It was over. For real this time, it was done. Pink hair, darker with matted blood, splayed out on the broken gravel. The white and blue that usually cloaked the mysterious Bunnyx was stripped away, Miraculous lost in the battle.
They had known. He had known. Shadow Moth.
He had known when she would pop out of her burrow, and surprised the normally all-knowing hero. Viperion had fallen long earlier, the only reason Bunnyx had even been forced to get involved.
They lost. It was all lost.
Dust clogged the air, stagnant without any wind to send it anywhere. Suspended, in the lacking gravity that came from the battle. It hadn’t been Chat Blanc, and yet the moon was still naught but shards in a darkened sky.
There was no going back. She couldn’t find any of the Miraculous that could turn back time. Her earrings were still in, but Tikki was silent. Silent and still, where the Kwamii lay in her palms.
Plagg was awake, but despondent. He hadn’t said a word since Adrien’s heart stopped, since the transformation was ripped away from him. She wasn’t sure if he would ever speak again, the way he was looking at Tikki’s fragile, limp form.
And, as she once again was left staring at her own glass eyes and mangled body below her, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Shadow Moth— Gabriel— was dead. But so was everyone else. So was she.
The League had tried— in a fit of desperation, she had called them in. Called them to their deaths alongside her and her team. Only one remained standing, only one life still burning amongst the wreckage.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered in the stagnant air. He was not without his own injuries, beat and bleeding to within an inch of his life. An inch that nobody else had left, but one that would still fizzle out without a hospital to tend to him.
“Maybe it’s the hallucinations that come with my concussion, or my lack of blood, but… I feel you there,” he continued his soliloquy, staring up at the rubble that once was the moon. “If I could still move, I’d grab the earrings and the ring. Constantine mentioned them before we headed over.”
She tilted her head at him, ripping her gaze from her own corpse. From what she could tell, she was the only ghost here. May as well give him the respect of hearing his last words.
“And I’d wish for a do-over. Nothing perfect, I’ve been disillusioned about getting a happily ever after. But this world deserves better. Longer. You should have had help, we should have insisted on providing more assistance— even from afar. Guidance. Something. And now look where our negligence landed us.”
She would wish, too. If she could still interact with the world. If she wasn’t intangible.
“Bruce,” he rasped. “If you really are there,” he seemed to actually find her then, staring right into her eyes. “There’s nobody for you to tell anymore. But my name is Bruce Wayne. If… if either of us get another chance, find me.”
He faded.
She waited until he was gone, no ghost remaining of him like she did. At least he could have someone by his side at the end.
She sighed, wondering why she was cursed to this lonely end. The wish… even if she could, she couldn’t grab—
A pebble shifted, and she froze.
A moment passed. She stomped down.
The gravel crunched under her foot.
The gravel.
Crunched.
She had never moved so fast in her entire existence.
—*—*—*—*—*
He looked different without a half-burned cowl struggling to hide his chiseled jaw. She watched through the window as he tiredly swept his fingers through his hair.
“Who am I meeting with, again?” He asked his assistant, who didn’t even glance at her clipboard before replying.
“MDC, the French designer who reached out about a partnership,” she recited easily. “The same woman who has been standing outside the door waiting for you to invite her in, because her appointment started five minutes ago.”
His head whipped up, and she couldn’t help but wave at him through the glass. When their eyes met, he jolted as if struck by lightning. His pupils shrunk— whether in fear or memory, she could not tell. What she did know, though, was that he scattered papers across the floor in his rush to stand.
“Y—“ he cut himself off, swallowing thickly and making a show of adjusting his blazer. “Miss MDC? Please come in.”
“Please, call me Marinette,” she insisted, finally stepping around the window and through the open door. After his assistant left and the door was closed, they stood in silence. Marinette had planned— stewed, really— for months about how this meeting would go. She had worked so hard for it, but what if he didn’t believe her? What if…
“You got it,” he whispered, a soft smile stretching across his lips as his eyes overflowed with wonder directed at her. “You got us a do-over.”
That startled a strangled laugh from her. He remembered. What kind of awful curse made him remember when not even Tikki and Plagg did?
“Somehow,” she agreed. “We have a lot to talk about, Bruce Wayne. Maybe even over dinner?”
His responding chuckle was deep and unfairly charming. “Relationships formed from trauma hardly pan out well, but why not? Can’t turn out any worse than the apocalypse.”
—*—*—*—*—*
Oh wow, maybe ao3 crashing affected me more deeply than I thought. Do I have a problem? I might have a problem lol.
y’all better believe that gabriel is protective af over his stomach & the surrounding area because like------ everyone seems to go for it in his case.
hunters (dean included) always stabbed in the gut during his trickster years (which never bothered him at that point in time, but after hell he thought back on it in a different light).
kali, the woman he loved at the time, stabbed him in the gut after learning he was an archangel
lucifer stabbed him in the stomach and ‘ killed ’ him and that coupled with gabriel’s decision was the beginning of what was left of his life.
(i hc that asmodeus and metatron were in kahoots for a hot second and that that gabriel in s9 was the real gabriel/part of the real gabriel) castiel, his brother whom he was on the same side with and thought would help him, after figuring out that something was wrong had proceeded to stab him in the stomach rather than see if there was anything else going on
you can bet that asmodeus made him relive the night in the elysian field hotel over and over again, as well as used his midsection as target practice or smth
gabriel, shortly after being freed, was gravely injured on his stomach and was left weak and barely able to defend himself or the winchesters for a time
was stabbed in the gut by michael in the alternate world
and you can also bet that gabriel now flinches and gets slightly defensive if someone raises a hand and it looks like their trajectory will be anywhere below his shoulders.
Jihoon was wary about falling sleep. Ever since he fell asleep in the studio that weekend, he had been having recurring dreams of the girl. He never called her name but her sad smile was what was etched in his mind.
“Jihoon?” Soonyoung called out and the boy looked up at his friend from the couch. “You going to sleep soon?”
He frowned and glanced at the clock on the wall which read 3:15am. He sighed and nodded, standing up as the other went into the room. Jihoon shut off the lights in the living room, going into his shared room. He shut the door, staring at the floor as Wonwoo trudged past, yawning. The taller climbed up to his bunk, stopping when he saw Jihoon just standing at the door.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” he asked sleepily and the other looked up at him with a sad expression that Wonwoo was not used to. “You okay?”
Jihoon sighed softly, looking away from him with a nod as he crawled into his lower bunk. When did his dreams start becoming so dark? Could they still be considered dreams at this point? He still remembered how he met her.
He was walking through a Japanese type school corridor. It was dark, the rain outside pelting at the windows which remained shut. Most of the classrooms were shut but the sound of wind caught his attention. Up ahead he could see a classroom, with its door open. There were flashes of light from the lightning but what drew him in was the humming. It was a song very familiar to him. Something he probably heard on the radio.
Upon reaching the classroom, he noticed the curtains wildly flapping due the strong breeze. The desks near the window were soaked as the rain was blown into the classroom. He looked around the classroom, his eyes falling onto the center back row. A girl was sitting on the table, her legs swinging back and forth as she stared at the open window. She appeared to be wearing a school uniform, complete with a tie and pleated skirt. He stepped back when she turned to face him suddenly.
“D-do you go to this school?” he asked, stepping into the classroom. She looked down at her uniform before looking back at him, shaking her head.
“No. Do you?” she asked and he frowned. Of course he didn’t. Why would she—His eyes widened and he looked down at his own attire. He was wearing the uniform of the school too. The boy’s uniform of course.
“No.” he muttered in response and looked back up, only to see her leaning against the desk nearest to him.
“It’s strange. I haven’t seen anyone in my dream before.” She stated, taking a quick look at him.
“Your dream?” he asked and she nodded, walking past him to turn on the lights. He squinted slightly at the sudden change in lighting and heard something slam shut. He shook his head to regain his senses and realized she had shut the open window. She turned around to face him, her face slightly watered from the rain. Walking towards him with a purpose, he stepped back cautiously until she was right in front of him.
“I’m Y/N,” she stated, offering her hand.
“Jihoon,” he replied warily, accepting her hand as they shook them.
“Nice to meet you Jihoon. I hope we can be great friends,” she announced with a bright smile and Jihoon couldn’t help but smile back.
Jihoon got more and more excited for night to fall after that time. The moment he was in that corridor he was rush to the classroom. She would greet him with a smile and sometimes books, games or even music. They would talk and talk until they both got tired. Then they would lay their head on the table and hum until he would awake in real time.
The members found it weird how Jihoon seemed to brighten up as their schedule came to an end. How he was the first to brush his teeth and wash up when he usually be the last. How while they stayed up to discuss lyrics or choreography, he would go to sleep immediately when he would usually stay up with them to plan. They had questioned him over and over if he was feeling unwell or if there was something wrong but he would just deny it. Until one time, Mingyu joked saying that maybe there was a girl waiting for him in his dreams. He looked up at the younger in surprise who looked back in confusion. His face started to redden and that was when they found out about her.
That night he had to gone to sleep, happy and excited. When he appeared in the corridor, he noticed it was raining lightly unlike the nice weather the past weeks. He ran to the classroom, its door ajar. As he opened it, he was greeted to the sounds of sobbing and saw her crying into her arms. Her hands clenched around her arms, as though trying to injure herself. He quickly walked over, placing his hands over hers and she jolted in shock, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks.
“Jihoon,” she called out softly and he felt his heart clench. He sat down in front of the table, hands still holding onto to hers.
“Tell me.” He stated firmly and she was about to but stopped herself. He frowned at her as she looked down at the table, pulling her hands away from him. She got up, closing the window and turning on the light. He called out to her and heard a deep sigh before she turned around to face him with a smile. It was a sad smile. A forced one.
“I brought a new book today,” she said, walking over to him as she sat back behind the desk. He watched with concern as she pulled the book out from under the table and placed it in front of him.
“Are you sure you’re—“
“Let’s not talk about it,” she replied suddenly. The sudden change in her tone surprised him and he merely nodded as he opened the book.
Things soon got progressively worse for her but she never did tell him why. One night he walked in on her contemplating slashing her throat with a box cutter but when she heard him enter, she hid it in her bag, giving him that sad smile. Every time she called out his name, it sounded so needy. Like she needed him to help her. Maybe it was his fault for not reaching out sooner.
Jihoon was jolted awake by the sound of the alarm and he sat up. Why did he recall everything about her? Was something bad about to happen to her? His heart clenched and he brought his hand to his chest, crumpling his shirt.
“Yah Jihoon,” a voice called out and he looked up to see Seungheol at the door. “Let’s go for breakfast together.”
The younger nodded, clambering off his bed to get dressed. He should ask her tonight. Get her the help she needed.
That night, he was quick to get ready and get into bed. The members thought nothing of it but were confused at his determination. He took a deep breath before closing his eyes, letting him fall into the realm of dreams.
His eyes opened to the familiar corridor and he looked out the window. The rain was just as strong as it was the first time he dreamt of it. He raced to the classroom, standing by the doorway. She was leaning out the window, allowing the harsh droplets of rain hit her face, as the wind blew her hair behind her. His erratic heart slowed as he watched the scene in front of him. It was somber but so beautiful. She suddenly straightened up, turning around to face him. The same sad smile that was on her face for the past few months remained.
“Hello,” she greeted as he shut the door behind him.
“H-hey,” he stuttered in return, stepping closer to her. “Why’re you so close to the edge?”
“Because I am,” she said with a dark smile. Her eyes appeared dead as she looked out the window. “I just wanted one last dream with you.”
“W-wait please don’t,” he urged, stepping closer. She tilted her head, resting her hands on the windowsill with her back to the window. “Y-you’ve made me so happy over the past few months and I don’t know what’s been going on with you because I respect you and I don’t want to push you but I want to help!”
She stared at him curiously.
“I didn’t take you for a talker Hoonie,” she smiled as she pushed back a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “But you can’t help me. You’re too far.”
“What do you mean?”
“We live in different countries. We speak different languages. I’m just a fan.” She stated. “I started lucid dreaming but I didn’t know I could bring others in. So the first person I thought of was you. I didn’t expect you to keep coming back though.” She stated.
“B-but still,” he stuttered. “Let me help.”
She sighed, shaking her head with that smile stuck on her lips.
“It’s too late. But I was happy with you. You’ll forget about me once you wake up. Don’t worry,” she smiled as she propped herself onto the windowsill. “Goodbye.”
Jihoon reached out for her as she fell, that wretched sad smile still on her face. He leaned over the windowsill but her fingers slipped his grasp as she fell. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the rain.
“No no no,” he yelled, reaching out his hand to the darkness.
He woke up suddenly to the darkness of the room, his hand stretched out. He sat up and was surprised at a sudden wetness on his cheeks. Touching it, he realized they were tears. But…what were they for?
The cup of coffee in his hands was cooling rapidly as he sat between his friends, listening to them chatter excitedly about the upcoming world tour.
“Hyung?” Seungkwan called out, causing Jihoon to break from his daydream and he looked up at the younger member who looked at him with concern. “You okay?”
He merely nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. It had been a few weeks since that night and he still had that hollow feeling in his heart. As though he lost something important to him but he couldn’t remember what. Most of the songs he wrote were now about an empty piece of him and the members were concerned. He reverted back to his old ways but refused to sleep at times. When forced to, he would mumble something along the lines of: “Not there.”
“Hey turn up the TV!” Joshua exclaimed as Chan pressed the button, increasing the volume.
“…Just a few weeks ago, a case of an attempted suicide by a young girl caused a lot of panic in the city of..” Jihoon looked up at the TV. A picture of the girl was flashed across the screen.
“How sad,” mused Chan and the others hummed in reply. His hands were shaking and Junghan seemed to notice, placing a hand on his arm.
“You okay?”
Flashbacks of her bright smile when they first met to the final sad smile she gave him busied his mind.
“Jihoon?”
He dropped his cup, letting the coffee spill out, staining the carpet.
“Yah! What the hell?”
He covered his ears, the final scenes of her playing in his head.
You can’t help me.
His reached out hand as she fell into the rain.
The members attempted to call out to him, shaking his shoulders to gain his attention but his dilated eyes were lost in thought and he stood up, pushing them away.
“No no,” he mumbled, stumbling back before running out of the apartment. It was raining heavily just like in his dream and his heart raced his ears. He didn’t think it was real. Why didn’t he remember before?
You’ll forget about me once you wake up.
He slowed down, coming to a complete stop. The rain drenched his clothes, his hair flat against his scalp.
Don’t worry.
He slowly crouched down, head in his hands as he cried. The tears mixed with the rain falling from his hair onto his face.
“Breaking news. The girl who had attempted suicide earlier this month, has just died from her injuries after being in intensive care the past few weeks,” announced the presenter from a radio nearby. “She appeared to die peacefully with her last words being: ‘It’s okay. There was nothing you could do anyway.’”
The radio slid across the ground, breaking as it hit the lamppost and as the owner of it yelled at him. His breaths were heavy, tears still in his eyes.
“Yah punk are you gonna pay for that?” the owner asked, pushing Jihoon. He glared at the man who stepped back before running off into an alleyway.
“Then why did you bring me into your dreams,” he whispered, sliding against the brick wall as he sat on the wet concrete. “Why did I have to meet you?” He cried, looking up at the grey skies which continued to mercilessly rain down on him in that narrow alleyway.
