had a bad fall, but then he realized that the barrier between his limbs and free movement was the rope that kept his arms and legs tied together. The only emotion he felt at moment was confusion, total and absolute confusion. He couldn’t fathom why he was sitting here, tied up in a chair, in his best friend’s apartment. But then he saw him and the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. Ryatt… He had knocked him out. He had known that he had not done the favor assigned to him, because of the GPS on the phone. And now he was caught. He was caught by the person who had done all of this to him, the person he had come to for help, the person he had thought was his best friend.

“You. It was you.” Haiden said slowly.

“You really think I was the one who engineered all of this?” Ryatt asked, disbelief etched in his voice. “I was the one that warned you against it.”

“Then untie me.”

“I’m sorry.” And he seemed like he really was. “I tried to warn you.”

“You’re one of them.” Haiden concluded, the full picture finally forming in his mind.

Ryatt nodded solemnly. “There’s no way out of a deal with the devil, Haiden.”

“Ryatt,” Haiden spoke slowly like he was speaking to a crazy person, because right now that’s what it seemed like. The person standing before him was not his best friend. This person… He didn’t know this person. “Why have you done this?”

“When you didn’t complete the favor…” he paused, letting the words fade. “You know the rules, Haiden. There will be consequences.”

When Haiden heard the words of the text again, the gravity of their meaning finally registered. Consequences didn’t mean a person being mad at him. And it didn’t mean him losing all the money he had already made. That’s what happened in the real world, but this wasn’t the real world. This was a dark and evil part of the world that he had never known.

“When did you join them?” Haiden asked quickly, that being the first thought that popped into his head. He needed to buy some time. The crazy look in Ryatt’s eye didn’t give him much confidence.

“A year before you did.” Ryatt answered, sadness in his voice. He talked as if he had no choice, as if it wasn’t just the two of them here. “You think it’s nothing at first, but slowly but surely, you understand. They call him The King of Babylon-”

“Who?” Haiden interrupted him. “Who do they call The King of Babylon?”

“Him.” Ryatt whispered. “The leader.”

A deal with the devil. Sell your soul to the devil. The King of Babylon.

“Like the devil?”

Ryatt only nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to warn you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you! We wouldn’t both be in this mess!”

Ryatt smiled a wry smile. “You can’t get out of a deal with the devil.” he repeated. “And I couldn’t tell you. They would have killed me if I told anyone outside of the organization.”

“So, instead you want to kill me?!” Haiden asked, his voice rising on a note of anger.

“What choice do I have? I tried to warn you!”

“You have a choice, Ryatt. We all have a choice.”

“And we made ours. We could have just said no.” Ryatt looked away from his friend.

“You always have a choice, Ryatt. We always have a choice.”

He looked up at him then. He shook his head as if he was scolding a little child who hadn’t been sharing his crayons, as if Haiden didn’t understand anything, as if it was all so obvious. “You see, Rush, the truth is all of us have dark tendencies. The question is which of us give in to them.”

“Ryatt, just because you’re playing the part of a villain right now doesn’t have to mean that you have to call me by my last name like in some sort of cliché gang movie.” Haiden joked, hoping that with the joke he would snap him out of it.

“I’m not playing a part.” Ryatt said simply, reaching behind him. “You can’t get out of a deal with the devil, Haiden. I’m sorry.”

Haiden didn’t expect to see the gun, because he thought that in a moment he wouldn’t be seeing anything anymore. Haiden didn’t see the gun. However, it was for an entirely different reason than he had thought.

“Drop the gun.” a voice that Haiden never thought that he would be glad to hear said by the doorway.

And there she was. Quinn Vogel standing by the doorway, holding another gun, an eyebrow raised, looking as if she belonged, as if none of this was out of the ordinary. There was a quality about Quinn Vogel that everybody admired, but no one admitted. She just didn’t care. The devil? Haiden felt sorry if he ever had to face Quinn Vogel, because if anyone could cause the devil to run for the hills it was Quinn Vogel.

“You can’t get out of a deal with the devil.” Ryatt repeated.

To Haiden’s surprise, Quinn Vogel just rolled her eyes. “Is that, like, your default setting or something? I swear, you have said it at least 5 times tonight.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?!” Haiden turned toward her with a look of bewilderment on his face. “Couldn’t you have come in earlier?!”

“Nope.” she said simply and Haiden thought that in her Quinn Vogel way that that was all that she would say, but surprising him she added, “I had to wait for them.”

Just as she had said it a group of people, all armed, walked into the room.

“Drop the gun, little boy.” one of the men in the group said.

Outnumbered and out powered, Ryatt obediently dropped the gun and didn’t move as they handcuffed him. “You’re not even the police. You can’t do anything.” he argued.

“That’s not your problem.” one of them said as they took him out of the room.

However, before he left he turned toward Haiden and said, “I’m not the devil, you know. I was just his instrument.”

That was either supposed to be a warning or a threat. Depending on whose side he decides to be on at this particular moment, Haiden added as an afterthought.

For a long time after that it all seemed so much like a nightmare up until the point where sometimes Haiden Rush wasn't even sure that it had ever happened. A long time passed until he talked about it, partially because it was so surreal that it barely seemed real, partially because he was scared of what the person he was intending to talk to would say to him.

There was something he had to ask her, though. There was something that didn't make sense. It had to tie in somehow, didn't it? It was that thing that had started the entire thing.

"You were the one who gave me the phone." was the only thing that he said to Quinn Vogel when he met her in the hallway.

"I've been wondering when you would show up." she said, moving away from the door of the classroom she was about to enter and signaling to him to follow her.

"You were the reason why I made a deal with the devil." he said, falling into step with her.

"No." she said simply. "You were the reason why you made a deal with the devil. You may have been given the means, but you didn't have to make the choice."

"Yeah, but-"

"But what?" she cut him off. And that's when he realized he didn't have an answer.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. It wasn't until they had sat down on the bench in the Boyer Woodlot that she spoke again.

"So, fire away. What is that you want to know?"

"Why did you give me that phone?" he asked immediately.

"I thought it had fallen out of your backpack."

He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. "This isn't some Hollywood movie, Haiden. Not everything has to have a deep and mysterious reason. You weren't the victim of some sort of complicated ominous world domination plot. You were just a boy who was stupid enough to answer a sketchy message on a phone that didn't belong to him. It turns out that that's what this organization does. It preys on people gullible enough to pick up a random phone and go crazy over a bit of money. It makes sense, doesn't it? Someone who would pick up someone else's phone and keep it even though it doesn't belong to them, would be exactly the type of person to accept a deal like that - What was it that you called it? - a deal with the devil."

"How do you even know all of this?" he asked after a lull in the conversation where he thought about her words.

"Seriously?" she asked, disbelief etched in her voice. "No wonder you fell for that scam." she muttered under her breath before explaining, "I study investigative journalism and I'm passionate about it, so when I saw you walking around at midnight I decided to follow you. It's not like you made it hard whatsoever."

So he hadn't been as sneaky as he thought he'd been...

"Honestly, Haiden, it wasn't that hard to figure out."

"And the guys that took Ryatt away?"

"I found them snooping around this organization as well. Apparently they're working against it. They agreed to help me."

The fact that she had said the word organization twice already suddenly registered in his mind.

"Wait... It's an organization?"

"Yeah. They deal with the black market and they prey on gullible people like you and then make them their errand boys."

"And nobody has caught them yet?!"

She blinked at him as if in shock that he wasn't understanding this, as if illegal secret organizations whose leaders called themselves The Devil were some kind of common knowledge. "Haiden, if it hadn't been for me you would be dead right now. The others probably weren't as lucky. They were either killed or blackmailed, because they got all of their information. Honestly, how do you think they were able to transfer money directly to your bank account? As soon as you swiped the screen on that phone they had your fingerprint, your accounts, your identity... They had you."

"But the police-"

"What police, Haiden? An organization like this doesn't survive without inside help. It's too simplistic and too easily caught. I was able to figure it out and I'm just a university student and not even a real journalist yet."

"I made a deal with the devil." Haiden said, no longer listening to her, but now completely lost in his thoughts, finally realizing what had happened over the last few months. "I made a deal with the devil and there's no way out of a deal with the devil."

"The devil? You mean their leader? The guy who calls himself The King of Babylon?" Quinn asked taking a long and hard look at Haiden.

He just nodded and surprisingly her answer to that was just to laugh. "Devil shmevil."

Yes. That was Quinn Vogel for you. As he had already once realized, if there was a person that would send the devil running for the hills, it was Quinn Vogel.

"He's just human, Haiden." Quinn sighed. "He's not almighty. He's not all-powerful. And he is most certainly not the devil."

She got up from the bench and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "You know, as insane as he was, Ryatt was right about one thing. We all have dark tendencies. The question is just which of us give in to them." she sighed again. "The devil is not a creature in the woods, Haiden. He's not someone you strike a deal with. We all have a little bit of devil in us. The way I see it, it's yourself you should be careful of and not the monsters underneath your bed. Be careful of your own devil, Haiden." And with that in her Quinn Vogel way she walked off, not waiting for him to say anything. The conversation was always over when Quinn Vogel said it was over. But for all her annoying traits, she had saved his life and she was at least smart enough not to fall victim to her own devil.

Haiden Rush, the boy that nothing ever happened to. Haiden Rush, the boy that had made a deal with the devil. Haiden Rush, the boy that had given in to his own dark tendencies.

For the rest of his life, Haiden Rush - now named Lucas Amory for safety reasons - never forgot about his deal with the devil. And whenever he did there was only one statement that resounded in his head.

All of us have dark tendencies. The question is which of us give in to them.

#short story #a deal with the devil #dark tendencies #the devil and tom walker #this was an assignment for school #we needed to write a modernized version of the devil and tom walker #anyway i did this #it's not so much modernized as it is based #i hope you enjoy

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