An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 18/?
Fandom: Original Work, No Fandom
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Additional Tags: Zombie Apocalypse, Original Character(s), Found Family, POV Multiple, Angst, Forced Proximity, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Character Death, Near Future, Survival, British Character, Post-Apocalypse, Morally Ambiguous Character, Dystopia, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Female Protagonist, Drug Addiction, Grief/Mourning, First Love, Original Fiction
Summary:
My dad and I were running out of food in a stranger's house when we met Ryan.
Ryan had a kid with him. Well, not his kid. William. Nineteen, abrasive, a scar on his leg he wouldn't explain, and a Gorillaz shirt I accidentally stole the first night we met.
We weren't supposed to stay together. I don't know what we are. I don't know what Will is– none of us have words for it yet. All of us are trying not to get mauled alive.
I used to have it all. Three-million followers. I used to obsess over my skincare, my outfits, my posting routine, and whether my captions were landing.
The apocalypse cleaned all that right up.
Hello everyone. I’m still going to be working on creepypasta stuff but I have been consumed by the fear and hunger brain worm. This is an oc story, enjoy.
I gripped the reins of my horse. Guided only by the spear at my back, snow falling delicately onto my veil. The army of black horses and soldiers dressed in funeral garb guided me to my almost certain death. My father rode beside me, staring at me with a disappointed disgust. He did not speak to me. The dungeons of fear and hunger parted the sky as it came into view. An ominous hum settling in my stomach, tears welling in my eyes as I looked to the man who raised me up from infant naivety to now. Refusing my betrothal in pursuit of my own freedom and knowledge.
I was hoisted off my horse by armed guards. Fingers digging into my sides as they avoided touching the careful beading on the bodice of my dress. They set in front of the entrance. Going to stand stoically by the unmarked graves. My father, mother, and brother standing away from the entrance cold expressions daunting me as if I were a common thief or whore set to be put to death at the maw of this pit of hell and despair. I looked to my mother again eyes pleading for her to do anything. She looked at me. Horrified sadness in her eyes but she looked away. She would always look away. Her own comfort was more precious to her than I would ever be. I straightened out my silk, standing up straight as I looked into their eyes. Scribes wrote fervently parchment scratching, ink wells perched on the carriage. My father spoke loudly and with an authority that rattled my bones.
“There is nothing you can do, that hasn’t already been done” I watched, the guard sliding the dagger across the perfect white of the horse I had grown to love since I was a child. Blood spilled across the porcelain expanse like wine on white sheets. A hand flew to cover my mouth, my foot turning behind me. I would not let them see me cry as I sped off into the dark. Distant howls causing goose flesh to litter my skin while I ran.
My stomach twisted. Lurching. An unnatural hunger gripped my entire body.
I slipped away mentally and tried to process my childhood pet being brought to its knees with one swipe of a blade. It was unnaturally cold, damp. the stone hitting on my shoes in loud clacks that were surely to be my undoing if I didn’t succumb to hunger or cold first. Shame. I had no weapon, no coat, nothing but a corset and a veil. Symbols of what I was to be buried in. My death shroud hanging heavy off of my shoulders.
I am punished by the same freedoms men take. Death permeated in my nose, flesh and bone reduced to dust but not before the flies and maggots had their fill. my eyes adjusted to the dark slowly, hanging vines gripped onto stone as I felt the warmth of tears finally fall down my face . They fell on a room with a dungeon fifth encrusted bed.
I pushed passed iron bars, my foot accidentally kicking a skull that lain on the floor. I collapsed, my hands gripping the rough cloth. My hair spilled over myself, the silk on the bottom of my dress ripping as I cried. Loud heaves that echoed on the stone walls. I stayed there for hours, alone, hungry and exhausted. The only sound my broken sobs that echoed off the stone.
I felt a boot nudge my side, terror wracking through my body as I launched myself backward, the kick sending an ache through my entire body I screamed the raw sound carrying on my ears and to whatever wanted to swallow me whole. I crawled backward, eyes closed as I tried to put distance between myself and whatever lurked in search of my blood.
“As if you couldn’t be any louder!” I went silent and looked up, torchlight illuminating the source of the boot. A human voice, a man tall skeletal, and long blonde hair with a dissatisfied and annoyed look on his face. Surly not his natural deposition. Stood in front of me. I wiped the tears from my eyes , standing up and backing against the wall as I straightened myself out“I apologize, I didn’t-“ he cut me off coldly and matter of factly “Not that I, care about your survival particularly. But do not sob so loudly. I’m surprised you haven’t been found by something brutish already.” He placed the torch on the wall, stepping past me to sit on the filthy bed, beginning to wrap his bleeding hand in cloth. Eyeing me with judgment ,he gave me no room to reply “you are also dressed ridiculously. Who comes here in gold ,corseted silk and lace? You’re like a shining beacon of flesh and bone.” I could sense he was annoyed with my presence, waiting for me to leave this room as if I wasn’t here first.
“I did not choose my garb as if it matters to you.” He looked as if offended by my audacity to even retort, eyes running over my embroidery with a clinical judgment.
“Rondon’s crowned jewel, Are you not?” He finished wrapping his hand, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. “Whatever have you done to get sent here? Do tell me before I send you back out to the guards. I have no need for a weeping princess.” His cruel mocking tone sent tears welling back up into my eyes. Already sensitive from my execution just hours before.
“I… do not tell me to go, whenever I found this place first.” I inched towards the door placing myself between the wall and his now rising form. “You did not ‘find’ this room. The endeavor you’re on pales in comparison to what I seek. You were not here before me as I doubt you’ve been here for more than a day seeing as you’re still alive and not a corpse I have to move to step over.” He loomed over me, gloved hand reaching out to grip my chin. “I suggest you leave now, before you attract anything else that might find your visage shiny enough to hang on the wall. Me along with it.”
The tears fell, I turned away to walk down the hall, no torch, no safe room. I eventually found an opening with a small stove and some tinderboxes. Rotted meat stared back at me while dug through different barrels and crates. Other disgusting pits forced me to dig my gilded arm into them looking for anything,I gathered whatever I could tie to me, makeshift purse just that. After the kitchen and dilapidated hallways I found a weapon finally.
A Scythe I had picked up that made me clumsy but would do. Days passed. I dropped things often, cursing when I could not find the dried meat or books I had gathered up from abandoned shelves as I clumsily evaded broken boards. Useless talisman I had found in a crate burning a hole where I could have kept something to actually help me.
My torch light illuminated the next hallway as I turned. My horse. My beautiful Troy. stood in the hallway. My dim flame illuminating his white hair and stomping foot. A motion he did when he wanted me to come closer. Soft grunts escaping his nose as I did so, reaching out my hands to pet his nose gently. He was alive. My hand scratched behind his ears. They flipped as I kissed his nose. Soft happy breathing sending warmth through my chest “What are you doing in here” I looked at his reigns, holding the leather in my hands. My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed his decaying ribs, the cracks in his body presenting gory, mushy flesh and maggots as he wheezed. Throat wound pulsating and gushing blood as he positioned himself to charge at me.
I stared in tearless horror. My mouth going dry as I tried to process the death that stood in front of me that was once so alive .I turned to run, my heart racing so fast it threatened to jump out of my throat. I ran. His echoing neighs hitting my ears in a sharp crescendo. “Why must you torture me so!” I looked behind me. Its legs bending and twisting in unnatural ways elongated by the bend of decay. Head bobbing off the slit with the force of its pace.
A Grotesque, large and angry face stared back at me when I turned sharply down another hallway. I backed away. Unsure of this tall hulking ogre or the phantom of my beloved horse. Deciding which one would be crueler to me. Pulsing shoulders , meat cleaver poised ominously forward as it drooled at me. It’s loud groan enough to send my ears ringing. Its eyes found my terrified expression with a hunger that defied my own.
The hand reached out as I brought down my scythe wildly, it into his… stinger. Blood splattered across my face as I pulled and swung again this time hitting it in the side of the neck. Its arms swinging to grasp at the iron. I pulled out of its body and ran, losing a shoe during my scramble.
It gave chase but I was faster. I ran, I ran until my lungs burned for air, I wheezed but kept running. I turned into a kitchen then a courtyard where bodies swung from their necks as I felt if they were looking at me with judgement. Limp limbs swinging in the wind as I swore I heard heavy footsteps closing in.
Flies buzzed around my head ,waiting for my eventual collapse. Grass stung my bare foot as I ran across rocks and a piece of broken glass, groaning as the shard pierced my skin and imbedded itself into the muscle. I kept running until I made it inside, a library opening up to me with rows of books and candle light.
I looked behind me, seeing nothing but dark. I ran into something with give, I gripped cotton and hair. We Toppled to the floor with a thud and a clatter. Curses rang out in the dark as I was pushed off what I ran into, my scythe clattering on the stone floor along with the contents of my tied on cloth. Familiarity rang out in the dark “idiot!”
I finally got a look at my foot, the cracked and bleeding skin around the shard stung as I pulled it out of my flesh blood pooling between my fingers. A hand wove its sharp bony fingers into my hair, pulling upward to force me on my injured foot. “Do you have an enchantment to inconvenience me at every turn or are you just idiotic enough to think I’d help you?” He looked at the spilled contents of my bag on the floor with a grip still on my hair as I reached up to push against his chest.
His grip only loosened when his eyes found the wretched talisman that I held onto for just maybe a semblance of protection. “And where did you find this?” He almost whispered as he let go of my hair to reach for it. I darted towards it, holding it in my grasp as he reached for me. I limped away from him holding it close as if it were to disappear within my grip.
“Why? Why do you have use for it?” I watched his expression, as I still turned my head sharply behind me to check for the monster that had just led me here. He huffed in frustration, stepping closer to me.
“You have no clue what you hold do you?” I shook my head no, still holding it to my chest as if it were a precious gemstone. He put one hand up as if to show he was not going to retort sharply.
“Give it to me, I will trade for it. You need more supplies, no?” I squinted, pulling the talisman closer to me “you seem like you know what you’re doing. This is worth more than a few pieces of meat and a torch.” His face twisted in annoyance, then retracted. “Royalty who knows how to barter, how quaint. You are smarter than I thought you were.” He looked down at my bleeding un-shoed foot and let out something between a dissatisfied sigh and a laugh. “You will die here if you don’t come up with a counter, princess” I swallowed, my mouth dry and aching for anything to eat. I looked him up and down for the first time, noting his robes that of a dark priest. “Allow me companionship. I will hand this over to you if I can travel through this place with you.” His face fell from unexpressed apathy to a conflicting snarl.
“Allow you… companionship?” He seemed to toss over the words in his mouth waving a hand at me “you in your, gaudy pearls and gems? It suggests certain death but you… have traversed this place so far with nothing but a cut foot and malnourishment.” He came over to me placing a finger on my jaw to push it towards the side. Examining me with careful intent. “You seem to have a luck about you. Nothing I can place just yet.”
I stepped back. Breath shaking and uncertain. “So?” He grabbed my hand, uncurling my fingers and taking the talisman for himself.
“Don’t become a more of a nuisance than you already are.” I watched him walk to a candle lit corner sitting down with a book no doubt found on one of these shelves as I limped over to him, sitting on the floor by his feet as I finally got to catch my breath, nursing my injured foot with my already unsalvageable tote. He sighed, slamming the book shut and pulling a vial out of his own bag. It shone a bright almost sky blue as he popped open the cork. “Drink this, it will help with your injuries, Also find another shoe. You can pull one off a corpse when we leave.” He placed it in my hand and I drank. The liquid burning my throat as it slid down but it eased the sting where the glass shard once sat. He took the vial from me after I was finished. Quiet fell over the library where only my harsh breathing was heard.
“So, you never did tell me how you ended up here” his tone was more curious than it was concerned, his eyes raking over me more thoroughly than they had before. Like he was trying to figure out why I was still breathing. I turned to face him, taking the pins that held my veil in place out of my hair and resting the delicate lace on his knees. “This is my execution. I refused the man I was to marry as I was promised my father’s throne as a child and did not want to give it up for a slobbering oaf.” I pointed to the embroidery, a woman standing on a wide open valley where the clouds parted.
“This is not a declaration of my wealth, but a funeral shroud” I looked up at him. “My portrait will be hung on the opening gates. My diary read out loud in the town square, My final words written on tapestries. My father will collapse on my mourning alter, begging to be taken with me. All the while he held the spear to my back that brought me here. People will ask, how didn’t we know? How could we have changed her mind? How could we have saved her? But they were the ones who put me to death.” he stared tentatively at the gold and maroon lace, picking it up off of him and handing it back to me. “Hm.” I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, book still closed in his lap. “I didn’t think a king to be so, primitive in his thinking. To lie blatantly to you as a child obviously causes the naivety I see in your thought processes. However your will to live is fascinating.” He extended a gloved finger, pushing hair from my face.
I felt the leather of a glove grip my wrist. “Let go of me, my dumb luck has gotten me this far.” I tried pulling my hand away but something other than his grip kept me in place. His voice was cold, and Matter of fact. “ I said, you could prove useful. The things I point out are just that. We had an agreement and you should allow me keep my end of the deal.” I relented, taking my place back by his feet “do not assume I lack any knowledge of my own.” He looked back to me, expressionless except for a quick flip of his eyes.
boy next door, enemies to lovers, best friends' cousin, late night rendezvous, ex-situationship.
TW/ Consensual Non-Consent. Fingering.
Friday nights. I was here almost every Friday night. Yet, every Friday night, I forget how impossibly hot Sophias room was. Dutch oven hot. On a 90 degree day as she spread butt naked across her bed. Not a single drop of sweat dripping from her body whilst puddles formed on mine.
I was not staying down here.
I got up and made my way upstairs to the living room. Laying across the couch, I sigh deeply.
What a relief. The breeze from the fan cooled my thighs while my left foot sat on the back of the couch and my arms reached above my head.
Right as I'm slipping into a deep sleep, the stairs creak. I start to close my legs, but I stutter, slowly reaching my legs back out. The steps slow and come to stop. Seconds pass until they continue into the kitchen.
Lights flick open and fridges get raided through. He was loud but not too loud to wake me, if I wasn't already awake. He coughs. The water runs and he pours himself a drink and sips it quickly, each gulp loud and obnoxious.
His breathing quickens and I hear a few grunts and groans before the sound of his fists slamming startles me. I groan and turn my body away. My ass pointed in his direction with full intentions on enticing him.
"Are you really going to sleep there?" He says in a dark tone. The lump in my throat releasing a sigh of unconsciousness. "You're not sleeping."
I stay still. His presence making me freeze under pressure. Turning my head from side to side, I bump my hips slightly to keep the illusion. My deep breath is stifled by the sensation of his fingers running up my leg.
Slow and steady, closer and closer to my thighs as I squeeze them together softly. "Mmmm" I hum, reaching down and swatting him away.
"Why are you up here?" he asked.
"I'm sleeping." I say between pillows. Looking back, his eyes linger on my body.
"And you're naked," he says. I look down at my pajamas with scrunched brows. His reaches down and tug on my shorts, "You're basically naked."
"No, I'm not." I shake my head. He knew what he was doing. Teasing me in the dark, moonlight bouncing off his skin.
He sits beside me. I kept my mean face on, even though it wasn't affecting him. One of his hands traced circles on my belly before slowly trailing up my torso.
As if I were naked, he found my nipple between his fingers. "April, I'm looking at you right now. And seeing every single inch.
I blush a pout out him. He knew that I was a sucker for his hands touching me like that. His muscles gleaming in the night light as he pinched and pulled longingly at my chest.
He stayed there with both hands rubbing me down. Watching, I bit my lip to him trailing down my shorts.
"mmm," my fingers reached for his wrist in hopes he wouldn't stop but take it slow. He looks at me, a different gaze in his eyes then most nights.
He was usually cold, avoiding my motives to seduce him. What was different tonight. The feeling of his index finger dipping into my pussy made me arch my back,
I watched, keeping myself tucked away into the couch. Mummering, I tried not to moan but also attempting to turn him on. More than he was already. He was slow, gentle even. Rubbing my lips and finding my sensitive areas.
"Wayne. I-" I start to plead.
His hand quickly finds my mouth, "Shhhh, they'll hear you." My eyes roll back and his grip tightens. Pleads spill from below his palm while his other hand works wonders deeper than I could possibly imagine.
One finger causing my hips to lift slightly. A pit in my stomach growing wider as I start pushing myself against him. Slowly yet surely grinding faster until he added another finger to finish me off.
I call out his name in hopes he'd slow down but that only angered him. "Keep your mouth shut." My eyes water and my toes curl trying to control myself.
"Pl-ease" I muffle as he shifts his hand from mouth to my neck. My shorts wrapped around my thighs restraining me while he folds my legs up and leans into my face.
This wasn't the same man who refused to let me sit on his lap. I can't even kiss him for too long but now that I'm trying to move on, he wants to do everything I dreamt about.
He kept his pace, fast and ridged as I stare at him in shock. I could feel myself soaking the cushions. I couldn't believe he was doing this, but I just couldn't stop myself. It felt so good, like he was reading my mind.
My thoughts collecting as he smiles and removes himself from over me. Laying there in a mess, I panic and look up at him. And unlike the sweetheart he was when we were together, that cold illusion of him disappeared into the dark.
SIDE A: THEN A MUST STAND FOR ANIMALS. - The White Leather Notebook
content warning for: [ mentions of attempted suicide, implications of mental distress and dissociation, mentions of body dysphoria ]
Mother used to scold me whenever it rained outside. She treated me like the mud on my clothes made me some kind of animal.
"I saw someone who looks like you while I was out eariler today, Daishobu!" That was the start of it. Just a chance meeting with someone he knew, who happened to see someone who looked like him, and happened to get a photograph of that person.
Alice was always like that. Observant and kind. Naive to an almost annoying level. Daishobu couldn't help himself as he took the phone from her small hands. It was mostly out of curiosity; he's heard the same thing from the rest of the Sad Poets Department.
But this time- This time, it was different. That face that looked so much like his own, yet sat on someone else's face entirely. A face he unfortunately recognized. Not because it was his own, because it was someone he really did know.
"Where did you take this photo at?" The lack of freckles, the slightly shorter pieces of hair, those eyes that stole the light right out of his. He only hoped it wasn't close. "I was in Tokyo!" It wasn't that close... but it wasn't as far as he'd hoped either. "Maybe a two-hour ride by train? I only saw him once, while I was on the way to my fencing competition."
Scratching his chin, Daishobu couldn't help himself. Thinking. Wondering. Plotting. "Don't you have to go back to Tokyo tomorrow for finals?" He knew her schedule well. He was the one who had made it for her, as her sponsor. Taeko had even jokingly said he made it "as her caretaker", when he mentioned Alice by chance in that strange, dream-like world. Maybe, if he could find that pizzeria Taeko mentioned owning, he could take her there? "Yeah! I was actually kind of hoping... you'd come with me..." Her fingers twitched as she swayed nervously from side to side. "I- I'd just like it- if you could be there by my side when it's over, win or lose." Ah. So that was why she really came over? His doppelganger- his twin's sighting was just a happenstance.
He really didn't want to go. Not for nothing, no, he just didn't feel safe- "Sure." He really didn't feel safe in an area where his twin brother might be locally. "Just don't forget your umbrella, it's going to rain all day tomorrow." But for Alice? He wanted to support her, even if it frightened him. He wanted to give her the support and care no one else bothered to give him when he was her age. Especially when she pushed past her own shyness to ask him.
...
It rained even harder than he expected. He remembered the way Alice knocked on his door at 4am on the dot. He was still so tired. He felt like he was dead. "You have to get up, Daishobu!" He groaned as Alice's small hands grasped onto his own, tugging him out of bed. Only out of bed, though- not his sleep-induced trance. Of course, it probably would have helped if he had focused on sleeping, as opposed to putting together his little "care package". "Do we have to leave so early? The competition isn't till 10am..." He yawned, his body twitching violently as he stretched. Pain tore through his palms, like it had every single morning. Like it had anytime he moved his hands in a way that was sharp, sudden, or unnatural. "We must, it's part of my everyday routine, and I mustn't break it!" What time did she wake up at? She was already dressed, umbrella at the ready, makeup and hair done, with all her equipment already ready in her bag.
He grumbled as she dragged a brush through his hair, hovering her hand lightly over his head. She was so careful, and part of his heart ached. Did she also think him so fragile? So weak? So delicate that she had to treat him like he'd break at any moment if she was too rough in any aspect? He was the adult, for fucks' sake. "Your hair is so messy!" "Well, I was sleeping before you barged in." "You were sleeping on the COUCH! That can't be good for you!" What's so wrong about sleeping on the couch? What was the couch, if not a convenient second bed when the real bed was too far for him to reach? His fingers twitched as he pulled on the fabric of his brown sweater vest, slipping the large, deep brown buttons into the holes. He grumbled as he buttoned up the opening on his undershirt, slipping on the rabbit-shaped brooch pin she had gotten him for his birthday.
He managed to slip away for a moment, going to the bathroom. He couldn't help himself, staring at his bare face. It bothered him- but only slightly. The bags under his eyes, the way his freckles were lighter than they usually were. Shit, he could barely see them. His hands twitched as he rubbed his neck slowly. The scars, barely visible on his neck. The scars on his hands, his arms. He felt so ugly. He felt ruined in his own body. He missed the body he used to have. Untainted and unruined.
His mind and his heart could heal, but his body would always be scarred. Broken. He felt so gross. His fingers twitched, absentmindedly scratching at his neck. Even as it began to feel raw, as it began to turn red, to hurt, to ache. He couldn't get himself to stop. His head ached, his chest twisting uncomfortably inside him. His hands trembled- he couldn't stop them. He wanted to be rid of this body so, so badly. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it he hated it he hated it.
The sound of running water filled his ears. It filled up his tub. It filled up his lungs. For a moment, that water drowned out everything. His pain, the filth he felt, his insecurities, his memories. Himself. He wished he had stayed underneath the water. He wished he had done it successfully. He wished he had locked that damn door and hidden the key.
...
He felt kind of dazed, his back slumped against the train seat, his hand lying limply in Alice's own. He was. the adult. But, he didn't feel like one, though. He wasn't sure what he felt; he wasn't sure if he was even really all the way there anymore. More like a doll, a large, broken, ugly doll that Alice believed she could trust.
Would she hate him when he'd inevitably break? Would she loathe him as she had to pick up the pieces? His head felt so fuzzy, his eyes felt heavy. His body slumped over slightly, his head rolling as he leaned against Alice. He didn't miss the way she jumped slightly, or how she sat up straight afterwards. His eyes fluttered as they fell shut, a wave of darkness overtaking his mind and body.
He didn't miss the whispers, though.
"Is that senior?"
"Can't be, look at the girl next to him."
Senior? They were mistaking him for someone else. Hard to imagine he could be anyone's senior. That stupid animal. Anything could happen in twenty years, though. Especially since he was the one who ran away from home.
But really? Senior? That sounded stupid.
"Daishobu! Daishobu!" Alice whispered his name, tugging on his arm lightly. Did she need something? He cracked an eye open, glancing down at the young lady by his side. She pointed towards the window behind them, as if trying to direct his attention. That's when he saw it, through the zoom-in on her camera.
A man on the ground, holding an umbrella, wandering around in the rain as if he were lost. It wasn't strange, many people liked to play in the rain. He was one of those people, and his mother always hated it. But what interested him was when the umbrella fell. "That looks like the guy I saw yesterday! But, what is he doing?" Ah. It was only a passing glance- the train moved far too fast for him to confirm anything, but he knew it deep down inside his chest. Beasts and Animals will always find each other in time.
"The first round starts at 10:30." Alice grabbed his hand gently as she stared up at him. "So, just make sure you come back before then!" "I'll be back before 10:30, don't worry." He checked his watch; it was only 7:15 am. He wasn't gonna disappear for 3 hours; it wasn't going to take him that long to find and drop off his little "care package". Not when he knew exactly where he had to look. "Hey." His voice caught the girl off guard as she looked up at him- in confusion. "Did you want breakfast...?" He didn't forget about breakfast- in fact, he saw the way she kept looking at the food stands in silent mourning. "I'm sure I can find something light on the way back."
...
He hadn't been to Tokyo in years. He almost forgot where everything was. Thankfully, he had his GPS on his phone. And, as it turned out, it wasn't all that far from where the crepe stand Alice requested breakfast from was. He tossed the package half-hazardously onto the apartment doorstep as he strolled past the door. He could see a beige coat hanging through the window. It looked just like the one he wore in that strange dream he had. And just like that- he walked away.
He just hoped he was right.
He also hoped he had gotten this crepe order for Alice right. It wasn't the worst thing in the world if he hadn't, but he'd still feel bad. Really bad. Not because he wasn't trying- he was trying his hardest, really. But if he got it wrong, he felt like a child all over again.
Eating something he didn't want because he was too nervous to say otherwise. It wasn't even that complicated. It was just a strawberry crepe with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. It didn't make much of a difference if he missed something. Did it?
He handed the crepe to the young girl, who jumped with joy at the sight. He couldn't help but smile- but just a little. His smile never looked right on him. It was just one of the many things that didn't look entirely right on him. "You're the best, Daishobu! You're like the father I never had..."
The father she never had... well, he supposed that made two of them. Rubbing her head gently, he smiled. It felt good to be appreciated for something. Even if it was small.
...
"Second place isn't bad." "All that effort... just to fumble at the last moment!" In the end, a split second of hesitation was all it took to send the blonde girl stumbling down into second place. He was still proud of her, all the same. Rubbing her head gently, he chuckled. "Be easier on yourself. I watched you soar. Who cares if it wasn't as high as you were imagining?" Looking up at him with her big, mismatched blue eyes, he watched as her lips quivered. She was devastated by her own shortcomings. And his heart ached a little. "Hey. Cheer up. Why don't we go out tomorrow to celebrate? There's this pizza place-" He was caught off guard by something. A small ding from his phone.
A charge from... the Witches' Fantasy? Huh. That wasn't him. They were nowhere near the cafe. Unless... "-with second-rate pizza and animatronic performers. I think you'll like it." Tilting her head, Alice paused. "A pizza place...? Can the Sad Poets Department come too?"
The Sad Poets Department. A ragtag team of creatives, coming together to share in their love of the arts and be sad together. Though he found he was sad less often these days... maybe they should rename it to just "The Poets Department" at this rate. "I'll ask." If he remembered. "I know Mizuki and Karuu have been wanting to meet my brother anyway- he's the one who owns the pizzeria." "Your brother's a pizza tycoon..." The idea was so absurd that it made him laugh. A pizza tycoon? That was a new one.
...
He remembered dropping Alice off at her mother's home. It had started raining pretty hard, and he was happy he had brought his umbrella. It was just a normal, black umbrella... and he wasn't prepared to go home, just yet. No, he had something to figure out. He turned his head as he walked down the alleyway towards the cafe.
That's when he saw it. He saw him, someone who looked lost. Someone he knew didn't belong there. "Huh. You actually fell for it." He couldn't help himself. He thought he was smarter than that. "You are?" Disgust flashed across Daishobu's face. Did he really ask that? Such a stupid question. His eyes flickered across the cafe behind them. The Sad Poets Department was still inside- how annoying.
Grabbing onto the man's arm, he stomped off to a nearby, lightless alleyway. How annoying, how annoying. Everyone- everything was so annoying. His eyes flickered again, his eyes falling on a section of the alleyway with an overhang. It wasn't the best, but he'd be damned if he kept his umbrella up for someone like him.
"Don't play stupid." His fingers twitched, lingering against his cheek. He looked so much like him. It grossed him out. "You wouldn't have risked it if you weren't sure." And they both knew it. They both knew it. His chest ached at how familiar his face was. How it looked like his own. How he traveled hours from his home, just for a chance, possibly out of obsession.
He wanted to tear his face off so badly. To dig his nails into the skin and create something beyond recognition. "Ah. So it really was you...?" Why were you playing so coy? Annoying. Annoying, annoying, annoying. His fingers twitched, and he wanted to strangle him so, so badly. His chest burned. "Your hands are still scarred." He couldn't help it; his body reeling back as his brother grabbed onto his hand. His chest ached, his hand trembling. "That was from the piano string, wasn't it?"
... The piano string. God, he couldn't help it- the piano string. He forgot about that, in all honesty. He was so young, he barely remembered it. The way his brother wrapped the string between his fingers and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. Until his hand was stained red. "Did it never heal? It's been well over 20 years." It had healed. But now, that wound was opened up all over again. Would you never let me heal, brother? His eyes darted away, and suddenly he regretted it. This confrontation. "Are you still mad at me for that?"
The nerve. He pulled his hand away after a moment, holding it against his chest. His eyes fluttered for a moment, his vision blurring slightly. Taking a few deep breaths, he couldn't help himself. He needed to calm himself. He couldn't keep being afraid of him. Or, he would never get to heal; he'd be hurt all over again. "Why didn't you just tell Mizuki you weren't me? Now she thinks you're me." And god knows what she thought of him. Yet, judging from the expression on his brother's face... did he really not think about that?
Scratching his head, he wasn't sure if he should be confused or annoyed. Maybe a bit of both? A bit of both. Pausing, Daishobu couldn't help but notice the way his brother reached down, pulling out a white container from his coat. "Oh, hold on. Here. For you." What was he even doing? Should he take it? Leave it? He couldn't help himself. His fingers twitched as he stared at the box. He flinched as "Dai" grabbed him by the wrist, placing the box down into his hand. His brow twitched, hatred welling up in his chest. "... thanks." Let go. Let go, let go, let go. Please. Dear god please. Just let go.
"So you knew I came." He seemed so smug. Smug and in control. A power they both knew he held, even 20 years of no contact later. Daishobu ran away, and yet, he was caught again. Mother, father, a younger brother by a different name 20 years ago, his body didn't retain as much discomfort towards them as his twin brother. That beast in humane clothing.
"You're the one who read my diary." It's why he left it with the package. "I figured the cafe would be the most likely place I could find you." It was the first and most clear location he ever wrote about in it. His white, leather diary. He should make a mental note to ask for it back. It might have served its purpose as a lure, but he still had pages left in it he could write in. "... Vespa also charged my card for the food you bought." It was the real reason he came by. To get the charge reversed with Alice's competition as his witness. He was glad he got photos of himself while he was there. "Huh."
"I- I'm sorry?" "Dai" sounded more confused than he was sorry. Not that Daishobu could fully blame him, it wasn't usual for restaurants and cafes to do something like that. He just didn't think Vespa would have known it could be accidentally used that way. "That lemonade was slightly bitter. Have you considered adding sugar?" His eye twitched, disappointment encroaching on his features. He's got some nerve. Genuinely. He shoved sugar-coated slop down his throat for years, and that was what you wanted to say? "Ahh, don't look at me like that, Daishobu!" "Dai" seemed like he had felt bad about the comment, shyly scratching his head. Daishobu couldn't help himself as he struck his brother in the head with his umbrella. "You've got some nerve to order on my dime and then tell me my food wasn't good enough for YOUR tastes." Asshole.
... he didn't miss the way "Dai" followed him, a hand gripped loosely onto the fabric of his black coat. It reminded him of when they were children, and he would follow him around from behind. How the roles had reversed.
"What does the letter A stand for?" The question caught him off guard, Daishobu turning to face him with a confused expression. "Your sad poets kept asking me that." Of course they had. They thought he was him. "Huh? Why do you care?" The question was beyond him. He didn't like it- the way "Dai" took an interest in his life all over again. He wanted to be left alone, and yet the devil was encroaching on his life all over again. And this time? This time, it was so personal. Frustrated, he sighed. Silent as ever. Wouldn't you grace me with an answer, brother?
Scratching his head, Daishobu pondered for a moment. How should he put it? "It's a reference... to a painting series I was doing." That was a good way to put it. "Paintings based on words that start with certain letters." The Sad Poets Department always looked forward to each new reveal, to the point that they always tried to guess what it was. The word. The basis. The trauma behind it. "They made a game to guess what a painting's word is before I unveil it."
Fishing into his pockets for his studio keys, he groaned. "E stood for Eternity." It was originally just an outlet for him, to let out his feelings in a less harmful, self-destructive manner. Mizuki used to tell him that his scars were beautiful, but he didn't need to give himself new ones to cope with the old ones. Eternity referred to himself- his healing. He forced himself to keep going, to keep working, even if it felt like it'd never end. "D stood for danger." But, he found that he really liked painting his feelings. Even more than he had writing them out in a book. They were so gross and grotesque, it made him so uncomfortable, yet so awestruck. How people found comfort, beauty, meaning in something so... painful. Something so dangerous. "C stood for criminal."
He didn't miss it, the flicker of curiosity in his brother's eyes as he wandered straight towards the middle of the room. Where his giant painting lay, in waiting. The final piece of his word association series. He'd have finished it today- if it weren't for Alice. That sweet girl.
"B stands for beasts." Like you, he thought. He watched as he bent down by the painting, peering under the cloth. Something about this situation felt... different. It killed him, how low his guard suddenly seemed. His fingers twitched, his hand feeling strangely heavy. His pocket knife lay in his fingers- when did he pull that out? He didn't remember.
His face twisted up, and he couldn't help but remember those words he had written down. I want to kill my brothers.
He didn't really want that. He wanted to kill the images of his brothers in his mind. To rid himself of the heavy ghosts from his past. He had come to make peace with one of them- Taeko. Ever sweet that boy, even if he was terrible at showing it. He didn't really want to kill him. He wanted to kill the image that still lingered in his mind. Especially since that image wasn't really "him", but "her".
He felt as if he had all but lost control of himself. Control of his body, the silver blade pressed up against the skin of his brother's throat. "So, you tell me." He didn't really want this. (Did he?) He didn't miss it- the way his brother didn't struggle, didn't resist. No, he let himself be threatened. Did he know? Or, did he simply not care? The consequences?
"What do you think A stands for?" Closing his eyes, Dai pondered. He didn't squirm as the blade dug into his throat, a crimson red liquid staining the edge of the blade the deeper it dug. "If B stands for beasts... isn't it only fair to assume A stands for animals?"
...
The blade fell from his hand, clattering onto the floor with an unceremonious "clank!" He thought hurting him would make him feel better- that it would heal a part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside. But, it didn't. Nothing changed. If he killed him here, he already knew it. Nothing would change. He wouldn't feel better, his scars wouldn't heal, his mind wouldn't mend itself.
"Am I right?" His eyes fluttered, Daishobu's hand twitching slowly. He flinched as "Dai"'s hand clasped over his own, pulling the dazed younger twin closer to him. "Beasts and Animals. Me and you. I'm right, aren't I?" Daishobu sighed, a trembling breath escaping his chest.
"Yeah. A stands for animals. I'm not sure how the Sad Poets haven't figured that out yet."
In the end, that scared little boy never grew up, did he?
