Writing Prompt: “I love you for your mind, baby give me your body.”
Summary: Attending a costume party is fun even when you run into your old crush.
Word Count: 849 words.
Warnings: Nothing other than one expletive.
This is a part of @billytheskywalker ‘s writing challenge. :)
You were at a party with your boyfriend Ben and his friends and co-stars. It was a costume party and they had decided to go as their roles from Bohemian Rhapsody; Ben's head was adorning the Roger Taylor wig and you couldn't deny it made him look undeniably attractive. You were dressed as Sandy from Grease, a black jumpsuit adorned your body which accentuated your figure, your hair was voluminous and curled. Your makeup was mainly natural apart from your red lipstick which made your lips look plumped and irresistible.
You knew most of the people at the party and so let Ben enjoy the company of his friends that he rarely saw and wondered off to socialise. You were talking to a group of people you had been to school with and in particular a guy that you had fancied when you were 18, however, since years had passed and a boyfriend who was incredible, you felt nothing towards him anymore. You understood that he was attractive, but you weren't attracted to him anymore, it made it easier to talk to him and have a proper conversation.
Before you realised it, you had been talking to him for over half an hour whilst the rest of your school friends had gone off to dance or get a new drink. The two of you were sat in a booth talking about everything that had happened since you had left school when Ben appeared. He smiled a small smile and introduced himself to your friend before asking if you wanted or needed another drink, you smiled at him and nodded but stood up. You said a quick goodbye to your friend and promised to stay in contact with one another this time, you grabbed Ben's hand and let him lead you to the bar.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you guys, I'm sorry if you wanted to keep talking." Ben's voice seemed somewhat nervous which confused you. As you reached the bar and ordered your drinks, you turned Ben to face you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, almost studied his face with concern.
"What's going on with you?"
"I don't know what you mean. I just feel bad because I interrupted your conversation and I see you all the time, I just feel bad." He pulled you close to him and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he mumbled the words into your hair, but you weren't buying it. You looked up at him once again raising your eyebrows, you didn't understand. Surely there was nothing to hide, there was no reason he couldn't come right out and tell you unless, unless it was bad news.
"Just tell me the truth. Is it bad?" Your words escaped your mouth at a speed of light as you rambled, just wanting to know the truth as to why your boyfriend was acting so strangely. You tangled your fingers slightly in the long blonde hair of your boyfriend. You placed your lips upon your boyfriend's softly before pulling away, grabbing your drinks and leading the way to a secluded corner. Your boyfriend sat down, and you perched yourself on his lap, legs draped over his as you looked at him in an expectant way.
"I'm sorry, it's just that one of your friends mentioned to me that the guy you were talking to, well you used to fancy him. I just got nervous that maybe you still fancied him?" He spoke it more like a question than a statement to which you smiled and nodded before kissing him once more.
"I did fancy him, that is true but not anymore. I was just speaking to him because beforehand I had been so het up about how I felt about him I couldn't hold a conversation but this time, we could speak for that long because I have you and you are the only person I want or need. Anyway, I'd rather date a guy who's as incredible on the inside as he is on the outside." He smiled at you then, laughing slightly as he realised how perfect you were and how lucky he was for having you as his girlfriend.
You continued to kiss one another in the corner of the party, your hands entangled in his hair as you pulled at it slightly but not enough to move the wig from his head. His hands stroked up and down your thighs as you were engrossed in one another.
"How about I take you home, you have one chance only to have the night of your life with a young Roger Taylor. Maybe he’ll bang you like he bangs his drums." His low voice was incredibly sexy, and you couldn't deny how turned on you were, but you laughed, loudly.
"I think I'd prefer to fuck my boyfriend, Ben Hardy. He's indescribably attractive." You both stood up as he led you out from the party and into a cab. As you sat huddled close to each other in a cab, you whispered in his ear "I love you for your mind, baby give me your body."
Ben smiled at you, he truly loved you and he was glad that you loved him, loved him and every single part of him.
a/n eyyy first 6 underground fic!!!! this is for @billytheskywalker’s challenge! the quote i chose is “on and on, does anybody know what we are living for?” and it fit the 6u vibe so well i just had to. also i have NO IDEA how crime statistic analysts work. i also don’t know where this came from? i didn’t want to get myself in too deep so there is potential for a part two depending on how this goes. also I have a pretty hefty 6u story in the works so stay tuned
masterlist here! // part two here!
warnings: cursing, existential crisis, lack of logical reasoning from all parties
enjoy :)
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
“i’m so fucking done with this.” you were dangerously tempted to flip the table. what started out as an intimate date night with your boyfriend of three years had quickly devolved into a tirade about the pointlessness of life. your life for specifics.
the restaurant was nice. too nice. a crystalline chandelier hung from the ceiling, dark wood flooring reflected the dim lights, and white clothed tables sat at even intervals in the large dining room. what a way to make you feel better, right? cal meant well, but today your patience had run out. the fancy dress clinging to your frame and stiletto nails only added to the collected façade. and that was all it was, all you had ever been. a façade. you were just playing at being content with your role in life. but you were done with the pretending. there was so much pain and suffering in the world that you had the privilege to ignore, and you were over with letting it not bother you.
“with what? babe, you’re not making sense.” cal murmured, doing his very best to calm you down. you had always been volatile at best, and he had perfected the art of calming you down, but you had snapped. the single feather to break your back came in the form of a poorly attended event that you had spent months organizing. for once, you were confident that you would make a difference. but it didn’t come to pass, and you had finally lost hope in your so called purpose.
you were on your feet now, nails digging into the annoyingly silky table cloth. the twin wine glasses on the table shook as the fabric curled around your fingers, slowly pulling the table settings closer to your rage. your hair had come undone from repeated touching, only adding to the emotional unraveling eating you alive. so much bad in the world that you had no power to change.
“who gives a shit! i can’t deal with it anymore. on and on, does anybody know what we are living for? it’s all just bullshit.” people at neighboring tables began to throw looks your way, ranging from anger to sympathy, which only pissed you off further. even the waiters looked concerned. cal was nearly quivering with embarrassment. it did nothing but fuel your passion. what was the point of it all if you couldn’t leave some mark? what was the point of your life, of anyone’s?
“you’re overreacting. just sit down and lets finish dinner.” he placed a warm hand on your wrist, attempting to use the feel of his soft skin against yours to drag you back down to earth. the poisoned, miserable earth. so much suffering all around you, and there you were, eating overpriced portions of salad and complaining about your privileged life. it hardened your heart just enough. you drew your hand back, crossing your arms across your chest. cal looked so hurt that it almost made you break, but then your eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist, the ridiculously expensive glass of wine next to his plate. more useless waste. you couldn’t stand it anymore.
“no. just… no. i’m done. this life we’re living is just so pointless, you know? we have no fucking power out here. we can’t change the world like this!” you could feel the murmurs and eyes of the other restaurant patrons bore into your back, their judgement heating your skin to a nearly unbearable degree. one man in particular seemed invested in your outburst. he wore sunglasses even in the relatively dim restaurant, blonde undercut contrasting with the impeccable suit he wore. he spoke in hushed tones with the people at his table, still watching you carefully.
“who’s to say we can’t? please babe, i promise we can change the world. together, remember?” ah yes, the whispered promises you had made during a much simpler time, even if it was not too long ago. it was an empty promise back then and it was even more so now. you were never good at staying put, and the limit of your anger been reached. the box of all the bad things the world had to offer had overflowed, and you couldn’t pretend to be okay with it anymore.
“i’m sorry, and this isn’t fair to you at all, but i’m done. i can’t live like this. i need to actually do something with my life. and this is exactly what has been holding me back.” you grew quieter, rage morphing into determination. you now knew what you had to do, grabbing your clutch and the thick coat hanging from your chair. cal rose to his feet, reaching out for you again. you drew back, pushing your chair in with a sense of finality.
“y/n, please, i love you. don’t go.” cal pleaded with you desperately, clearly confused. you felt sorry for him. it wasn’t his fault. he was all any woman would want in a relationship. but you didn’t want to string him along for longer than you already had. he deserved someone who wanted him. you weren’t that someone. you heard the whispers from the blond man’s table grow quiet, another one of his party turning around to watch you.
“goodbye cal. i wish you the best. but this is where i have to leave.” you held your chin as high as possible, holding back the tears that yearned to fall. the pressure in your throat rose until you couldn’t stand there anymore waiting for the tension to break. you turned on your heel and strode to the door, subconsciously plotting a path to walk by the mysterious man and his equally mysterious friends.
“wait-” cal called, but you could sense the hopelessness in his voice. when you made up your mind, not heaven nor earth could stop you. with every step, you stood a little taller, knowing you were a few feet away from walking out of the restaurant and walking away from a part of the life you hated. you stopped for a moment right in front of the man, making eye contact despite logic screaming to not encourage him. his sunglasses had slipped down his nose, exposing the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen. you struggled to force your next words out with his intense gaze on you.
“no. it’s done.” you could just barely hear cal choke out a sob behind you, but you were too focused on the mystery man. he carefully licked his lips, making sure you were watching. a haze started to cloud your mind as the moment stretched onward, his eyes stripping away your common sense. but the little amount you had left urged you to move, tearing your attention away from the gorgeous blond and forcing you to walk out the door.
the cold night air hit you like a punch to the gut, and you took a handful of deep breaths to steady yourself. it was done. you were free from at least one part of your past. but there was so much more holding you down. if only there was a way to erase it all.
you sat down on the curb with a huff, forgetting the thin fabric of your dress and the wildly painful heels you had forced yourself into. maybe this was a mistake. you didn’t even have a plan for what a life of freedom would bring. you wanted to leave some mark, but what mark would that be? what could you possibly do? where was something that you would fight for? but a smooth, accented voice broke your moping before you could spiral too far.
“you seem a little tense, love.” you knew without even looking that it was the frustratingly handsome man from inside. of fucking course he was british. just your luck. you clenched your fists tight against your side, sharp nails digging into the soft flesh of your palm.
“fuck off before i make you.” you hissed, even though part of your brain wanted to turn around and walk right into him. but the pride you held kept you from succumbing. it wasn’t like you to have such an immediate pull towards another person, but there was something about this man that intrigued you like no other.
“compelling offer, but i have an offer of my own for you. you said you wanted to change the world. we can help you do that. all you have to do is die.” he made it sound so simple. oh yeah, just put a bullet in your brain and change the fucking world. any attraction you had for him began to fizzle out. he had to be insane, right? death was… death. as in, erased from the world dead. buried six feet under dead. soon to be forgotten dead. he was acting like death was just another stage of life.
“oh yeah, why didn’t i think of that? just die!” you were nearly hysterical. what insanity was this boy spouting? and yet, something in his voice drew you in further. he didn’t seem to be encouraging an actual death… at least that’s what the side of your brain already entranced by him thought.
“you’re full of shit, you know that?” the logical part of your brain screamed against his magnetic pull, but you still turned around slowly to face him, breath catching in your throat from the devastating look he gave you. his sunglasses hung from his button up shirt where the top buttons hung open, collar fluttering in the nighttime breeze.
“humor me. do you know what happens after you die? freedom, that’s what. no past or future to hold you back. you will finally have a chance to make a difference..” now he was just starting to confuse you further. he might be actually insane, you wondered to yourself, eyes narrowing as your skepticism grew. his bright green eyes locked with yours, not showing even the slightest hint of dishonesty. he seemed convinced that what he was saying was the truth. however, you weren’t won over quite yet.
“wait wait, how does dying have to do with this?” you stood up, stepping back up onto the sidewalk until you were no more than a meter away from him. your question was warranted, and you were going to get an answer. holding your chin high, you took a step closer until you could see the scar stretching from his eyebrow to his temple. it only added to his dangerous mystique, and you found yourself wondering what on earth caused it.
“cutting off all connections is the only way. we won’t be remembered. but what we can accomplish will.” so now he’s talking about more people like him? you broke your gaze with him, looking over his shoulder to see the five people he had been sitting with leaning against the wall. they all wore similar dark, sophisticated clothing and seemed immensely dangerous even from a distance.
“who is we?” you muttered, still looking at the group gathered on the other side of the sidewalk. the person nearest to you gave you a wicked smile, and you quickly looked back up at the blond man just in time to see him lean into you. your breath hitched as he drew closer, senses overwhelmed by the smell of smoke on him. his lips brushed the shell of your ear and you did everything in your power to keep from melting.
“come to this address tomorrow night if you want a reason to die.” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear over the steady wind, effectively capturing your mind completely. at that moment, you would probably do anything he asked. his hand came up and took yours, a sliver of paper passing from his palm to yours. as he pulled back, you curled your fingers protectively around the paper, never taking your eyes off his own bright green ones.
am i actually considering doing this? you screamed at yourself as you slipped the paper into your clutch. this was 100%, totally, ridiculously insane. but you couldn’t seem to find a solid reason not to go where he wanted. he kept his gaze on you as he backed further away, eventually turning and returning to his group. you could only stand there and watch as they threw you cautious glances. there seemed to be a minor argument going on between a handful of their team, the two women with them standing to the side and rolling their eyes.
while you continued your existential crisis, four, one, and three bickered over your usefulness. seven watched with furrowed brows, peeking over the top of his sunglasses. four was determined to get you on the team. he had been following you for a while, watching you with the rest of his ghosts as they infiltrated more government meetings. what first caught his eye was your looks, but billy soon saw the restless energy you had during all of those events, how your practiced smile cracked during every bit of pointless chatter. he could tell you wanted an escape. and he wanted nothing more than to give it to you.
“four, what in the fuck are you thinking? you’re exposing our whole shtick to this random chick having a nervous breakdown!” one loudly whispered, almost hissing at four while they faced off. they both were too headstrong to back down. three clapped four on the back, leaning into his shoulder. their group wasn’t exactly conspicuous, and you were keeping an eye on them while waiting for a cab.
“mate, i swear she is an asset! three, back me up.” four was almost pleading with one. it felt like an argument between a father and son. four couldn’t quite grasp why exactly he wanted you on the team so bad. you were well connected and had a job full of important information they could take advantage of, but it was nothing one couldn’t dig up himself in time.
“nah man, i might be with one on this. sure, she’s cute, but what can she do that we can’t?” three just shrugged, clearly uninterested in the conversation. four glared at him, but continued his defense of you.
“she’s rich. also, she works in crime statistics for the fbi. she knows all the crime hot spots, all the places police target. she had the passwords to get us into their directory.” four counted off his reasons to want you on the team, casting a glance over to where you were standing. his face fell when he realized you were gone, suddenly and anxiously doubting whether you would even show. one didn’t seem to notice and just continued arguing.
“first, i’m the rich one. second, i’m also the information finder. third, how the fuck did you discover all this?” one’s voice was steadily growing in volume, and it took multiple dirty looks from five and a kick on the heel to get him to quiet down. despite their attempt at disguises, the ghosts weren’t exactly inconspicuous, and two & five were acutely aware of the attention they were getting on a saturday night in a popular part of town.
“doesn’t matter. all i know is that she is gonna show up. you can make a fucking veto if you want, but i swear she can help.” four sacrificed some of his pride and folded his hands in front of him, turning up the pressure on one. he knew that it was a little insane to pick you from a crowd without consulting one or any of the other ghosts, but four had faith in you and your potential.
“you damned millennial… fine. but if this fucks us over i’m gonna beat your ass so hard that you won’t be able to sit for a week, kid.” one hissed backed, finally breaking. four grinned, leaning against the wall with a smug smile. his heart skipped a beat at the thought of you joining the 6 of them.
“deal.” one just rolled his eyes, walking to stand next to seven. after a few moments of charged silence, one sighed, clapping his hands to get the group’s attention - an unnecessary gesture.
“alright cleavers, back to the haunted aircraft shell.” he turned on his heel and started walking to where their car was parked, the rest of the group filing in behind them, talking in hushed words. four ended up next to seven and slid his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. a few passerby spared them a quizzical glance as they walked, but the six ghosts soon disappeared into their car and pulled onto the road. as if they were never there.
“you sure about this billy?” seven muttered, keeping an eye on the back of one’s head. blaine himself had a soft spot for four, but this seemed to be a rash decision with little foresight. four just squared his shoulders and smiled, crossing his arms over his chest.
A/n: This is my part for @billytheskywalker 100 Follower Writing Challenge, I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you Steffi for letting me be part of it!💞
Prompt/Quote: Why can’t we give love that one more chance? (prompt is in bold)
Word count: 911
Warnings: short, sad and eh sorta bad (I’m sorry)
When Billy died, a little piece inside of you died with him. He was the first boy you ever loved, but he was gone now. You couldn’t even go to his funeral because, to put it nicely, you were a wreck.
After everything the two of you have been through, he was just, gone. Dead. He left you, the only thing he promised you he would never do.
You knew exactly what he was involved in, the dangerous situations he put himself in, but you never dreamt of actually losing him.
At least you thought so.
Billy was always looking after you, well, when he could. Being a ghost had it’s advantages, he had little to no responsibilities, can do whatever he wants, and he gets whatever he wants.
Whenever he was back in England he visited you, not to your knowledge though. He was keeping his distance. Today for example, you decided that after months of grieving you were ready to at least get a cup of coffee with your friends.
They were distracting you from the very obvious fact that he was sitting just a few tables away from you.
The team just finished their recent mission, so he decided to take a few off and visit his home, his lover.
“Girls, I’m gonna get another cup. Any of you want something?" As an answer you received chorus of 'No's and 'Thank you's. "Okay, fine by me."
On your way to the counter you let your gaze fly over the other customers, seeing if you might recognise someone. It was a small town after all.
And you did.
In the far back was a young man, wearing a black hoodie and sunglasses, which you thought was ridiculous, and a beanie, only allowing a few strands of blonde hair to peek out from under it. His features reminded you of someone, the round face, plump lips… Your gaze moved down to his hands spotting a familiar tattoo on his right one 22ES.
For a second you thought your mind was playing a trick on you. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, before looking at the blonde again. Nope, still there.
‘No. It’s not Billy. Billy’s dead. Gone.’ you reminded yourself.
But curiosity got the best of you. As you got closer to the man you seemed to catch his attention as well. It’s not like he’s been watching you for the past half hour.
"B-Billy?", your voice was barely above a whisper, you weren't even sure if he heard you.
The man ducked his head, avoiding your gaze. That didn’t stop you from getting closer, sitting down across of him, “Billy?”
Finally looking up from his apparently oh so interesting Jane Austen novel he sighed, taking off his sunglasses. You were able to look into his eyes, those green eyes you loved so much, and still do. "(y/n)... Hi."
For a moment you lost yourself in his eyes, in his voice, forgetting the anger bubbling inside you. "You made me - us all - believe you were dead… why?"
"If I'm going to tell you you're going to be mad."
"I am either way, so spill", your voice laced with slight anger.
Shocked at your tone Billy hesitated for a second, "Y-you know on that mission, where I supposedly died? I really almost did, but there was this guy we're calling him One-"
"Hold on, who's we? Did you, did you find someone else?"
"God no, there isn't, there has never been anyone else, we're a group, 6 people to be exact... But anyways, this guy saved me, threatened me first, but saved me then."
You listened carefully to what he was saying. Telling you about everything that happened in his life the previous months.
"Just to sum it up - You faked your own death, left your family, left me, alone to be part of a group of vigilantes?"
Nodding in response he slowly took your unoccupied hand in his, "I don't expect you to forgive me or anything, because I lied to you, probably made you feel miserable- but I still love you! A-and I was hoping that maybe we could, somehow work this out?"
Processing his words, your vision blurred, "Who do you think are?! You broke the only promise you've ever made to me and think you can just come back and act like none of this happened?!"
Billy was stunned, and at a loss of words, of course he did not, he knew about the damage he's done, the pain he caused you.
You took his silence as your cue to leave.
Already halfway to the door, not at all caring about your friends, purse or coat, his large tattooed hand wrapped itself around your wrist preventing you from leaving. “(y/n)... why can't we give love that one more chance? Because I know you still love me, just as much as I love you.”
You hated that he was right, but you didn’t want to give in right away. He hurt you, broke your heart. You felt like an empty shell for months, the only thing you did was sleep and cry over the fact that your boyfriend died. But he was alive and well all this time.
Pulling away from him you allowed your eyes to meet, “I-I’ll think about it.”
He knew that giving you space now was the best decision, so he let you grab your things and leave without protest.
@billytheskywalker started an amazing writing challenge for the Queen, BoRhap and 6 Underground fandoms. You can check it out here the rules.
It would be amazing if as many of you would take part in it as possible.
I really think this is a great idea, moreover if I’m not mistaken there weren’t any writing challanges in the 6 undergorund fandom yet. So this is the right time for it!
Also, If you want to try out writing this is a great oportunity, so take it
I hope to see, and can’t wait to see your writings!
His whole life, Four has brought death and bad luck wherever he went. Now that he is no longer alive maybe his luck will change, especially surrounded by people who love him as much as he does them.
Or a story about Four’s Many names
A/n: This is for @billytheskywalker‘s awesome quote challenge! The quote I chose is “Here we are, born to be kings. We are princes of the universe.” Hope you guys like it, the formatting may be a bit weird, you can also read it on ao3 here
Word count: 5.4k
1. Billy
Four and Five were sitting on top of a roof.
That almost sounds like the start of a nursery rhyme, doesn’t it? The setting was right too, everything feels soft and fragile at sunrise. The sun looked almost shy as it peaked from under the earth, a faded red, the sky was pink and five was bathed in golden light.
They were sitting close but not touching, and there, in the cold morning air, Four could almost feel the heat radiating off of her skin. She was so close; if he shifted just the slightest bit he’d be able to press the line of his thigh against hers.
“-at’s why I got into medical school.”* He was only half-listening as she told him about her life before the whole fake death thing, they'd been trading stories for half an hour. He hated it, talking about his life before felt like playing with fire. But he’d never been able to deny her anything, or any of the ghosts for that matter.
“What about you, Billy?” Billy, he still wondered why he told them that damned nickname, why not William, or Bill, even Will; he’d been called each of those at one point or another.
“What do you want to know?” He smiled at her, couldn't help himself, even though talking about himself almost physically hurt.
“What’s your earliest memory?”
He hummed, deep in his chest, wondering how much he should tell her.
“My earliest memory, yeah? I think it was falling off the roof of my childhood home.” She punched him on the shoulder, giggling (and wasn’t that a thought? Five, their badass doctor, giggling.)
“You’re totally lying.”
“I’m not, I swear! My mum was so mad I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. But it didn’t matter to me, the next day I was back on that roof, I’ve been climbing for as long as I can remember.”
She laughed, throwing her head back and he almost felt guilty for lying to her.
But after so many lies, so much secrecy, there were things he couldn't help but keep to himself, no matter how much he loved them all.
His actual first memory was of his mother, being held in her arms as a storm thundered outside. Her usual scent of clean clothes and lavender all around him and her quiet whisperings swallowed up by the darkness around them. He remembered with startling clarity the pain of his black eye, feeling it pulsate, and the words of his drunkard father.
Useless. Good for nothing. Dumb.
And yet, the pain hadn’t been so bad there. Curled up in his bed with his mother as she consoled him, late at night after his father had fallen asleep.
“You’re gonna do great things, my little lamb. Oh, Billy, people like you, born with stars in their eyes are meant to be great kings or rulers. One day you’ll see, the whole world will know who you are.”
He had barely believed her, back then. Even less so, a few years later, on his ninth birthday, newly orphaned and watching the still-hot cinders of his childhood home.
At that moment, he knew, he was destined to misfortune.
2.William
At the age of nine, with no relatives to be found and no will left by his parents, Four was sent to foster care. He lasted two weeks in the system before running away from his foster “parents” and never looking back.
Those two weeks were hellish, as Four constantly switched hands and institutions. Surprisingly, nobody wanted the bruised little kid who had night terrors that woke him up screaming and shaking every single night. The state-mandated therapist he saw only twice asked what the nightmares were about and he told her they were about the house fire (they weren’t, all he saw in his sleep were his father’s fists).
And they all kept calling him that, William, like he was a pet they had named. Nobody asked, it was just William here, William there. William was this new boy, a boy alone in the world whom no one would ever truly care for. Just another child of the system. And yet. And yet, a tiny part in him was relieved, because his heart seized in his chest whenever he thought about being called Billy, like he was disrespecting his mum, who had had so much faith in him.
He knew he would never be able to accomplish whatever hopes she’d had for him.
Midway through the second week, he was sent to the Whites, an idyllic little family with a charming father, a smiling mother, a little girl two years younger than him and a dog. They were nice, too much so, telling him they wanted to welcome him into their family.
“Hello, William, it’s great to have you with us. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.” Said Mrs. White, running a silk-soft hand through his hair.
For three days he waited for the other shoe to drop, for the charming Mr. White to drink a beer too many and hit him. But he never did, instead, Mr. White (“it’s Gerard, kiddo”) called him champ and big boy, and tossed around a ball with him in the backyard. It was unsettling.
Billy’s father had been a charming man too, everyone liked him. He smoked cigars and laughed like thunder and everyone loved him. (“Oh Billy, why don’t you like your dad? He’s so nice!”).
So as nice as Mr. White was, Four, didn’t trust him. In his experience fathers weren't nice, at least not to their children. Instead, he tottered behind Mrs. White (“It’s Veronica, honey, or mum if you prefer”) and little Elysia, enamored by their twin heads of dark curls.
Mrs. White was nice too, prettier than his own mother and just as charming as Mr. White. She’d kiss his forehead at night and tell him and Elysia stories. She was strict but fair, assigning the children chores and explaining to Four how important homework would be once they got him enrolled in school.
For a few days, Four harbored a tiny flicker of hope. Of course, the universe promptly crushed it.
On the fourth day (And how’s that for an unlucky number?) Four dropped a glass of milk and Mrs. White slapped him across the face, her long nails catching on his skin and drawing blood. Elysia stood in the corner, watching them with wide eyes and a trembling lip as her mother devolved into a screaming fit.
“How dare you?! How dare you disrespect my family and my home like this?! We didn’t have to take you in you idiot!” Four stayed silent, looking her in the eyes as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
She sent him to his room without dinner but instead of falling asleep he grabbed a plastic bag and shoved in the little belongings the Whites had bought for him, still crying, but furrowing his brows in determination.
Fathers, he decided, were not the only bad people there were. Mothers could be evil too, anyone really. And if parents could be so wicked, then he didn’t need them.
Not anyone.
He climbed out of the window with practiced ease, after years and years of climbing all over his own home. He slipped away on silent feet, distantly hearing Mrs. White berate her own daughter and husband.
After that, it was the streets, and Four learned about hunger, he learned how it felt to think you were going to die, for the first time in his life. Sure, at first people were willing to spare a few quarters for the cute little kid sitting on the curb, but as he got dirtier and scragglier they started shooing him away and shooting him dirty looks.
He ate fast food as often as he could, washed his face in McDonald´s sinks and changed into the least dirty of his clothes as much as possible, but he was still miserable. He felt weak all the time and he was just so tired.
And then he learned to steal.
3.Bill
Here’s the thing, most people are good at at least a couple of things, some talent is just innate and if you hone it enough then things start to get intense. And Four? He was good at stealing. Then again, stealing was more of an effect brought on by his talent at climbing and running, at moving.
He’d discovered parkour at twelve and started seeing the world differently. Everything, everything as just a way of enhancing movement, of being faster of getting just the slightest bit closer to the sky. He started moving all around England sometimes learning a trick or two from older guys who were like him. Fast and feeling the urge to move and bend reality around him like a constant urge under their skin.
So Four was good.
And people began to take notice.
Four was fourteen years old (and surely, whatever god there is must have laughed themself silly at the recurring number), and sitting on a roof, letting his feet dangle, eating a warm bagel when he heard footsteps behind him. Immediately he jumped to his feet, turning around and wiping the crumbs away from his lips. He’d met a wide arrange of people who hung out on roofs like him, but usually, there was some semblance of etiquette. The way this person had approached him and gotten so close before announcing his presence was just unnerving.
“Who are you?”
The stranger tilted his head to the side; he was half a head taller and probably a couple of years older than Four, with a generous smattering of freckles on his nose and dark, nearly reddish eyes.
“So you’re the little blonde kid who’s been stealing around town?”
Four bristled, he wasn't a kid!
“So what if I am?”
The kid gave him a cocky smile and extended a hand for Four to shake. Four didn’t move and the stranger shrugged before putting his hands in his pockets.
“My name’s Engel, what’s yours?”
Four took a wary step back, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was at a disadvantage, only a couple inches away from a three-story fall, backed into a corner by Engel.
“Why should I tell you?”
Engel’s smirk widened, the look in his eyes nearly cat-like.
“Because, I’ve got a job offer for you, pretty boy.”
Four barely caught himself before taking another step back, instead tilting his chin upwards stubbornly.
“Don’t call me that!”
“Then tell me what I should call you.”
He bit his lip and his fingers unconsciously crushing the bagel. What was he supposed to answer to that? True, he was no longer Billy, but William felt crushingly unnatural. He looked Engel in the eyes.
“B-Bill. My name’s Bill.”
Engel smiled with an emotion Four couldn’t decipher and again extended his hand for Four to shake, taking a step closer.
“Nice name, kid. Now I’ve heard you’re good at stealing, and I want you to join my team.”
Engel's hand was warm as Four shook it.
Apparently, the group wasn’t actually Engel’s team, he was just a member who, like the others deferred to the eldest guys, a pair of twenty-year-old twins who didn’t bother introducing themselves to Four. He later found out through the grapevine that their names were Zaccai and Arlo, both sported shaved heads and looked bored nearly all the time. They only seemed to come alive during robberies.
Stealing with this team was completely different from the petty stuff Four usually did. The robberies were each carefully planned and they changed cities much more often than Four did, even countries. In his time with the twins, he traveled through most of Europe. The targets were also much bigger, even if the twins took the majority of the money. Four was sure that they could have retired with a mansion whenever they wanted, but they simply enjoyed their line of work too much.
The “team” was more than anything else, a gaggle of young people without any real organization, the members came and went as they pleased. Four never took off on his own but he sometimes accompanied Engel when he needed help with a side job. Sometimes Engel would leave him alone for weeks at a time and Four would wait anxiously, ignoring the rest of the team until he returned. Whenever anyone took too much time to report back, the twins wrote them off as dead and everyone got a free afternoon to wander off for a while.
The first time this happened, Four looked at Engel with wide eyes but the older one just gave him a bitter smile.
“That’s how things go in this line of work, Bill. You better get used to it.”
Engel was also the first one who put a gun in his hand. Four had been sixteen for two weeks and had finally grown a couple of inches taller than Engel. It was a handgun, small but unbelievably heavy in Four’s palm. Of course, he’d seen that most everyone carried at least one gun whenever they stole something but he’d never imagined he’d have to too. Everyone else did parkour but he was the best one, it was his thing and the reason Engel had recruited him, he didn't understand why he needed a gun like the others.
“You’re fast, Bill. But no that fast. You can’t outrun a bullet, the only way to stop it is to kill the other guy first.” A wink. “And I need you to cover my back too. You and me, yeah?”
And so, Billy learned, every day he would stand for hours, shooting targets until his arms were sore and he could barely keep his eyes open. But no matter how much he trained his muscles he never could bring himself to shoot anyone. His self-appointed mentor also taught him to fight, on dusty gymnastics mats the twins kept around in their hideouts. Engel would always win, but Billy was good too, fast and electric, wiggling out of chokeholds like an eel. But he never fought dirty enough for Engel’s taste.
“You’ve gotta go harder, Bill! Those guys out there are not gonna have any compassion when they’re fighting you. They’re gonna go in for the kill and if you don’t do the same, they’re gonna succeed.”
Four was seventeen, lying on those mats, sweat-slick and breathing heavy, when Engel kissed him. It was a hungry kiss, the kind that builds up for years and uncoils like an explosion. The kind of kiss where you feel the raw need in the base of your stomach, where air stops mattering. And you just want. They started… something after that, kissing in empty corridors and jacking each other off in dark alleyways, quieting their moans into each other’s necks. Four would never forget Engel’s face as he came, head thrown back and flushed cheeks, hair wild.
Despite it all, they never actually fell in love, Four didn’t at least. And Engel would still leave for weeks at a time, leaving him alone and burning. They started drinking together, sleeping with girls when the other wasn’t there and partying hard.
Meanwhile, their little skirmishes kept getting riskier, as Zaccai acquired a manic look in his eyes he hadn’t had before and Arlo kept shooting him worried looks when he thought no one was watching.
Suddenly one day, when Four was nearly twenty-one and easily a head taller than Engel, Zaccai announced he had decided he wanted to steal the Moussaief Red Diamond. At that moment, that meant nothing to Four, but he later found out it was the seventh most expensive diamond in the world, owned by a man named Shlomo Moussaief who lived in London. While everyone was extremely excited at the prospect of being set for life, late at night they could hear the twins argue in their room.
“We can’t do this Zaccai! We don’t have the manpower!”
“Don’t you see it?! It’s the ultimate challenge, the ultimate proof of skill!”
“You’re crazy! You’ve gone crazy, and I’m not letting you drag me down with you!”
Arlo stormed out of the abandoned apartments where the team had been squatting, leaving behind a string of worried whispers and bubbling panic. Zaccai smiled at them when he stepped out of the room.
“Don’t worry guys, we can do it without. When we pull this off, I promise you, we’re gonna become legends! We’re gonna be rich!”
Four shot a worried look at Engel, but the latter had a nearly identical look on his face to Zaccai, a demented smile, slashed across his face.
“Hear that, Bill? Rich. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Engel the millionaire.”
And so they prepared like they hadn’t ever before, scanning the building to find entrances and exits, paying for intel about the security personnel.
Finally, the day came when they silently entered the deceptively modest house where Moussaief lived, Zaccai at the helm.
And promptly walked into Hell.
It was obvious from that first moment that they had been given wrong intel or someone had ratted them off because they were immediately shot at. Men started dropping like flies in both sides of the fight, the sound of shooting deafening as Four gripped his gun so hard his knuckles turned white. They ran across hallways, Four’s teammates constantly shooting and dropping to flour, screaming with pain. Only Zaccai’s laughter rose above the rest of the noise.
“The diamond! Just get the diamond!”
There were only five of them when they finally got to the showroom, only to find it completely empty.
Of course.
Moussaief had probably flown out of town if not out of the country as soon as he'd been tipped off that something was brewing. And he's taken his fortune with him.
Zaccai stopped laughing; face blanching for just a moment before it exploded as they shot him in the head. The only lasting guard walked into the room and promptly shot the rest of Four’s teammates. He felt his heart stop as he watched almost in slow motion, the bullet headed for Engel’s chest. In just a couple of seconds he felt it all, nausea and sadness. And blinding anger.
He raised the gun, and shot, aiming directly at the man’s heart.
Bull’s eye.
The man fell to the floor, his last scream getting stuck in his throat.
Four shot again. And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and ag-
“Bill!”
What?
“Bill!”
His hands began shaking, the gun clattering to the floor.
“I’m fine! It was just a graze.”
For a moment he stared uncomprehendingly at Engel’s blood-streaked side.
“You okay, man?”
He looked into Engel’s dark eyes, feeling numb as the older boy cupped his face with both hands.
“It’s okay, Bill. He’s dead. I’m fine.”
Four threw himself at Engel, winding his arms around his neck. He didn’t sob or make a sound, just shook as Engel rocked him from side shushing him softly. When he was slightly calmer, he and Engel took the fire escape to walk onto the roof, stepping over bodies, staining the soles of their shoes with blood.
Over them, the moon was nearly nonexistent, just a thin ribbon of light. Four licked his cracked lips before speaking.
“So, what next?”
Engel clapped him on the shoulder, pressing a hand against his injured side.
“Wanna go to Ukraine?”
4.Will
On the day they arrived in Ukraine, the day was overcast.
It was a few weeks after the failed Moussaief thievery, they had waited for Engel’s side to heal up, but Four was still wary of the new group they were going to meet. Apparently, they were friends of Engel that he sometimes helped for a little extra cash, though working for the twins had been more profitable. It stung, that in all the years of knowing each other, Four had never met them.
Besides, he didn’t want to belong to a team anymore. A team meant dead-weight and room for error, a team meant caring for too many people. Usually, Four thrived in variables. How many variables and different paths did the landscape have to offer? Human variables, though, he wasn’t so keen on.
When he voiced his opinions to Engel, the latter just laughed.
“They’re good guys, Bill. Well, as good as you’re gonna get for a bunch of thieves anyway.”
Kyiv was beautiful with high buildings made of white stone dark, lanky silhouettes of unlit lampposts. But Engel immediately led him to the bad side of town, where the buildings barely stood and the people lived on the streets. The smell of poverty was intense, but Four didn’t mind it, it had become home. The group had been living in an abandoned house, with no glass on the windows and peeling paint. Cigarette butts littered the ground outside.
The group inside was much smaller than Four expected, nothing like the twins’ group. There were only eight or nine people, sitting on metal folding chairs, the floor, and an ugly couch, around a deck of cards and three bottles of vodka. The first one to get up was the only girl, tiny and ballerina-like, with bird-boned wrists and lean strong muscle lining her arms. She raised an eyebrow playfully and fixed with an intense look in her dark, dark eyes. The other’s got up slowly, nothing remarkable about them except for a guy with tattooed lines streaked down his face like tears and the bluest eyes Four had ever seen and a man with a hulking figure that surely couldn’t be very good at parkour, hands the size of bowling balls and a gun hanging from his belt. The only one who carried one. Engel smiled wide.
“Well guys, this is Bill, the guy I’ve been telling you about for years.” A wink. “Bill, meet the crew. The scary fella over there is Axel, our gunman, and heavyweight. A bodyguard if you will.” Mr. Giant nodded slightly, his eyes focused on the street outside. “From left to right there’s Dima, Andrew, Andreas, Symon, Taras, Aleksander and the guy with the bad face tattoos is Mykola.” The latter frowned at Engel but didn’t say anything, before giving Four a shaky smile, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.
Finally, Engel wound an arm around the girl and pulled her flush against his side.
“And this,” He bit his lip for a second. “Is the wonderful Oksana.”
She looked at Four with a smirk and he felt his knees go slightly weak.
“So this is the famous Bill.” She scrunched her nose. “Not a fan of the name, though. I think I’m gonna call you Will.” Engel frowned.
“Oh my g-d, Oksana you can’t just-”
“It’s fine!” Four cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I’m fine with Will.” Engel leveled an unimpressed stare at him.
“Fine, but you’ll be Bill to me. Now come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
And so it was. The rest of the team stuck to calling him Bill, but that night when Oksana led him to her room instead of one of the communal rooms for the guys, she moaned the name Will.
Will. Will. Will.
Like a chant, soft and hoarse in his ear as her short, sharp nails drew blood from his back.
Will!
As she came, lovelier than anything else he had ever seen, her tan skin flushed all over.
It became a regular occurrence, more often than not he slept in her room and he stuck close to her wherever they went. At parties, he liked to have her closed, fingers grazing her elbow or her hip. When they stole something he usually kept her in his line of sight, more on edge than he had ever seen during a mission.
Of course, he still hung out with Engel. He was his best friend after all, but when the latter tried to go in for a kiss when they were sparring Four stopped him.
“It’s just, ya know, my thing with Oksana. You get it right?”
Engel stared at him and for the first time in a very long while, Four couldn’t decipher his expression.
“Yeah. I see how it is.”
The sparring ended quickly and awkwardly. Usually, Engel and Four fought as cleanly as they could, but at that moment, as Engel twisted his arm behind his back, straddling his hips, he was genuinely afraid he would break it.
“I win. See you later Bill.”
Four stared at his friend’s retreating back, genuinely wondering where he went wrong.
But it was okay. That night, Oksana took him to one of her favorite nightclubs and kissed his worries away. He felt like an idiot next to her, slow and lumbering, when she moved through crowds of people like a fish through water. Everywhere she went, she seemed to belong in a way he had never been able to. but she seemed to want him around and that helped.
And at some point, they started to spend nights upon nights just talking, about everything. Themselves, their childhoods, their wretched, awful childhoods. It was hard not to want when he was next to her. Not only want her but want to change to world for her, fix the injustices, the systems that had failed her, the streets that had sheltered her. Make her proud of him, like he had only ever wanted to make his mom proud.
Being with Oksana made him want everything.
Sometimes, he would whisper these dreams to her, like secrets, face pressed against the warmth of her sweat-slicked skin. She would laugh, quietly.
“You’re a dreamer, Will. I’m fine sticking to the earth while you search for the stars.”
She had always been much more realistic than him. She knew, that those dreams were nothing but fairytales. People like them didn’t accomplish miracles or even good things. He should have listened to her, maybe then the fall from the stars to the ground wouldn’t have hurt so much.
It was Oksana who took him to get his first and only tattoo, four big letters stretched across the knuckles of his right hand.
“What do they mean?”
“A letter for each of the people I have loved the most.”
M, for mum.
E, for Engel.
O, for Oksana.
And B, for the little boy he had once been, for the future his mother had seen in his eyes.
When Engel had seen the tattoo, he’d laughed himself to tears.
“Never get someone’s name or initials tattooed, Bill. It’s bad luck.”
And Engel was always right, wasn’t he?
A month later, they sat together, drinking. Oksana, was asleep, claiming cramps and a couple of the boys had gone out to a nightclub. It was just Andrew, Dima, Engel, and Four, drinking, a cigarette in each of their mouths. Usually, Engel was the best of them at drinking, but tonight he had been drinking much more than usual, taking generous swigs of two different bottles.
He kept asking Four about his relationship with Oksana, getting more and more aggressive with each drink he took. Finally, at four in the morning, he asked a question he’d been itching to ask, the words nearly flying out of his mouth without his permission.
“Aren’t you afraid of her?”
Four laughed, him? Scared of a small, cute girl like her?
But that wasn’t really what Engel was asking, was it? No, it went more along the line of, aren’t you afraid that you’ll fall in love? That you’ll give too much and she’ll take it without mercy? Aren’t you afraid that it’ll be too much, too fast, that you’ll be washed over by her tides?
Because girls like her, are the kind of girls who rip you open to feast on your heart and suck up your soul.
Because she had the power to ruin him.
This squirrely little girl, who looked like a gun made woman. His Oksana (except not his, never his), all muscles from climbing and starving, like him, all of them, street urchins forever and ever like his own group of lost boys.
“How could I be scared of her, I’m twice her size!” Andrew and Dima snickered, but Engel stayed silent, the flickering fire reflected in his eyes, casting strange shadows on his face.
“Whatever, Will” And he said the name like an insult, like a thrown stone. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about her.”
“What’s his problem?” Asked Andrew and as Dima shrugged, Four took a gulp from the bottle of Rum at his feet and tried not to wonder how many times Oksana and Engel had slept together before he came to Ukraine.
From that moment on, he’d been expecting it, Oksana’s betrayal. Waiting for the fatal words to cross her lips: “I cheated on you” or even worse “I don’t love you anymore, I never did.”, asking himself if he would forgive her, shying away from the meaningful stares Engel shot at him and he dared not decipher.
And yet he was in love with her.
He could almost physically feel it, in the way he just seemed to breathe easier with her around him. In the way kissing her felt better than anything else in the world, that her presence brightened up a room. In the way he ached for her when she wasn’t with him.
He had killed for Engel, but he knew he would die for Oksana.
And they did stakeouts and ran to keep fit and listened to rumors. They kept stealing, here and there, but every single one of them was here for the big one. The necklace. Worth fifty million fucking dollars, the so-called “Garden of Kalahari” was even bigger than the Moussaief diamond. No matter how many participated in that robbery, they’d be set for life, and in this mission, the team was small. None of them could truly comprehend the amount of money the Kalahari was worth.
And it was going to be theirs.
There was a tension in the air, an itching in their veins, and at moments Four almost thought he could comprehend what had driven Zaccai to near-insanity. The feeling of adrenaline and expectation was nearly intoxicating. But still terrifying. The day almost snuck-up on them, there without warning. They had planned and re-planned a thousand times and yet, the Moussaief incident kept repeating itself in Four’s head. What if’s plagued him.
That morning, Oksana soothed him with a slow kiss.
“Welcome to the rest of our lives, Will.”
And so they went, the building was much older and unassuming than Moussaief’s home had been. But it made sense, the Kalahari belonged to an old rich woman, who hoarded her jewelry like a dragoness and who, after losing her businesses to younger more innovative competition, had let herself fall into poverty rather than sell her jewels.
Every morning she left the building unattended to go walk a decrepit old dog, both of them took nearly an hour for a short walk. More than enough time.
This group was much more acrobatic and parkour centered than the old one, so only the big guy, Axel, and Engel carried guns, the added weight wasn’t ideal for this kind of job. As soon as they walked into the building, Axel and Engel posted themselves at the door, guns drawn.
They had planned and re-planned a thousand times.
It wasn’t enough.
The first clue was the gunshots, the next one was the two heavy thuds by the door, Engel and Axel’s corpses falling to the floor. The final clue was Mykola shouting. Desperate, as if he wanted to tear his vocal cords out.
“Politsiya! Politsiya!”
Four never learned Ukrainian. He had meant to, he’d wanted to impress Oksana, but even he knew what the words meant.
When he found the Kalahari, it was almost like salvation. Maybe. Maybe, the mission hadn’t been for nothing.
More shots then, closer now, Four wasn’t keeping a head-count anymore. Just running, as fast as he could, until the oxygen burnt.
They were supposed to cross through the sign and he could barely comprehend when instead of doing that he was falling. Airborne. The only thing keeping him from certain death, from splattering like paint on the floor, was the too-thin cable in his hands. For the first time in a long, long time he was scared of falling.
And then she was there, Oksana. She grabbed the necklace and he knew that he was saved.
Except.
“Grab my hand! Grab my hand!”
His jaw hurt like nothing had hurt before, the jewels between his teeth felt like iron, like they would grind his molars to dust.
Oksana didn’t grab his hand. The look in her eyes was cold, empty, and Four felt himself go numb.
